HOW TO HAVE A NERVOUS BREAKDOWN IN ITALY
Don Hawley
October 25 to November 9, 1999
In 1508 Pope Julius II commissioned the great artist Michelangelo to produce one of theworld’s most renowned works of art—Bible scenes painted in vibrant color on theceiling of the Sistine Chapel inside the Vatican. For four torturous years the artist layon his back holding his brushes over his head. When Hollywood portrayed this monumentalachievement they called the movie "The Agony and the Ecstasy." That same titlecould describe our recent sixteen-day vacation in Italy. It began and ended with agony,but in between there was a great deal of ecstasy. First the agony.
It’s a long flight from Portland, Oregon, to Italy, but after a brief stop inWashington D.C. we were safely deposited at a grand new airport outside the city of Milan.I should have been forewarned when the Eurocar rental agency handed over the keys to ourMercedes Benz, but failed to provide us with a sheet explaining Italian traffic signs. Inever did decipher all of them. Neither did they give us a decent city map. Address inhand we headed for the heart of Milan and, what else, the London Hotel. I thought it wouldbe helpful to have a reservation awaiting us, but later wished I had merely grabbed thefirst hotel I stumbled on. Getting a man on the moon was a simple operation compared tofinding our hotel.
I want to state bluntly that when an Italian gets behind the wheel of a car he becomestotally insane, intensely angry, and definitely homicidal. To complicate matters, no twostreets in Italian cities run parallel; each is set at a different point on the compass.Street widths were determined centuries ago when the largest vehicle was an oxcart. To addto the difficulty, every three blocks there is a traffic circle or square built around yetanother fountain or statue. All Italian automobiles come with the speed preset--very fast!The only other equipment consists of a steering wheel, a loud horn, and a weak set ofbrakes.
Looking for our hotel wasn’t difficult, it proved to be impossible. Even thepitiful map offered by the car rental company was of no help, as I didn’t dare takemy eyes off the road and Bunnie couldn’t see to read it. So we had one terrifiedpilot, and no navigator. Worse yet, there was no place to pull over to take a quick peekat the so-called map. Every single legitimate parking place in Milan was taken, and theother half of the autos were parked illegally. Once an Italian finds a legal parkingplace, he never moves the car again. Parking spaces in Italy are handed down fromgeneration to generation like a piece of real estate. The people actually get to work andback on public buses and trams.
I don’t want to be indelicate, but in the middle of this high-tension exercise Idesperately needed to find a bathroom. Finally I decided my only hope was to pull in to apublic parking facility, park, visit the restroom, pay the fee, and then re-enter traffic.Seeing a parking sign I whipped into one of two lines and waited my turn. At the lastminute I realized that an attendant gives you a ticket, you leave your car, and they driveit onto a large elevator that carries it off to some secret area. I accepted the ticket,but then shouted out a word fortunately understood in many languages,"toilette!" The understanding attendant took back the ticket, told me to leavethe motor running, and pointed to a nearby door. By the time I returned the waiting line Iwas blocking had grown to several cars. While the internal traffic ground to a halt, Imaneuvered to reach the tiny exit, and then left to the blaring of angry horns and shoutedcurses. It was worth it.
By now a full hour had passed and although we were in the center of Milan we were nocloser to finding the London hotel. It was at that point Bunnie and I made each other asolemn vow; we would never again drive our own car in a foreign land. It would be a groupaffair or nothing, and since I hate being herded around like a cow we have made our lastsignificant trip overseas. You know what I mean by group travel. "Ladies andgentlemen, you can now disembark the bus. This is the renowned Coliseum of Rome. As youenter remember that centuries of fascinating history surround you. Be back on the bus in3.2 minutes. If you miss the bus you can find your own way back to the UnitedStates."
I finally discovered that Italian drivers frequently pull into any illegalhandkerchief-sized space and turn on their emergency blinkers. As I write this, I’llbet that half of you don’t even know where to find the button in your car to activatethe emergency flashers. But in Italy there’s no more important feature in theautomobile. Right in the middle of our dashboard was a huge, ugly, bright red,triangular-shaped button. I learned to drive up on the sidewalk and set it blinking whileasking for help. The flashers did their job, but few of the Italians I collared couldspeak English, and none of them knew where they were anyway. Even so, they were willing toguess. (In all fairness, I also found this same phenomenon while living in New York City).
Next I tried stopping to ask help of a policeman, or policewoman. No good. The officersin Italy have beautiful uniforms, but they don’t know how to get from here to thereeither. After two solid hours of frantic driving with no progress whatsoever, I realizedthis random circling could take us right into the new millenium. Finally I spotted a taxidouble-parked, and remembered that cab drivers know how to get anywhere. The driver couldspeak some English and, although he was engaged, he suggested I pull in front of him anddo the blinking light routine. He would radio for another cab, and that taxi could lead meright to our hotel. Genius! I believe the new driver took us a few miles out of the way torun up the meter, but I was ready to pay any price.
Completely drained we settled into our room, and I turned on the TV. Guess what?Everyone was speaking Italian! I had just enough strength left to go out and bring backpizza. By the way, Italian pizza parlors need to send their chefs over here to learn howto turn out the real thing. Devastated by jet lag, we fell into a drugged sleep.
At 4 a.m., no kidding, the phone rang and it was the front desk. I was warned not topull the cord hanging next to the shower, as it would set off an alarm. This system ismandated for all hotels in Italy, but I didn’t need to know about it at 4 a.m.
Before we could arise the first morning I was hit with violent chills, and spent thenext two days in bed with a high fever. Bunnie was afraid to venture very far alone, buttried to bring in enough simple nourishment to keep me alive. By the time the fever brokeI had lost all account of time. I got up one morning and saw that it was already lightout, so hurriedly dressed to start our sightseeing. When I again stepped out on thebalcony, however, I was stunned—the light had given way to dark. Then I realized itwasn’t morning, it was night.
When we finally set out to see Milan, I was impressed with the Italian people. With allthat pasta and oil I expected a weight problem. Instead, nearly everyone was slim. TheU.S. must be the fat capital of the world. Also I was impressed with their dress, just asI had been with the people in Hong Kong; really classy. Nearly all the women were wearingdresses; we saw very few slacks, and virtually no jeans. Everyone was well shod. It was arelief not to see the millions of big, ugly Nike’s so prevalent in American. In aword, compared to the Italians, we are a nation of slobs.
So much for the agony, now to the ecstasy.
THE CATHEDRAL OF MILAN
At the heart of each Italian city is the duomo, or cathedral, and I believe the one inMilan has the world’s most beautiful exterior. One steps from a small side street andsuddenly there looms this huge, magnificent Gothic structure completely sheathed in whitemarble. This architectural triumph is adorned with 135 marble spires, 150 gargoyles, and2,245 marble statues. I went up on the roof, and even that is composed of precious whitemarble. We’re such an upstart nation that it’s difficult to comprehend the factthat construction of this cathedral began in 1386. It was consecrated in 1577, and notwholly competed until 1897. Not many church building programs in he U.S. last more than500 years; they just seem to. The duomo was erected to honor Mary, rather than Christ.
We were disappointed we couldn’t step inside La Scala, the world’s mostfamous and beautiful opera house. Fortunately I was able to visit it when in Italy 40years ago.
We did get to visit the planet’s earliest and most elegant shopping mall, theGalleria Vittorio Emanuele. Its only rival would be GUM, off Red Square in Moscow. Thearchitect of this great glass-vaulted structure, Guiseppe Mengoni, lost his footing andtumbled to his death on the floor of his own creation, just days before its opening. Youknow that since Bunnie didn’t buy anything, she was still suffering from jet lag.
Just a stone’s throw from the great cathedral square are four MacDonaldsrestaurants. Somehow, they seemed rather profane amidst all the ornate surroundings. Westopped for some French fries, and found the golden arches to be inhabited almostexclusively by teenagers.
Their purple and green hair was like a bit of home. Later we had a meal at Peck,"one of Italy’s, if not the world’s, most irresistible foodemporiums." What I really would have liked to resist was the bill.
We were disappointed not to see Leonardo DaVinci’s painting of the Last Supper,but since its recent restoration the waiting lines are endless. Again, I did see it whenin Milan years ago.
VENICE
Bidding farewell to Milan, we headed to Venice by way of the Autostrade, or super tollhighway. What we had heard about the speeds proved to be true. When I was doing 80 milesper hour in the middle lane, many cars were passing me on the left as if I was parked. Iguess after Italians get away from city gridlock they go wild. Seat belts are fine, but todrive on the Autostrade one should also have roll bars and crash helmets. In our hundredsof miles of Autostrade driving we never once saw a police vehicle. Either they don’tcare, or else they’re afraid to drive on these speedways. What we did see was a smallcar impaled crossways on the front of a semi, a sedan in the ditch that looked as if ithad been ripped with a can opener, and a big truck on fire.
I decided it would be best to stay in a hotel in Padova, rather than right in themiddle of Venice. Unfortunately, some bad turns getting out of Milan caused us to arrivein Padova after dark, and we had no idea where to find a hotel. Several times when we werein dire straits the Lord sent someone to help; this was such an occasion. I pulled off ata totally self-service gas station, and found myself with a well-dressed businessman whospoke perfect English. He easily directed us to the beautiful Hotel Milano, just a fewblocks away.
When we stopped in Venice on the way back from the mission field, we had allowed onlyone day to see this city of canals. I vowed then that I would return and do some seriousexploring. Men who dared defy the sea built this beautiful city on water more than 1,000years ago. In the 15th and 16th centuries Venice was the richest andmost powerful maritime nation on earth.
No autos are allowed inside Venice, so after parking at the edge we boarded a waterbusthat negotiates the Grand Canal. Winding through the heart of Venice this busy waterway islined with some 200 palaces. We disembarked at Piazza San Marco, the heart of the city.Here, of course, the commanding structure is a basilica with fairy-tale cupolas and marblelace work. The church was built between 1063 and 1094 to house the remains of Mark theEvangelist.
The most fascinating item inside the basilica is the Pala d’Oro (GoldenAltarpiece), a dazzling golden screen encrusted with 1,927 precious gems and 255 enameledpanels.
Across from the church is a tall brick bell tower called the Campanile, that affords abird’s eye view of all of Venice. Strangely enough, from the top one cannot see themyriad canals that snake through the 117 islets on which Venice is built. The originaltower, now perfectly reconstructed, stood for 1,000 years before it suddenly collapsedwithout warning. The only known casualty was a cat. In the 15th century,clerics found guilty of immoral behavior were suspended in wooden cages from the tower,sometimes to subsist on bread and water for as long as a year, sometimes to starve todeath.
Beside the church is the familiar façade of the Doge’s Palace, which was acombination White House, Senate, torture chamber, and prison. The 18th centurywriter and libertine, Casanova, was imprisoned there in 1755. He made a daring escape. Theenclosed marble Bridge of Sighs was named for the sighs of condemned prisoners being ledoff to execution.
When Napoleon marched his troops into Saint Mark’s Square, he called it "theworld’s most beautiful drawing room." Bunnie and I had a sandwich at CaffeFlorian where Casanova, Wagner, and Proust regularly dined. Attracting more attention thananything else, however, are the thousands of pigeons that panhandle there daily.They’re not just tame; they land all over anyone who stands still and grab fortheir-food. A low-flying bird slapped me in the face, and they love to stand on top ofone’s head. That’s probably where the frosted hairstyle originated.
We ended our stay in Venice by venturing into the most dangerous section of all, thefascinating little canals and lanes that reach from the Square to the famed Rialto Bridge.In these quaint little alleys one can shop for the most expensive merchandise in theworld. I felt fairly fortunate when Bunnie bought only an exquisite mask for Carnivale.
I didn’t get to visit with the Mayor of Venice, but I would have liked to suggesthe flush the dubious water in the Grand Canal at least once a week.
THE HILLS OF TUSCANY
I believe the most beautiful part of Italy is Tuscany with its rolling hills and lushvineyards. One would like to stay in this quiet and picturesque countryside indefinitely.
Our Tuscany tour began in the city of Pisa, where we checked to see if the LeaningTower is still leaning. It is, but is now held in check by two heavy cables. When Ivisited there in 1961 we were able to climb to the top, but that is no longer allowed.
The highlight of our Tuscan visit was a visit to the fabled hilltop village of SanGimignano—The Town of the Beautiful Towers. 14 impressive stone towers dominate itshigh walls and narrow streets. It its glory days, San Gimignano boasted 70 such towers.These Medieval "skyscrapers" were built partly for defensive purposes—theywere a safe refuge and useful for pouring boiling oil on attacking enemies—and partlyto bolster the egos of their owners, who competed with deadly seriousness to build thehighest tower in town.
In the square at the heart of San Gimignano we paused for some tasty gelato, Italianice cream. Unfortunately I took the wrong street out of town, and Bunnie left with alovely (translate that expensive) black leather jacket.
ROME
Our final major stop in Italy was the magnificent city of Rome. Italy has more to seethan any other country in Europe, and much of it is there in The Eternal City. As usual Imanaged to arrive thoroughly exhausted and after dark. Once again we had a hotelreservation, but the challenge was to find the Hotel Ara Pacis (Altar of Peace). I finallydrove up on a sidewalk, set the emergency blinkers, prayed that Bunnie would be safe, andset off on foot.
The hotel turned out to be worth looking for. Ideally located within walking distanceof the Vatican, it occupies the third floor of a 160-year-old building that formerly was ablock-long palace. Massive studded doors, opening right off the sidewalk, lead to a greatmarble staircase. Fortunately a small elevator has been installed.
A large key unlocked the 8-foot double doors into our room, where we flopped down onthe bed and looked up 18 feet to the painted wooden ceiling. The bathroom was completelywalled in Florentine marble.
Our first morning in Rome we walked the few blocks to the Vatican Museum, where we wereoverwhelmed by the vast collection of art treasures. Our real destination there, however,was to see Michelangelo’s massive painting on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. Thisprodigious undertaking took four years of mental and physical anguish. Recently restored,the Biblical story unfolds with the same vibrant colors originally utilized.
This is the room where the cardinals of the Roman Catholic Church are locked away untilthey come up with a new pope. Considering the age and frailty of Pope John Paul II, itsquite possible we could see such a conclave in session before long.
This beautiful room also was used by Napoleon’s army to stable their horses.Rather than thread our way back through the entire museum, Bunnie and I sneaked out apassageway that deposited us directly into the great open square that fronts the Basilicaof Saint Peter. This vast area, encompassed by rows of great pillars, is able toaccommodate more than 400,000 people.
SAINT PETER’S CHURCH
This largest of all Christian churches has a dome that rises 435 feet into the air. Itshistory dates back to AD 319, when the emperor Constantine built a basilica over what wasclaimed to be the tomb of St. Peter. In the center of the huge square before the basilicais the obelisk that Emperor Caligula had brought to Rome from Egypt to decorateNero’s Circus. When Pope Sixtus V had it moved to its present location, it took 900workers, 140 horses, and 47 winches to raise it into position.
Frankly, I find the exterior of St. Peter’s to be rather plain in appearance; itcertainly looks drab when compared to the façade of the Cathedral of Milan. Inside,however, it’s a different story. Nothing I’ve ever seen compares to thatsplendor. Where most European cathedrals are dark and gloomy, the interior of St Peters isbright and breathtakingly beautiful. It’s so well kept that it appears as if it mighthave been dedicated only yesterday.
As we entered, we saw on our right a well-known work of Michelangelo, the Pieta.Probably the world’s most famous sculpture of a religious subject, the artist createdit when only 22. This masterpiece depicts Mary holding the dead Christ in her arms.Attacked by a madman wielding a hammer some years ago, it is now protected behind heavyglass.
Another special attraction is the bronze statue of Peter, whose toe has been completelyworn down by the adoration of a million lips. I passed.
Nearby is a monument to Pope Pius XII. Although highly revered, I remember him as thepope who was so friendly to Hitler, and who refused to help halt the extermination ofmillions of Jews.
Over the high altar in the heart of the basilica is the sumptuous canopy crafted byBernini. Its four spiral columns, richly decorated with gold, were made from bronzestripped from the ancient Pantheon. Completed after nine years of intensive work, it isthe largest known bronze artwork.
Day and night, 99 oil lamps burn along the railing in front of the altar, whichsupposedly is located directly above the tomb of Peter. The ceremonial entrance to thecrypt is barred, but by using a side entrance we were able to descend into the grottowhere the popes are buried. I was particularly interested in the ornate tombs of Pope JohnXXIII, and Pope John Paul I. The former, a compromise pope, shocked the Catholic hierarchyby calling for the Vatican II conclave. I’ve studied at some length the life, anddeath, of the latter pope, once again thought to be a "safe" compromise. I foundhim to be a true Christian gentleman, and his simple honesty cost him his life. I believehe was murdered.
One Vatican highlight remained, a trek to the very tip of St. Peter’s dome. Myprevious ascent had been made when I was 38, and I knew it would be quite a differentmatter at 76. (That’s just double!) I really pondered the matter for a time, as onceyou commit yourself to the narrow, claustrophobic stairs there is no turning back.Dropping dead with a heart attack inside the dome of St. Peter’s might earn one anote in the paper, but it wasn’t the way I wanted to go. Anyway, I just couldn’tpass it by.
The ascent begins by taking an elevator to the roof of the basilica. From there oneneeds to negotiate 136 steps to the top of the dome. All went well, and the view isunparalleled, especially of the ornate Vatican gardens.
A WALKING TOUR OF ROME
Much of what is vital in Rome is centrally clustered, so one can take it in with acouple walking tours. We caught a bus right in front of our hotel, and got off at the hugemarble monument to Vittorio Emanuele II, Italy’s first king. Its sheer bulk makes itvery impressive, but most artists consider it an eyesore.
Just across the street are the ruins of the Forum of Trajan, the greatest and mostbeautiful of the imperial forums. One continually needs to remind oneself of the weight ofcenturies; Trajan built his lavish forum just 118 years after the death of Christ.
A half block on down the street is the rather drab-looking building from whose balconydictator Mussolini jutted his jaw at the adoring crowds below.
A short two blocks away we came to the Palace Colonna, belonging to one of Rome’sleading families. Once a week, for only half a day, they graciously allow the public tovisit their fabulous picture gallery. Hidden behind a plain little doorway is the SalaGrande, truly the grandest 17th-century room in the city. More than 300 ft long, anddecorated with a bedazzlement of huge chandeliers, colored marble, and enormous paintings,it is best known today as the site where Audrey Hepburn met the press in the movie RomanHoliday.
It would take too long to try to describe the art treasures on display, but I willmention the scarlet throne room with its gold and white ceiling. It was the custom thatnoble families reserve a special room for receiving the pope.
There was one rather startling item. Right in the middle of the marble steps leadinginto the grand hall sits an ugly cannon ball. This iron orb, that seems so very much outof place, has cracked and crushed two of the steps. I had purchased a small booklet on thegallery, and immediately looked for an explanation for this intrusive element. Not a word;really strange. Finally, I asked one of the guards, and he explained it was another littlegift from Napoleon and his invading army. I thought it was really classy to refuse toremove it, but also to refuse to give it any special attention.
Another block and we were at the impressive Quirinale, once a papal residence but nowthe home of Italy’s president. We heard that the changing of the guard was worthtaking in, but since it was the wrong time of the day we went still another block to themost famous of Rome’s many, many fountains.
Of course you know the story of the lovely Trevi Fountain. Anyone who tosses a coinover his shoulder into the fountain will one day return to Rome. Well, forty years after Itossed my first coin, I did return. So you see the story is true. Bunnie and I did thecoin thing once again. The Trevi Fountain was featured in the 1954 film Three Coins inthe Fountain.
October is a month that sees a lot of rain in Italy, so we came expecting the worst.Instead the weather was glorious, and as we left the Trevi Fountain we experienced ouronly sprinkle. That was easy solved by stepping into a beautiful Catholic church (thereseems to be one on every corner), and watching a mass in progress.
Only three blocks further along we came to the Spanish Steps. This site has alwaysbeen, and still is, the place to see and be seen. The world’s great writers andartists, including Balzac, Thackeray, and Byron, hung out there. At the base of the stepsone can visit the tiny rooms of the English Romatic poet, John Keats. They now hold amuseum dedicated to him and his close friend Percy Shelley. We were tempted to have a biteat the Antico Caffe Greco, but the prices were too steep. That didn’t keep Goethe,Byron, and Liszt from gracing its tables. Buffalo Bill also stopped in when his Wild Westroad show hit Rome.
Naturally the Spanish Steps area also boasts a MacDonalds restaurant, but this one islike no other on earth. The first erected in Italy, it is all marble, flowers, andstatuary. Our French fries tasted just like the ones in Portland.
The last stop on our day’s walk was the Capuchin church of Santa Maria dellaConcezione. This so impressed me on my last visit that I had to see it again. In the cryptbeneath the church the skeletons and bones of 4,000 dead monks have been artisticallyarranged in several macabre chapels. There is something unique about wall and ceilingdecorations composed entirely of jawbones, clavicles, and ribs.
THE HEART OF ANCIENT ROME
Another walking day took us into the very heart of ancient Rome. Once again the busdeposited us at the Victor Emmanuel II Monument, but this time we headed south instead ofnorth. Getting across the square was terrifying as usual; it always seems to be openseason on pedestrians in Italy. There don’t seem to be many traffic lights in Rome,and the traffic is so heavy, and fast, that crossing a street is death defying. The oldsaying is, "When in Rome do as the Romans do," so we learned their technique.You simply start walking across the traffic, pitting your flesh and blood against tons ofspeeding steel. You dare them to kill you, and fortunately they don’t actually wantthat to happen. Probably afraid of a getting a ticket.
Our first stop this day was at the Mamertine prison where Paul was held prior to hisexecution. Originally there was no stairway into the dungeon; the only entrance was a holethrough which prisoners were lowered. Standing in that small, dark, tomb-like chamber waschilling to the soul. I imagine someone with intense claustrophobia might die there beforehis execution date.
Our next stop was the church Santa Maria in Cosmedin. In its entryway one finds anancient carving of a pagan god referred to as "The Mouth of Truth." I believethis also appeared in the movie "Three Coins in the Fountain." Legend has itthat its jaws will snap shut on the hand of any liar who presumes to insert his or herhand in the hole. Bunnie and I fearlessly stepped up and placed our hands in the openmouth. It’s been difficult typing this report with only one hand, but when the castis taken off next week I expect to have full finger function once again.
Hunger pangs hit, so we stopped for lunch at a nearby ristorante. Bunnie played it safewith spaghetti, but I adventured with a risotto (creamy rice) covered with slicedtruffles. Only those who venture are rewarded.
After lunch we walked the entire length of the Circus Maximus, where as many as 300,000shouting citizens enjoyed the thundering chariot races. I tried to imagine Charlton Heston(Ben Hur) roaring by, but today it’s merely a huge, and peaceful, long oval of grass.
Most people thought it was in the Coliseum where Christians were offered up to wildbeasts, but history proves otherwise. These terrible persecutions were part of the gamesheld for Roman citizens at the Circus Maximus. During night festivities scores ofChristians would be tied to stakes set a distance apart, and then burned alive whileproviding light to see by. It is quite possible that it was in this very arena that Peterwas crucified for his Lord while hanging upside down. Thinking about all that bloodshed, Ipondered whether or not I was ready to give up my life for Christ if called to do so. Someof us may have opportunity to test our Christian resolve, and that not too far in thefuture.
From the end of the Circus Maximus we walked down the pleasant Via Di San Gregorio,under an ancient aqueduct, and up to what was at one time the epicenter of the knownworld—the Roman Forum. Now in ruins, it was once filled with stately and extravagantbuildings—temples, palaces, shops—and crowded with people from all corners ofthe world.
Standing at the entry to the Roman Forum is the imposing Arch of Constantine. This isthe largest and best preserved of the city’s ancient triumphal arches (315 AD). Atthis point we were just too tired to pay another visit to the Arch of Titus further downthe Forum. However, it is of special interest to Christians. It was erected in AD 81 tocelebrate the sacking of Jerusalem 10 years earlier, after the great Jewish revolt.Remember Christ’s warning to his disciples about that coming event? A famous reliefon the arch shows the captured contents of Herod’s Temple—including the hugeseven-branched candlestick from the Holy Place—being carried in triumph downRome’s Via Sacra.
We ended our day at ancient Rome’s most famous monument, the massive and majesticColiseum. It was inaugurated in AD 80 with a program of games and shows lasting 100 days,and involving the slaughter of some 5,000 wild animals. More than 60,000 spectators couldsit within the arena’s 573-yard circumference, which was faced with marble andaccented with hundreds of statues. An ingenious system of sail-like awnings rigged onropes manned by sailors culled from imperial warships protected the audience from wind andrain. Before the imperial box, gladiators would salute the emperor and cry, "Hail,emperor. We who are about to die salute you." Sometimes the arena was filled withwater and mock sea fights were carried on.
We were too tired to fight anyone, so refreshed ourselves with a dish of gelato andtook a taxi back to our hotel.
Our last day in Rome was a Sunday, and we walked over to the Vatican to see Pope JohnPaul II bless his followers from a window in the Vatican apartments. Unfortunately he hadthe temerity to be off in India on that day. Next I tried to talk the Swiss Guard intoletting me visit the excavations under St. Peters, where archeologists claim they havelocated Peter’s tomb. However, Sunday is the one day such a visit is not allowed.
Naturally, I shot pictures of all this grandeur. Or at least I hope I did. It wasdangerous taking my new, untried digital camera on this tour of Italy. They claim that thelittle chip, hardly larger than a postage stamp, safely holds all the 150-plus shots Itook. Tomorrow I intend to find out if that’s true. If you hear prodigious weeping inthe distance, you’ll know I should have taken my old film camera.
I never did quite get used to the exchange rate between Italian lira and Americandollars. I had sudden heart palpitation when the desk clerk said our 5-night stay would bemore than 1 million lira! Beside that I had to pay $100 to get our car out of the parkinggarage. We’d decided it just wasn’t worth fighting the traffic during oursightseeing. Of course we had the usual difficulty trying to find our way out of Rome andonto the Autostrade.
THE FINAL AGONY
After all the ecstasy of Milan, Venice, Tuscany, and Rome, on our last night in Italywe went back to the agony. In order to avoid difficulty I had placed a roomreservation at a motel only "5 minutes" from the Malpensa Airport. Since thiswas far out of Milan, we had no map to even pretend to find our way. All I had was thename of a motel, an address, and a phone number.
Bone tired after an all-day drive from Rome, I found myself once again lost in the darkof night. I tried to locate some English-speaking citizens, but even when I did theyweren’t able to help. A couple of them drew a diagram, but within two or three blockswe’d be as lost as ever. I thought about phoning the motel, but the first thingthey’d ask would be, "Well, where are you now?" I had no idea. And even ifI could give a location, they would never be able, over the phone, to guide me in.
So once again we found ourselves circling desperately in the fair-sized city of Busto,knowing that such activity could go on for days with no positive result. It was time forthe Lord to intervene once more, and of course he did. I was parked, blinker flashing, infront of a closed bank, when a well-dressed man came out of the shadows. He could speaksome English, and I showed him the name and address of the hotel. He wanted to be of help,but each time he tried to diagram the route he’d give up in frustration. He knew verywell we would never make it. Finally, he said, "Look, I have a car in there.I’ll get it out and lead you to the motel." Never have I heard more lovelywords.
Of course he took off like a jet, but I was determined not to lose him whatever thecost. I ran one red light, and made a suicidal pass, but stayed with him like crazy glue.Even he had to stop and ask directions, but we finally arrived safely at our motel.I’ve prayed that the Lord will really bless this man for his kindness to a couple inneed. The next morning we took off on a Boeing 767 for the good old U.S. of A. Ididn’t tell Bunnie about the fatal crash of an identical Egyptair plane until afterwe had landed in Portland.
The agony will fade, and we will only remember the beauty of the trip. If opportunitypermits, I would urge you to see the wonders of Italy. Be forewarned, however, that Europeis expensive. Forty years ago I used a small book titled "Europe on Only Five Dollarsa Day." If it’s still in print, the new title must be "Europe on Only FiveHundred Dollars a Day."
Of course the flight itself was free. You don’t have to be a frequent flyer torack up frequent flyer miles. We already have enough additional miles to go to theCaribbean next year. Let me know if you want to learn more about racking up free flyermiles.
God Bless!
Don and Bunnie