Rome

As I’m sure you have noticed, I am extremely behind on my blog.  This is due to a combination of things.  First, it doesn’t get dark here until very late and we are in fear of missing something if we stop before dark.  By the time we get back to the hotel, we are worn out and ready for bed.  My next excuse is that the internet connections have been sketchy at best.  The last excuse I have and probably the most accurate is that things keep disappearing from the blog. I am pretty sure it is user error, however, no good comes from pointing fingers, especially if they are pointing at me.  In an effort to catch up, I am skipping Rome for now and coming back to it later.  I will, however, share some amazing pictures and one amusing story. 

 I was strolling through one of the churches in Rome, minding my own business and pretending that I knew what everything was, like I often do.  I noticed a priest in a nearby confessional trying to get some one’s attention.  I ignored him, thinking it couldn’t possibly be me he wanted to talk to.  After all, my knees and shoulders were appropriately covered so what could he possibly have to say to me.   My Italian is not what it should be and neither was his English so we were at a stand-off.   Eventually, he opened the confessional door and headed straight for me. He had a smile on his face so I was pretty sure I wasn’t in any trouble.   He turned me around and led me in the direction of a prayer bench. I stood there, unsure of what he wanted me to do.  Katie suggested that possibly he wanted me to kneel on the bench, so I did.  Then, I turned around, looked back, and the priest was still standing there. I thought maybe he wanted me to read the inscription on the floor, so I did.  Then, I turned around, looked back, and the priest was still standing there. The only other possibility was that he wanted to make sure that I got a picture of a nearby statue, so I did. Then, I turned around, looked back, and the priest was still standing there.  He obviously wanted me to do or see something but I was out of ideas.  I was pretty sure he wouldn’t follow me out of the church so I smiled, and quickly walked towards the exit and never looked back. However, I think I left with some of that Catholic guilt you hear so much about. I felt bad that I wasn't able to figure out what the priest wanted me to do.