Cross streets in Rome with a nun. Everyone will stop for you.

The beggar-women of Rome must all train at the same place. They are swathed in cloth, hiding their hair, and wear heavy skirts. Head is down and turned up a bit to the side, arm bent and hand open to the sky to receive your blessing. They usually hang in front of the lesser known churches. The more devout ones will sit cross legged, with their head to the ground, their eyes closed, and their outstretched arm ending in their open hand.

Surely there is enough gold in all the churches of Rome to feed the world at least for a day. And I do mean the world. Looking at the display was part awe-inspiring, part sick-inducing. Suddenly the rift, the Protestants' arguments become much clearer.

The same weeds grow in Rome as grow in my back yard. A connection.

Only two dishes that I ate in Rome had any tasteable garlic. What's up with that? I must have been in the wrong section of Italy for garlic consumption, and have decided that's why I got sick. The cold, wind, rain, and being outside had nothing to do with it.

I will never fly US Airways again if I have a choice. Nothing is free on that airline (except water and soft drinks). National flights, they make you buy your dinner in coach. International flights, they make you buy your alcohol in coach, AND your headsets.

How small WAS our hotel room? When hubby sat on the twin and a half sized bed and stretched his arms out, he could almost put his palms down flat on either wall. And that was at our room's widest point. Our shower was 30" by 24". I have no idea how I managed to sit in that thing. Or get back up, for that matter. But it had the advantage of making us not want to waste time there, so we probably did 30% more than we would have if the room were, you know, actually comfortable.

Unpacking and doing laundry and revisiting the places I'd been at all week. It's hard to keep down to earth when you've walked through history.