the Pope won't visit anymore...
The Papal Palace at Castel Gandolfo, the summer home near Rome has been abandoned by its most famous tenant.
Keywords: The Papal State, Castelli Romani. Colli Albani. Pre-recorded audio tours, open minivan, bingo.
28 September 2021.
A garden alcove off limits to day visitors from inside the Papal Gardens, Castel Gandolfo.
Castel Gandolfo is one of the picturesque towns southeast of Rome in the area of the Castelli Romani, known also as the Colli Albani. The town of Castel Gandolfo is surrounded by the sprawling Vatican estate and Papal summer residence. It was a nice weekend, Castel Gandolfo is relatively close to Rome, I had never visited the Gardens. We found two tour options offered online, one a limited survey on foot of the upper gardens, the other an extensive excursion around the entire grounds by minivan. We opted for the minivan.
So as not to forget who our caretakers were, plastic sealed maps of the Vatican with Saint Peter's were hung around the bus.
Oddly enough, the tour to the Gardens departs from the Papal Palace well inside the old town of Castel Gandolfo and not from the Garden's main entrance which is located just outside the old city gates. This could have been a clever escamotage to keep people away from the Pope when he is on vacation. Pope Francis nonetheless opted out of his majestic summer residence, perhaps because it was unbecoming of his role as God's humble servant.
The open air minivan heading up the drive, inside the Gardens of Castel Gandolfo.
Two things caught us off guard when we approached the minivan. We were not heading towards the brand new electric stretch golf-cart parked ahead of us, but instead we were led to a modified diesel truck with upholstered seats and open side windows. In case of rain, the passenger cabin was draped in heavy plastic sheets that were roped up for the time being. The other bothersome detail was the handheld audioguide we received as we climbed to our seats. My friend, G.P., looking at me apprehensively, said that the two things she hated most was stepping unwittingly into dog crap and having to listen to an audioguide. I could see we were heading into the deep end here.
When our tiny group was firmly seated, the minivan drove off onto a service road and arrived almost at once at a remote controlled security gate. We quickly found ourselves on the other side of the palace wall, in the midst of a traffic jam, with cars parked in every corner possible, including right in front of the side-entrance we were supposed to use to get into the Papal Gardens. With the help of a passer-by, we managed to manoeuvre our minivan around the traffic, and squeeze past the narrow gate and finally enter into the park.
Traversing the park.
The most cringeworthy experience, maybe worse than stepping in crap or having an audioguide, was the gentle voiced blue shirted gentleman sitting up front whose only role was to announce the numeric combination each of us had to enter on the audioguide handset. These numbers would trigger a voice from inside the portable device, corresponding to whatever location the minivan chose to halt in front of.
The man rattled off numbers, mostly out of sequence, in sets of three: “762,” “789,” “736,” and so on. He once caught himself mixing a set of numbers intended for some other point on our itinerary, and he quickly apologised, correcting himself and putting us all back on track. Everyone in the van seemed to have delayed reactions to the voice commands. We each pressed the keyboards at slightly different times, so that the tiny voice inside each of our the devices rattled out of sync creating a cacophony of murmurs.
Instead of taking in the relevant information provided, I became increasingly distracted, I kept thinking we were in some kind of Pontificate Bingo parlour. The numbers took hold over me, I began to imagine more nefarious scenarios. What if I tapped in the wrong sequence? Would this Papal tour turn into some kind of overblown Dan Brown nightmare?
Guard signalling to those of us in the minibus to remain seated and not to leave the vehicle.
We eventually reached the final stretch, traversing the idyllic cow pastures and well kept vineyards, coming to a halt in front of the main Renaissance garden. There, to my surprise, I saw dozens of visitors wandering around freely. My first reaction was to jump ship, but I was quickly called back by a dissuasive guard. I understood then that this was the limited tour restricted to the upper gardens. They were hardly free to wander, they too had their handler.
The Renaissance garden, see from the road above.
The minivan parked next to the garden's outdoor restaurant, where dozens of black clad priests were heartedly enjoying their meals and wine. The blue shirted guide signalled we could disembark from the vehicle. Finally we were allowed a five minute break. Nearby, we noticed an ancient Holm Oak, that was reputed to be over 800 years old. Dante the great Italian poet died exactly 700 years ago this September and he could have easily walked by this tree. The Papal gardens stood above the grounds of the the legendary city of Alba Longa, the sacred site of Rome's origin. Dante makes mention of this location in his Comedy. It's not just the Pope who should be humble when crossing these terrains. We too, should walk nimbly. At least it might help avoid stepping into more crap.
