Feast for the eyes - while fasting.

It being Lent and all... I spend less time sitting at the table in the College refectory filling my mouth with meat and more time daydreaming out the window (like I did in 4th Grade).  Whereas my wandering eyes at the tender age of 8 resulted in me spending long stretches of time standing alone in the school's hallway, this week the consequences of looking out the refectory window is much more gratifying and much more to my liking.

Here is the view I have every day during Cena (supper):

Taken from the Refectory window @ PNAC

I told you the names of meals are different.  Pranzo (lunch) is taken at the Seminary refectory and, if one cares to climb 6 flights of stairs (as I did), you get a similar view from the rooftop terrace.

Taken from the terrace of PNAC Seminary

So, yes, I am living that close to St Peter's, just outside the walls of Vatican City.  Truth is that I skipped Pranzo today, not because I am fasting from lunch but because I get distracted and miss the meal timings.  Instead of eating, I went on an adventure.

Yesterday I bought a birretta, a zucchetto, and a clergy shirt from Barbiconi's.  For those of you who don't know what the first two items are, they are headdress for priests (in black of course).  Stand by for a pic.  Meanwhile, when I was there yesterday I tried on the shirt because normally I can't get shirts that fit my longer-than-normal, knuckle-scraping gorilla arms.  Wonder of wonders! the arm length was great... so without doing up the collar, I bought it.  Now, its not entirely my fault that I didn't test the neck size.  The saleslady measured me and declared me a 44.  I don't know metric neck sizes.  I said I was a 17.5" - 18" neck.  "Quarantaquattro," she exclaimed, holding up four digits twice.  I suggested that maybe a 45 would be better because I don't like the collar too tight.  "Forty-five,' I gestured with my fingers, making that waffling motion with my hand that means 'maybe?'  She looked at me with disdain for implying that her measurement was wrong and her assessment of my neck size was somehow flawed.  I took the 44... happy that the sleeves fit.

At zero-dark-thirty this morning when I tried to do up the collar in hopes of wearing it under my cassock, it was impossible.  An utter failure.  So, undaunted, I put on one of my old less-than-black faded tab-style shirts and decided to return/exchange the new one.  The problem was that yesterday I was with two other priests who knew their way around the tangled web of backstreets that is Rome.  No problem, said I to myself, I'm a military priest... I can use my superior sense of direction and retrace our steps from yesterday.  Nope.  I knew I was lost when I had completed several loops of the area in which I thought I would find the shop, only to realize that the loops were indeed quasi-circular and I was lost.  Of course, I never asked for directions.

Oh yes... the birretta and zucchetto:

Clockwise: Bag with address, shirt in question, folded birretta, zucchetto

Basically, I only realized after getting home that I had the address to Barbiconi's with me, on the bag, the whole time.  The birretta, which folds, is square for a round head and the tassel (read: pom-pom) is still tied up.  The zucchetto is round for a square head... mine.

Oh BTW, I picked up 5 postcards at the Vatican mail office.  Do you want one?  I was shocked when I stepped up to the wicket and the guy told me that the Vatican stamps were 2 euros each!

Off to the Station Church of Ss John and Paul tomorrow; San Giovanni et San Paulo - pray for us.