Maggio a Roma--Race for Vocations

Bernardi after the race.

On May 7th, in the year of our Lord two thousand and eleven, I accomplished something that I never thought I would do--I ran/jogged/walked a 5K.  Yes, my 6-2, 195 pound frame made it 3.2 miles around Rome, via walking, jogging, and running.  Now, I would definitely not do this without some great impetus, and this great impetus was the Race for Vocations.  "What is the Race for Vocations?" you may ask.  Well, I'm here to tell you. Or rather, instead of trying to read my rambling words, you could watch this short video of Tyler Tenbarge, a seminarian from the Archdiocese of Evansville, and studying at Simon Brute Seminary, and with us for the semester in Rome, explain just what it is: http://www.archindy.org/vocations/race-video.html. So we in Rome, in solidarity with our brothers and sisters in Christ in Indianapolis, started our 5K at the same time as they did back in Indianapolis (we at 2pm, and they at 8am ET).  It was one of the neatest experiences of which I have ever been a part--running for a true cause with others made the universality and connectivity of the Church even more real, if that were possible.  So, this is the route that we ran, and the route, which makes a figure-8, actually ended somewhere on or before Ponte Matteoti: http://maps.google.com/maps?saddr=Lungotevere+delle+Armi&daddr=41.91864,12.47028+to:Lungotevere+Flaminio+to:Lungotevere+Maresciallo+Cadorna+to:Lungotevere+delle+Navi+to:Lungotevere+delle+Armi&hl=en&ll=41.916298,12.465491&spn=0.017276,0.042272&sll=41.91815,12.465148&sspn=0.017276,0.042272&geocode=FUuSfwId9kS-AA%3BFbCgfwIdCEi-AClXd5Ev8GAvEzEBJWB7nk8JEw%3BFRbDfwIdQiS-AA%3BFUPKfwIdFhq-AA%3BFZiffwId-E2-AA%3BFUGQfwIdQkW-AA&vpsrc=6&gl=us&dirflg=w&mra=dme&mrsp=5&sz=15&via=1&z=15  Afterward, we all had a great feast of burgers, brats, and dogs, cooked up by Dr. Coulter et al., and the ladies of Bernardi (Monica, Kelsey, Maddie, Katie, Maria, et al.) prepared the desserts and salads.  So, after it was all said and done, it was an awesome day, and it all ended with a great meal with even greater company.

Maggio a Roma--Beatification and Bernardi Talent Show

Night of JP II's Beatification--the line is about a mile long.

It was in Italian class that I asked Anna Maria, whilst learning the months of the year in Italian, "So, does Joe DiMaggio mean 'Joe of May?'"  Needless to say, I think she was a little confused, though she knew who he was.  Anyway, May started off with a bang, with the late now-Blessed Pope John Paul II being beatified on Sunday the 1st.  For the record, I was in Rome for it, though I cannot say with too much certainty where I was at the time he was officially beatified.  I believe I was in Mass, though, at Santa Maria del Popolo.  You may wonder, "Greg, perche? I mean, you were right there, why didn't you go? There was even an all-night vigil the night before!"  Well, let me clue you in as to why I did not go (though I think the Moosbruggers and, maybe Minh, went, despite having traveled with me from Austria).  1.  I had just gotten back from Austria/Germany the night before the vigil, and, after nearly 36 hours travelling or being in an overheated hotel room, I just wanted to relax.  Secondly, I was sick of Italian crowds, and did not want to get caught up in the 1,000,000+ crowd of Italians, Polacks, Americans, and whoever might have decided to show up for the event, in hot and humid weather.  It was a grand sight, I'm sure, but I was able to watch most of the Mass online from the comfort of my own chair and a nice ceiling fan to boot.  Besides, I only go to the big events (i.e. canonizations).  Later that night though, some of us wanted to see JP II's casket, which had been exhumed for the event, and is now in his tomb, which is now on the right side, in the main basilica, in the Chapel of St. Sebastian.  What we found, however, was a[n Italian] line, which, if stretched from end to end, would have been at least a mile long, if not longer.  So, not wanting to wait for several hours, we decided to bag the idea and head back for Bernardi.  That was kind of disappointing, or at least it would have been had I not been walking back in Rome, a little town in which you don't mind an "unsuccessful" journey.

    On May 5th, all of us at Bernardi expected either to be performing in or watching the Bernardi's Got Talent show, but what us men did not expect was something that I will not easily forget.  The women of Bernardi made and served us guys (and ate with us) an absolutely great meal of pasta, salad, and gelato.  In addition, they made each of us a place mat (which I still have) with truly meaningful and affirming comments, and they picked a saint for each of us, along with a logo, which they felt represented us--my saint was St. Sebastian, and my logo was the Notre Dame leprechaun (both were very apt, in my opinion).  As Jonathan Huber put it, they made us "feel like kings".   It was such a generous act, which I had never before seen, and may never see again; but to experience and receive so kind a gift as that, which truly made a great impression on me, was unbelievable.  There is really no other way to describe it than to say that the ladies of Bernardi Spring '11 are incredibly holy, charitable, and awesome.

    Afterward, we all went up to the salotto, where we witnessed great acts, ranging from the Coulter Family Band (complete with Dr. Coulter on the drum, aka the trash can), to Dan and Ephrem performing a dead-on impersonation of Smeagol/Gollum.  Other highlights were Paula's reading of her original poetry and Tyler's inspirational (if not thought-provoking) speech essentially on  why it's so awesome to be Catholic (no offense to those who are missing out).  I wish I had pictures of the night, but I didn't have my camera with me, and was too busy instructing others on the dangers of bicyclists (perhaps someone will upload them to Facebook--yes, I'm looking at you, Jodi Vasko).

Österreich Continued...

The next day, Brady, Katie, Maria, Minh, and I, after playing some cards on the balcony and getting a bite to eat at a local restaurant, decided to explore a little bit around Schoppernau and the surrounding towns, and we ended up hiking up one of the mountains.  At first, it was a warm, sunny day, as we made our way up the mountain.  It was kind of steep, as we wound our way up, zig-zagging up the path, so everyone except for Minh picked up a walking stick to help us along.  It took probably an hour and a half to get up the mountain, though we didn't get to the top, where there was still snow.  Speaking of which, Minh and I were hoping to do some skiing, but due to an abnormally warm winter, all the snow (aside from that at the very top) was gone.  Anyway, due to the fickle European weather, we got caught in a rain/hailstorm, which was made worse by the fact that it got a lot colder.  We stopped intermittently under the cover of the trees, but made it up to a tiny hamlet that seemed to be shuttered for the summer, or at least for a while.  We tried to find some shelter, and briefly stopped in at a tiny chapel, but only stayed under its porch for awhile, because the door was locked.  The views, as soon as the rain and mist cleared, were absolutely breathtaking, and being able to once again breathe fresh air outside of Rome was an even greater bonus.  We soon made our way down the mountain, which took half as long as climbing up, and as we got lower, it began to get warmer and sunnier again, and we were able to dry off.  Later that night, we continued to celebrate Brady and Katie's engagement by going to the Moosbrugger Cafe, and Stefan, who speaks English well, welcomed us with "some" beverages and a little food.  Unfortunately for Brady, however, he had to get up early to get to the airport to fly home, because classes at St. Thomas were still ongoing.
    The next day we spent sleeping and relaxing, so not much really happened, and the next day it was raining for a good portion of the day, so other than wandering around Schoppernau a little bit and getting lunch at a local restaurant, we didn't do much until the evening.  We were able to go to Mass (in German of course) that evening at the local church, which was stunning because it seemed to be old, yet was well-maintained, with beautiful paintings and ornately-carved wood works. Afterward, we all went the house of their relative, Lily, the other English-speaker in the town, for dinner.  I can't remember exactly what it was, but I believe that it resembled something like macaroni and cheese, but with potatoes, and without the cheese.  I do remember that it tasted great, however, and was really filling.  We finished off with some schnapps, and looked through an album with many fascinating photos capturing her family's history in the town, as she recounted many stories.  The really neat thing is that there is a replica (not exact, but close) of Lily's house, called Rößle, in Kohler, WI (I really wish I had gotten a picture of it--dang).
    The next morning, we got up a little earlier, had breakfast, bade farewell to Walter and Marlene, and then hopped on the bus to take the hour and a half ride down to Dornbirn, where we waited for our ICE train, which we took to Frankfurt Airport, whence we caught a taxi to our hotel.  Although it was a long day for all of us, Katie, Minh, Maria, and I went out in search of somewhere to eat, and the only reasonable place to eat was--an Italian restaurant.  The proprietors were even native Italians, and the one time we could have used our Italian outside of Italy, we didn't.  Oh well, that's the way it goes, but since Katie speaks fluent German, I guess we didn't need our "perfect" Italian skills anyway.
    So, the next day, our last in Germany/Austria, I caught a shuttle to the airport, picked up the car, drove back to the hotel, and picked everyone up to drive up to the Dusseldorf-Weeze airport.  I might have mentioned this before, but the RyanAir CEO is extremely stingy, and decides to have his planes fly out of the most far-flung airports, which explains why Minh and I flew into the Frankfurt-Hahn airport, and why we were flying out of Weeze.  Anyway, I got to check off one of my bucket list items by driving on the German Autobahn--much to the chagrin and fright of my four passengers (again, Katie, Maria, Minh, and Tim--I apologize for scaring you more than half to death).  But I only topped out at just over 180 kph, which equates to about 112 mph--don't worry, it was a perfectly sunny day, with barely a cloud in the sky, though there was some construction.  But that was easily THE quietest 3 1/2 hour car ride I've ever been on.  The important thing is that we got there in one piece in plenty of time, and I made a pit stop in the Netherlands as I filled the car up with gas.  Drive in three different countries in my lifetime? Check.  So, we killed some time playing some cards, as we waited for our plane, and we were the first ones at the gate.  We would have been the first ones on had there not been a half hour evacuation of the airport.  We were sitting there, and all of a sudden an alarm goes off, and a voice comes over the speakers, saying we need to leave.  So we went out and stood on the tarmac, but then came in after the fire/terrorist/whatever threat was cleared.  Other than that, however, there were virtually no issues getting back home to Rome and, eventually, Bernardi--fortunately, we were able to catch the last train to the Lepanto stop and walk home from there, getting back at about 930pm, completing our nearly 36-hour travel back to Rome, that had started at 10am the previous day in Schoppernau, Austria.

Welcome to Austria!

Although I am back stateside now, I will fill out the rest of my blog, just in case you're still interested in hearing more about my Euro-tripping.

A picture taken from the balcony of our room.

    On April 24, Easter Sunday, I was up at 5:30 am, and running on about four hours of sleep, Minh and I caught a taxi and headed to the airport for an 8:40 am flight to the Frankfurt-Hahn Airport.  What I didn't know, however, was that this airport is not the main Frankfurt airport, and we had to take a 1 1/2 hour shuttle ride to the Frankfurt train station, which ended up not even being the main station (we took the Metro to Frankfurt-Main).  From there we took the ICE train, leaving at 1:30 pm for Dorbirn, Austria, via Ulm and Lindau, Germany.  This was the fastest, and most expensive train, which topped out at about 280 km/hr, but was very quiet and comfortable.  We were able to see a lot of great countryside and farms along the way, but the day seemed to be a mixture of Trains, Planes, and Automobiles, and the Amazing Race.  We were literally running from train to train, as we had to switch twice, but by the grace of God we made it each time.  Once we got to Dornbirn, we took a 1 1/2 hour bus ride up the mountain to Schoppernau, a small mountain town in Austria.  Once we got there, Minh and I quickly saw why Maria and Katie wanted to go there--almost everyone had the surname Moosbrugger, and it was obviously where their ancestors were from.  Plus, "Moosbrugger" was on just about every restaurant or store in the town, which we found to be pretty humorous.

Katie and Maria, with their firework cake.

    After Minh and I got off the last possible stop in what we were hoping was Schoppernau, we started walking along the main road toward our bed and breakfast (or so we thought), though we turned out to be going in the opposite direction.  Luckily, as Tim, Maria, Katie, and Brady were eating dinner at a local restaurant, Maria randomly looked out the window and they all shouted for us, which was great because otherwise Minh and I would have walked to the farthest edge of town. After 14 hours of travel, we were finally where we needed to be.  Another cool surprise was that when everyone came outside of the restaurant, Katie showed us her engagement ring from Brady--he had proposed the day before--and we went to the Moosbrugger Cafe so that Minh and I could eat. We both got wienerschnitzel and fries and a bottle of Mohren Brau.  The Moosbrugger’s very distant relative, Stefan, seemingly out of the blue came out with two slices of cake, with a small firework on top, for Maria and Katie, although we all thought that he was bringing the cake out for Katie and Brady to celebrate their engagement.  He came running in with the slices of cake, set them down, and ran out with no word of explanation, so we just sat there 

A look at the fields and mountains of Austria.

    That was all pretty exciting, and after an hour or so of conversation, we went back to our B&B, Marlene's Haus, and I was able to sleep like a log, which was great, especially considering all the travel of the past day.

Holy Week in Rome

St. Peter's on Good Friday.

Alright, I was just kidding about blogging on Austria next, since I forgot about Holy Week.  A big group of us Bernardians went to the English College—don’t worry, it was Catholic, just the English counterpart of the North American College.  It’s the favorite church of the Coulters, so we followed them there for Holy Thursday Mass, which was celebrated in their “newer” church, which has distinctly Byzantine feel to it.  The Beatitudes are written in mosaics, in Latin, on either side of the nave, and there the backgrounds were all golden.  It was a truly beautiful church, and it had the sense of an ancient church, with a flat roof, columns, and two side aisles.  When the priests processed back to the old chapel with the Eucharist after Mass, the congregation followed, and we prayed in front of the Blessed Sacrament for a few minutes.  It really was a very humbling and reverent experience, which set me up well for Good Friday and Holy Saturday.

Looking at the back as the fire is lit.

On Good Friday, the whole group (minus those who were elsewhere) went to St. Peter’s Square to stand in line for about 2 ½ hours before the service (if you are ever in Rome for the Triduum and want to go, you will need a ticket—which is free—but you can just ask your bishop).  Waiting that long wasn’t too bad, especially in comparison to what it would be the next day, and we were all talking, keeping each other entertained.  When the gates did open, it was absolutely hilarious to see the nuns running to get a good spot along the aisle.  Just imagine a nun in her full habit flying in the wind behind her, booking it toward the entrance.  What was particularly special was not just being in St. Peter’s on Good Friday, but the fact that our seminarians were serving for Papa Bene.  They admitted that they didn’t do too much, but even so, just to be part of it would be an unforgettable experience.  Also, this was the most solemn and reverent Good Friday service to which I had ever been, and something that I won’t soon forget.

The Easter Vigil Mass was even more memorable (and seemingly almost twice as long).  Matt Slattery and I went to St. Peter’s Square at about 2:30 pm to wait for the gates to open at 7:30 pm, and then once we got in we waited until 9 pm for the Mass to start.  Now, it is really frustrating when you get there really early and you see others elbow their way in within an hour of the gates opening.  So, Matt and I kind of barricaded ourselves in and with those in “line” (I say that because it was more of a blob, and it only got worse when the time to enter drew nigh) we tried our best to keep intruders out.  We made friends, had some food, drank some water, and held each others’ spot in line when someone had to go to the bathroom.  Trust me—you cannot survive something like this unless you make some friends within the line.  Throughout the entire time there was this Polish girl who acted so innocently while she budged through all of us and tried to get her family in line as well.  Funny enough though, there was this Aussie from a high school group that pretty much did the same thing with about an hour and a half to go.  The difference, however, was that he was really funny and entertaining.  He was an interesting character too, as he knew more about the USA—at least our state capitals—than most Americans.  He also led those in the front of the line in singing several songs, entertaining everyone as it got down to about a half hour before the gates opened.  From “Don’t Stop Believin’” to “Land Down Under”, he kept the crowd going and singing along. He even knew “I’m Proud to be an American”.  Then he did the unexpected and sang the opening ditty from the Lion King, which was pretty much a shout but right on key.  The Italian/Vatican police were none too pleased, but they had bigger problems, like controlling a line with thousands upon thousands of people, which stretched almost the entire way around the square.

Easter Vigil, as the Gospel begins.

The Mass itself was extremely beautiful and powerful, and began with Pope Benedict lighting and blessing the fire as the basilica went dark.  Then came the procession to the front with many, many cardinals and bishops with their candles lit.  Just a quick rundown of the Mass: there was a lot of incense throughout the Mass, there were readings in French, Spanish, English, Italian, and German, and the Gospel was in Latin—pure gold.  Plus, there was a lot of chanting in Latin, which was cool as well.  The most amusing part of the Mass was when one of the monsignors (I think) said, in Latin, “Holy Father, I present to you…the Alleluia!”  It was a truly powerful experience to see so many faithful Catholics flock to the heart of the Catholic faith, and to celebrate the most important date on the Church calendar.  Plus, can you imagine what it was like not only to be fully received into the faith through Confirmation, but then to receive First Communion from Pope Benedict himself? Simply amazing.  I can fill in the other details later, but for now, I guess this will have to do.

Papa Bene after the Easter Vigil.

After Mass, I remembered that I had some Reese’s eggs from home—thanks, Mom—and I broke those out and some of us shared those, while still in St. Peter’s Basilica, which I thought would never happen.  It was a late night, as Mass got done at about 12:30 am, but we all went for gelato and then went back home.  It would have been even later, but Minh and I had to get up early to catch a cab to the airport to get to Austria, which, I guarantee, is where I will pick up next time.

Welcome to: The Happiest Place on Earth

       No, it isn't Disney World, but it is kind of like Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.  It is...the Guinness Storehouse.  After we left Cork early in the morning, we headed to Dublin, arriving just before noon.  Since we couldn't check in to our hotel until 2 pm, we went straight for downtown Dublin and the Guinness Storehouse.  Once you get to the main street in front of the entrance, it really seems like a city unto itself.  And it was, as I learned, as Guinness had affordable housing built for its employees when no other housing was available.  It is a very large complex, and the storehouse is just the part where the beer ferments (or used to be there) and where the museum/visitor center is.  It was an absolutely awesome experience, and I spent 3 of the best hours of my life there.  From top to bottom, the people at Guinness really know how to make you get lost in a time warp, which was very much a good thing.  They have tools, vats, casks, and huge kettles, all of which were used a while ago to brew the finest beer in the world (needless to say, the only drink I had in Ireland was Guinness).  There is a long and detailed history that progresses the farther you go up, from level 1 to the Gravity Bar on level 7, where you can trade in your ticket stub for a "free" pint of Guinness, which truly isn't free, but included in the price of admission.  Just a brief history, Guinness was founded by Arthur Guinness in 1759 at St. James Gate, Dublin, where they have been brewing ever since.  So, that was just about the briefest history you're gonna get about anything.  What was also neat was the fact that I was able to have a nearly 360 degree view of Dublin while I sipped on the best Guinness that I have ever had.  I'm sure that I've also left out other stuff, but some other notes--I saw the oldest pub in Ireland, the Brazen Head, as well as Trinity College, though I didn't see the Book of Kells.

The harp that Guinness' logo is based on.

        After the Guinness Storehouse, we met up with the Coulters, as well as the Moosbruggers, and we walked around downtown Dublin, ate dinner, and went back to our hotels.  The next morning, we were all up at about 4:00 am or so, and headed to the airport, whence the Coulters, Jonathan, and I went back to Rome--damn--and the Moosbruggers and Tim embarked for Austria, which is where my next post will pick up.

The Land of Eire--Part III

Blarney Castle.

Here I am kissing the Blarney Stone.

        On the morning of the 17th, after breakfast and Palm Sunday Mass at the local church, Tim, Jonathan, and I drove for a little over two hours to Cork, where we stayed at Jurys Inn Hotel.  It was a fairly nice hotel, right along the river, which opened wide enough to have a couple French Navy ships dock there.  Cork is similar to the size of Rochester, MN, both in size of buildings, area, and population.  We were all pretty tired, so we slept for about four hours and then walked around, looking for a place to eat.  Unfortunately, there really wasn't anywhere to eat, aside from a Subway and this fried chicken place, which was sub-par at best.  Also, the people didn't seem to be as nice as those in Camp, and we all kind of wished we had stayed there the whole time, especially when we were standing on a corner, and a guy in a car shouted out to a sketchy guy with long hair and trench coat, "Get a haircut you (blanking) (blank)!"  To which Jonathan said, "Welcome to Cork!"  So we ended up going to the fried chicken place, which was nowhere even close to KFC, Popeye's or Raising Cane's.  The redeeming part was that there was a digital jukebox there, and I was able to play Bruce Springsteen's "Badlands" and Queen's "One Vision" for 50 euro cents each.  We later went to a real pub, had some beer, watched a Spanish League soccer match, and went back to the hotel.

Marina of Kinsale.

        The next day, which was really sunny and warm, I got up, had the hotel Irish Breakfast buffet, which wasn't too bad, and we headed out to Blarney, which is northwest of Cork.  We went into the Blarney Castle, kissed the Blarney Stone, and walked around the estate for awhile.  The really neat thing is that a noble family, who maintains the castle, still lives in the Blarney House, which is about a quarter mile or so away from the castle; there are also tours there for four hours per day, six days a week, which is impressive, considering that it is actually an active home.  The grounds are really beautiful and are well maintained.  There is also more or less a 30 minute hiking trail at the opposite end of the grounds (away from the Blarney House).

A couple streets in Kinsale.

        We then drove down to Kinsale, which is much smaller than Cork, and is a fishing town on the southern coast of Ireland, about 25 km from Cork.  I really enjoyed it simply because it is smaller than Cork, and has the feel of Dingle.  We walked around for a bit and then ducked into a pub for lunch.  I had hot seafood chowder and warm bread, and we just sat around for close to an hour and a half, just talking and relaxing.  Afterward, we walked down by the bay and through the winding streets, stopping in at the churches and taking in the fact that we were in a small town in Ireland, which was much better than being in Cork, and like being in Camp.  One final note on the city of Cork--there is not much to see there, and I would honestly not recommend going there, because there truly isn't that much to see or do, but I suppose it is a good in-between point for Blarney and Kinsale, among other places, I'm sure.