Eyewitness: Few foreigners can have shown less interest in the marvels of Venice as they arrived in the city's train station. Poland's pilgrims - a little wearier, a little poorer, but a little closer to their destination - only had eyes yesterday for the maps and timetables that would help them get to the Vatican.
Dozens of Poles arrived in northern Italy from Vienna where trains from Poland disgorged them the day before. They joined other travellers from eastern Europe in the hunt for tickets for Rome and what one of them, Magda, called "the biggest event of my life".
"We had to do it," said the student from near Krakow, who was travelling with four friends. "We would probably not have got a place on the special trains to Rome, though we are doing it which ever way we can."
As they scanned bus and train schedules to all points south, thousands of their countrymen were pouring through Austria and into Italy in their cars, all apparently carrying the red and white polish colours or a black strip of mourning cloth on their aerials.
After the flat monotony of Poland and the nocturnal journey through Austria's mountains, they savoured a misty sunrise over the fields and villages of northern Italy, whether watching from the window of a train or at one of the leafy rest stops that line the south- bound autostrada.
Polish number plates joined Italy's morning traffic and scores of buses from across John Paul's homeland carried sleeping passengers towards Rome, where city officials and security service providers were already bracing themselves for their arrival.
Most travellers seemed to have prepared thoroughly in the rush to be on the road, and the sagging suspensions of their cars were taking the strain.
As well as carrying a full passenger load, many drivers said they were weighed down with enough food for the entire trip, to cut costs that few of them can easily afford.
"We have had no problems. This has all been okay," said Slavek Budek (47), an estate agent from near Krakow, who was travelling with his son, his sister and a friend.
"We have all our food and the gas stove for cooking," he added, with a glance at the plastic bags that swarmed over his rear window. "We have nowhere to stay but I think sleeping in the car will be alright. Probably."
He hoped to reach Rome last night and spend today in St Peter's Square, where he would see the body of Karol Wojtyla, the beloved Archbishop of Krakow who became Pope in 1978.
"When the Iron Curtain collapsed, Wojtyla applied the first pressure," Slavek said. "Wojtyla was from near Krakow. He was one of us. This is the last time in our life to say goodbye to him and tell him that he was a father for us."
At another rest stop outside Bologna, cousins Daniel and Tomek Karas stripped off their shirts and enjoyed the warm spring sunshine that shone on hundreds of thousands of people that Italian radio said were heading for Rome.
"We had some trouble before the Austrian border, when all the Poles wanted to stop and buy cheaper petrol but otherwise the trip was fine," said Daniel from the provincial town of Opole. "And Tomek's sister lives in Rome so we have a place to sleep as well."
As they left the rest area, a small saloon struggled in carrying five big men with shaved heads and lighted cigarettes. They looked like they were on their way to a bouncers' convention but they insisted otherwise.
"We want to be there for the Pope," said Roman, Kazimierz, Rafal and the two Piotreks, who had also driven from Krakow carrying a little Polish flag on their car aerial.
They soon moved on, through the tunnels and across the bridges that bestride the valleys between Bologna and Florence, with one ear to the radio for special traffic reports in Polish.
Warnings were issued every half hour not to venture into Rome itself, but to leave cars at designated points outside the city and use public transport to get to the Vatican.
In the Italian capital pressure was building.
National radio said all private cars would be banned in central Rome from the early hours of Friday, and that at least two million pilgrims were expected in the city.
Rumours of even greater numbers quickly spread through the besieged capital.
"They say two million are expected from Poland alone," Francesco Franticci, a bus driver, was quoted as saying as he jolted through thick traffic more than a mile from the Vatican.
To the north, the going was remarkably easy, and Poles stopped at roadside vantage points to admire what they could of the blossoming cherry trees and hilltop citadels that studded the long drive down Italy's main A1 transport artery.
"We will be there tonight and tomorrow," said Marta (38), who was packed into her Renault with her brother Jarek (35), his mother-in-law and a friend, Robert (35).
"There will be too many people there on Friday," she said, her amber and silver crucifix glinting in the sun.
"We are not there to see the body but to pray and to feel; not just for the Pope but for our country and our belief. We in Poland do not just want to adore the Pope, but show the world that we have changed, and that he taught us what we should change and how to do it.
"I realise clearly that he had changed Poland when, on Monday, fans of [ football teams] Wisla Krakow and Cracovia met together in one stadium and prayed together. I live near there and I am always terrified when they play each other."
Wearing the white robes of a Dominican monk but the shaved head, black goatee and dark sunglasses of a heavy rocker, Stanislaw could not stop long to tell his tale.
The Volkswagen he was driving belonged to his Prior in the parish of Korbielow, in the mountains of southern Poland where the young Karol Wojtyla loved to hike and ski.
Two of his companions, Jacek and Marek, are fellow monks, dressed in less conspicuous jeans and shirts after travelling from Warsaw to meet him. Grzegorzm, the fourth burly man in the car, was the husband of the Prior's sister.
They had barely rested since setting off at 11pm the previous day, with only occasional brief stops for a drink and a bite to eat.
"The mother of a friend of mine lives in Rome so we will be staying there tonight," Stanislaw said. "And we will spend Thursday night on St Peter's Square."
His return journey would be even more hectic than this one, he sighed.
"I have to dash home to my parish after the funeral," he said, already cramming his broad frame back into the car.
"Two good friends are getting married at 3pm on Saturday, and I am the one marrying them."