When Sam made a new little friend in the square in front of St Peter’s Basilica, he couldn’t stop talking about Mario. After weeks spent in the company of his boring parents Sam had finally played with someone his own size, someone who brought his own trike with him! The next day, a Sunday, he begged to go back and see if he could find Mario again. On Sundays at midday the Pope makes his big, weekly appearance at a window high in the papal residence to bless the souls gathered below, so we thought we’d check it out. It was quite an event.
Tens of thousands gathered in the spectacular piazza to hear the big fella pontificate. Tears stained the faces of many in the crowd during the service. Large groups had travelled together from all over the world to be there, which took Jenny and I by surprise as we’d simply gone for a wander to help our little boy find his Italian buddy. But of course it’s right that people consider it such a special moment – it’s the Christian equivalent of a trip to Mecca. For many it was the realisation of a lifelong dream.
That’s him … the guy in the window!
When he speaks in Latin the Pope actually sounds wonderful – quite charming, comforting, caring and gentle. His sermon, although understood by only a few, washed warmly across his faithful audience like sunshine and, even to irreligious people such as ourselves, actually felt like a blessing. They were welcome words. Even Sam, from his perch on my shoulders, was transfixed (despite our lack of luck in tracking down his mate Mario). It wasn’t until Pope began preaching in other languages – yes, speaking in tongues – that the Catholic CEO began sounding like a voiceover for Satan. There’s something about his English that is very creepy…
Sam & Daddy sleep off their blessing
Yesterday we took Sam to a park, where he climbed all over a few statues...
Sam tests for tinea…
We also wandered to the Spanish Steps because they’re close to our favourite cake/gelato shop, and to the Jewish ghetto which is the location of our new favourite pizza shop, Pizzeria Franco e Cristina.
Pizza and beer for lunch in the ghetto
Today it was time to get out of our comfort zone. I’ve always wanted to travel to the Rome suburbs to see how the real people live, Sam has always wanted to travel on a tram and Jenny is happy to do anything that stops Sam whingeing for more than a minute or two. So we combined our wishes and took Rome’s only tram line to its far end, had a wander around, then returned.
The most interesting and somehow-comforting outcome from the morning adventure is that, despite the fact that we all believe Italians are naturally incredibly stylish and beautiful, Rome is full of bogans, just like every other city – you’ve just got to look a bit harder for them. At the far reaches of the tram line I saw track-suit pants matched with faux-leather jackets, white jeans worn with white boots, a man with a front-mullet and several middle-aged women sporting cigarettes behind their ears. It wasn’t nearly as shocking as any given Saturday morning at Tuggeranong Hyperdome – after all, the Italians were wearing shoes, had showered in the last 24 hours and could probably read – but it was interesting all the same.
We’re now back in the historic centre surrounded by Vespas, culture, flavour and the odd skinny, rich idiot wearing Prada. The world is full of fascinating people – bless them all.
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