One Saturday when Glenn and I lived in Rome I happened to notice some simple posters tacked up on nearby telephone poles between ads for “French lessons” and communist rallies. The flyer said that the Bishop of Rome was coming to our small local church the following Sunday. After we realized that this bishop was also the pope we walked a block to the church on the following morning. To our surprise, only about thirty people were waiting, some in matching sweat pants and shirts (a tutto or “all”), instead of a huge crowd dressed in Sunday best.
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Similar words were written by a 19th Century Italian writer. It’s my motto for travel when one is beyond life’s midpoint. Adventure travel no longer has the appeal it once had – now it’s the prospect of a nice hotel or a comfortable cruise ship that compels me to drag out the suitcases and head off to someplace interesting.
Italy is my (or, I should say, our) usual goal but there are so many places to see my husband and I only get there every other year, not often enough but what can you do when there are still over a hundred countries that haven’t provided us even a glimpse of their history, people and places.… Read more
Coins in the Fountain
