The People of Rome

Last Blog!  Wow that came up fast...three months already? 

I have spoken a lot about the places I have visited in Rome, all the churches, the endless visits to St. Peter's, and trips to England, France, Sicily, Venice, Assisi and more.  But although the places are fantastic, what really lingers the most in memories are the people.  Oh have I met some wonderful people in the city of Rome and learned so much from them.

First and foremost, here's a thanks to the random people that I meet upon the streets that have welcomed me into everyday Roman life.  Take the last Sunday I spent in Rome.  I decided that day to go on a new adventure and attend an extraordinary Latin Mass, a mass structured in the pre-Vatican II tradition.  I stumbled and fumbled throughout the entire mass, trying to adjust to the foreign words and the new format.  However, after the mass, a young lady who had sat near me approached me and extended her hand.  There was coffee and pastries in the back if I wanted to join her.  Honored by this invitation, I did go back and talk to my new American friend Catarina for over fifteen minutes about who we were, what we were doing in Rome and what we thought of the mass.  Now, I would most likely never see this person ever again in my life, but at that moment I saw a snapshot of a stranger's life and meet a wonderful child of God.  I would have loved to accept her further invitation to have lunch, but I could not because of a preplanned appointment.  Sad that I had to walk away from such a great conversation, I thought about how my one new friend demonstrated the welcome feeling that I have found elsewhere in Rome, be it in the people who are at mass with me, or begin talking to me on the bus.  I even have an Italian partner from a local high school and she has been more than welcoming to me throughout the semester.  The people of Rome have wanted to get to know me, and I am thankful to have the chance to know just some of its residents. 

Immediately following that extraordinary mass, I made my way down to visit the Missionary Benedictine Sisters of Tutzing.  I knew one of their sisters back in America, so I figured, why not at least stop and say hi in Rome so I can say I met more of these great sisters?  Granted I spent twice as long as I planned trying to get there as I couldn't find the right bus stop and had to wait for more than several other buses, but getting lost was so worth it.  Walking in, one sister eagerly greeted me and immediately started telling me all about the community, while also looking to see if I wanted any ice cream.  As the two of us continue talking and three more sisters come to see who I was.  When they found that I knew one of their sisters in America, they could not get enough of me.  Each of the four sisters in the room were trying to talk to me at once, plus the other random sisters that popped in wanting to be introduced.  It was a half an hour of overwhelming gladness as I tried to sort out who I was talking to.  The evening slowed down more as I joined them in Evening prayer and the then a great dinner.  During dinner and afterwards I talked to specifically one sister, so I wasn't as overwhelmed, and I truly got to know her and ask all the questions I wanted.  She told me how she worked in Bangladesh, but visited Rome for an international conference. After a walk around the garden, I said goodbye at least ten times before I was able to leave the property.  I will always remember these sisters, how they cared for me, and how they were so attentive to every move I made, treating me like a sister myself.  Ending my last Sunday in Rome could not have been on a more beautiful and loving note. 

However, it was not the final end of my journey in Rome.  This truly ended with the best showcase of how the people I met in Rome are.  The Monday night before the plane ride back to America, I had just finished all of my projects and finals, and needed to pack like no other before I had to check out of my room.  But rather than stress myself over packing, I decided to go down and meet two of my friends who were meeting with some of the sisters who were hosting us in their convent.  They were supposed to be watching a movie with several of the sisters, but instead I walked into a dance party with the one sister who came.  It really had nothing to do with anything and was very spontaneous, but for an hour we danced around the world.  The sister taught us a Polish dance, a Greek dance, and even a Jewish dance, while we taught her an American square dance.  Dancing the night away with no worries proved the greatest thing I could need at that moment.  And it was our way of giving thanks to the people who have provided such generosity.  Who knew a dance party could have meant so much?  All I know that it was the perfect cap on a semester in which I have received so much hospitality.  I can only hope that I can learn and transfer that same hospitality to the people I go back to in America.  

Finally, Last Two Scavenger Hunt pictures!  #11 is a look a like, as it is not San Vincenzo al Volturno, a monastery located south of Rome.  Rather, this is S. Anselmo al Aventino, a church on what is still my favorite place in Rome, the Aventine Hill!  It's got a bell tower, a tall archway, circular windows and a pointed rooftop, making it a good lookalike.  #12 on the other hand doesn't look like the postcard too much.  Well, these postcards finally stumped me.  Throughout all 12 weeks I could not figure out where on earth to find these fountains.  But they were under an archway so instead I took a picture with the postcard in an archway in Piazza del Popolo.   

The Foreign and the Familiar

The place I have never been to in all the years of my life.  The one place that everyone has been to and has praised beyond end, but has hidden from me.  I finally get to go: the beach.

Now, a clarification on a definition.  According to me, I have been to a beach before as I have been to shores of Lake Erie more than several times.  However, according to all of my peers, one has never been to a beach unless one goes to a saltwater beach.

Well, I will gladly take the Mediterranean Sea as my first trip to the beach!   The day after Easter no one has classes, so a trip is organized, and I go with a large group to the edge of the Italian Peninsula.  The sun shines bright in the sky, and the moment finally comes.  Taking my shoes off to run barefoot, I first feel the dark, almost black, sand between my toes, a thick smooth texture.  Running along this ground of an foreign planet, I catch sight of the main attraction:  the shore.  Now it looks like any other beach on Lake Erie, but I have not been to one in so long that it looks as if I just found a brand new paradise.  The rhythm of the waves against the sand beat steadily as I stroll towards the edge, and the water washes my sand covered feet.  I took a seat near the edge and just sat there.  I could have been there forever, just being one with God's creation, thinking of nothing except the waves of the sea.

Now fast forward to Saturday evening.  I find myself on an excursion to Southern Italy, staying a hotel in Paestum, a town near the city of Naples.  The hotel is located only a two minutes walk from that glorious place where ocean and continent meet.  After walking through a buffalo farm and ancient Greek temples, it has been an exhausting day, but two of my friends and I are determined to see the sun set over that scene that caught my attention so well earlier in the week. We nearly ran there out of excitement, only to run into some other Duquesne students who went down earlier.  "Aw, what a shame.  You guys just missed the sunset".  Just missed it?  Well, we decide to go anyway, even though I am slightly dissapointed.  We missed God's big show, the point where all the colors that ever existed surround the great power of light that shines through the day. 

Reaching the beach, we have a seat on the soft sand to take in any remnants of the show.  The feeling of the sand once again between my toes, and the sound of the crashing waves bring back pleasant memories of Monday's trip.  However, this visit held a new surprise:  the show was not over.  Although the orange sun had disappeared, God still had painted the sky into a masterpiece of color.  Most of the sky was a deep blue by this point, but a strip of light blue introduced the bright orange and yellow placed lower in the sky.  Over all of this is specks of a dark pink, outlining the absent sun, and the purple of the light streaks of clouds.  In front of this natural postcard I no longer sat in the still slightly foreign atmosphere of the beach, but rather at home.  The silence of awe between the three students in the sand felt right.  No need to say anything.  Rather, we needed to take in one of the best scene of our lives.  If heaven felt like this, I would have no problem staying forever. 

My week however, is not defined by the triumph of the beach, but also shadowed a bit by the defeats in the city center of Rome.  Tuesday brought more of the sun shining, the warmth, and no class, so I walked around Rome in the afternoon.  Many people had suggested this one place to get gelato, and I planned on visiting some sites in the area, so I took a swing on by  for ice cream.  Although kind of hidden in the midst of several side streets, I was able to find my way using landmarks I had become familiar with in the past three months.  Feeling very accomplished, I took my gelato and took an immediate right and down a couple blocks where I knew to be the spacious Piazza Navona.  The tasty treat and the people watching completed my afternoon.

Fast forward this story to Thursday Evening.  After going out to dinner near Piazza Navona, my friends wanted to get gelato at that same place I went to earlier in the week.  I was fine, as I even knew how to get there.  Or so I thought.  I lead my little group to the Piazza, down a street, and taking a left.  No ice cream.  The moon shone brightly in the night as suddenly, this area I have been around so much for the past three months looked like a place I had never been before.  Perhaps I just didn't go down the street far enough.  No, what about taking a left here?  No again.  It takes asking at least five storekeepers for directions, and passing the same bus stop three times to find it.  The gelato never tasted more delicious and well deserved.  The cold, thick and creamy treat with chocolate pieces refresh my mouth after my huge disaster.  Yes, I did get my gelato eventually, but I knew the route!  I had taken it before and I should have easily been able to navigate these streets!  Yet I failed in this mission, and it was certainly not my best moment in the city of Rome. 

The Best Lesson of All

HAPPY EASTER EVERYONE!!!!!

I spent the Easter Triduum in Rome.  Let me just take a moment to realize how truly blessed I am to be in this place in this time.

Allow me to begin with Holy Thursday.  That beautiful day on which Jesus gives himself to us in the Eucharist and begins his passion with the Agony of the Garden.  If spending Easter week in Rome was not blessed enough, I am able to spend this very night with Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane through a traditional Roman Church Crawl.  It goes like this. Each and every glorious church in Rome (as I have already spoken on) has a separate altar of repose for the Blessed Sacrament after the Holy Thursday Mass, decorated to represent the Garden where the Lord went after the Last Supper.  Romans have the tradition of going around to all of these different altars in all of these different churches to spend time with the Lord.  I had the wonderful chance to tour nine different churches, each with a different altar to house the Lord. One had a blood red curtain surrounding the blessed sacrament, another had dozens of candles in paths surrounding the altar, while yet another had flowers all over. I have never seen more beautiful gardens in to spend my time with the Lord. Each church I attend brings to mind the loneliness, fear, and pain that Jesus went through in the Garden, and how sacred of a moment this is, that the pain has begun, and that journey of Love is only just begun.

The story of Love reaches the climax on Good Friday.  I was so blessed on this day to first, go to an English celebration of the Passion of Christ.  It was the first time I have ever heard the entire passion story sung, but the sung gospel pulled me into the story as if I was standing amongst the Jewish people on the day of the crucifixion.  Furthermore, seeing each and every person of the packed chapel venerate that beautiful crucifix, I knew that this is the moment.  The moment of the greatest act of Love ever and the greatest act of love that will ever be.  The moment that Jesus, all out of Love for us, gave himself completely and totally for us, following only the worst journey of Jesus’ life in the way of the cross. As for me, after the service, I have the chance to visit the very relics of the passion at S. Croce in Gerusalemme. The actual cross of Jesus stands in front of me, as well as the nail that pierced his body, thorns from the crown of mockery, and the original sign of Pontius Pilate that states: King of the Jews. These took part in that greatest act of Love that I celebrate today. I can barely comprehend what these inanimate objects have seen. The day completes with the walking down the Via Croce (Way of the Cross) with about 500,000 people and Pope Francis outside of the Colosseum. The least that all of the Church can do celebrate how much he Loved us, that he took on all of his pain to forgive our sins, and walk with him. The large metal flaming cross which stands behind Pope Francis is a reminder of the fire of Love that is the cross, reflecting the candles that each and every person in the crowd holds, uniting each of us to that cross. This is the day for the Church to celebrate, for by Jesus’ cross, she is redeemed.

Fast forward to the most beautiful day of days, Easter!  Jesus Christ has conquered the grave, brought light to darkness, opened the gates of heaven for us to have eternal life!  Although he apparently opened the gates of heaven a little too wide and let all of the rain escape.


Easter Sunday mass is the one event of the semester I was most looking forward to, so waking up Easter Morning and getting ready to go to St. Peter's is one of the most glorious feelings in the world.  I arrive at the square just when the gates open at 8:00, and the completely gray sky pouring down a steady flow of rain.  This keeps going, and going, and going.  Mass starts at 10:15, it keeps going.  Mother nature finally decided it was enough by 11:30, and by this time the Liturgy of the Eucharist had already begun.  (Do you see that sea of umbrellas in the square?)

But who cares about rain? Jesus is risen from the dead and I could not have been to a more beautiful mass for it.  The choir were angels resounding an Alleluia throughout the square  . The joy continued afterwards, as I remain for the Urbi et Orbi blessing of the people, the blessing of the pope that is so strong that it descends upon myself, and transfers to my family, friends, and any people I might be thinking of.  So many wonderful blessings upon this holy day of days!

I walk out of St. Peter's with a mix of feelings.  It is Easter, Christ is risen, I have been blessed by joining in the celebration of mass with Pope Francis, and listened to him address the entire church throughout the world.  Spiritually, I can not be more fulfilled than at this moment.  However, as the rain has seeped through my thin raincoat only to be absorbed by my cotton sweater, I stand in a physical mess.  I am hungry, thirsty, shivering with cold, and wet all over.  Absolutely none of my physical need have been met.  If anything, they have been taken away from me while mass was going on. Kind of annoyed by this, I try my best to take an optimist's perspective.  There must be some reason to this paradox.


Well, what is Easter?  It is the day where Jesus defeats death, sin, everything of this world, and gives all people the chance for eternal life with him forever in heaven. He opens the gates of heaven so that you and I and everyone might get to know God personally.  So this is the lesson, that God loves us so much to open the door to us.  And God cannot be reached by walking to heaven.  The important part is the soul, and educating the spirit to reach God.  So, yes, I may have been a little uncomfortable, but it doesn’t really matter, because I met God that day. 

Or this could all be me doing an over analysis of the situation.  Nevertheless, I had the most beautiful chance to celebrate the greatest story of Love in the center of the Catholic Church, the body of Love. Through this week I have learned the most important lesson of all:  That of God's love, and how it sets us free.  
 
To top off this holy blog, I shouldn't even need to introduce this Postcard Scavenger Hunt find #10.  St. Peter's dome in all of it's glory towering over the entire city of Rome.  And no, I did not take this on Easter.  This was on a much dryer and much more gorgeous day.

More Climbing in Italy

Why O why do my weeks keep getting better and better and better?  I'm running out of worst moments to put in my blog!

Yet again I have to make some close calls on the best moment, as the week was filled with marvelous adventures to gorgeous churches, delicious pastry shops, World War II bunkers, the most sacred St. Peter's tomb and finally, the spectacularly beautiful Island of Sicily.  Yes, it is hard to pick.  But let's talk Sicily.

As I ride into the island of Sicily on the overnight train, I have no expectations.  Just waking up from a light sleep in my cot, I take a glance out the window to get my first glimpse of the Island, and the view nearly blows me off of my bed.  Turns out the train is riding the coastline of Sicily along the Mediterranean Sea, and water is all that I see.  Having only the background of the wonderful Lake Erie as a large body of water, just trying to fathom the expanse of the sea makes my head spin, and I get super excited.  How great is God to create so much water that looks so clear and perfect!  But that is not the least of God's creation.

As we travel by bus to the hotel, I can catch by this window a land feature completely foreign to me:  a Volcano.  Mt. Etna to be specific.  Whatever stores, streets, or landmarks of Sicily are directly in front of me are pushed aside by this towering and dominant masterpiece. It attracts my eyes at all times, there is no mistaking this mountain, half purple half white with snow.  It is the center of the island and I learn during the weekend that it is an active volcano, thus always keeping the island on alert.  My excursion with the group is pretty packed with tours, Sicilian meals, and more, but at one point in reading the itinerary I read that we have free time to do some shopping, walk around, and climb a mountain for views of the Mediterranean sea. 

Climb up a mountain?  Yes please!  My thirst for wilderness has not fully be quenched in Rome, so I grab onto this chance immediately.  Now, of course I don't actually climb up Mt. Etna itself.  That would require a winter coat, skis, and more days than I have available.  But I settle for a very small little mountain in the city of Taormina at the foot of the Mt. Etna.  From ground level, the hill itself is still very high, although only a fraction of Mt. Etna.  Nevertheless, the climb begins as I seek out the entrance to the path up the top.  At almost a loss, I pass by a side street with stairs that leads to another side street.  Well, up is certainly a good start. 

And up leads to a path going to the top.  Fueled with excitement and adventure, I am ready to literally run up the entire winding set of wide and stretched out stairs leading up this grassy mountain to the top.  As I actually do begin to run up the stairs, a statue stops me in my tracks.  Mixed in with the flowers, bushes, and tall grass that line the stairs is a dark grey statue of Jesus, hands chained behind his back, and Pontius Pilate sitting in a throne beside Jesus.  Did I just stumble upon not only a path up to the top of a mountain but also a path of the Stations of the Cross?  I run up some more steps as there comes a bend in the steps and at the bend, another statue, this time of Jesus, with a cross on his back.  I do take some time to slow down and meditate on the stations.  It is impossible not to, especially when one reaches the crucifixion.  I can't just run past it. I am grateful that the stations make me pause, because even as I ascend the mountain, the view of the sea and the city below gets more incredible with each step I take. 

The climb up the mountain is indescribable, and the top reveals such a wonder that I literally squeal with excitement as I run around the church at the top, and cover every inch of the point.  I am only able to spend a couple minutes at the top before coming down because I am running out of free time, but I don't mind.  The best part is the journey.  Taking a journey up to an unknown place, viewing God's love in all of his glorious creation in the scenes of the sea and the land that grew more beautiful as I climbed.  Add that to Jesus himself, walking with me on this journey in his own journey to his death on the cross, the ultimate sign of God's love.  And in that journey, by the end, when the traveler is exhausted from all the steps, and Jesus has died on the cross, do I reach the top.  Finding at the top the statue of the resurrection and the most beautiful view of God's creation is the ultimate reward.  After the pain of the journey comes the complete picture of God's love and I could not be more joyful as I take it all in.  The view is amazing, as I catch a glimpse of the gigantic Greek theater of the city, the entire Mediterranean sea, and even past the Island to the tip of the boot of Italy.  The moment could not be more perfect.  A beautiful moment of faith, and a beautiful sight, even the memory of this moment makes me smile with joy. 

However, with the good comes the bad.  If it has not been noticed, I have been extremely busy this week, and Monday morning was one of the worst mornings ever.  Not that anything spectacular or significant happened.  All I do is wake up.  That's it.  That is my worst moment.  Between all of my field trips, staying up late to catch up on homework, and waking up early for class, I realize just as I wake up how sleep deprived I really am.  A not so good sleep on the train ride to Sicily didn't help anything either.  A wave of exhaustion and a heavy brick over my eyes tells me nothing more than to fall back asleep in a nice warm bed, but alas I cannot.  It takes me a good half an hour between getting myself ready for the day and finally eat breakfast to give me some energy, but I know that not having a full 8 hour sleep within the entire week is really getting to me.  It just happened to hit me that yesterday morning, all at once, and it was my worst moment.  It's sad though that the worst was caused by all of the best combined and thus losing sleep, precious sleep.  Now that's not going to stop me from going on all of these adventures, after all, I am in ROME.  There's so much that I have to see!  But yeah, sleep is kind of important to, and no where did I learn that lesson more than Monday morning.  


One last note:  Jen's Amazing Postcard Scavenger Hunt #9: Spoleto's Duomo!  And here I go pulling another April Fool's trick.  This is just another look alike as I am not able to travel to the town of Spoleto to go see their beautiful Cathedral.  Rather, in front of me is S. Maria in Trastevere, a gorgeous church in Rome, which, as legend goes, was founded on a stream of oil that flowed from the ground the very night that Jesus was born.  I have to admit, it looks very much like the Spoleto Duomo, with the five arches, the three windows above, and the bell tower.  Just one of the now 46 gorgeous churches I have seen in Rome this semester!

The Many Levels of Joy

I know it has been a great week when my worst moment is not at all bad and I have too many best moments to fit into one blog.   

This week (particularly the weekend) was FANTASTIC.  If I went into detail on every great experience that I had, this blog would take at least an hour to read.  However, unfortunately I can only pick one best moment.  (FYI:  The runner up best moment was mass inside St. Peter's Basilica, which means this one is pretty darn awesome).  It is Thursday night, and I am heading back to the Duquesne campus after an already fantastic evening, starting with a field trip to the beautiful church of S. Cecilia (there is a church involved - now I know its going to be good).  The field trip included going to see the tomb of S. Cecilia.  One of my favorite saints, and the patron saint of music, I was gracious that I had the chance to honor her miraculously preserved body.  Pray for us S. Cecilia.  This experience is only heightened by the fact that I turned in a major paper and finished my major presentation during that same class, under the protection at S. Cecilia.  I'm at a very good mood, and a beautifully amazing dinner with my professor and some white chocolate gelato caps the day off perfectly.

Relieved from the release of all major stress of projects and papers, I nearly skip back to campus out of happiness.  The memories of delicious food lingering on my tounge, plus the anticipation of a relaxing weekend in Rome gives me a level full of happiness .  Little did I know that the best was yet to come.  Walking into the campus, I habitually sign in and begin to walk past the front desk when one of my friends stops me.  "Hey Jen, you have some mail!"  Mail?  Me?  I am handed a large white envelope with my name printed on it.  Not even opening it yet, I am bursting with pure joy.  A letter from America.  YES.   I try to open up the letter the second I have it in my hands, but I unfortunately have to put letter opening on hold because I cannot walk up stairs and open a large envelope at the same time.  Finally coming into my room, I tear open the envelope, only to give out an audible cry, because in front of me are 10 beautiful notes from my wonderful community of friends back at Duquesne.

Wait a minute, this moment goes above mass at St. Peter's?  Really?  Yes it does (although again, close call), and for one of the most important reasons of all:  the amount of joy that this little package gave me.  Sitting down and reading all of those letters was one of the if not the best moment in Rome that has ever happened to me.  I cried while reading some, I laughed hysterically for others.  Just the fact that these wonderful people care about me so much as to send me letters giving me prayers and thoughts means the world to me.  The feeling I had after reading all of those letters was nothing more than the highest form of joy.  I was sitting in my bed at the moment, but I felt like Jumping up and down, squeeling with joy and shouting to the heavens, I could not contain the joy that overflowed in my heart.  God could not be greater to give me such great friends.  This feeling continued as I fell asleep that night, and was the first thing I felt as I awoke the next morning.  A smile never left my face as I went throughout my Friday, as all I could think about was the words of the people that cared for me, and how much God has truly blessed my life.  I cannot thank God, or my community back at Duquesne enough.  They gave me the best feeling of my life, and made my week one of the best weeks ever.  It was such a little thing compared to some of the great places I traveled to this week, (Note, St. Peter's, the Pantheon, and some more fantastically beautiful churches), but sometimes the little things are what make life so beautiful, and for me, all the way on the other side of the ocean, it is the best feeling to know that there are friends back in the states who care for me. 

Onto my worst moment, which honestly isn't really that bad.  It's just me trying coffee for the first time ever in my life. 

To be fair, I did like coffee for the most part.  Sitting in the cafe with my cappuccino, I am excited to try what is a necessary part to Italian culture.  And I don't exaggerate.  Coffee is to Italians as water is to the Mediteranian Sea.  One cannot exist without it.  Thus, being an international study abroad student, I want to fully immerse myself in the culture, and thus try this coffee.

At first the taste hits me like a brick wall.  Now, Italian coffee is very different than in America.  I am trying a cappuccino, coffee with a milky foam added to it.  The norm is espresso, a very strong, completely black coffee in a small amount.  However, even the weaker coffees like cappuccinos or macchiatos (coffee with milk) are stronger than coffee in America, or so I have been told.  My cappuccino to me tastes so strong it almost tastes sour.  Well, an added packet of sugar does the trick, as from the next sip on, the milk, coffee and sugar blend in the perfect mixture that pleases my taste buds.

So why is this a worst moment?  Well, after reaching the halfway point of my coffee, I begin to feel a set of jitters running through my body.  Naturally, with coffee comes caffinne, so I'm not in for anything good.  The best way I can describe it is an artificial joy.  It is the same feeling as I described earlier, that feeling of jumping up and down, not being to stand still and not being able to contain the feeling inside.  But it's just not the same as pure joy.  This feeling I wanted to go away, it was very annoying.  Probably because I really had nothing I feel that I needed to be super joyful about, and I had no reason to be joyful.  It was like taking a virtual tour of the Roman Forum.  I still can see the same things as an actual tour, but the actual thing is ten billion times cooler.  Thus, real joy, the joy that comes from say, letters from back home, is the best thing ever.  In the meantime, the jitters of coffee are just painful, especially as after they go away they just cause a large headache that lasts through my trip from the cafe back to campus.  Painful and not fun, I conclude my coffee experience in Italy as okay.  Not great, but the taste was so good that it wasn't terrible.  Take that as you will, my week was still fantastic!!  Hooray for Joy!!!

Finally, Scavanger Hunt Find #8!  Here is a beautiful fountain in the middle of Piazza Cairoli, near the Tiber river.  Gorgeous place to relax from wandering around Rome all day long!

Touring the Churches of Rome

Guess what?  I found my new favorite hobby here in Rome!  This hobby is not only tons of fun, but also incredibly easy, gives me a sense of thrill each and every time, and will never ever get old.  What is this new and incredible hobby?  Walking into a church. 

Finding a Catholic Church in Rome is like finding a skyscraper in New York City.  They are everywhere.  Through my class on Christian Art and Architecture, I learn that there is more to a church than what one may get from just attending mass.  Each church has a history as unique as each snowflake that falls from the sky.  The location of the church, the name, the structure, the early Christians have a reason for everything.  Even on the inside of the church, one finds meaning in every painting, every sculpture, every side chapel and every altar.  Of course, in class I can only get a glimpse of the sacred stories these places tell, and we touch on the necessary ones:  St. Peter's Basilica, St. Mary Major (my scavenger hunt find from last week), St. John Lateran (the Cathedral of Rome), and others.  But there are hundreds of more churches, and hundreds of more stories to find! 

One day when walking around the city, I observe some street performers dancing the day away.  Taking a seat on some steps to take a break from walking and watch, I take in both the performers and their surroundings.  Clothing stores, restaurants, and cafes line up each following the next among this busy retail area.  My sweeping overview of the area however, comes to a stop as I look at the building I am sitting in front of.  Somehow, I end up staring at the plain gray surface of a Church, a large contrast to the modern trends advertised around it.  Indeed, it looks almost squished into its little place on the corner.  I get so thrown off by the presence of this church that I just have to walk in.  Opening the tall and old bronze doors, I am nearly litteraly blown off my feet for what meets me.   From the gold color in the wide columns, surrounding the main aisle to the boldly dark frame of the multicolored altarpiece, it is hard to believe I am in the same building that is so monochromatic on the outside.  The beauty continues as I observe each and every side chapel, each having a beautiful sculpture or painting of a saint or devotion.  However, each one is careful not to overwhelm the center of attention, a painting of the Crowning of Mary as Queen of Heaven placed right above the altar, representative of the titular devotion of this church, the Church of Jesus and Mary.  Walking around some more, I find that this church, from the baroque period of art, also holds the tomb of a beloved holy priest of God accessible off of one of the side chapels. Well, it's certainly not everyday that I just walk into a church and see a tomb!  How great must be this witness of God that he would bless this little church with his presence.  I take a moment to pray in this sacred area separated from the noise outside.  The proclamation of a historically grounded faith in this very modern location fills my heart with joy.  Furthermore, the fact that I am able to see the faith of a parish just by walking around one little church is incredible.  How blessed am I to have found this witness of faith!  Are there other little gems of churches in the city?  If so, I want to see as many as I possibly can!

From this point on, I decide to do two things.  First, create a church log to keep track of every single church I walk into, and second, begin walking into any random church I come across no matter where I am.  Five days of my Spring Break in Rome present the perfect opportunity to go on my tour of sacred treasures.  First off are my list of churches I specifically want to go see, one of them being the Basilica of St. Paul outside the Walls (see adjacent picture).  Besides St. Peter's Basilica and the Basilica of St. John Lateran, this can be considered the other major church in Rome. Getting off at the metro stop, I can't wait to see the visual place to accompany the devotion to a beloved saint.  It takes me a while, but finally I see a tall cross on top of a building in the distance that stands above the rest of the skyline.  As I make my journey to my destination, the church seems to get bigger and bigger with every step I take.  Eventually I find a door three times  taller than me inside several columns.  Walking in, I can already tell this is now little church stuck in the middle of a street.  Even the ceiling seems to reach higher than the clouds outside.  However, something seems a bit off.  If I walked in the front door, shouldn't the alter be right in front of me?  Well, it turns out I went in a side door and not the main door.  Taking a 90* turn to face the main door, I nearly fall down, as I face the incomprehensible truth.  The real main entrance stands, at least ten times taller than I am.  Walking through the main aisle is as if I were an ant walking through an entire mall sized parking lot.  The columns themselves reduce me to a speck of dust. Everything, the height, the doors, even the atrium is at least five times bigger than your average building.  No wonder the early Christians built this towering palace!  It certainly proclaims their presence in the city.  After all, no one would be able to miss such a large building.  It's quite the opposite of The Church of Jesus and Mary, this time proclaiming boldly that this is a Christian Church and by gosh it's going to shout it to the entire world as it quite literally seems to touch the heavens. Of course, another reason it is so big in size is that it is the home of the tomb of St. Paul, by far one of the top five most important Christian saints, which is another reason why this place has such a large significance as well.  The significance surely matches the size, and I must imagine that this place is so big it can hold God himself if God could be held.  

If I had room to describe every single one of the 33 Catholic churches I have visited so far, I would.  Each one is unique, and each one has something different to present to the faithful pilgrim that comes to its doors.  For one church it may be the Mosaic above the alter that stands out, for another a certain relic, or the location, or something I have never seen before.  Nevertheless, each contributes to the universality of the beauty that is the Catholic Church, and it has been more than inspiring to visit so many of them, only to know that I, in a half of a semester, have only covered a fraction of all the secrets of the Catholic faith.  How lucky am I to experience all of these places, and learn the roots and the very treasures of the Catholic faith from the beloved places that are themselves the expression of faith.

Onto Jen's Amazing Postcard Scavenger Hunt #7!  Here a picture off of the streets of Rome, the Fontana della Terrina stands in the little Piazza della Chiesa Nuova.  See that little knob at the tob of the fountain?  This knob is what led to the finding of this fountain, as it is the only fountain in Rome with this little feature.  Looks cool and refreshing huh? 

The European Palette of Cultures

The American student living in Italy sits in a England theater watching a musical about France.  Let the intercultural games begin!

Never, ever, in all of my life, would I ever have thought that four cultures could be so drastically different.  Each is as different as the paints on a color palette and I love all of them.   Having known America my entire life and living in Italy for the past month, I have been comparing two different cultures.  But now, just coming back from my spring break in London and Paris however, I add two  new colors to my culture palette. 

First stop is London, England!  I am pretty excited walking through the airport because everything is in English.  Really though, it is fantastic to have that feeling that everyone can understand what I say.  That can be taken way too much for granted.  Well, with that one major culture obstacle out of the way, it is now time to take on another culture factor, food.  Before attending a performance of Les Miserables, (so yes, that scene above actually happened), My friend and I found a nice little pub that we went into. First task is to ask the waitress if we have to pay for a glass of water.  Allow me to preface this by saying that I have been in Italy where water is not free, so I don't know what England does.  The waitress laughs at me.  Why would anyone pay for water?  That's like having to pay for rain! I get really excited.  The comfortable and relaxed atmosphere reminds me of America.  No more strange customs or strange languages.  Even still though, walking throughout London, all the people seem so relaxed around the city.  Everyone is willing to help one another out, making room for each other at pubs, pointing out the right direction for the metro, and giving any helpful tips for the wandering tourist.  Furthermore, I didn't feel out of place at all in the city.  Well, Yes, I was obviously American and I was not the only tourist in the city, but the city did not seem like there was a difference between tourist and regular person.  Walking along St. James' park to the Buckingham Palace, people were relaxed, taking walks, lying in the flower beds, everyone was going about like it is a normal day in a normal city of London.  It reminds me of the color of a clear blue sky.  Certainly not pale, but not dark either.  Just a bright relaxed blue.  London acts like its a normal city, and it is.  The American traveler could not be happier to find this place ready to relax and enjoy everything London has to offer.    

From London to Paris!  A deep maroon represents France here.  Deep, rich in culture, and ready to stamp you with its royal seal wherever you walk.  And large.  You can't miss anything in Paris, just as you can't miss a nice deep maroon color.  Just take the first morning I was in Paris. I had the fantastic chance of visiting Sacre Coeur, one of the largest basilicas in Paris and one of my favorite.  Beforehand though, My friend and I stop in a cafe for breakfast.  For some reason, the waitress seemed pretty annoyed with us when we were first ordering.  I can only hope I didn't offend her in some way when my friend begins speaking in French to order.  As if the sea suddenly turned still, the waitress immediately adopted a sweeter tone in her voice.  My only conclusion could be that she was pleased that an American was speaking French pretty well.  Eating my croissant, I realized how passionate these people are about their language.  They seem to be so proud of it that they want everyone to at least try and speak it.  Which is very cool.  The croissant was delicious, and after leaving the nice waitress behind, the climb begins up to the top of what seems like a mountain which holds Sacre Coeur.  If the French were passionate about their language, then they are more passionate about their landmarks and their religion.  Almost the first thing I notice when I walk in is that Eucharistic Adoration is going on.  Wait, what?  All of these visitors, all of these tourists come in to see the architecture and the artwork, it can easily be turned into any other tourist attraction like the Eiffel Tower per say.  How has this remained such a holy and sacred place with so many loud and curious tourists?  Well somehow they manage to do what I see is nearly impossibe, and it is inspiring.  The French take pride in their faith enough to go to the length of having Perpetual Adoration in a major landmark.  That is awesome and it encourages my very own faith.  Thank you Paris, for showing me what it really means to be passionate.  How different from London but how I love both in so different of ways!

Of course, I have to come back to Rome eventually, but when I do, I get to take all of Paris and London with me.  It is one thing to sit in a classroom and talk about the differences between cultures and what not, but in a classroom, all you hear and all you see is words.  It takes actual traveling and experience to see a culture's true colors and not only see them, but live them. 

Okay, one more country and I promise I'm done.  Back in Italy, I discover Jen's Amazing Postcard Scavanger Hunt Find #6!  The postcard shows the Cupula Duomo Nuovo in Brescia, Italy.  Complete with lampposts and a sunrise, the photograph looks a whole lot like the postcard.  It must be the actual thing!  

YOU HAVE BEEN FOOLED!   This is actually NOT the Cupula Duomo Nuovo in Brescia.  I unfortunately will not be able to go to Brescia, Italy, because of time and distance.  So this is a look-a-like from the city of Rome.  The church is S. Maria Maggiore, and one of the major churches in the city.  Beloved, and often visited by the Pope himself, it is even more glorious on the inside than the outside.  So, yeah, I would have LOVED to go to Brescia, but I only have three months.  Besides, I think I made up for it by taking this awesome picture at this incredible church.  Yes?