I bet you didn’t know all those roads that lead to Rome are, in fact, covered with the same material the ancient Proverbians used to pave the road to hell: good intentions.

And mama,  my intentions were the best.

This whole journey was intended to be the next stop in my search for passionate people doing the thing they’re passionate about.   My first stop was kind of a bust,  if I’m being honest – which I’m almost ready to do – so I had high hopes for attending Easter mass with the Pope.  I observed Lent for 35 of 40 days, attended mass 6 times (half of which were in Latin, because it only counts if you suffer),  and just to give you an idea of how serious I actually am about this, I followed the rules.  Well, The Rule, to be specific.

What rule?  The one on the Vatican website that instructs the faithful masses how to get tickets to the Papal Masses.  Per their requirement, we downloaded and completed the request form.  We faxed it to the Prefecture of the Papal Household because this organization is notoriously not an early adapter of anything, and we have, per instruction, been patiently waiting since November 12th to receive the Golden Ticket by post.  Except in this case, the Golden Ticket is merely a confirmation that our fax request was received, along with instructions to take said letter to Vatican Will-Call* on the afternoon before Easter to find out if any tickets were issued.

So here we are, folks. Two mail deliveries left before I slip the star spangled bonds of America and begin the European leg of my passion quest and I think it’s pretty safe to go ahead and call it.  Under normal circumstances, I’d probably be scheming a plan to crash the mass, but the documentary I just watched on the Swiss Guard has convinced me to just accept this as the universe’s way of rearranging my adventure for me.

So besides church, what exactly does a traveler do in Rome on Easter Sunday?  I’ll keep you posted.

Ciao!

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*Yes.  The Vatican really does have a Will-Call.  And a fax machine.  If you’re feeling nostalgic for the 90’s, I recommend you fax them your favorite comic strips every morning (+39 06 698 85863).  If they can’t get around to sending me a confirmation letter, they probably won’t send the Swiss Guard to your house to ask you to stop.