Lessons from Rome

1. Toilet paper in public toilets is optional.

2. Toilet SEATS in public toilets are optional as well! Quite shocking for us ladies.

So last time I wrote I had caught up to yesterday, so Ill pick up from there...

Yesterday was the most exercise I have had in...well, ever really. Celia and I took of for St. Peters and the Vatican Museum which, not incidentally, is the largest museum in the world and quite confusing, as some of you know. There are hordes and hordes of people, all marching like zombies towards the Sistine Chapel, which is of course located at the end of the museum.

Anyway, we decided to start with the basilica. On our way in we were waylaid by a tour guide group working for some sort or cultural ministry, who offered us a free tour of the basilica, with an optional paid tour of the museum afterward. We were going to have to stand in the massive line to get in anyway (by far the largest I have seen, many there to see the new tomb of John Paul II), so we stood with the tour group and went through with them. The guide was a very nice young man, although not all of his information was correct. We decided not to do the museum tour, though, after I talked to him about what we would see on it. I wanted to know what of the ancient art we would see (they have SO MUCH important, famous stuff) and the guide said "oh, none of that...just the important stuff." That was enough to convince me that the tour was not for us (especially at $20 in addition to the museum entrance fee).

So we set off on our own and entered the museum, only to find that almost all of the ancient collections were closed, as was the picture gallery. Not a good year for Italian museums apparently. But we were still able to see my favorite ancient piece, the Laocoon, which is housed in an exterior courtyard. We also saw Raphaels School Athens in the Stanza della Segnatura, and of course the Sistine Chapel, which was quite different from what Celia expected. If youve ever been, you probably understand.

After these several hours of extensive walking tours, we decided to really go for the gold and climb to the dome of St. Peters. This was not possible last time I was in Rome, as there was some sort of construction going on at the time. They were probably installing the stairs-slash-torture devices. Because we were incredibly tired already, we decided to pay four extra Euros over the price of the entrance to ride the lift. Money well spent, we assumed. What we did not fully realize was the magnitude of the statement "Advisory for the elderly or infirm...there are 392 stairs to the dome in addition to the lift ride."

So there we were, climbing 392 stairs. That is a lot of stairs. A lot. Especially when they keep getting narrower and narrower, and then the roof eventually starts leaning in to form the dome, and you are climbing at an angle. The last bit is actually straight up and down, and so narrow there is no room for a handrail...a rope suspended from the ceiling is all you get to haul yourself up. and let me tell you, by that time your legs are so worn out that using your arms is preferable. But we did make it to the top and when we stepped out, the view was breathtaking. The dome is the tallest point in Rome, and no taller buildings are allowed to be built. You could see everything. I wish I could attach pictures here, but just try to imagine the panorama of Rome, and hopefully many of you can see pictures later.

Oh, and between the section with the lift and the terrible stairs, we walked out onto a catwalk around the inside of the base of the dome. Mass was being said at the time 15 stories below, and the monks were doing Gregorian chants. It was one of the most phenomenal church experiences I have ever had.

Also of note...there is a gift shop on the roof of the Vatican. Who would have thought? It is staffed entirely by really old nuns. They must live up there, or all have cyborg knees or something, because I cant imagine them taking the stairs every day. But truth be told, it is without a doubt the best giftshop in the Vatican.

Anyway, we made it down alive but incredibly sore, and rode the subway back to our neighborhood, and walked back to the hotel. When we got there we got in the lift. Its one of those old-style elevators with the doors that open out by hand, and the gate beyond that. We climbed in, shut everything, and pressed our floor. The lift went up half a floor and stopped. We thought we would just open the door and climb down the six feet or so, but quickly realized that the safety override means that we cannot open the door between floors! We didnt know how to yell for help in Italian, although any loud noise would probably have helped. But luckily it started agains hortly and we went back down those six feet and got out.

Of course then we realized that we would now have to climb STAIRS to our room! So on top of the 392 to the dome of St. Peters we added another 125. We barely wanted to leave for dinner, dreading the climb back up, but hunger drove us out.

And that was another entire adventure! We walked around for awhile trying to settle on a restaurant, and finally picked one directly across from the hotel (Murphys Law). Celia ordered roast pig and when it came she said "Candace, this is a piece of pig." I thought "Of course it is. Duh." But then she said "No, really, its a PIECE OF PIG." Sure enough, they had just cut a slice right off a pig (in the alley in back?) and roasted it up, skin and all. It was like one of those dissected slices you make in high school when you cut right through the middle. Meat, fat, skin, HAIR! Luckinly for me, the massive Coke I had ordered was big enough to block my view of her plate. She had a bunch of potatoes and two desserts. Lesson learned.