May 3 1965

Funny how I think I remember so much and then I look at what I wrote on May 2, 1965, I see how much I had forgotten. 

As we flew east towards NYC I could see the Grand Canyon, where our family had spent a week with our cousins the previous summer! I also mention flying over the Rockies, seeing the Missouri River, then the Mississippi River and then one of the Great Lakes. I suppose it was Lake Michigan but I don’t know for sure. My journal says we were traveling at 565 miles per hour at a height of 3300 ft. I suspect I dropped a zero there. I mention being served champagne. Grandma didn’t seem to care if I drank alcohol. But I don’t think I drank very much. I do mention that we were offered champagne twice on the LA to NYC flight but on Sabena we were offered champagne before the meal, during the meal, after the meal and that if you asked, they brought more! As someone pointed out in a comment these were the days before our Surgeon General’s warnings of the dangers of cigarette smoking. So small packages of cigarettes were freely handed out to all the passengers. We squirreled them away because Grandma knew they would come in handy in Czechoslovakia. I know we had a couple of cartons in our luggage. 

I am going to keep on referring to the Czech Republic as Czechoslovakia even though then is was then the CSSR, Czech and Slovak Socialist Republic. I grew up calling it that and I just have a hard time adjusting. Also, spellcheck defers to Czechoslovakia so that makes it easy.

I made some rather sweeping generalizations in my journal. I am curious where our bus took us between airports. I say that NYC looks nicer than LA because there are more trees. Maybe I didn’t have my glasses on. Who knows? 

Just before we landed in Brussels we were served a breakfast of cheese omelets, another first for me. Unfortunately I do remember feeling quite queasy after eating it and somewhere between getting off the plane and reboarding for Rome I heaved it up. In a toilet. So no mess. But it put me off omelets for years.

I observed that our new crew contained a few more males and they all looked like Peter Sellers with a mustache. Must have been after I had seen the Pink Panther.

This third leg of the journey was quite a bumpy ride. Up and down and sideways and my tummy was still not right. I knew when we passed over the Alps but I wrote that I would just make out the tops of them, the clouds were so dense. The clouds must have cleared some time after that because then I could see the Mediterranean. And I could make out the distinctive boot shape of the Italian peninsula. Again, not sure if that wasn’t a bit of hyperbole but it must have been a bit evident. I compared the flat, patchwork crop filled fields of Belgium to the rolling plains of Italy. I didn’t see many crops in the Italian fields. 

We landed at the old Ciampino airport for Rome which is quite a bit closer to the city center than the newer Leonardo da Vinci Fiumicino Airport. We had no problems going through customs and immigration. They were not targeting foreigners with “English” names. But oh my goodness, they went through our traveling companions suitcases with a fine tooth comb. There were a lot of highly indignant, very vocal travelers from our group who were having various items removed from their luggage. I wish now I had written down exactly what I saw being removed. I imagine there were lots of gifts for family members. Probably the same things we had in our suitcases. But the officials didn’t check us.

So once again we boarded buses this time to take us into Rome. We had a hotel room for 2 nights and then we were on our own. Before we reached the hotel though we had to go on a tour of the city, probably because it was still too early for us to check into our hotel. I know I nodded off but Grandma kept nudging me awake as we drove by the monument to Victor Emanuel, the Forum and the Parthenon. We stopped very briefly at the Trevi fountain. I had seen 3 Coins in a Fountain so I knew what to do (Spoiler alert) my wish was granted. I did come back to Rome. We also managed to get into the Colesseum which was completely encircled by busy, crowded streets. It still is but as I recall there was no margin at all around it then. Now, I believe, there is some kind of buffer between the traffic and this ancient monument. We went inside, and I remarked at how small it seemed. I referred to the cells that the gladiators and animals stayed in as dungeons. 

Finally, about 5 p.m. or so, we got to the hotel. I know I was exhausted. To this day I do not do the West Coast to Europe flights well. Takes me days to adjust. From the outside the hotel we were staying in looked nice and to my eyes fancy but there was no private bathroom for us. It was down the hall a stretch. Well that was another first for me. And it upset some of our traveling companions. But Grandma was a trouper and just shrugged it off. We would be experiencing a lot of that in our travels, she explained. Very European and we should adapt.

After a good sleep, I say that because I always slept well in a bed, we started off our first full day in Rome. We had coffee and rolls in the hotel dining room. Oh my gosh! Those rolls. To this day I can still remember their aroma, their crusty outside, their chewy, lovely inside. And the butter. Well, I was in love. They were so tasty. After we ate we inquired about getting to the Vatican. Grandma was an obsessive Catholic. Which is to say she knew really nothing about her religion but she knew that whatever she did was right and everyone else was borderline on their way to Hell. Among her goals for us in the Eternal City was to get to the Vatican as often as possible, visit every pilgrimage church we could, visit every other church we saw if possible and meet the pope in a semi private audience. She also had a name of a priest who might be able to get us an introduction to Cardinal Beran, the Czech cardinal, and she felt we should do our best to meet him. The other goal which we pursued in every city and town we visited was to find BARGAINS. She had been to Europe a couple times after the war and had brought home lots of BARGAINS and she was determined that we could do that again. Never mind that 20 years had passed and the Marshall plan had been very effective in bringing Europe back out of the ravages of the war. 

But I digress. It turned out there was a bus very close to our hotel that travelled on via Barberini and it would take us close to Vatican City. So we bought bus tickets and jumped the bus, maybe the 41, and off we went. Streets whizzed by and I got a more wide awake look at Rome. Lots of multistoried buildings. Mostly old looking, some with pockmarks from bullets. That was something I saw a lot of all over Europe. Crazy traffic. Lots of Vespas with nicely dressed people. So many little stores and shops, so many people on the streets! We crossed the Tiber and there was Vatican City! 

Grandma had made me a traveling outfit out of some blue, green, and red paisley jersey material. A sleeveless lined shell and with that some kind of gathered skirt. I also had a green sweater to go with it. Grandma always wore a suit. We approached the entrance to St. Peter’s. In 1965 you could pretty much freely enter the church without fanfare. There were no lines, no barricades. You did, however, have to pass the scrutiny of the vigilant nuns who made sure everyone getting past them was appropriately attired. Where I came from that meant, above all, you had to have your head covered if you were female. I know I was shocked when I saw my Aunt Anne enter a church in Phoenix in shorts and no head covering, but that was the exception, not the rule. And the priest there knew Aunt Anne and knew she was a very observant parishener. But the Vatican nuns didn’t know me, didn’t know that I was a non observant, sabbath flouting Catholic. All they knew was that my arms weren’t covered. So they very vehemently motioned for me to take my head scarf off and cover my shoulders. I was not going to offend G-d and the Blessed Mother and all the saints by going into St. Peter’s bare shouldered!

Through the tall ancient doors we went, into the enormous cathedral, and I have to admit I was pretty impressed. It was stunning. So much color, so much gold, so many statues, altars, relics! The ceiling seemed to literally reach to the heavens. We wandered up the aisles visiting every chapel, saw the Pieta and the remains of numerous saints. We sat down for a while in one of the pews. I tried to be solemn and reverent but it wasn’t sincere. Grandma was so intent on bringing me back into the fold and it seemed easier to go along with her than to argue. We had the better part of 4 months we were going to spend together. I pretended to pray. She decided we should go to confession. There were a couple dozen confessionals scattered here and there. They had signs on them saying what languages the priests would hear your confession in. We went to one of the English ones. I wonder what Grandma confessed. She had hardly any penance to do. I did my best. I had only been to confession once before in my life. I stumbled through, trying to remember what to say, what to do, what prayer to recite. The priest was not impressed. I know that he sounded a little exasperated with me. But I survived. I did my penance and we left cleansed of our sins. And I knew that was going to have to behave for at least a little while. At least until we went to mass on Sunday morning.