Upon arriving in Rome and getting to my hostel I am told that there is a law in all of Italy where they close the hotels and hostels from 10:00 till 2:00 for cleaning. While this is going on you are kicked out of the hostel and told to go do your tourist stuff. Seeing as I arrive there at 10am, I am allowed to drop of my bags and then forced to leave. I walk to the train station and grab a ride to a stop called Collesseo. Well surely that must be the what I think it is. And indeed it was. I step out of the station and see the grand architecture spectacle that is a pit of mass murder and bloody mutilation. Now unknown to me was this was in fact the day of the Rome Marathon. And it also turns out that the finish line was dramatically at the Colosseum Also this race is a huge deal and there were masses of people lining the streets, TV cameras everywhere and support cars and tents and big portable monitors to watch the race while it was out of view. Many many streets are closed and maneuvering around everything became a detour nightmare. Seeing as I had so much time to kill I decided to walk around to famous fountains and landmarks that are around the Colosseum. They also have ruins and catacombs that you can pay to walk around and all of it was very nice.
While stopping to get some gellato I chance to hear a line that will lead to an amazing experience. What I can only assume is the daughter, a mid thirties woman that speaks with an American accent, and her father are sitting in front of me. The father, a very old man with weather worn, tan, wrinkly skin sits facing me. His face is dominated by his large nose and his paperboy hat and cane complete the look of the old man from Up. His daughter calmly asks him, "Well what do you want to do now?"
He responds in a broken English and an extremely heavy Italian accent, "Thea only waya to see a Roma is wander my love." Over-hearing this I take it to heart. Alright, I'll make an adventure for myself.
My drive soon diminishes as a get scared of getting lost. I think I am exploring when in fact I'm just following the masses of people from one place to the next. An archway or church or ruins or statues. Seeing as I am about to head back to the train station I begin the detour to get around the race. Thinking I can remember the route I don't use a map and promptly make a wrong turn. But in my oblivious confidence I think I am still going the right way. As I take in my surroundings I chance to look down a tight alleyway. The colorful buildings on either side will make for a lovely picture and I start down the alley. After lining up my shot and taking the picture I see the alley continues and decided to see where it put me. With the old man's advice echoing in my head as I wind my way up the alley. Past homes and children the alley continues to narrow. At one point I stop and can touch either side while standing in the middle. At the end is a lonely door. There is nothing special about the simple wood door set into a dirt colored wall. The door is old, warped and very worn. I do see a brass plaque on the door and walk up to it. Most everything is worn off on it but I can manage to make out the word basilica. Basilica? Like a church that has been deemed holy enough for the pope to serve at? Like a huge over the top building that is celebrated and talked about in guide books. Buildings with tons of tourists in them that are closer to art museum than a church. I look up from the door at the bland and boring exterior. How on earth is this a basilica? I lightly press on the door and it swings open. I take a few steps in and close the door behind me. "Hello?" I say tentatively. I don't know what I expected but an answer never came.
As my eyes adjust I see I have stepped into a massive room with 30ft or higher ceilings. Around the ceiling are all ornate carvings and artwork beautifully inlaid with brass and gold leaf. Insanely intricate details adorn the ceiling as impressive as any artwork I've seen. Huge columns 15ft in diameter line the sides making a pathway leading to a statue of Jesus on the cross that seemed miles away. All this and the room was utterly empty. Not a soul in the entire building. I walk towards the altar with my footsteps echoing with everyone. I have never been a man of god and have never claimed to be. Religion is not something I follow but I still felt compelled to sit in one of the pews. My feet hurt from walking all day and I just got off a 13 hour flight and I'm exhausted. I sit in one of the pews, close my eyes, and relax.
BAM!!
I nearly jump out of my skin as an old man hits the pew. He is carrying a broom and dustpan and smacks the broom on the pew again. He points to my head and the makes the 'remove your hat motion' at me. I quickly remove it and he shuffles away on slippered feet. I see him cleaning every nook and cranny to an obsessive degree.
I look around the grand empty room. The shadows have changed. Crap, I fell asleep. How long have I been out? The shadows are long and I glance at my watch. 5:30. Just as I stand to leave the basilica a small priest walks out of a room beside the altar. "Hello traveler," he says in perfect English, "I saw you had fallen asleep on my pew and I thought you must have needed it so I let you be. Please excuse him, he just likes the rules to be followed," pointing at the old man. "It's not very often we get travelers, where are you from?"
"America," I squeak out. "I'm sorry for sleeping on your pew, I never meant to fall asleep I was just so tired."
"Oh relax Traveler, this is a place of sanctuary and we are more than happy to help you. Why were you so tired that a very uncomfortable pew looked good to you?"
"I just got off a 13 hour flight."
"Ah where did you come from?"
And just like that we begin a super long and intricate conversation. I find myself verbally vomiting on the priest all about my trip and why I did it. What I wanted out of the trip and what had happened. I tell him stories and show him pictures on my camera. He sits and listens intently. Every so often he interjects his thoughts or surprises. We move towards life and all the little annoyances and ins and outs of it. We discuss my future and how I arrived where I am now. Never once are the words "God" or "Jesus" uttered. It was not about religion, it was about finally having someone to talk to. I call him Father and he calls me Traveler. We discuss happiness and sadness. Even relationships and girls. He admits that girls aren't his area of expertise but he listens and offers what little advice he can. Father is a very funny guy and appeals to my teenage sense of humor often. "Do you know what the epitome of fear is Traveler?" he asks at one point.
Trying to be all philosophical I respond, "I couldn't say but I guess the all irrational fears boil down to the fear of the unknown."
"Wrong, it is actually that moment when you are taking a wee in a port-a-potty and you feel it start to tip."
We talk for a while longer about life and everything in it until he says "Come with me. I want to show you something few get to see." I follow him around the altar and up a narrow steep staircase. We emerge onto the upper balcony of the massive room. He begins to tell me the history of the basilica. It was made a basilica a long long time ago in the traditional style. It was loud and obnoxious as he put it. But when the roman empire fell the looters for some reason chose this basilica as the one to sack. Over the next hundred years or so more priceless artifacts were stolen than anyone knew. As I look around I see the lack of ornate sculptures and things near the floor. I also see big chunks and chips out of the columns. Parts of murals on the walls that are scraped off and cracked. The only reason the ceiling was left was because no one could reach it due to the design of the room. The city forgot about it built around it closing it off from the mainstream tourists. On Sundays a few people come in for mass but 90% of the time it sits empty. We arrive at the opposite corner of the room about 15ft above the ground floor. He stops and says "This is the echo corner." He then faces the wall and makes a WHOOP noise. The sound fills the grand room and echos too many times to count. Due to the shape of the room, the acoustics line up just right so the noise is amplified and spread everywhere. Down below I see the old man shuffling around cleaning and mumbling. Father sees me looking at him and says "He was homeless and needed a place to sleep. He came here everyday and prayed for food. I couldn't help but house him. But I told him he has to clean for me which he seems happy enough to do." I tell him to wait for me in the small sitting room behind the altar.
I run out and find the nearest pizzeria {they are on every street corner in Italy} and buy a large pizza to go. I bring it back up to the basilica and all three of us sit down to eat. I learn the Father was born in Italy and new he wanted to be a priest early on in life. He worked his way up until he learned he was going to be assigned to a basilica. Initially when he learned that he was in the worst basilica in Italy he was upset. But now he just tries to do whatever good he can from there. As for his perfect English he says he gets very bored and Rosetta Stone is his only entertainment some days so he studies language to a near obsessive degree.
I learn the Hobo's story through translation by the priest. He has a severe case of OCD. When he went to the doctor he was condemned to a mental institution. He said the drugs they gave him made him brain dead and he couldn't take it and left. But due to him being out of work for two years due to being in the institution and unresolved OCD no one would give him a job. His money quickly ran out and he was forced to live on the street until the priest took him in. He now gets to clean which calms his OCD and has a roof over his head. He still begs for money on the street and usually makes enough for a meal. He says it's not the best but it could be worse.
And so there we sat, the Traveler, the Father, the Hobo, and the forgotten basilica, talking over pizza and wine from Father's storage. We talk and laugh well into the night until I decided I should go back. I get directions to the train station from Father and say my goodbyes. The trip back is uneventful but it was all a blur as I was dumbfounded by what just happened.
I have no idea what the name of it was because I forgot to ask. I got lost to find it so I fear I will never find it again and couldn't take you there if my life depended on it. I just know that there are amazing people that exist in this world and everyone has a story to tell.
Next stop is Spain. Thank you all again for the continued support and I know I will see you all soon. Ciao!
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