Yesterday...

It was just as well that I decided not to write yesterday about yesterday. For, I was yet in for a surprise. Yesterday was the Vigil of Pentecost and the feast of St. Rita. Yesterday I skipped a pilgrimage to Divino Amore. I skipped a large celebration of St. Rita just up the street. I went to a Pentecost Vigil Mass.


This Mass took place at a beautiful old chapel in a paleo-Christian basilica. I was awed to be there.

Then I came home and determined to study, as I have 9 individual exams coming up and a comprehensive exam covering all my classes over the last couple of years. But, the best laid plans of mice and men oft go awry. I fell asleep for a few hours, catching up on much-needed rest. Then I posted here instead of studying, and received an invitation to go to Frascati for dinner with friends. Surprise! I debated with myself about going or staying and studying, and in the end could not resist the opportunity.


Frascati is a village on top of a high hill outside Rome. Above are pictures of the Cathedral and the major villa there. 'Twas my first time there, and we arrived at sunset.


The region is famous for its wine, its pork, its olives, and its cookies. We went to a lovely little shop where we bought these olives, cookies, white pizza, and ham. The shopkeeper recognized my friend who took us, and gave us some extra samples of the meat, and tossed in some fresh pizza, too.


Then we arrived at the Antica Osteria, which made me feel like I had stepped in to an episode of Don Quixote.

This first poster tells us the name of the place, and the idea of it--we bring our own food, and they provide the wine and drinks. It seemed as if I had entered a Medieval inn, and looked for knights to come in and call for food for their horses. Of course, though, we were in perfectly modern times, as we were reminded when the waiter covered our table with paper and brought out plastic forks, knives, and plates for us to serve our own food. The wine came out in glasses though.
The wine was proper Frescati, white and sweet. We dipped our hazlenut/almond biscotti in the wine, and one our group got us little wine-flavored cookies to dip as well.
I was at first quite amused by this following poster as well. For, apparently, one must stop singing and being boisterous an hour before the osteria closes. Soon, however, I discovered the reason, as a large Croatian group began spontaneously to sing loudly for the entertainment of the rest of us. Then a small Italian group from another corner kept trying to get in their own songs.
At 10:00, though, they stopped, shook hands, and shared a drink before leaving.

We left about 10:30 and took a little walk around town. While we enjoyed our leisure, the bakers were hard at work for the night, preparing the breads for the next day.

The whole trip was incredible. Every day is an adventure.

Happy Pentecost.