"Pray in Rome. God Will Hear You Better."

I spent a Sunday in Rome. I'd wanted to do that for a long while. You see, I wanted to go to church in Rome.

And just to clarify, I'm not Catholic. I'm Mormon. I didn't go to see the Pope or go to Catholic Mass in Vatican City. I'd visited Vatican city the day before and it was really something. Kind of overwhelmingly amazing to be surrounded by such immense grandeur. See what I mean?:

St. Peter's

No matter what faith you are, can't you see the appeal? There I was, in a country that had within itself, an entire other country entirely devoted to faith. And I can go to a chapel of my faith there and attend a meeting. Pretty cool. There is something so comforting about traveling around the planet and knowing that on Sunday, wherever I am, I can find a chapel of my faith and be welcomed, safe and embraced simply for being there. It's an immediate comfort zone, even in the most foreign (to me) places imaginable.

I also want to go to church in Israel (LDS Church). Maybe next year?

Well, after an eventful day of wandering and sightseeing Saturday, a day filled with street food and Hot Italian men dressed in well-cut suits and thinking about renting a scooter and watching the local con men pick up sugar-mama travelers from my dinner tavolo at La Carbonara in the Piazza di Campidoglio, followed by Gelato and a Nutella filled crepe (yes, both, I'm not ashamed to say it. It was GOOD!)

After all of that wonder and adventure I returned exhausted to my great little hotel and posted a line or two about my amazing day in Roma and how I was going to find Church the next day on Facebook (iphone + free wifi in hotel = Fabulous!).

Not two minutes later I had a reply to my status update. My friend Emma had messaged me. (I've known Emma for YEARS... about 16... but never met because she's Australian and we were penpals growing up... back in the dark ages when kids used to have penpals! I will make it to Australia soon and meet Emma!) Emma's husband's best mate, Alessandro is an Italian LDS guy living in Rome with his wife and children. Emma sent Alessandro a message and within ten minutes I had his phone number and instructions to call and Alessandro and his wife would help me get to Church.

I mean seriously, ask and ye shall receive! And I really hadn't even "asked," only casually mentioned that I wanted to go to church in Rome. That's some serious prayer answering.

So I called. And the next morning I set out on foot to catch a train to catch the metro to meet Alessandro and Sara and go to church. And I should I have taken a bus to get to the train. It took WAY longer to get to the train than I could have imagined. But eventually I made it and was picked up and ushered off to church, and slipped into the last few minutes of Relief Society.

(NB: In the LDS church, we go to church for three hours. Sacrament meeting, the "general" meeting for everyone to attend together and listen to talks and take the Sacrament. Sunday school is split into smaller groups - groups for children, and young adults and the adults. And then the third hour is split into auxillaries: Relief Society for the adult women, Priesthood, for the adult men, Primary for the children and Young Men/Young Women for the 12-18 year old boys/girls. In this congregation, lucky for me, the Relief Society hour met first, followed by Sunday school and then Sacrament Meeting.)

After a lovely lesson in Italian (from what I understood!), we moved to Sunday school, and I attended a meeting for the Young Single Adults (Singles aged 18-31), that was actually taught by my host, Alessandro. We all introduced ourselves and I found myself to be in the midst of an incredibly varied group of Italian, African, South American and American bunch. The lesson was mostly in Italian, but Alessandro was prepared to translate for me. However, during introductions I broke out my broken Italian, much to the shock (and relief at not having to translate everything) of everyone in the room (I was even complimented on my Italian! Crazy!)

After church, I was invited to spend the afternoon with my hosts and join them at Lunch hosted by a wonderful Romanian single mother of three teenage daughters.

Just getting to the house was an adventure! We caravaned over, following another car, weaving through the city. When we were almost there, a car accident! The car in front of us had been hit by another car. Alessandro hopped out of the car, preparing to be a witness and do battle with the at-fault party, Italian style (ie: with much shouting and hand gestures). But instead he returned in a few minutes, amazed because the at-fault party admitted fault and that was that. Alessandro shook his head and said "this is non normale, not Italian. The man's wife even asked him why he admitted fault!" Que Sera. We moved on to lunch.

You know how the movies show those amazing lunches spent in the Italian countryside? The ones in vineyards with wine and food and laughter and fun? Well, that's exactly how this lunch was.

Minus the countryside and the wine and the vineyard.

It was an afternoon of lovely laughter and delightful people with delicious food. It was about a feeling of love and brotherhood, Fraternita.

The Romaniana Mama and I tried to speak together, she with her broken Italian and Me with mine, and we ended up bonding over expressive hand gestures and a Mozzarella-Tomato salad.

After lunch I was dropped back at the metro by my amazing new friends. And I took the metro to a stop at Vatican city, convinced that I could find my way back from there.

All was well for a good while. I was one with my city map. I walked along the old streets and finally found the wall that encircled Vatican City. And then I looked to the right! And lo and behold, the heavens parted and there in front of me was the stuff of legends. I'd been told about this place by a friend who'd lived in Rome:

It was the temple of Gelato. 
The home to the world's best Ice Cream. Old Bridge Gelateria.

I had looked for this place the previous day and was unsuccessful in my search.  Tucked away on a tiny half-street, the line stretched the length of the road and was PACKED with Italians. I was in the right place, boy-o. Not a tourist (apart from me) to be seen. And the Gelato was simply divine. Fluffy, light, dense, rich, AMAZING. Seriously. Get lost in Rome just to find this place. So worth it!

And then, with my distractingly amazing Gelato in hand, I proceeded to follow the walls of Vatican city IN THE WRONG DIRECTION.

That's right, I walked the perimeter of the ENTIRE Vatican city. Wah-Wah.
BTW: Vatican city is much bigger than I expected it to be. Especially because I was walking around it. But hey, at least I know where the entrance to the museum is for next trip.


The ice cream was worth the long treck.

And that's how I spent an amazing Sunday afternoon in Roma.