When we reached the station, we turned left toward Piazza Republica a couple of blocks away. We did the 10 or so stalls but found nothing interesting in the book and print department.

Santa Maria degli Angeli, which incorporates what remains of the Baths of Diolcletian, is just across the piazza. The interior of the church is super spare compared with most churches in Rome. The most interesting feature is La Meridiana, both a clock and calendar utilizing a small hole in the dome through which light flows making its mark on a long brass rod embedded in the floor of the right transept.

As we were examining this, we began to chat with a couple from Hutchinson, KS, he’s an optometrist, who are on a 30 day pilgrimage around Italy seeking out the sites Eucharistic miracles. I don’t know how Amy came up, but she did and the lady was absolutely stunned and thrilled to meet her dad and step mother in this particular place. She had read DVC and other Amy writings and can only be characterized as a true fan.

Leaving the church, we turned down Via Nazionale in the direction of Piazza Venezia, at some point turning north to go up Quirinale Hill to what is now the presidential palace, before that the king’s, and before that a summer residence of popes. On the way, I had my picture taken with Carlo Alberto, who was king of part of what is now Italy in the first half of the 19th century and whose son was Vittorio Emanuelle I. The palace is beyond huge. Its main entrance, guarded by a handful of troops, is on a large open courtyard. It was about 2:45 when we arrived, and we strolled about and sat a bit on a bench to enjoy the sun, sharing it with a couple of men with suit coats on their arms. I was super curious about what went on inside the palace given its tremendous size and the rather limited role that the president of Italy plays, but the language barrier was at work and I failed to get the info I was looking for.

About this time, we noticed some additional police were on the scene, some barriers were being set up, and soon thereafter we were shooed out of the courtyard. We walked out with a fellow we had just met, Don Soeffing from Manhattan, "silver historian, author, lecturer, appraiser." As we crossed the street, drums sounded in the distance and came closer and closer. Up a curving street coming up from behind the palace was a military band of 30 or so followed by a troop of about 50 soldiers. The changing of the guard. They marched into the courtyard and took positions. Then out of the palace marched the troops being relieved, each carrying a blue standard. When all were in position, the troops collectively sang the national anthem. (Watching them marching in and out of the courtyard, I suspect that they were chosen more for their vocal than their fighting abilities.) After a fair amount of stomping about, more music, and exchange of standards, the relief troops entered the place and those relieved, led by the band, marched out of the courtyard onto the street and back down the hill. All in all, a fairly colorful scene. This was one of those unplanned and unexpected moments that add so much to wandering about a place like Rome.

As we moved down the hill to Venezia, I took an opportunity to vote against the European constitution.