The schedule said the 280 left every twenty minutes but after two wrong attempts at navigating the city by four elongated wheels, I was only slightly hesitant to jump aboard once it rolled around. While I cannot pronounce Trastevere immediately, I enjoy muddling through it three or four times. Standing in the back, grey bird dress in arms, I held onto the red poles, watching the city run past my eyes. To my left there were four seats, all full of small children probably no more than eight at most. I looked at them as a group and then my vision moved to the other side of the street. When I looked back the smallest one was pointing at me. My first thought was that they knew I wasn't Italian. But how would they know that? I had not spoken a word and these curls are straight from the boot. Then I looked at the older girl sitting next to her, she was making eye contact with me and her pointer finger and thumb were pinching the stop on her nose where my ring is. The conversation between our eyes was missed matched. She was confused, and I was not having it. I smiled and turned straight forward avoiding any further international brown eye conventions. When I seat opened up in front of the miniature Mary Beth's I jumped for it. I sat behind a young man, nicely dressed but not familiar with where he was going. He kept his google maps open, checking it rather frequently. It was reassuring for me, that he kept his map open, I could follow the blue bubbly line of the google world and be certain that I was on the right path.
We hopped off the bus a few after roughly seven stops and began to wander around. Thinking we had found all that we were looking for we stumbled into the court yard of what we thought was an old church. There were other people there, so I assumed we had figured it out, until I walked into the door way and realized that sections of the floor were missing and the establishment was clearly under construction. We turned, questioned the map and then laughed strangely as we decided this was not the place that we were looking for. On a personal note, I love getting lost. The more beautiful the streets, the better time I will have. I know that navigating a new city would be easier if I paid attention to the street signs rather than the architecture but I can’t help it. Rome is stunningly lovely. I feel as if each corner I take, I am transported into a new city. Needless to say I enjoyed the lost wandering that occurred in search of a tiny church.
When we finally found the church, there was a couple taking a photo in front of the main fountain in the court yard. He had his plastic recently purchased water bottle resting on top of his head, arms stretched out, smile touching each ear. It shocked me at first, considering that we were at a small church, but when in Rome one should always smile for a picture. Inside Mother Abbess gathered her sisters and the walls suddenly came alive. Their voices echoed in the small, subtle structure. We sat for only a moment, not wanting to disturb the peace of it all. As we left I could hear the sounds of Andrew’s Maria ringing through my head.
(S. Cecilia in Trastevere)
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