It is now my impression that Rome is more about sex, hookers, beaucrats with chaffeurs waiting alongside limosines, police, religious clerics and pretentious botoxed, implanted, enhanced, uplifted women in highheels, and furs (it is cobblestoned and hot) than religion, though there is plenty of “religion” (superstition) to go around.
I went to Gregorian Seminary looking to pick a fight but everyone there was too nice to argue with so Inquired of one of the young Americans studying there if it was true what I had heard and I genuinely wanted his observation. I asked, “Is it true that fewer than 8% of Rome attend mass on any given Sunday?” About that time one of his English speaking, Italian colleagues arrived to overhear me to which he interjected, “No! That is simply not true! It is not 8%! It is five and all of these are either priests or nuns.” We all had a good chuckle. I then offered this, “Well you lads had better get out of the classrooms and onto the streets. The Jehovah’s Witnesses are out distancing you.” The Italian admitted, “Yes, you are right, we have a lot of work to do!”
I wouldn’t cough up the 15 Euro for the taxi ride to St. Peter’s Bacilica so I decided to walk. On the map it didn’t seem all that far. It’s not far if you aren’t detoured by a 30,000 strong student protest with Carabiniere (national para-military police) and Rome police blocking every convenient street with their poised
Uzi’s and billyclubs (I’m not certain, but I think they meant it). You should also be aware that like Venice, maps mean little in Rome. Streets do not go where you intend for them too. TIP: Be sure that you know where “North” is.
After meandering for almost two hours I finally arrived at Via della Concilazione, a regal, wide throughfare leading past trinket shops,