ROME, April 6 -- There are grand events in big cities that bring out enormous pride in their inhabitants -- coronations in London or ticker-tape parades in New York, for instance -- but few can match the emotion and sense of identification that the mourning for Pope John Paul II has created among Romans.
The memory of what Rome is all about has flooded over the city in the matter of a few days. It is papalina, a Roman word that refers not only to the religious architecture, fountains and monuments sponsored by popes, but also the feeling among residents that this is the pope's realm.
Waiting to pay last respects to the pope are Sardinia residents Gabriella Califano, 19, left, Sergio LoRiga, 21, and Maria Chiara, 17. Vendors say many visitors to Rome this week are Italian day-trippers.
(Lucian Perkins -- The Washington Post)
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"Without the pope, Rome couldn't live, it wouldn't exist, it wouldn't make sense," Oman Paris, a merchant from Frosinone, said in the hills south of the city. "This is a father and son relationship. Each is connected with each other forever."
The sense of connection is evident not only in the huge number of Romans among the tens of thousands of mourners lined up to view the pope's body inside St. Peter's Basilica at Vatican City. Romans have volunteered to help pilgrims navigate the endless line nearby. They have decorated storefronts with portraits of the pope. City hall has put up posters saying: "Thanks, Holy Father" and "A Good Man." In a city where complaining about traffic, trash and noise is a favorite pastime, residents have shown remarkable forbearance with the hordes of visitors descending on the town.
The enthusiasm surprised even some Romans. "You know, we live with the pope -- I mean, he's always around. Also, we are kind of an in-your-face, so-what kind of people, but here we are waiting in the sun for eight hours to spend three seconds in front of the pope's dead body," said Mario Gianturco, a teacher. "It's remarkable."
Technically, of course, Rome is no longer the seat of the Roman Catholic Church. In 1870, Italian nationalists drove Pope Pius IX into the Vatican and ended the church's rule of a swath of central Italy. Pius refused to leave the compound ever again, considering himself a prisoner of the rebels, whom he excommunicated. It was a low point in the relations between the papacy and the city.
But in the 135 years since, Romans and the pope have reached a state of mutual affection. A pope is officially the bishop of Rome, and from his first day as pontiff in 1978, John Paul II worked hard to earn the devotion of his flock. In his first words to a crowd of faithful in St. Peter's Square, he said he would address them in "your language."
Then, he paused and said, "Our language."
The pope visited Rome parishes more than 300 times until fragile health ended such trips in 2002. On Wednesday, a torn handwritten note with a photo of John Paul taped to it lay among bouquets at the base of one of the giant marble columns that frame St. Peter's Square. "Thank you, Holy Father," the note said. "Semo romani," it added in the Roman dialect: "We're Romans."
It was a knowing message of endearment left anonymously to the non-Roman, non-Italian pope: "Semo romani" was one of John Paul's memorable and perhaps most poignant utterances to the Romans. He said it at his last mass meeting with the leaders of Rome parishes at the Vatican last year. "Let's love each other," he said, also in Roman dialect. The crowd applauded and Rome's newspapers headlined his use of the local language, which is a kind of Italian Brooklynese. The newspapers reported that no Roman pontiff had ever spoken in the dialect.
"There are people who come here to wait and see his body, but they don't know him like we do," said Luca Pizzari, a physician. "He's part of our city."
Rome is accustomed to handling large crowds. Millions of pilgrims poured through the city in 2000 for papal celebrations of the millennium, for example. But never has Rome had to handle such large crowds on such short notice. "We expected a lot of people, but this is extraordinary, a historical event -- and we're only at the beginning," said Agostino Miozzo, an official with the Italian Civil Defense department.
Municipal and national authorities were working around the clock to plan security for the 200 governmental and religious dignitaries expected to attend the funeral at 10 a.m. Friday. About 5,000 law enforcement officers will be deployed to handle traffic and crowd control, while nearly 1,500 special security forces, including sharpshooters, explosives experts and dog handlers, will be on security detail.
Extraordinary security measures became visible Wednesday, as police helicopters flew over the city all day. Antiaircraft missiles were set up at the two civilian airports, Leonardo da Vinci and Ciampino, as well as at the Pratica di Mare military airport, an official said. A no-flight zone over Rome will be in effect during the funeral and AWACS surveillance aircraft will take to the skies, the official said.
City hospitals were on alert, prepared for a biological or chemical attack, Miozzo said. He emphasized that the measures were taken because of the exceptional nature of the event, not because there was a specific threat.
About 10,000 volunteers are on hand to provide water and medical assistance and to help regulate the flow of pilgrims on their way to the basilica. A buildup of trash around St. Peter's prompted city officials to add 240 garbage collectors to routes around the area. They also installed 1,100 portable toilets there and at strategic points throughout Rome: train and bus stations, parks and tent cities being set up to house travelers.
Public offices and schools will be closed Friday, and city officials have urged private businesses to let employees stay home as a way to reduce the gridlock expected in several neighborhoods.
The flood of pilgrims is not providing the economic boom that might be expected. Vendors and cafe owners say many of the visitors are Italian day-trippers who return home at night or Eastern Europeans who do not have much money to spend. "This event doesn't bring me much business," said Amadeo Suleiman, a shopkeeper. "Pilgrims don't bring much money. Like the Poles, for example. They pay 100 euros to take the bus down here and they bring sandwiches in their bags. Then they go home."
Greed overcame hospitality in some areas. Consumer groups complained that some vendors were gouging visitors for bottled water and sandwiches. Erminia Cozza, a lawyer for the Codacons consumer watchdog group, said some businesses near St. Peter's Square were doubling the price of espresso and selling bottled water for the equivalent of $5 instead of the usual $1.50. "For Italy, it's an embarrassment," Cozza said.
Special correspondent Sarah Delaney contributed to this report.
