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Posted: May 22
(Rome) It always takes me a few days to get back to a regular rhythm of living here at the Curia after a long trip. Unpacking and doing the laundry is the easy part. Losing a full night's sleep on flights that start at two in the morning (like I just did coming back from Mumbai, India) is the hard part. On the other hand, the disjointedness that comes from jumping from one part of the world to the other certainly sharpens your senses. It is good for an artist to be acutely aware of the small strangenesses that travel highlights, such as the monkeys in Ahmedabad.
It was too hot in that dusty city in northwest India to stay inside at night. The 110 degree heat during the afternoon cooked the buildings so much that they still glowed at night, so the Jesuits just slept on the roof, where a cool breeze was a nightly blessing. I loved falling asleep looking up at the stars, kind of an urban camping experience. Early one morning, I was lazily waking up with the brightening sky when I heard a thump not far from my bed. A pretty good size grey monkey had dropped out of an overhanging tree and was walking along the parapet. He looked around and quickly decided that I was too sleepy to be a threat. Soon the rest of his group started dropping out of the trees, twelve in all, including some young ones still clinging to their mothers who jumped easily across the empty spaces between buildings. My nephew used to love saying that I lived "in the zoo" in Denver (it was only "near the zoo" I would answer), but watching the band scamper about the roof was much more interesting than any zoo.
I did not expect Rome to top the monkeys, and I was happy just to get out on my bike again after three weeks away from the saddle. As I meandered through the streets near the Curia, reluctant to leave the cool afternoon and go inside, I heard the sharp rattle of drums played by a marching band. You have to investigate when you hear something so out of place. There in the middle of Piazza Cavour was an American marching band, all yellow and red uniforms, the drummers setting a rhythm the rest of the orchestra followed enthusiastically, to the amusement of the few onlookers. It was the University of Southern California band, completely out of place, but wonderfully incongruous. I had to laugh and fall into the spirit of their enthusiasm as they kept chanting, "Beat the Razorbacks, beat the Razorbacks." I'm sure no other onlooker could identify their opponents at Arkansas. When they turned and marched out of the piazza down the via Crescenzio, I was able to ask one of the assistants, "What in the world are you doing in Rome?"
"We're on the USC World Tour," she replied.
Of course. Well, that's not really an explanation, but the incongruity was enough, just on its own, almost as good as the monkeys.
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