I find myself back in Rome. More than three years have passed since my last visit, but the place seems barely to have changed: steadfast; grandiose; eternal. Its monumental magnificence and gentle decay are disturbed only by its ubiquitous, quotidian chaos.
The city’s mood hovers between anticipation and indifference. Italians are not yet so visible in St Peter’s Square, which remains a haven for gawping tourists and youth groups on jubilee jaunts. Yet on Wednesday afternoon the cardinal electors will make their solemn way into the Sistine Chapel to take their oaths. The splendidly named Cardinal Cantalamessa will preach to them about their responsibilities. Then the sacred spectacle will begin.
