The flowers on the walk up the Aventine smell heavenly. The larges houses allow all different kinds of flowers to grow and hang over their privacy fences. So many different kinds of flowers, so many different smells... The flowers, both wild and ones that have been planted, help demonstrate the beauty of Rome in the spring time.
There is almost complete silence once we enter the church. Nobody speaks out of respect, and the only noises that are heard are the visitors shuffling around. The "plinking" of the coins dropped into the donation box creates a wild echo throughout the church that startles everyone. The church has great acoustics; it would be wonderful to sing in there someday.
The air is cool on my bare arms as I walk around. Although it is warm and humid outside, inside the church has remained cooler, almost chilly. However, I'm not sure the goosebumps on my arms have anything to do with the temperature; the realization hits me that I am standing in a church that is 1700 years old. How many people have stood where I now stand. What struggles (there must have been many) had they faced in order to travel here? what has happened in this church that has allowed it to remain standing for so long?
The frigid marble against my skin shocks me as I sit down and rest, but I welcome the coolness on my legs. It has been a long, tiring, and hot day, and the park outside, next to the church's courtyard, seems to be the ideal place to take a break. My feet are again relieved as I finally sit on a shady bench, St. Peter's Basilica beautifully standing off in the horizon.
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