Days 4-6: Getting Lost

Ciao! It’s hard to believe that it has almost been a week since I arrived here in Rome. Over the last few days, I have learned a lot about this place, its history, and its ability to move people.

 

 

Friday, like every other day in Rome, was beautiful – the weather presenting the (nearly, considering the heat) perfect opportunity to visit and encounter Rome’s treasures. So, that morning, my class had a tour at the Foro Romano, or Roman Forum, the previous center of Roman life. Given that much of it is now in ruins, it is truly awe-inspiring that historians and archaeologists have been able to piece together each structure and its significance. Even more amazing (to me at least) is the fact that Saint Peter was imprisoned here! The thought that I could have been standing where he once stood gives me chills.

After the Forum, my friend and I headed to the Colosseum, the size and scale of which was astounding, and then back towards the Campo de Fiori, where the UW Rome Center is housed.

 

 

 

 

And this is where our day becomes more interesting. Unfortunately (or not so unfortunately, as we will soon discover), neither my friend nor I had cellular data or a map. We knew the general direction in which we were going, but quickly got turned around and lost on Rome’s winding streets. Just as the situation was beginning to look hopeless, we stumbled upon, of all things, the Trevi Fountain. Despite the crowds of people surrounding the Trevi, it was more magnificent than I could have imagined. Or, in the words of my friend, “This is the coolest thing EVER!” Needless to say, this little detour revitalized us, and after a bit of help from a local, we found our way back to the campo. On our way, we came across St. Ignatius of Loyola Church, with its marvelous statues and painted ceiling. All in all, I was glad we got lost; otherwise, we would have not been able to see these things when we saw them.

 

Although I had originally planned on travelling to Florence during the weekend, it soon became apparent that such a trip would be immensely stressful. Thus, I opted for a more relaxing weekend: a day-trip to Bracciano, a small lake-town, just an hour out of Rome by train. There, we saw one of many castles built by the Orsini family in the 15th century. The Castello Orsini-Odescalchi was both rich in history and in art, as we saw while traversing its many rooms. We then went to the beach of Lake Bracciano, the highlight of our trip. After a busy first week, there was nothing better than swimming and relaxing on the beach, passing the time without any distractions. It surely didn’t hurt that the view was beautiful.

 

 

 

 

 

That evening, while passing by the Basilica of Santa Maria in Trastevere, I noticed that the church was holding silent prayer between 8 and 9 pm. I was in conflict as to whether to go or to spend that extra half-hour doing my school work. Eventually, I felt a subtle push to go to the church, and decided to drop everything and make my way over. And I am so glad I did. When I arrived at Santa Maria, what I saw was not silent prayer, but a Mass, and a grand one at that. I soon realized that two men were being ordained as deacons! You could easily see the pure joy in the clergy and congregation, which came with the acknowledgement that these newly-ordained deacons would go on to serve the Church and its people for the rest of their lives. While I could not understand Italian, I was able to keep track of where in the Mass we were by picking up certain words and gestures. (Thank God for a universal Mass!) The people next to me were also kind enough to indicate the right page for one of the songs. After Mass, I thanked the man seated next to me, and he introduced himself as Emmanuel. He and the couple in front of us (Tivrini and David, from Boston) asked me about myself, where I was from, and why I was here in Rome. I left that experience feeling more at home than I had anytime during the week. While immersed in an unfamiliar language and place, I found myself in a familiar and welcoming community: the Catholic Church. I rediscovered, just as I have time and time again, that no matter where I am, I will always be welcomed and loved by my family in faith.

Before we left for Italy, one of our instructors kept reminding us, “Don’t be afraid to get lost in Rome. ” I, who usually likes to know exactly what I am doing and when, was reluctant to take his advice. “Getting lost is most certainly not fun”, I thought. This weekend proved the opposite of my preconceptions. I changed my plans, came into unexpected situations, and literally got lost. And I loved it. It was not so much the being lost that appealed to me – rather, it was the discovering, the finding of new places, situations, and people. I hope that this new understanding of “getting lost” will make me more responsive to the unexpected, to a change in rhythm, and ultimately, to what the Holy Spirit urges me to do, each second. (After all, I may have never met Emmanuel, Tivrini, or David, had I not been present to the tug I felt towards Santa Maria.) Who knows? In getting lost in Rome, I may find a portion of myself here. I’ll never know unless I am open.