A Convent in the Eternal City Offers Enduring, Endearing Charm for Visitors

I’ve been to Rome four times, and each time I go, the Eternal City becomes a little more mine--from Bernini’s breathtaking colonnades on St. Peter’s Square to the perfect pizza at Ivo’s in the Trastevere district. But one place has always eluded me: the Casa di Santa Brigida, established around 1400 as an inn and hospice on the Piazza Farnese. The piazza, just south of another great square, the Campo de’ Fiori, is one of my favorite places in Rome. But I’ve never been able to get into the Casa di Santa Brigida, a convent where the Swedish-born saint of the same name died and home to nuns in the Order of the Most Holy Saviour of St. Bridget, as well as a safe haven for weary travelers.

St. Bridget was a remarkable woman and traveler. The cousin of a Swedish king, Bridget married and bore eight children (among them, a daughter who became St. Catherine of Sweden) before taking her vows as a nun after her husband died. She founded her order in Sweden, arrived in Rome for the holy year of 1350, agitated against the evils of the Roman Catholic church at the time (in some ways anticipating the Reformation) and journeyed to the Holy Land just before her death in 1373. In the Casa di Santa Brigida, her rooms have been meticulously preserved, including the thick wood tabletop on which she expired. But it wouldn’t be easy to see unless you have a reservation to stay at the convent, which remains a refuge for pilgrims and tourists alike.

On a visit to Rome in August, I rang the bell at the convent, whose facade, like so many in premillennium Rome these days, was shrouded in scaffolding as the city undergoes renovations to prepare for next year’s Jubilee (see cover story on L1). Eventually I heard a voice through the speaker, in Italian of course. I used my standard “Non parlo Italiano molto bene” and got a pause, followed by another voice in hard-to-hear English. “Do you have a reservation?” it asked.

“No,” I said. “I am a journalist from Los Angeles. I want to write about this place.”

“We don’t want publicity,” the speaker replied. “We’re a religious order. We don’t have time to show you around.”

“Could I make a reservation?” I pressed.

“Call on the telephone.”

“But I’m not good with Italian phones,” I said. “Do you have a single room for Wednesday night?”

“It will cost a lot,” came the daunting reply. “One hundred and forty-five thousand lire”--about $80--for a single (a double would be $137), or twice what most Roman convents and monasteries charge guests.

“OK,” I said. And so I finally got the chance to spend a night at the Casa di Santa Brigida. It was worth every lira.

The convent is the Mercedes-Benz of Roman hostels, where the rooms are generally spartan, with no decoration to speak of, and often share a bath. Actually, the rooms are nicer than most you could get for the same money at a hotel. The convent accepts people of all beliefs and, unlike some other religious guest houses in The

Rome, it has no curfew. Guests are given a key to the door on Via Monserrato and instructed about how to turn it twice in the lock to get in. The sister who showed me to my room that August day also told me to be careful of my purse on the streets of Rome, and noticed that my last name is Italian. “Have your parents been to Italy?” she wanted to know.

“Yes,” I said. “But next time, I will bring them here.”

My large single room on the second floor, which faced the piazza, beggared all of the Rome budget hotel rooms I’d stayed in before, with their tiny showers and hard, narrow beds. At the Casa di Santa Brigida, my room had air-conditioning, a phone and a large, spotlessly clean bathroom with tub. The furniture looked antique, including a desk, upholstered chair, armoire and single bed in a cozy alcove, with a lithograph of St. Peter’s above the headboard.

If you go out to the Piazza Farnese for a meal at a trattoria, you may also come to appreciate the look of Roman men in Italian suits and the smooth tang of veal scaloppine al limone. They do veal in the convent, too, as I discovered when I took lunch with the nuns for about $16. Sitting around me were big Italian families and white-collared priests. The meal started with mushroom risotto, a white wine from Orvieto, bottled water and bread, followed by a main course of quick-fried veal steak, zucchini and potatoes. Dessert was a ripe plum and an espresso.

There is something decidedly worldly about the Casa di Santa Brigida, which I pondered later that afternoon on the roof garden, where potted begonias yield to a sidelong view of the Palazzo Farnese, the palace that has been the site of the French embassy in Rome since 1635.

In the roof garden I met a Danish woman, also staying at the convent, who said she was baptized Lutheran. We talked about St. Bridget’s rooms, religion and the special sense of quiet you get from staying at the Casa di Santa Brigida. And though she said she was an agnostic, I think the woman understood how I felt when I said it wouldn’t be hard to dedicate your life to St. Bridget, especially when the sun sets in melon orange over the Piazza Farnese.

“Bed and Blessings Italy: A Guide to Convents and Monasteries Available for Overnight Lodging,” by June and Anne Walsh (Paulist Press, $16.95), is a good source of information on religious accommodations in Rome.

The Casa di Santa Brigida is at 96 Piazza Farnese, telephone 011-39-06-6889-2596, fax 011-39- 06-6889-1573.