My Weekend with the Pope

Sometime last year around October, our family received the news that my uncle, a monsignor in the Vatican City, would be elevated to Archbishop and Papal Nuncio to Ireland. Of course, my mother's family was overjoyed and everyone decided to come to Rome to witness his ordination by the Pope. (Here, I will jot down some of the most important details, but a full article containing a lot of thrilling adjectives is sure to follow!)

So on a windy weekend in January, my mother, father and I boarded a flight from Ankara to Rome. After a blur of airport lounges and tasteless hot chocolate in the early morning, I found myself speeding along a Roman highway to the sweet soundtrack of U2, Tom Petty, and the Rolling Stones. (I must say that Italian taxi drivers have exceptionally good taste in music.)

We arrived, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, to the North American Pontifical College, where we would be staying for the weekend. From there, we walked the short distance to St. Peter's Basilica. Seeing the basilica decorated for Christmas was truly magnificent; an enormous Christmas tree and Nativity scene dominated the square. After pausing for a while to admire the picturesque scene, we headed over to the Vatican entrance for the famed Scavi Tour.

The Scavi Tour is a Vatican-lead tour that takes groups underneath St. Peter's Basilica, to various archaelogical finds, and chronicles the attempts made to locate the actual bones of Saint Peter. Traipsing through underground tunnels and peering into carefully preserved tombs was certainly very thrilling, but the climax came as our guide finally presented the last remains of Saint Peter.

We finally emerged above ground after having roamed underneath the basilica for the better part of an hour, and decided to meander over to the restaurant where the rest of the family was gathering. It was a charming little bistro called Settembrini cafe, filled with bookshelves and ancient bottles of wine and Italian quotes plastered onto the walls. The menu was a gourmet feast--in traditional Italian style we started with a fish course of raw fish meat served in a broth of freshly squeezed tomato juice and olive oil. After that delicacy, we moved on to the pasta course of delicately seasoned creamy mushroom ravioli, followed by a dish of risotto and ash-baked steak. The desert was a traditional "bamba," a pastry stuffed with cream and sugar.

The evening stretched on until we finally bid goodnight and retired to our apartment in the nearby college.

Early Friday morning, I awoke to the melodious tones of seagulls squawking outside my bedroom window. Today, my uncle would be ordained an archbishop by the Pope, so we dressed in our finest clothes and hurried outside. St. Peter's Basilica had been transformed overnight in preparation for the ordaination, and Swiss guards lined every corner. We walked up the aisle to our seats in the front row of the cathedral, directly in front of the Bernini altar. Behind us, rows of photographers were busy capturing every moment as the final preparations were added. Finally, a great rush of applause swelled from the entrance of the basilica; the procession had started. Priests, monsignors, bishops, archbishops, cardinals, and finally Pope Benedict XVI himself filed into the cathedral. 

The ceremony was very elaborate and lasted about three hours long, as my uncle and another future archbishop were presented with a signet ring, a scepter, and a copy of the Holy Gospel as symbols of their roles as archbishops and ambassadors. Afterwards, a small group of close relatives and my uncle's colleagues and friends gathered for a reception within the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, where my uncle used to work.

There were still a few sunlight hours remaining before the celebratory dinner, so my parents and I decided to stop by some of our favorite Roman landmarks. We took a quick trip to the Piazza Navona, where I ordered a gelato ice cream. The piazza was incredibly crowded--we learned later that January 6 is actually a holiday in Italy, and is when parents give presents to their "bambinos." We attempted to stroll casually through the city, but every street was packed with throngs of balloon-wielding toddlers. Finally, we ducked into a small side-street close to the restaurant we were going for dinner, and found a charming coffee shop. I nursed a hot chocolate for an hour while we watched the street outside gradually dim and grow silent. At around eight o'clock we meandered back into the Piazza Pilotta, and eventually located the Casa Santa Maria, where the dinner was to be held.

Dinner was an extravagant five-course affair, with delicacies ranging from smoked salmon salad to seasoned lamb to a fragrant baked lasagna, followed by a meringue cake. By the end of the night, my tastebuds had experienced several revelations of the culinary kind. 

Saturday was perhaps the most exciting day of our vacation. We were scheduled to have an audience with the Pope Benedict XVI in the morning, so after a flurry of excitement we departed into the inner sanctums of the Vatican city. The Papal residence was a magnificent building, decorated by renaissance-esque painted ceilings and damask-patterned curtains. We passed through room after room filled with ornate chairs and statues, led by elegant guides in tuxedos and waistcoats, and eventually ended up in a small lounge filled with carpets and plush chairs. After an anxious half-hour had passed, we were solemnly led into the library, in which Pope Benedict XVI stood surrounded by bodyguards.

In single file we approached, preceded by my uncle, as he spoke a few words about each of us. Suddenly it was my turn, and I stumbled forward as if my legs were frozen. I clasped his hand, answered a question he posed, and moved along. The cameras flashed, we were presented ceremoniously with rosaries, and suddenly were ushered out as quickly as we had been ushered in.

After that experience, we were all a little star-struck, and could only talk in murmured whispers. It was surreal, seeing Swiss guards stand to attention and salute my uncle as he swept past them in his ceremonial robes. We concluded the day with a meal in the Villa Strict neighborhood (another lavish affair of pasta, meat, and desert), and spent the rest of our vacation wondering how, exactly, we ended up meeting the Pope.