Hi, I’m Gianluca.
I studied cultural anthropology, and I’ve always been fascinated by the different ways people live, move, and experience a place.
Rome is not only my city – it’s the environment I love observing, understanding, and sharing through these small stories.
Together with my wife Connie, we host travellers in our small hotel near the Vatican, where we enjoy meeting people from all over the world and exchanging perspectives – just as I do here in the blog.
If you ever feel like saying hello while exploring Rome, you’ll find us on our terrace as well, where every morning we serve breakfast with a view.
Gianluca
There is something about the Sanctuary of Mentorella that seems to invite a different kind of presence.
Not the formal, public presence of history, but a quieter one — personal, almost hidden.
It is a place where even those who carry great responsibility seem to come not as figures, but as individuals.
This may be why, over time, Mentorella has become deeply connected with the inner, more private dimension of the papacy.
The most profound and well-known bond is with Pope John Paul II.
Long before his election, when he was still Cardinal Karol Wojtyła, he discovered this sanctuary and returned to it repeatedly. He was drawn not by ceremony, but by silence — by the simplicity of a place that stands apart from the rhythm of Rome.
Even after becoming Pope, he continued to come here, often privately. For him, Mentorella was not a destination to be seen, but a place to step away.
Around this deep connection, a small story has taken shape — one that is often told, even if it cannot be fully verified.
It is said that in October 1978, just before the conclave that would elect him Pope, Wojtyła came here once again, seeking a moment of quiet. The contrast with the tension building in Rome could not have been greater.
And then, as the story goes, time passed.
When it was time to return, there was no car waiting, no formal arrangement. Only the mountain road, the stillness, and the need to reach the city.
So he did something entirely simple.
He asked for a ride.
A passing driver stopped, and the future Pope made his way back to Rome like any other traveler, arriving in time to take part in the conclave that would change everything.
Whether every detail unfolded exactly in this way is less important than what the story expresses. It reveals a man who sought silence before responsibility, and who moved through the world with an unexpected simplicity.
And in Mentorella, that simplicity still feels present.
Years later, that same quiet relationship between the sanctuary and the papacy continues in more discreet forms.
In August 2025, Pope Leo XIV visited Mentorella privately. There were no large announcements, no formal ceremonies. He spent time in prayer, visited the cave traditionally associated with Saint Benedict, and met the small community that cares for the sanctuary.
It was a simple visit — almost invisible — and for that very reason, entirely in keeping with the spirit of the place.
Inside the sanctuary, small details seem to echo this continuity. Photographs of different popes appear over time, sometimes overlapping, sometimes simply placed side by side. They are not arranged as a formal archive, but rather as a living memory — a quiet accumulation of presence, real or symbolic.
In one such image, a recent photograph stands before an earlier one, creating a subtle layering: one pontificate in front of another, one moment resting upon the memory of the previous one.
It is a simple detail, yet it says something essential.
Mentorella does not preserve history as something fixed. It allows it to settle, gently, one layer at a time.
And perhaps this is why the sanctuary continues to attract those who, even for a brief moment, need to step outside of time.
Before decisions, before roles, before history itself, there is sometimes the need for silence.
And Mentorella, more than many places, still offers exactly that.