Pilgrimage to Italy

PILGRIMAGE TO ITALY

         Our eight-day pilgrimage to Italy at the end of September 1990 began with our meeting at the front of the rectory of St. Anne’s Roman Catholic Church in my hometown. We were a group of about 50 choir members, two priests, and a handful of chaperones. I was one of the chaperones. We traveled by bus to the terminal at Kennedy International Airport in New York. We were flying with Alitalia Air Lines. Going through baggage check was without incident, and then we settled down to wait for our flight to be called. Although I looked forward to this trip, I was scared of flying and dreaded boarding the plane. Our scheduled takeoff was for 7:30PM.

         We went through the gate and walked the ramp that led us through the cabin door of the plane. I felt some queasiness inside and had sudden thoughts of turning back, but the moment of panic disappeared as I walked through the door along with the rest of the passengers. This was my second flight in over 30 years. After neatly securing our overnight bags under our seats and buckling up, the plane started to taxi down the runway in preparation for takeoff. I knew that this was going to be a long flight, and I was just about bracing myself for the inevitable liftoff, when the plane slowed, then turned around and came back. We never got off the ground. Then we were told that there was going to be a delay. That was an understatement!

         We remained on the plane for nearly two hours. After inquiries, we were told that the Captain (God Bless him) refused to take off because he didn’t like the sound of an engine. I wondered how many engines that type of plane had! It was a Boeing 747, as I recall. The mechanics were called out to make repairs.

         In the meantime, we were made comfortable by the crew and offered an early supper. Anticipation of the trip and the choir’s harmonious singing kept us relaxed and happy until one of the flight attendants politely asked us to stop singing hymns because we were disturbing the passengers in first class. We thought we sounded great! From the sudden hush and looks on our faces, I knew that we were all thinking along the same lines that once up into the air, our choir was going to sing again whether they liked it or not. And later on, they did sing and they sounded beautiful. It helped pass the time in the air, and we had no more complaints from the other passengers. Anyway, we had most of the coach area to ourselves.

         Finally, the plane started to move again and we were on our way to Italy. We had snacks and beverages and then a small breakfast before we reached our destination. It was a long flight, about 13 hours all total, and it was pleasant most of the way. It was with some trepidation when I felt the plane-hit turbulence at one point, but there were no reactions from the other passengers, so I became calm. Later on, a few of us made use of some empty middle aisle seats in the back and stretched ourselves prone on three of them in order to get some proper rest. I made sure I got up from my seat from time to time to keep the circulation going in my lower limbs.

         When it was daylight, I even dared to peek out of the window to view parts of the Alps and France. It was at this time during the flight when the Captain’s voice would come over the microphone. He would instruct us to view parts of Europe as we passed over those areas. The weather was clear with hardly any clouds in the sky, so we enjoyed the view. The Captain would amuse us with a joke or relate something interesting about a country that we were flying over. My roommate and I had the best seats on the plane or so we thought, because we sat in the front just inches away from the cabin door. There was a curtained opening to the right of us that had stairs leading to the pilots’ compartment. By the time we arrived in Rome, it was afternoon, and my watch was at least five hours behind.

         When we finally got off the plane, we were bused directly to our hotel. As soon as we were settled into our designated rooms, we were able to relax for a while before having our first evening’s dinner at the hotel. Breakfast was 7 in the morning and then onto the bus again no later than 7:30. We were so exuberant in anticipation of all the activities ahead of us. We didn’t get back to our hotel until after 7 and sometimes as late as 8 o’clock in the evening. After dinner, the tired went straight to their room, and the brave and the young would still go for a walk or an ice cream and sing popular, but mostly Italian songs. This tight schedule was routine every day, because we had to fit in the choir's daily commitment at various churches and at the same time tour all the points of interests that you normally do when you go to Italy. It was exhausting to say the least.

         We met our commitments with the churches and saw all that Italy could offer its tourists. I actually enjoyed being on the bus, because there was so much to see outside the window as we passed cities and farms that were scattered about the landscape. At one point, we passed Naples, and I remembered remarking to my self, “That’s where my mom’s parents came from before arriving in America.” I especially enjoyed Rome, Florence, Venice and Capri.

         I’ll never forget the ride in a Gondola on the waters of Venice. More than half of our group chose to enjoy the boat ride, and we occupied at least five of them. Looking at those ornate houses that were partly under water and passing under the bridges was an experience I’ll never forget. Our choir mistress, Josephine, who was in one of the other boats, started singing when she heard someone playing the accordion in another boat that was not with our group. I couldn’t believe what was happening. It was just like a movie scene being played out. A man in that boat started to sing “O Sole Mio” in a wonderful alto voice, and Josephine joined him in harmony. It was like being at an opera. I hadn’t known that she could sing in that fashion. Her voice was absolutely beautiful, and the man had a wonderful resonant voice, too. Both of them stood up in their boats and sung to each other to the delight of an appreciative audience. The tourists strolling on shore or across the bridges, stopped to watch and enjoy the musical display that suddenly opened up to them. We were being serenaded in the Venice Canal, and I thought I would burst with emotion. No one in our boats really minded that it was cool and the damp air misted our faces. I was grateful that I had the good sense to wear a raincoat. It was well worth the trip if only to be in Venice at that moment.

         All the other sights were equally thrilling as well as interesting and informative. The mornings were devoted to church activities. That’s where the chaperones were needed. We held on to the choir’s outer garments and other personal items and books while they changed into their choir gowns and sang during Mass. During the week, the choir also performed at one of the local theaters. The afternoons took us all over. We visited the Vatican, the Sistine Chapel, the ruins, the Coliseum, a glass blowing factory and a leather factory, churches in Florence, and other places that I can’t remember at the moment. Everywhere we walked, the choir would sometimes stop and sing their hearts out. We always collected a crowd, and mischievous thoughts of passing the hat for donations would form in my mind, but of course nothing like that happened.

         In lovely Capri, we enjoyed a boat ride that took us briefly into a darkened cave. We had to lower our heads practically to our knees to pass through the entrance of the cave. Once inside, the guide explained the significance of the glowing religious pictures that formed on the walls of the cave. Afterward we had a prearranged wonderful dinner at a restaurant nearby. The waiters and waitresses were dressed gaily in peasant outfits and entertained us while serving us our festive meal. The restaurant was decorated with paper ribbons, confetti and balloons. The atmosphere was reminiscent of New Year’s Eve. We sang songs and had a merry old time.

         It was an honor and emotional experience to be part of the Pope’s Audience on one of the days. As he addressed the people in that magnificent domed room that had a huge golden chandelier affixed to the ceiling, the Pope spoke to them in several languages. I never saw so many clergy gathered into one place at the same time. Our choir was one of those pre-selected to sing for the pope, which they did to his delight. Our Pontiff quickly posed for some pictures with a few of the choir members. And when he came down the aisle, it was virtually impossible to snap a picture of him unless you were first in line in one of the pews. Fortunately, one person in our group managed to get a good picture. Later on I was able to purchase the print, which I have encased in a curved glass frame. It’s still on display on a shelf in the entrance hall of my home.

         I brought home many souvenirs to give to my family and some friends. The items that I kept for my self were a pair of white beaded rosary beads that was purchased in Rome and blessed by the Pope, a pill box with a picture of the ruins on it that I use every day, a replica of a lighted gondola complete with sailor and paddles, and a strand of crystal beads that I purchased at the glass factory. It was a wonderful pilgrimage to Italy, and I’m so happy that I was part of it.


Footnote:
My one regret is not keeping a diary of everyday events. There were many places that we frequented. I know we did a lot of walking, and much of it was on cobblestones or sidewalks of bricks. I was so impessed with the Trevi Fountain in Rome. I can picture the statue of David and the Piata that was surrounded by glass at that time.

Here's a photo of the Trevi Fountain