In search of blessed beads in Vatican City

Hello from rainy Rome! I have stayed in my convent accommodations four extra nights, and I’m glad I did. There is so much to see in Rome that my original plan of four nights ? with two days partially in transit ? was an example of misguided optimism.

I visited the Roman Forum and the Colosseum shortly after arriving in Rome. If you visit Rome, don’t buy your ticket to the Colosseum at the Colosseum. Visit the nearby Palatine Hill first ? as I did ? where the ticket price of 11 euros includes admission to the Colosseum. This will help you bypass a great portion of the line into the ancient arena.

Though rain drizzled throughout my day at the Forum, I was able to get some great photos of the ruins. It was a special day for all visitors to the ancient center, because the city was holding a graduation ceremony for its newest firefighters and rescue workers. The festivities included rare sights of classic Italian fire engines and rescue vehicles driven by men in vintage uniforms. The greatest sight of all, however, was when workers, repelling in unison, hung and lowered a giant Italian flag on the side of the Colosseum! The red, white, and green flag remained there for the rest of the day for revelers to photograph and enjoy.

My real adventure, however, began the next day. As you may have already guessed, I am not well versed in religious practices, but my week in Rome was not without a holy pilgrimage. I took it on behalf of my best friend. Unfortunately, by telling this story, I’ll be ruining her birthday surprise, but I think she’ll forgive me.

When I arrived in Rome, I knew I couldn’t leave without seeing Vatican City, and when my mom told me I could buy a rosary blessed by the pope there, I knew I had to get one. Mom’s instructions were to go to the top of the Vatican and buy rosary beads at the souvenir shop. A nun there could get the beads blessed and shipped to me at a small additional cost. So, essentially, I was looking for a nun in Vatican City.

At first I misinterpreted my instructions. Thinking “the top of the Vatican” meant the top of Vatican City; I looked for the highest hill and climbed it. There was a spectacular view at the top, but no souvenir shop and no nun with the hook-up. Feeling frustrated and a bit soggy from the rain, I wandered back down to St. Peter’s Basilica, where the pope lives. I had visited this sight a few days earlier when the line to get inside wrapped all the way around the vast circular courtyard and was several people wide. That same day, when I inquired about blessed beads at a ground-floor souvenir shop, I was told that the only way to get them was by being in the audience when the pope made his Sunday appearance and gave his blessings to the people.

As I returned from the top of Vatican City and approached the Basilica, I looked up at the giant dome and noticed movement. There were people up there! At that moment I felt slightly stupid for my mistake, but I continued on and joined the line to get inside. Thankfully, due to the rain, the line was a fraction of its usual size. Once I got through that line, I toured the amazing interior and then got in yet another line to climb to the dome. Entrance to the Basilica is free, but to visit the dome you must pay either four euros to climb the 300 plus steps to the top or seven euros to take an elevator for part of the climb. Since I had mastered the Campanile in Florence, which has more than 400 steps, I saved the three euros and took the stairs.

Before I go on, let me explain how lines work in Italy. Italians line up the same way they drive; three abreast, in one lane. If they can get in front of you, whether you were there long before them or not, they will, without hesitation.

I found the line to the dome no different.

To my left and behind me were two young German men who were keen to pass, but they were aware of the foul. To my right and behind me were two older French women who kept sliding up the line shamelessly. As far as I was concerned, it was World War III, and I wasn’t about to let the U.S. lose!

With my camera in hand (I was using a long telephoto lens, which I kept pointed out from my hip), I stayed glued to the people in front of me. My large backpack put some distance between myself and the people behind me. It was all a matter of subtle strategy. The Germans tried for a quick dash forward as we turned a corner, but I anticipated the move and filled the gap. The French were able to slide forward several times, but at key places and with the extra blocking power of my long lens, I was able to retake my position. Just before we got to the ticket counter, the French came back with a big move forward (the Germans had ceased their attempts by then) but were forced to fall back to search their purses for the entrance fee. I had my money ready in hand. It was a small victory, but it was big on satisfaction!

The climb to the top was really not too bad and the awaiting view is more than worth it. With 360 degrees to photograph, you can see everything, except one thing: a souvenir shop. I was beginning to feel like Indiana Jones. Perhaps I was supposed to push the right stone or pull a special candlestick to reveal a hidden tunnel.

After taking pictures and enjoying the view, I began my climb back down. Along the way, there is a place to rest on the roof of the Basilica. It was here that I finally found the souvenir shop. Inside, there were many types of rosary beads, along with several nuns. Approaching one nun, I asked, “Are these beads blessed by the pope,” as if I were asking, “Are these special brownies?” I wasn’t there for the regular beads. I wanted the good stuff.

In response, the nun nodded and said an unconvincing, “Yes.” When I asked some other nuns further down the line, they admitted that the beads were really blessed by the bishop, but since St. Peter’s is the pope’s home, they were blessed by him as well. This wasn’t a good enough answer for me. I knew there was only one thing left to do. Go straight to the source: il papa himself.

Two days later, on Sunday, I trekked, along with a mass of people, back to St. Peter’s to see the pope’s noon appearance. The crowd waiting at the Basilica was dotted with flags from many countries and banners written in many languages. Many chanted the pope’s name as show time neared.

After waiting two hours, the pope finally appeared, to roaring applause, from a high window to the right of the Basilica. Though he was little more than a far-away white form, his voice boomed from speakers set up all around us. With the rosary beads wrapped around my hand (I wasn’t sure if keeping them in my backpack might dilute the blessing), I photographed the pope and his adoring fans as he, in several languages, greeted and blessed the audience.

So, finally, the beads are blessed by the pope, or as blessed as they’re going to be!

I leave for Naples tomorrow. I am trying to book a three-day tour of Naples, Capri and Sorrento, but since I’m doing this at the last minute, I have yet to receive a confirmation. One way or another, this Southern California girl is looking forward to seeing the seaside again. Arrivaderci for now! Ciao raggazzi!