Rome September 14

Friday, September 14                           (1.9 miles total on the pedometer)

While we were getting ready, we discovered that our fancy bathtub was actually a death trap. The tub was deep and contoured with a rounded raised area that was either a very low seat or some kind of back support if you were sitting down.  

 Either way the hump was slippery, making it difficult to stand while trying to hold the hand-held shower head that barely reached above my shoulders.

  

Breakfast was served in the covered roof top restaurant. The hotel tried it’s best to emulate an American breakfast, with trays of runny eggs, strips of bacon and small sausages swimming in oil, and to top it off, no fruit at all. In my opinion they failed.

 

The weather was still rainy and much cooler which was nice; allowing Greg and Pat to keep their removable pant legs zipped up. We would be spending most of the day at the Vatican. Greg had purchased tickets online for the four of us take the 1:30 tour of the Necropolis below the Basilica. Even though our guided tour of the museum would end around 11:30 a.m., we still needed time to see St. Peter’s, which would not leave much time for lunch. There was no time to get any snacks, so I would just have to hope for the best.

 

 

Steps leading from our hotel to the wall around the Vatican .

Tourism is one of Italy’s leading industries, and to insure quality, all tour guides must be licensed Italian citizens. Each of our city guides had been excellent. Even though Donato was very knowledgeable, he had to be careful so as not to appear to be lecturing us, or risk a hefty fine. I was confused when Donato began leading our tour of the Vatican, until someone pointed out that the Vatican City, at 110 acres surrounded by imposing stone walls, is its own country, the smallest in the world.

Our first stop was the Vatican Museum, a collection of 54 galleries that concludes with the Sistine Chapel.

We picked up our headsets and bypassed the crowd as Donato led us first to the Egyptian exhibits. 











 He told a great story about two brothers who were competing to be king. One brother had the other secretly measured, and had a coffin made especially for him. He then held a contest to see who could fit in it. When the brother tried it out, the first brother sealed the coffin and buried him alive. Good times. He showed us that many Roman gods and myths were based on Egyptian beliefs.

 

Next we walked through an outdoor sculpture garden with many funny and fascinating pieces.

You can't see it, but there is a stone cat inside the vase he is holding.

We continued walking through room after room filled with more and more amazing art. It was overwhelming.

 
There were a few rooms that stood out. The Sala Rotonda was shaped like a miniature Pantheon with a hole in the ceiling. Beneath the hole was a huge marble basin to catch the water.

The Gallery of Maps was a long hall with 40 frescoes of detailed maps on the walls, created in the late 1500s, showing various regions of Italy. However the intricately carved golden ceiling, bathed in bright amber light, overshadowed the maps below. 

I also enjoyed the false perspective used to create three-dimensional artwork in many of the rooms. It consistently tricked me. 

 




















As we walked through one section of the galleries called the Borgia Apartment, that at one time had served as the personal quarters for Pope Alexander VI, it made me think about the current Pope who resided nearby. 

I hope the Pope occasionally sneaks into the museum after hours and gets to enjoy all of the magnificent artwork and history. 














In my fantasy, he also gets to run through the halls, sliding in his socks, with his papal gown flapping in the breeze.















 
 

As we made our way to the Sistine Chapel, Donato repeatedly told us not to take any photos. Guards in many of the museums we had visited had told us this, but tourists can be a stubborn lot, and sensing they were fighting a losing battle, in some places guards did not complain as long as you did not use a flash. I held out for a least 20 minutes, silently chastising the other rule-breakers (not from our tour) that were brazenly snapping photos while the guards alternately “yelled” in a harsh whisper, “No photo” and “Silenzio!” When I finally did take my one illegal photo, at least I had the courtesy to wander far from our group in case I got in trouble. Besides if they were really serious about not taking photos, they should have had SWAT teams rappel out of the ceiling and “take us down.”

The Drunkenness of Noah. From the internet.

Here are some of the interesting antidotes about the chapel that Donato told us. Michelangelo, primarily a sculptor, was not really interested in painting the ceiling, but Pope Julius II was adamant. The work was done in sections using scaffolding Michelangelo designed. Each day he painted a 3-to-4-foot section of the ceiling on wet plaster. He would poke small holes into a full size drawing that he would lay over the wet plaster and dust with charcoal, which left an outline for him to follow. He then filled in each area with paint, which adhered to the plaster, creating the fresco.

The Separation of Light and Darkness. From the internet.

When he finished the first section, The Drunkenness of Noah, he decided that the scale was wrong and made the figures in the other panels larger. As he progressed, the panels were painted faster and with less detail. The final panel, The separation of Light and Darkness, was painted in just one day. 

 

The chapel ceiling was difficult to view. Looking up doesn’t sound that hard, but my neck started to hurt pretty quickly. There were seats around the edges of the room that allowed you to lean back, but the most comfortable option, laying flat on your back would have been hard to accomplish given the crowds. Lou, who eventually ended up sitting on the floor, was just about to stretch out, when we decided we should leave.

 

The main exit from the Sistine Chapel deposits you outside the Vatican security area. In order to see St. Peter’s you would have to walk 20 minutes back to the main entrance and go through security again. Donato explained that there was a small door on the right side of the chapel that led directly to the church entrance. The challenge was that it was not always open and only tours were allowed to go through it. Since our guided tour was over, he suggested we “casually” join a group as they exited. The four of us did not look very confident, but we made it through.

 There was a spigot for us to get a much needed drink.

The view from the main entrance of the Basilica.

As overwhelming as the Vatican Museum was, it paled next to St. Peter’s. On the right as you entered, behind bulletproof glass, was the Pieta, Michelangelo’s sculpture of Jesus and Mary. It was beautiful, but the crowds made it hard to get too close. I did get a pretty good photo by holding my camera above my head and hoping for the best.

 

The scale of the church, the length of two football fields, was hard to comprehend.

Above the altar were letters that looked average size, but were actually 7’ tall.  The papal altar looked like an enormous four-poster bed canopy. 

Beside the altar was a wooden podium decorated with gold. 

Above the altar was the stunning multi-level dome painted in very intricate designs.

Behind the altar was the Apse with a huge sculpture created to enclose a wooden throne, thought to have belonged to St. Peter. There is a stained glass window above it, showing the Holy Spirit as a dove.

 

The basilica was filled with over 80 stunning monuments and altars, with many religious artifacts filling in the gaps. 

 

We were on a schedule, which did not seem to include food, and had to hurry through St. Peter’s so we could find where our necropolis tour started. I had seen food carts in the distance, but we were always in a hurry and I never quite made it over to one. I would just have to suck it up. On the way we stopped at the gift shop, where I bought a postcard to send my mother-in-law from the Vatican post office. 

From the internet.

I was excited to see some of the Swiss Guard, but disappointed that they were wearing grey coats over their blue and gold striped uniforms with red trim.  

 After asking a few policemen for directions, we were sent to a trailer (they were doing some construction), where we went through more security and were finally directed to the office where the tour would begin.








 

Our private tour of the “Scavi,” which are the excavations of the necropolis, or burial grounds, under St. Peter’s Basilica, purported to include the remains of St. Peter himself, were limited to groups of twelve. There was a slight glitch when Greg was informed that we had purchased tickets for the wrong day, but the director was very nice and allowed us to stay and join another tour group. Our guide, a young Ukrainian seminarian, who looked just like “Harry Potter,” led us first into a large room filled with historical displays, and launched into a long history of what we were to see. His accent was hard to understand, and I was starting to get bored until we headed below ground.

Ancient Street from the internet.

There were NO photographs allowed on this tour and it would have been hard to cheat, since our guide was standing right by our side, so I am including some from the internet. We walked down a staircase into the lower levels of the church, past an intricate push button security system, including glass sliding doors right out of Star Trek. We were suddenly transported back 2,000 years. As we passed through a narrow hallway into a small room, one of the women on the tour complained about being claustrophobic. The website, when you purchased tickets, had warned that this could be an issue. No problem, the guide offered to lead her into the next room, which was larger, and we would join her shortly. After using his pass code and escorting her through the next set of security doors, he came back and started his spiel about the room we were in. Shortly after, we heard a voice yelling: “Come and get me. I need to leave.” Harry Potter then had to go and get her and escort her all the way out of the building before finally returning to us.

An entrance to one of the tombs from the internet.

We toured through all three levels of the excavation that dated back to 64 AD, including an entire Roman city street and necropolis complex. It was amazing to think we were walking on pavement used by Roman nobles. The air was hot and very humid. I was lucky to have a post card to fan myself, as we were all sweating. Eventually, we arrived at a section with an opening, behind glass, that led to another area where it is believed the remains of St. Peter are resting. It was confusing and hard to tell what we were seeing. The guide pushed a button that lit up a yellow light to help show us the exact spot. After a few moments of reflection, our tour concluded.

 

Our guide.

We emerged back into civilization on a level filled with tourists viewing more recent papal tombs. As we were leaving I asked our guide if I could have one photo--of him. He agreed. It had been such a solemn place that I couldn’t bring myself to ask my serious question without sounding like a smart-ass; “Who changes the light bulb that is right next to St. Peter’s tomb?” I can’t imagine they would let just anyone near such a holy place. I wonder if they have priest electricians?

By now it was 3:15 in the afternoon, and as I had feared, we had been on the go since early morning without any food and very little water. Of course, all of the restaurants nearby were such over-priced tourist traps that their menus didn’t even have words on them, just photos of each dish with a price tag. There was no need to know Italian, just point. I was so exhausted; pointing was about all I could do, so it worked just fine for me. We decided to sit and get a pizza. It was really good.

On our way back to the hotel, we got gelato at the Old Bridge Gelateria that Donato had highly recommended. We walked up to the window and ordered, then stood outside and ate. I splurged and got three scoops--caramel, strawberry and banana. It was excellent. We ran into some of our other tour members, including John and Rochelle who had spent the afternoon having their portrait taken in Ancient Roman garb at a local photo studio. He was dressed like Julius Caesar complete with a laurel wreath crown, while she was his beautiful attendant. It was hilarious. If there had been more time, I would have made Greg go and pose with me.

I ducked into a small grocery and bought a bunch of bananas to keep in the room. The cashier at the checkout gave me a look when I handed them to her. I then remembered what I had learned from Lou’s experience in Florence and ran back, weighed them and printed a sticker with the price. I was very proud when I returned to the register.

Back at the hotel, we all crashed and napped until 7 p.m. when, refreshed, we took a cab to the Trevi Fountain. The taxi was much quicker and only slightly more expensive than if the four of us had taken the subway. The driver was a very friendly man, but a typical crazy Italian driver. Lou tends to be an anxious passenger, which I can relate to, so the two of us huddled together in the crowded backseat, and having no control, we got the giggles. The more he swerved around cars, mopeds and pedestrians, the more we laughed, which just made us giggle even more.

Speaking of giggles, I have a quirk where every once in awhile, I hiccup; one time, unexpectedly, very loudly. This is something that my husband has put up with for years. Lou had never been around me long enough to notice that I do it pretty consistently. Soon enough, and for the rest of the trip, every time I hiccupped, she would giggle. When I got home, I could still hear her laughing in my head.

When I pictured throwing a coin in the Trevi Fountain, I did not picture the hundreds of other tourists that would be standing next to me. The place was PACKED! From the street, there were three terraced levels with railings leading down to the fountain, with only two entrances. This created a constant logjam of people trying to get in and out. 

We made our way to the edge and as instructed, stood with our backs to the water, a coin in our right hands and crossing our hearts, tossed it over our left shoulders into the fountain. The coin toss is supposed to ensure our return to Rome someday. Donato later told us that the one million Euros collected every year goes to charity.

We strolled to a nearby restaurant that had once been a church, Sacro e Profano, which Donato recommended, where we ran into four others from our tour finishing their meals. Pat and Lou and Greg and I shared an antipasto course, filled with many little dishes to try. Lou and I then split a steak with red wine sauce and potatoes. It was terrific.

 

After our meal, we walked back to the Plaza Navona where we had been the night before to enjoy the fountains now that it wasn’t raining. As our trip was nearing the end, there were some important purchases that I had been putting off ever since Venice. Every evening, in every square, in each city we had visited, you could count on unlicensed street vendors walking around shooting plastic LED helicopters high into the air. They lit up the sky in little blue dots of light. They were very adept at catching them and then suddenly they would be standing next to you trying to make a sale. I knew they were a rip off, and initially resisted, but I also knew I would have to bring some home. I got a pretty good deal; three for 5 Euros. 

 

 

I got this one when I got home.

I missed my chance for the other cheap toy they had been selling in Venice and Florence, a water-filled rubber ball that the vendor would throw on the ground where it would flatten for an instant and then spring back into shape. I will have to check Amazon when I get home.

It was interesting to watch these vendors when the police would wander by. Like a flock of ducks they would all turn in unison and calmly move along, always keeping the same distance away from them; except the vendors who sold the knock-off designer handbags, who would scoop them up by their handles and run.

 

While the others stopped to get some gelato, I ducked into a store to purchase some Italian pasta. I had seen this crazy, ribbon-striped, bowtie pasta. 

When I brought it to the counter, I asked the owner how to prepare it. He told me, in broken English, that it was not very good, really just for tourists. I told him, “I was a tourist!” but then I asked him which pasta would he buy for his family, and he helped me make a better selection.

Around 11 p.m., we took a cab home, complete with more giggling from Lou and I. I went down to the lobby to try unsuccessfully to get on the Internet to check my email and had another surreal experience. As I mentioned, there were two elevators that lead to different wings. As I was heading up to my room, I got on the wrong one. When I got out on the second floor, the surroundings didn’t look right. Thinking I had hit the wrong button, I got back in, pushed two and the doors just reopened. As I started to think I had found a parallel universe, I walked down the stairs to the lobby, where I saw the other elevator around the corner. It was definitely time for bed.