By Betty Beier
Federation volunteer

Two months after total hip replacement, a long-planned trip to Rome with our retired priest and a few friends was the main incentive to get me moving again. I’d been to Rome long ago but briefly. This time it was for 12 days and this time I carried a cane.

With what felt like two pounds of stainless steel in my left flank, I, of course, set off airport security alarms. The ID card from the surgeon? Totally useless. So why a total body pat-down? Why not just wand my hip? Maybe to set an example to would-be terrorists with canes and ID cards.

Ah, Rome! Your sights are breathtaking: The exquisite view at the top of the 2,000-year-old Forum: the arc of Septimus Severas (AD70) and the still recognizable apartments of the Vestal Virgins. A stroll near the Theatre of Marcellus built by Augustus in 13BC.

And the churches. Rome has more than 900, all free admission. Why not go to Rome with a retired priest who was ordained there? A tour guide who points out the meanings of obscure mosaics (what’s with the square halo?). Who brings us to Michelangelo’s Pieta. Who leads us to the tomb of Catherine of Sienna (1380) and Fra Angelico (1455). Who shows us St. Peter’s with the eyes of one who has spent Vatican II as a student sitting on the floor of this vast church watching the world’s cardinals debate in the early 1960s.

St. Peter’s mosaics and artworks are reason enough to go there. But it’s an hour-long line to get past the security system. Of course my hip set off alarms again. But a simple wave of my cane and a pointing to my hip got me in.

Walking the streets of Rome, though, was not so simple, even for someone without a cane. The shiny black cobblestones make for an uneven stroll. Plus, motorcycles and cars park on the narrow sidewalks, forcing pedestrians to literally walk the streets and fight for the right-of-way on those cobblestones. This is where mass transit helps. For one Euro, you can buy 75 minutes on a bus or the underground Metro.

Unfortunately, the Metro has just a few stops. Because 60 percent of ancient Rome is still underground waiting to be excavated, it’s difficult to build subways when bumping into ancient ruins. So with warnings to be aware of pickpockets on crowded buses, we toured Rome. Having a cane led to many Romans offering me their seats, which I gratefully accepted, and no one picked my pocket.

Our Rome headquarters, recommended by our pastor, was the Campo de’ Fiori, in an apartment overlooking this lively square in the old part of Rome. It’s a farmers’ market every day except Sunday, a fine place to buy strawberries, good cheeses and red wine, which we shared during happy hour before heading for one of the sidewalk cafes.

The Campo is a short walk to the Pantheon, founded in 17 BC to honor all the pagan gods. It’s now a church. It’s a must-see, as is the Colosseum (we didn’t go in). Other eye-openers were San Clemente church, with three layers of history, built on the ancient temple of Mithras from the first century BCE; Santa Maria Sopra Minerva, the only Gothic church in town; the Capitoline Museums where we saw, among other gems, the exquisite Spinario sculpture, simply a boy removing a thorn from his foot (first century BCE); and the terrific Gallery Doria Pamphilj, where for a modest entry fee you can see more than 400 paintings starting from the 15th century.

Is such active travel possible with a limp and a cane? Certainly. In Europe, though, it’s a real challenge. Stairways are the norm and most don’t have railings. Elevators are rare. Galleries may be on the first floor, but that means second floor. Coffee shops charge more if you sit down to drink your espresso. Yet, Rome has done a fair job in making curb cuts for wheelchairs. And people were kind and courteous to me, except maybe for a few motorcyclists. 

What better healing tonic than this exciting trip? Not to mention a tour guide who led our small group to some true adventures in the eternal city. Now it’s time for my nap.