Italia-The Pope's Funeral

Under My Tuscan Sun

"Wait!!"  My mom beckoned me to slow down and wait for her as we were crossing the Rialto Bridge in Venice, lost again in the maze of canals, trying desperately to find our hotel late in the evening after spending too long observing the sidewalk artists (our favorite thing to do) or taking a ride on a gondola or sitting too long in a cafe; each night a different excuse.  My mother had decided to fly over to Italy and meet me in Venice for a few weeks, mother-daughter bonding time, as I was studying abroad that semester in a little town under the Tuscan Sun living in an old convent, Castiglione Fiorentino.  Literally my town was the next one over from Cortona if anyone has seen that movie.  It was my final semester of undergraduate schooling during my 5th year (yes it took 5 years due to being a college athlete to get through 4 years of course-work, brutal), I was awaiting a fall start into veterinary school, had a few elective credits to obtain, and I'd always wanted to go to Italy.  In true multi-tasker form, I also figured out a veterinary research project to do over there interviewing veterinarians all over Italy about their roles in public health and bioterrorism while taking classes in art, Italian, communication, and field-tripping.  Yes, every Wednesday was a field trip to a different town, and it actually counted as a class.  Man, I should have studied abroad every semester of undergraduate.  We went everywhere.  I saw Arezzo, Cortona, Florence, Rome, Orvieto, Assisi, Montepulciano, Siena, Pompeii, Herculaneum, Naples, Geneva, Perugia, Verona, Cinque Terre, Capri, other countries like Switzerland and England, and every museum, church, and famous painting you can possibly imagine.  Italy is like no other place.  One word to define Italy, passion.  Passion is a word I would later use to define myself, but this was my first introduction to a society built on passion.  Everything in Italy is done with passion from the gelato, the exquisite cuisine, the art, the museums, the historical ruins and buildings, the wine, the clothes, the intricate marzipan sweets, the architecture, the language, and the flower-shops, to the afternoon siestas where the entire town shuts down for 4 hours.  And often times it's the unexpected, not as famous towns, that surprise you the most.  Our favorite (although it's terribly difficult to pick just one favorite town out of all of Italy) was Orvieto.  Orvieto is a quaint little town built on a hill, Etruscan ruins and caves to explore, a 300 foot wishing well, sunny outdoor cafes, a trolley zip-line to take you to the top, and tiny antique shops where my mom and I found our matching cameos.  Bella.  My favorite word in Italy.  Everything in Italy is Bella.  Botticelli’s "Venus in A Half-ShelI", Italy is Venus.  Italian men also call every female at every age and every shape and every size, "Bella".  What's not to love about Italy?  Italy is a confidence builder.  And all of the gelato eating doesn't build your waist-line too much as you learn the art of walking everywhere. 

"Umm, scusi Senor, which gas nozzle is unleaded?  And we have an emergency light blinking at us?"  That would be me asking the good-looking Italian gas station attendant not 30 minutes after leaving Venice in a rental car braving the Italian roads and Italian drivers whilst my mom waited patiently in the car, how to put gas in this thing?  And oh by the way, WHY was there an emergency light blinking at us?  Fabio (as I swear all Italian men are named), waltzed outside, handed me the correct nozzle, opened my mom's door, put DOWN the emergency brake, voila the emergency light disappeared, gave me a wink, and said "Ahhh, silly American women".  And we watched Fabio, mouths hanging wide open, go back inside telling this tale to the other Italians waiting in line to pay for their petrol, laughing and describing what a funny sight those 2 American women out there were.  Why we thought it was a good idea to rent a car in Italy versus travelling by train I'll never know, but it sure did provide quite a bit of entertainment.  For instance, picture a miniature car arriving in Florence for the Easter celebrations in the pouring down rain with 2 clueless American women inside trying to locate our hotel on a 1-way street, and my mom making 8 loops around the block each time dropping off one suitcase or one bag at a time as there is absolutely NO parking in Italy and 15 cars are always right on your bumper, and you get the idea.  Trains, they're the way to go.  It's too bad America is not as interconnected as Italy.  But back to my trip under the Tuscan sun.  My mom spent a few weeks over in Italy with me, but the majority of my 6 month stay was all on my own.  This was my first living abroad experience.  And I learned more than just what was taught in class.

"I think we're going to pub-crawl tonight".  That would be my friends who I'd travelled with to Rome on a Thursday night before the Pope's funeral on Friday announcing their plans to me after arriving at our hostel.  Pub crawl?  Really?  The Pope just died, there are millions of people in Vatican City, this isn't something that happens every week, and y'all are going to go pub-crawl.  Awesome.  "Well, I'm going to hop on the metro and go see Vatican Square."  And 5 hours later I was waiting to be interviewed on NBC after having been one of the very last people to pay my respects and view the Pope's body before the preparations were to be made for the funeral the next morning.  I called my friends to tell them I wasn't returning to the hostel that night as I was sleeping on the streets of Rome just outside of Vatican Square waiting in line to be able to attend the Funeral the following morning.  There were millions of people in Vatican City at the time, leaving then would definitely mean I wouldn't get to attend the funeral the next morning.  "Wait, so we won't get in if we come over in the morning?"  "No, you won't, there are too many people here.  I'm staying put even though I have nothing but a sweatshirt and jeans on".  If you pub crawl through life, you miss out on an awful lot.  That night temperatures dropped below freezing, Red Cross aid organizations passed out water and emergency wool blankets to millions of people, a boy named Mirek lent me his jacket, and I got interviewed on television.  I called my parents on my Italian pay-as-you-go cell phone that they should turn on the television because "Oh by the way, I hopped on a train this morning to Rome, managed to view the Pope's body, am sleeping on the streets outside of Vatican square waiting to attend the Funeral in the morning, and am about to be interviewed on TV".  My parents would record this in Texas and even my aunt in D.C. would see it.  But I actually haven't ever watched that recording.  I am too ashamed and embarrassed to this day to watch it.  Why?  Because I lied on national television.  I'm not sure if it was the moment or the millions of people around me and the emotions I was feeding off of or what, but I lied on national television.  I was asked about how much this must mean to me, to be able to attend the Pope's Funeral, being a Catholic.  And I lied and said "Yes, I've been a Catholic all of my life and words can't even describe how much this means to me".  I wasn't Catholic.  In fact, I wasn't even entirely convinced I was Christian at that point.  And what a thing to lie about, your faith.  I was pretty sure I'd just secured a spot on a forever boiling Sahara Desert in the future.  I was exploring Christianity at the time, but not 100% convinced.  I was always very scientifically oriented, some things I just couldn't accept yet, but I desperately wanted to believe in something.  But from that point on, that lie, I think God found me.  No, it wasn't an overnight change, more like baking a cake, and it's not completely iced yet.  Why did I choose Catholicism?  I like tradition, I like structure, I fell in love with the churches in Italy, and it fit me.  I don't know all of the answers, but I'm willing to find them out and explore the questions.  I don't think any denomination is better than the next.  I think everyone is given the opportunity at some point to choose one’s faith no matter what exposure opportunities they’ve had or religious background they come from.  I'm not one to force-feed my ideas down another's throat.  I do know that since this change, a veil has been lifted from my eyes allowing me the ability to be giving, forgiving, and to love.  This is the most important lesson any of us can learn.  My path through Catholicism is still winding its way through this world, but it has been the ground beneath my feet.  I finally completed my confirmation in the Catholic Church a few months ago.  And it all began "Under My Tuscan Sun".