Sunday, my last full day in Rome. The big event for the day was going to lunch with a couple of people. They decided the best place to go would be down to Trastevere. I thought this was one last opportunity to go the same flight of stairs. Instead, one of the people took us down a different flight of stairs. I didn't realize there were multiple ways of going up and down the Janiculum Hill to Trastevere. We walked through narrow streets which in themselves were a taste of Rome, until we found an open restaurant. We were a bit hot from our walk, so we chose to sit inside the air conditioned restaurante. Figuring it would be my last opportunity, I again chose pizza -- pizza ortolono. It was delicious; it seemed a little underdone. Usually the ovens tend to make the crust crispy with little burnt spots. For some reason this pizza was a tad doughy. Still very good. It had some zucchini, eggplant, and peppers. i've been surprised that the pizzas tended not to have onions. i don't recall eating much onion durng the past month.

After our lunch, my friends went with me to a little jewelry shop to get something for my wife. I didn't have much money available, but we found a nice necklace with matching earrings. For me the irony was that our was buying jewelry as a souvenir of my Rome trip but from an artist named Ibrahim, which for me pointed forward to my next trip in the fall to Israel/Palestine.

On our way back up the hill, we returned by even another pair of stairs. It was first a long incline on the road up and then a set of long stairs. We came up near the Fountain of Paul, which was one of the first places I visited when I arrived in Rome. 

I spent the afternoon cleaning up my room and packing my suitcases. Some people were going to get together in the evening to watch Trastevere's Festa de' Noantri (Procession of the Madonna del Carmine). it would no doubt be a sight to behold. Some people in our group talked about the way it would be a fitting conclusion to our seminar, since we had talked about various kinds of processions through the streets from imperial processions to local processions honring the dead or various gods and goddesses. It would have been an interesting reenactment of pagan processinos to watch the parade of Catholic religious and dignataries as the statue of Mary is processed through the streets to a church. But i decided to hang out at "home," get a little something to eat later, and have a relaxing evening watching the last two episdoes of season two of Torchwood.

When I went to find some food in the evening, I discovered that most shops were closed up.  i had remembered there was another pizzeria further down Via Carini. Sure enough the other place was open but very busy and tiny. I squeezed myself into the shop and tried to wait my turn. Eventually I was able to place my order for which and how much of the different pizzas already available. I wanted something to drink, but I couldn't get to the coller to get something, not without a better command of italian phrases for "excuse me," "coming through," sorry for pressing my body against yours." The pizza wasn't quite as good as I had been getting from Simone, but it was still good. I managed to turn in early so I could get up early for my big day returning home.

Monday, July 28, homeward bound. I'm always reminded of that Simon & Garfunkel song when I'm coming home from a trip. I also think of another song related to where i live, "Indiana Wants Me." But the lyrics, "Indiana wants me, Lord I can't go back there," don't fit with my sentiments.

For some reason my alarm clock didn't go off this morning. Good thing I was already awake waiting for it go off. I took my shower, finished packing everything up, and made my way downstairs to meet a friend with whom I would be sharing a taxi. I ran out of time cleaning up my room. We were supposed to take our recyclables to the bins that line nearly every street. I meant to leave time to do that but ended up leaving the bag. I left a few euro as a tip hoping that housekeeping wouldn't be too upset with me.

Our taxi came promptly and we were off to the airport. It cost us 50 euro to get to the airport; that's why one needs to share a cab. At the Rome airport it only took me a few minutes to figure out where I needed to go to get my boarding pass and check luggage. There wasn't even a line, though I did need to wait for people who were being waited on to finish. I noticed two young, attractive women in line ahead of me. I remember thinking, "Maybe I'll get to sit by them." Everything went smoothly. I made my way to the gate and began the usual routine one goes through at the airport: find something to eat, stop by the restroom, look through the gift shop. The cafe was a typical Italian kind where you order and pay at the cashier, get your receipt, and then get your order at the bar. Fortunately one of the participants happened to be there and she helped me know what the pastry was called I wanted so I was able to place my order. I watched all the Americans trying to figure out how to get what they wanted without knowing what it's called. It's not like you can point to it, which is usually how I was able to survive in Rome -- the power of pointing.

When the time came to board, I made my way down to the far aisle of the large Alitalia plane. I had to laugh when I saw who I would be sitting next to. It was the two girls from the check-in (which had been more like a "check out" for me). I'm only saying this because it turned out to be one of those situations where you should be careful what you wish for. These girls were cute but not as cute as they thought they were. They pretty much ignored me the whole flight. About ten hours sitting next to the princess twins. When we had to fill out the customs card, I asked the girl next to me if I could use her pen when I was done. She stared at me blankly for a second, ant then proceeded to ignore me. During the last half hour of flight, they took out bags filled with various kinds of makeup. Here's another irony. The movie being shown on the screen was a documentary about some tribe of African or Asian natives. After the girls started applying their makeup, I looked up at the video screen to see the native men putting on their makeup for some kind of festival. It was worth a good laugh to myself. It got a little stranger as the girl next to me even reached up her t-shirt to put on some fresh deoderant. Too bad personality and character doesn't come in a bottle.

It was actually a painful flight for me. I was squeezed between the two armrests the whole time. I had good leg room, but my legs were pinched against the sides of the armrests the whole time. I can't really describe the effects of sitting like that for ten hours. The result was very painful welts on my inner thighs when I stood up. It hurt for a while just to walk. I spent the time on the flight listening to my mp3 player, some podcasts, some old time radio programs, and a part of an old Abbott & Costello movie I had experieented with. For some reason only the first 10 minutes or so of the movie was avaialable. I don't know why. But it was such a relief to have that flight over with, and I was glad to be in Chicago.

It wasn't too much trouble getting through customs. I had to get my baggage, go through the line to show my passport and answer questions, then hand over my luggage to go on to my destination, and finally to find where I had to go to get my boarding pass. I had to get on the little train to go to my terminal and then had to walk to the end of concourse C for my gate. Before heading down the long hallway, I stopped at Starbucks to get my first regular-sized cup of coffee since leaving the States. I kept watching the time, but somehow I ended up not hearing my flight. I happened to stroll over to the gate and realized they had been boarding my flight. This time I got to sit next a ncie woman with whom I had very nice conversation. It was a short flight from Chicago to Dayton. We were there before i a chance to even think about how long the flight would be.

When I arrived past security in the airport, there was no sign of any of my family. So I made my way over to baggage claim. I couldn't see from the monitors what carousel my luggage would be at. Then I saw my family. They were just a few minutes late. It was too bad too, since they had created a nice sign welcoming me back home from Rome. It was so good to see them. And my wife looked beautiful. It was indeed great to be home. And my daughter who lives in West Virginia surprised me by flying home a few days before to visit with us for a week. It will be great fun to have her at home while I'm settling back into life in Indiana. I won't settle back too much, since I will be leaving Sept. 15th for a three-month stay at Tantur Ecumenical Study Centre in Bethlehem.