Well, I certainly got in trouble yesterday morning. Bill and I went to the grocery store to pick up a few things such as bottled water, cereal, wine, and so forth. I always carry a little fold-up cloth bag with me, but we knew it wasn’t enough. We were going to need a second bag to carry our groceries home.
Now, most of you think, no problem, right? At our neighborhood grocery stores, the grocery sackers cheerily ask “paper or plastic” and proceed to put one or two items in each sack so that you end up with 10 bags. Well, grocery bags are one of those things that Europeans in general, and Italians in particular, are very funny about. (Sort of like ice.) If you want a bag, you pay for it. Italians bring their own bags. Most of the women have these elaborate grocery carrying things that are on wheels so that they can just walk to the market. Personally, I think all of that is just wonderful. Yesterday, it just so happened that my one bag wasn’t enough.
This is where the trouble began. I was entirely aware that if you get a plastic sack, you pay for it. So, while we stood in line to pay for our groceries, I noticed there were a large number of plastic bags at the next checkout stand, which was empty. I simply went over to that booth and picked up a bag, thinking I would put it with our groceries so that they could charge us when we paid for our groceries. I no sooner had the bag in my hand when the checker in the next grocery stand (the one in which Bill was standing) began yelling (and I swear to you I am not exaggerating when I use that word) something in Italian. I couldn’t understand anything she was saying, and initially was unaware that her screams were directed at me. But as I walked back to Bill carrying my bag, I became aware that the checkout area had become silent (except for the woman yelling), and every single elderly Italian woman standing in every line in the store was staring at me in horror as though I had disrobed. Once I became aware that I had done something seriously wrong (though even now I don’t know what it was), I gave a pathetic shrug of my shoulders and guiltily placed the bag back on its pile.
When we got up to the checker, Bill said to her, “Una borsa.” (a bag). She handed him one of the exact same bags, added five cents to our total, and everything was fine.
Once we got the groceries back home and had lunch, we met up with David Troy. He took us on a whole afternoon of sightseeing that included visits to a number of churches, including San Pietro in Vincole (St. Peter in Chains), which houses the magnificent statue of Moses sculpted by Michelangelo, as well as the actual chains that held St. Peter when he was in prison in Rome.
Acts 12, 6-7
And when Herod would have brought him forth, the same night, Peter was sleeping between two soldiers, bound with two chains: and the keepers before the door kept the prison. And behold an angel of the Lord stood by him and a light shined in the room. And he, striking Peter on the side, raised him up, saying: Arise quickly. And the chains fell off from his hands.
Speaking of Acts, one of the most moving things we visited was the prison that held both St. Peter and St. Paul, also detailed in Acts. In the prison we saw the spring that appeared so that each man could baptize the guards who converted to Christianity.
The relics we see in some of the churches in Rome are amazing. For example, at a very obscure church we saw the partial skeleton of St. Valentine, and another church featured the actual heart of a St. Charles.
One really touristy stop we made was to the Boca della Verita (Mouth of Truth). You remember the Mouth of Truth was featured in the movie Roman Holiday, so everyone has to have their picture taken with their hand in the mouth. We were no exception.
We concluded our very full day at a restaurant in Trestevere, a very fun neighborhood, where Bill and I shared a delicious rigatoni with cream and sausage and saltimboca (veal scaloppini with prosciutto and sage.) David, as usual, had pizza. We finished the evening with a delightful stroll along the Tiber River.
Tonight Bill and I will celebrate our anniversary by dining alone at some romantic Roman trattoria.
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