Giornale Four: The Aristocats

Rome has been constantly surprising me. The amount of stairs surprise me. The sudden deluges surprise me. People's inability to queue surprises me. Mopeds parked on the sidewalk surprises me. What people consider a parking spot surprises me. Even what people can consider a road sometimes surprises me. I've seen cars go where no car should go, and I'm quite certain it will haunt me for the rest of my life. Rome should expect my bill for therapy in a short time.However, what I found most surprising was Santa Cecilia in Trastevere.  

Unsurprisingly, we got lost on our way to the church and ended up walking around it a few times before we found it. This was to be expected from us as we have made it our habit visiting our sites like cats. We walk around it a few times. Hesitating, we put one paw forward, as if to enter, but quickly change our minds. Then the process repeats five to twenty-seven times. Paw far, paw close, paw near the ground, paw near my chest, an inch from the ground, thirty inches from the ground, and on and on. When people see us, crippled by our indecision, we stop, eyes wide, pupils dilated, they see us, and so, we stay still as statues until the person looks away. Then, we bolt into our site before anyone else can look upon our shame. It's a good system and it's been working for us, but I really could do without all the hair balls though.

So, after quickly bolting into the courtyard of the church, we stopped to take in our surroundings. We had ended up in a picturesque little square. It was a little bit of paradise in Trastevere -a cute little fountain surrounded by a vibrant grassy area.

Happily, I found out the interior matched the exterior. Inside the church was an oasis of my eyes. Unlike in the other basilicas I have visited, my eyes were not assaulted by gaudy decorations. The church was small and simple. It had nearly no gold and paintings. It was refreshing.

We also happened to walk directly into a mass, and not wanting to be rude, or scurry away like the scaredy cats we are, we acted like walking into a mass was exactly what we planned all along and took a seat. We sat and listened to the nuns sing for a while. The church was empty except for us and a few nuns letting the nuns voices fill the marble church. The light that lit the church was entirely from the windows and the sky. It was a surreal experience. If heaven existed, I imagine it would feel a lot like that moment. It turned three girls, who acted like wild cats into content fat house cats. But, as time went we felt the moment was too personal. This was not our ceremony, and as beautiful as it was, we could not stay. A cat will stay where it is happy, but I'll be damned if it shows a hint of emotion. So, we scurried out of the church and returned to our lives as the rough alley cats we are. Watch out Rome.