Traslocare

Living in foreign country is one thing, moving in a foreign country is entirely another. Yet, here I am, settled into my new home in Rome after moving from Bologna last week.

The process of transporting all of my belonging from Bologna to Rome began when I went home to the US. I knew I had too much to bring with me for the summer, so I did my best to identify what I could live without, crammed my suitcases full, and dragged everything through the Bologna airport back to Chicago. I did a decent job  of packing in the States and only brought one not-quite-full suitcase back to Italy for moving purposes.

However, I may have underestimated the amount of crap I left in Bologna. Meaning I had to stuff a suitcase, a carry-on, a tote bag, a shopping bag, my backpack, and my purse full of everything I had left in my room. Although I lived about ten minutes away, six bags were a lot to carry to the train station. With the gracious generosity of Shelby and Alyssa (thanks, guys!), we managed to get everything onto my train.

After a relatively quick two and a half hour journey, I arrived in Rome! Miraculously, I got all of my belongings off of the train on my own and somehow made my way to the taxi stand to get a ride to my new apartment. That’s when things got interesting. As I waited in line for a taxi, a man came up to me asking if I needed a cab… I tried to wave him off but he was rather persistent and when I finally admitted to needing a ride, he grabbed one of my bags and said, “Follow me.” I felt I had no choice but to follow my luggage, which I did, around the corner to a small white car with no taxi sign and no meter. I watched as the little old man hauled my baggage into his tiny car and figured, if he was trying to do me harm, he could have left the heavy bags behind. (Sorry, mom…)

Never fear, I made it to my apartment safe and in one piece, after a too-expensive cab ride.

In Rome, I am living on the south end of Trastevere with my friend Christina, with whom I studied in Bologna, and another Notre Dame girl, Katie. So far, so good! We live below an INCREDIBLE bakery; I cannot express how amazing this bakery is. It has weird hours (or maybe no hours… It’s possible they only open when they feel like it) but the brioche and bombolone are to die for. We like to say we live below heaven.

The apartment itself has had its fair share of problems thus far. We had a hot water issue, bug infestation, and broken washing machine. I think most everything is squared away but we shall see. The good news is, it’s only a few weeks.

Other than that, I haven’t been doing too much. I start work on Friday at the Pontifical Council for Justice and Peace under Cardinal Turkson.

Con affetto,

Sara

Pasqua

As promised, another post about Holy Week!

Easter at the Vatican was a completely surreal experience. Mass was at 10:15am, a very reasonable hour if you ask me. However, in order to get into St. Peter’s Square and get a seat, my friends and I arrived at 6am. Yup. Four hours before mass started. Two hours before they even let people into the Square. Insane? Maybe. Worth it? Definitely.

Lining up outside at 6am on Easter morning took a bit of the scarcity out of the holiday. Although our position was ideal, the people around us were raring to go and were not shy about poking and prodding us whole we waited. We were constantly squeezed from all sides – mind you, the line was not moving at this point. We were completely stationary and yet everyone was more than anxious to fight their way to the front.

When we were finally let through the first gate at 8am, guards shepherded us to metal detectors. Shockingly enough, we waited some more at this point. Apparently the woman behind me didn’t get the “we’re-waiting-some-more” memo because she jammed her elbows into my back so much that I finally turned around to say, “Aspetta, per favore” (Please wait). It took me 0.05 seconds to realize that was exactly what my mother would have done. Love you, mom.

Being an America who flies on a semi-regular basis, at security I was prepared to take off my coat, hand over my phone, and send my bag through the x-ray machine. The Vatican, however, is not a US airport, and I was permitted to go through the metal detector with my phone in my hand. Therefore, I seriously overreacted and nearly paid for it in the jog to get seats. No, you read correctly, I had to full out jog to get a seat at Easter Sunday mass.

After the brisk jog to thousands of chairs in the Square, my friends and I managed to get prime seats. We watched as the Square filled up with an estimated 150,000 people. When mass finally started the procession was simple – only Pope Francis and the other direct ministers were involved. I assumed all the cardinals would file in before him, but it seems Pope Francis really does like to keep things short and sweet.

The Mass was very international; the readings and petitions were in all different languages while the liturgy itself was in Latin. Finally, four year of high school Latin were relevant in everyday life! Besides being international, the Mass was inspirational and beautiful. There is no ignoring the fact that the sacrament of the Eucharist is universal and has the ability to touch millions of people, a fact I witnessed first hand on Easter.

The surreal part of the Mass was the blatant disregard for the sanctity of the situation. There was constant chatter and photo flashes. At communion, I was shoved and sandwiched to the point where a woman told me to move out of the way and all I do was respond with, “Non posso” (I can’t). Other than these breaks in the silence and reverence, the Mass was extremely powerful and refreshing.

Truly a once in a lifetime experience, nothing I have done so far in my life has been as worthwhile as Easter Mass at the Vatican.

Con affetto,
Sara