Let's start with my Monday adventure. When I say adventure, I actually mean it--unironically. The story starts on Sunday night as I was locking my door on my way to dinner. My hall-mate, Kaitlyn, was walking to her door. When I asked her how her day was she relayed a story to me about how she had been separated from the group of girls she was with at the Vatican that day. (Free museums in Rome on the first Sunday of the month. Whaddup.) Right before she left, a security guard in the gift shop started making small talk with her and asking her whether she had seen certain exhibits, which she hadn't because they were expensive to get into. He then proceeded to tell her his hours the next day and his contact information, telling her to come back and he would get her in. Because things like that happen in Rome apparently. She invited me to come with so I did. Skyping my mom that night and telling her the abbreviated story out loud, I realized just how America's Most Wanted it sounded. I went anyhow.
After a pleasant but stifled conversation with both the exit security and the Swedish guard-- yes, I actually spoke to one of those guys with the funny striped tights-- we managed to get our 'in' on the phone. After that we still had to wait shadily by the exit for another half hour. The security was definitely eyeing us and I'm sure they thought we were trying to break in or something. Finally, a short statured man came out, double kissed my cheeks as if we'd met before and led us inside. I was giggling like an idiot as we completely blew past all security and employee only signs. No one checked our purses or blinked an eye. Instead, our new best friend walked around like the most popular guy on campus, giving a shout out and laughing with every official we passed. We went beyond the ropes, behind security, through a back way, and ended up in a hidden courtyard where he casually strolled into an office. He pointed towards us and said something in Italian to the man at the counter which I'm sure was some form of "they're with me".
That was it. No questions asked. I spent the next hour in the catacombs under the floor of the Vatican. We finished up at the grave of St. Peter. No big deal.
I honestly felt like the biggest bad ass. I mean, who gets to do that kind of thing? Apparently me and my hall-mate.
I guess I just couldn't stay away because there I was, again, at 6 AM on Wednesday morning, huddled underneath three layers of clothing and my bright pink umbrella, waiting in line to get a good spot to see the Pope. (Side note: there are no lines in Italy. Only blobs of people.) We waited in 'line' for three hours in the rain. At nine, security opened and people literally ran into the building to get a good seat. I kid you not, I was having American flashbacks to Black Friday Shopping. That's how intense it was.
By the way, random cool fact I did not know: You can have your marriage blessed by the Pope personally. I learned that when people started showing up in line in tuxedos and wedding dresses. I may or may not have gushed the whole time over the couple that showed up behind us from England. They were adorable together and the fact that his bow tie matched the blue TOMS she was wearing was almost too much.
We managed to get really close to the aisle. I was two seats away. When the Pope arrived, we all pushed up against it. It was basically like being at a rock concert. Not even kidding. My friend, Natalie, who was standing closest to the aisle actually called Poppa Francesco over and held his hand.
What did I do in the meanwhile? Well, funny story. I was standing immediately behind/next to her. So I was legitimately two feet from the Pope. When he walked over, he was within arms reach. I didn't expect to be so incredibly star struck by him. He had the kindest, sweetest face. Exactly the kind that you want the Pope to have. In fact, he really reminded me of the men I had worked with at the assisted living center in high school. I literally had my hand hovering over his forearm and in my nervous daze I thought to myself: "Lauren, you shouldn't just reach out and grab him. That would be so rude. He's the Pope. You shouldn't be rude to the Pope." So, I didn't. And he walked away.
I could have touched the Pope. In fact, I stood face to face with the man. But, didn't touch him. Because I thought I was being rude.
Can't wait to tell my grandkids that one.
Well, that's about it for now. I remain faithfully yours, and entirely awkward as always.
I guess I just couldn't stay away because there I was, again, at 6 AM on Wednesday morning, huddled underneath three layers of clothing and my bright pink umbrella, waiting in line to get a good spot to see the Pope. (Side note: there are no lines in Italy. Only blobs of people.) We waited in 'line' for three hours in the rain. At nine, security opened and people literally ran into the building to get a good seat. I kid you not, I was having American flashbacks to Black Friday Shopping. That's how intense it was.
By the way, random cool fact I did not know: You can have your marriage blessed by the Pope personally. I learned that when people started showing up in line in tuxedos and wedding dresses. I may or may not have gushed the whole time over the couple that showed up behind us from England. They were adorable together and the fact that his bow tie matched the blue TOMS she was wearing was almost too much.
We managed to get really close to the aisle. I was two seats away. When the Pope arrived, we all pushed up against it. It was basically like being at a rock concert. Not even kidding. My friend, Natalie, who was standing closest to the aisle actually called Poppa Francesco over and held his hand.
No zoom. No cropping. This is how close I was.
What did I do in the meanwhile? Well, funny story. I was standing immediately behind/next to her. So I was legitimately two feet from the Pope. When he walked over, he was within arms reach. I didn't expect to be so incredibly star struck by him. He had the kindest, sweetest face. Exactly the kind that you want the Pope to have. In fact, he really reminded me of the men I had worked with at the assisted living center in high school. I literally had my hand hovering over his forearm and in my nervous daze I thought to myself: "Lauren, you shouldn't just reach out and grab him. That would be so rude. He's the Pope. You shouldn't be rude to the Pope." So, I didn't. And he walked away.
I could have touched the Pope. In fact, I stood face to face with the man. But, didn't touch him. Because I thought I was being rude.
Can't wait to tell my grandkids that one.
Well, that's about it for now. I remain faithfully yours, and entirely awkward as always.
lauren
xoxo
#laurentakesrome
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