Happy Easter Everyone!
When my cousin Dianne and I were planning our grand European adventure in 1998, we knew we wanted to spend Easter in Rome. We had big plans of having a spiritual experience seeing the Pope on Good Friday, touring the Vatican, and perhaps having brunch with the Pope on Easter. Our expectations were very realistic.
The first thing you should know is that this was in the days before the internet. We did all the planning by phone and slow mail. We got a 2-month train pass and booked some accommodations via phone. But what we failed to do was book accommodations in Rome for Easter. We were young. We were clueless. We did not think ahead.
So, it came to pass, that right before Easter 1998, while we were in Barcelona, the trains went on strike in France, making it nearly impossible for us to get to Rome. We hemmed and hawed, we talked to people at the Barcelona train station, and we paced. We decided to buy bus passes.
Before we left Barcelona, Dianne had a brilliant idea. A friend of hers knew a nun who lived in Rome at a convent and who had given her a phone number in ‘case of emergency’. This was an emergency. Dianne hopped on a payphone, called the convent, talked for a bit, and found out there was no room in the inn. We decided to go anyway.
We got on the overnight bus to Italy. Dianne’s seat was behind me. She was seated next to a nice man. I was seated next to the “Most beautiful man in Europe”. He spoke no English, I spoke no Italian. I figured it was going to be a match made in heaven. We would be together forever. A love story for all generations. Within 5 minutes, I had fallen asleep and hours later, woke up in Italy. The match did not work out. He was off the bus before I said “Arrivederci”.
We wandered into a little hotel near the bus station called “Hotel Last Chance” or something like that. It was 3x what we usually paid a night but desperate times…We checked in our room and left almost immediately to go see the Pope speak in front of the Coliseum steps for the Good Friday service. What started as a trickle turned into a downpour within 30 minutes. I strained desperately to see the Pope, but we were surrounded by nuns with umbrellas. The stream on their umbrellas seemed to hit directly between my eyes. We were soaked. When it was over, we went out for Chinese food..in Rome.Classy backpackers.
The next day we wandered the city, ate gelato, and went to art galleries. On Easter Sunday, we woke up with a small sense of dread. We had to be out of the hotel by 10 and our train didn’t leave for Brindisi until midnight. So that was going to be a whole day of lugging our backpacks around Rome.
We decided to go to church to St. Andrew’s Presbyterian Church because it was close to our hotel and in English. It was a beautiful service, full of chanting and incense. At coffee time after, we were approached by a young American man named Paul. He was friendly and engaging. He told us he was studying in Rome and that a group from the church would be having dinner together later and asked if we would like to join.
Because I’m American, I was skeptical of this generosity. What did he want from us? What was his agenda? He led us to a room above the sanctuary where the dinner was held. I thought “Oh boy, here is where things go south.” But he just kindly said he was headed out for the afternoon and we were welcome to stay there. We were thrilled. There were couches and a bathroom and we napped and vegged and were so glad not to be walking around Rome, carrying our packs.
A group of about 5, including Paul, showed up around 4 with lots of food. We sat around and ate and told stories and got to know each other. There was a 72 year old ballerina, and a 40 year old man who was becoming a monk. Paul was studying to be a priest and Dianne and I were in awe of it all. After a 5 course dinner, Paul said he would take us on a tour of Rome. I don’t remember everything we saw, but I do remember seeing the Roman Forum, some of the buildings dating back to 29 BC. It was dark by then so the whole place was lit up by lights. I kept wondering how this was possible? How all this architecture withstood the test of time? As we walked back to the church to get our backpacks before we caught the train, I couldn’t help wondering if Paul and his motley crew were angels sent to give us a break from our weary wonderings. The day had been so restful, and such a nice break from hurrying around, eating croissants and whatever else was cheap. I wondered if while we were waving goodbye from the train, Paul would just vanish into thin air as his job was done.
We got to the train station with a few minutes to spare and thanked Paul for everything. He gave us his phone number and said to call if we were ever back in Rome. We said we would. As we stepped onto the train, Paul called out “Hey, weird question, are you guys angels?” We just smiled as the doors closed.
What a great story! I had a similar experience on one of my trips to Romania. Jeanette and I had a transfer in Paris which turned into a crazy night that involved a literal “last train,” being stranded, an unlikely police station, a bottle of booze, and sitting in a taxi thinking we had just been part of a “Touched By An Angel” episode. 😅 Thanks for reviving the memory.
What a fun story. Truly, in those unexpected moments, memories are created. Thanks for sharing.