Spring Break take 1

I spent the first half of my spring break in Rome, Italy. Roma for me is marked by Pope Benidict XVI and the Ivanhoe Party hostel. For four nights the Ivanhoe provided its guests with everything from feathered bedding to homemade Sicilian Pasta. Florentine, the native Sicilian whose hand rolled rigatoni woke my taste buds from an insipid Spanish slumber, told me that he cooked to make people happy. As I slurped and twirled the luscious linguini I found it impossible to believe he was our hostel host and not a top contender in TLC’s Top Chefs. Needless to say, and just as he’d hoped, his cooking made me happy. Florentine is one of the many colorful comrades that decorated the Ivanhoe during my four night stay.

Like most people who have traveled to Italy I frequented all the must-sees of the historic city. In one day I trekked my faulty flip flops through the shattered stones still standing in the Roman Forum, the Pantheon and the Coliseum. The latter is by far the most magnificent and well-preserved historical landmark that I have ever visited, climbed or stood inside. The girls and I spent two hours in the Coliseum eavesdropping beside every English tour guide who passed us so we could learn as much as possible about the gorgeous gates of granite we wandered through. More than any other historical site I’ve seen, the Coliseum took my breath away. Later in the week we toured both the Vatican Museum and St. Peter’s basilica. I was additionally given the opportunity to attend Palm Sunday mass at St. Peter’s Basilica. When I was handed the free ticket my initial thought was, why not? The mass was in Italian and my “late” arrival, solely one hour early, left me smooshed behind and between too many tall Catholics. So technically speaking, I neither saw nor understood the majority of the service. Yet, must one comprehend everything, in its entirety, to take part in it? I stood beside families with clenched hands and waving palms. Women cried as they stood sprinkled by holy water. Being abroad has taught me one mustn’t understand everything, fully, to embrace it. If that was my mindset I would have neither spoken nor tried anything new, as a foreigner in Spain. Thus, although I could make no sense of the Pope’s homily I fully embraced the height of unity and emotion dispensed throughout the diverse crowd of devout worshipers. Being involved in this sacred and celebrated event connected me further to the extraordinary city I’d been raving about all week.