Roma

So I eventually arrived in Rome to be greeted in the best way known to mankind: a beggar. Immediately I rolled my eyes and thought “great, this is another place where I have to keep my wallet in my front pocket. I paid my ransom to ride the train into the city (which cost just as much for me to go from Wuerzburg to the Frankfurt Airport, many times the distance AND had air-conditioning) , dropped off my crap and went out! By the time I was all settled and such, it was already 8:30 and the sun was fast disappearing. I high-tailed it (meaning I looked confusedly at my map – vainly - trying to figure out which way was the most efficient to get from point A to point B.) About 30 minutes later, I approached the Colosseum. It was right as the sun sank into the horizon: the illuminating lights had just turned on, but one could see a vague semblance of the sky. It was magical. Photo-op.

By the time I had finished salivating, I went back to my place of lodging. Naptime. The next day I awoke bright and early. “Free Breakfast” was once again the false promise of sustenance. Nothing disappointing like Paris, but still – people of the world, why do you think a hunk of bread and espresso is enough? I ate my meager early-meal-like-thing and ran to the supermarket to prepare myself for an entire day in the Mediterranean sun: 2 bottles of water (3 liters in total), a bag of bread rolls, and some chocolate (because I’m weak and calories don’t count on Saturday.)

I headed off for my 8:30am appointment with the Vatican Museum. I walked out of the subway station and was affronted by a fortified wall. Yes, it was this big wall surrounding the Vatican. I followed the wall and the signs that say “Museum: that wayà) and felt my stomach drop as I rounded a corner to see the line of poor souls waiting to see trinkets of salvation. I had learned my lesson in Paris: Always buy the tickets in advance. The 4, 5, or 6 euro “service fee” is worth it. I politely (I say that because there were plenty of slow people who decided to stand in my way, giving me the opportunity to not be polite) rounded corner after corner, saying “ciao” to the people who would probably be there until the mid-afternoon. I took my little pre-purchased ticket and joined the “reserved tickets” line. My wait was about 10 minutes.

The collection really reinforced why Martin Luther took a nail and hammer to Wittenburg Cathedral: it was beyond absurd. To think that so much of that was paid for by the poor people from all around continental Europe in the Renaissance. Paying their prayer taxes so some guy could sit with a fancy hat and make decrees about how the world is flat, keeping Portugal from everything West of a certain latitude and telling Henry VIII he can’t get a divorce.

Well, the Sistine Chapel was cool. I made my way to it first (based on some advice) and had a chance to throw my face upward and go crazy. I then made my way through the museum again, frequently slowed down by hoards of tourists. My second round through the chapel was like a fly going through molasses. In a matter of 30 minutes, the chapel went from a few clumps of people to a solid mass of warm-blooded creatures. I would have not been able to enjoy it under those circumstances.

Anyway, it only needed an hour and a half. By 10 I was walking along the Tiber. I had lunch on the Villa Borghese (with really pretty greenery). I made my way to the Pantheon and Piazza Novena. By the end of that hike (you’ve all heard about the 7 hills of Rome; well, they’re hills) I was exhausted. I took a bus back to my lodgings.

There is somebody with whom I went to high school who lives in Rome right now. I think I’ll call them up and find something to do. I really don’t feel like walking right now. The rest of the city can wait until tomorrow.