Smoke

The other day a few of us went out to a hookah place near the Campo. My first hookah experience. We ordered tea and a cherry pipe and sat around on pillowed couches. The tea was amazing. I was not so amazing at using the pipe. Smoking must not be my thing. I loved the smell of it though. It put me in mind of the sweet pipe smoke that old, steriotypicalitalianlooking men around here seem to enjoy. Next time I want to try jasmine tobacco and lemon tea.
This morning I went to St. Peter's for mass. My first Catholic mass. I had expected ritual, but not quite to this extent. It was like a sort of dance, one of the ballroom dances from before our parents' time that had a hundred intricate steps to memorize. But it was also like the dancers weren't quite sure of their steps. Things seemed sort of unrehearsed and sloppy. The choir was not very awe inspiring, and the leader of the mass wasn't sure of the words. No one really knew when to stand up or sit down or kneel or whether they should sing "Amen" or speak it. For some reason that surprised me. I'm not sure why. I think I had imagined it as a much bigger deal, a more important performance, than it actually is. I have to say though, that the smoke was impressive. All of the priests in magenta robes entered in a dramatic cloud of incense that smelled of musk and flowers. It outlined the rays of sunlight coming in through Bernini's amber-colored window and swirled all the way up to the impossibly high ceiling as I tried to sightread Credo along with the choir. Patrem omnipotentem factorem caeli et terrae visibilium omnium et invisibilium. Hearing Pope Benedict speak, a tiny figure waving from up in his window, finished up the experience nicely.
I just got back from a soccer game. My second one. 'Twas crazy this time. They must have over sold the seats or something, because I sat on the stairs with a ton of other people. It was exciting, though, because everyone was so into it, and there were funny songs to sing, most of them involving the word bastardi in reference to the opposing team. To the tune of a White Stripes song no less. There were also songs to the tunes of Guantanamera and the Ants go Marching. Go figure. In this case, the opposing team was Milano, and they got a lot of very loud fireworks thrown at them in their little cheering section. Unfortunately it was a tie, which made it feel sort of like a waste of sitting through two hours of second hand smoke. The air was thick with it, the smoke of a million cigarettes mixed with the smoke of the flares and M80's. I think someone even started a fire in the stairwell on the other side of the stadium. Unfortunately, since it was a tie, we didn't get to sing the Roma Roma Roma song at the end.
We walked home in the rain, and my hair is dripping with it. I can hear the raindrops pounding outside on the porch, bouncing off of the metal chairs. All the smoke is being cleared from the air for tomorrow. Buona notte.