I awake early to the vibrant sounds of birds chirping and church bells ringing. I feel alive and rejuvenated and ready to embark on another day seeing Rome. Today I am scheduled for a tour of the Vatican. I have to get myself across town and to the specified location all by 9:15. I head out grabbing a couple of pieces of fruit from the local cart on the corner. At the bus station I request a ticket for the bus to the Vatican. I fail to ask at which stop I should disembark. I climb aboard and watch intently as the city passes by. When the Vatican is in sight I get off. I begin walking the Vatican wall. I run into a priest and ask directions. He explains that I must follow the wall, cross St. Peter's square and follow the wall more. I had no idea how long the wall would be. It feels as if I have been walking at eternity but I finally arrive at the prescribed location. I ask for assistance only to be told to wait in a line without knowing the purpose of waiting. I get out of line once to ask if this is truly where I am supposed to be. It was a good time to leave the line because the gentlemen in front of me was smoking and my lungs have yet to adjust to this common phenomenon. I wait again to receive my ticket and then wait in a group. As I am waiting a couple begins making chit-chat. I am unaware that others are around listening. As we make our way into the Vatican a handsome American with piercing blue eyes approaches me. His name is Doug and he quickly becomes my favorite part of Rome. He had overheard me tell the couple that I was from near Bend. He is from San Francisco and on his own in Rome as well. We begin talking and we are both on the self-guided tour. We decide to join up and tour together. He says he is in a hurry but he behaves differently. We stare at the mummy in the Egyptian room dumbfounded by how clear the features are still. We talk about each statue that moves us, which are many. We are astounded by the size of stone baths, infatuated with each dome and its intricate paintings. We are bothered only by the crowds and the tour guides with all of their sticks held up to keep track of their people. We snap photograph after photograph and talk telling each other about our lives. We are herded through the map room, something neither one of us enjoys. We are shocked to see a souvenir stand placed in the middle of this crowded room. Each painting on the ceiling is perfectly framed. We ponder if they were done separately and how it was all planned out and finally who was in charge of it. There are people snapping photos who are not even looking at the detail in the paintings. I don't believe they were appreciating what they were seeing. I look as much as possible first and then take a picture only when the painting or map moves me. You would need hours in this room to fully gain insight into the works of art. As we continue to follow the crowd we see the signs for the Sistine Chapel. We are ready to enter knowing that it is a sacred place. Doug takes his hat off and I cover my shoulders. The guards remind the people around us not to talk or sit but Doug and I have no problem with that. We are silently taking it all in. The first painting that moves me to the depths of my soul is the one where there is a gaunt soul being held by what looks to be God. There seem to be angels around and I am reminded of the devil being cast into hell. It has the feel of eternal banishment. I turn to another wall and am taken in by the Last Supper. We often see these depictions but we only see a portion. Above the Last Supper painting are three windows each with its own depiction of events in Christ's life. One window which drew my focus was the women weeping. The grief for them was unbearable because they had no idea what would happen next. The third painting that drew my complete focus was of angels and demons. My mind turned over how cruel and disturbing the images of the demons were and how saintly the angels looked. I thought over the years of the many ways angels and demons have been portrayed. This particular painting seemed the most accurate. I am not sure how long we lingered in the Sistine Chapel but it was a while. We moved slowly to the exit and came out into the hot Roman sun. We descended and found the entrance for the cupola a mere 320 step climb to the top. We looked at one another with that adventurous spirit and said of course we are going to do this. We climbed spinning in circles. I felt dizzy but Doug just pressed on. Around and around we went until we reached the first viewing area, we still had many steps to go. The dome appeared before us a sea-like blue with intricate carvings. We went to the edge and looked down at St. Peter's Basilica. Catholics corner the market on making you feel reverent before God. To look down at the cathedral made me feel so small and insignificant. We stood in awe for a time and then moved to the next set of steps that would lead us to the tip-top of the cathedral. We could have never expected what awaited us at the top. The sun was shining through the door as we exited to the overlook at the top of the cupola. There we stood looking out over all of Rome, 360 views everywhere. I breathed deeply taking it all in. We took photo after photo, looked out over St. Peter's square and once again felt awe, reverence and overwhelmed. The descent was quick and dizzying. At the bottom we were dropped into the Basilica and now for the first time we had the opposite perspective. I felt small and insignificant once more as I looked up at where we had once been. The altar in St. Peter's is massive. Doug and I speculated how many people could worship in this cathedral; millions. We looked at the paintings, sculptures and alters. We noticed a statue of Jesus. People were passing by it and touching his feet. Doug looked at me and said, "I think we should touch the feet of Jesus." I agree and we got in line, touched his feet and each said a prayer. I encountered man and God on this trip in many ways. I was always reminded of God no matter where I was standing in Rome. And God brought people into my life that I could savor and appreciate. Doug was one of those people. As we left, both feeling small in the face of God, I hoped our time together was not ending. We had lunch and more conversation. He told me about his journey so far in Italy, of the wedding, the wine, running each town to get a feel for it and his departure soon for the Amalfi Coast. I was jealous of course but knew my journey had only begun while his was about to end. We parted ways exchanged the quintessential Italian kiss. I smiled and breathed him in deeply.
My next part of my journey was to see the neighborhood and bridges around the Vatican. For this Marcello had offered once again to be my tour guide. Once again his historical knowledge was outstanding. The first thing he had me do was to look at the columns in St. Peter's Square. He asked how many rows I saw? I said three or four. He led me to a circle in the square and had me stand upon it and look again, now I only saw one row. He explained there is only one row of columns but our eyes play tricks on us making us think there are more.
We strolled over to the Castel Sant Angelo which guards the Vatican. Marcello showed me the passageway that connects the two. The purpose of the passageway was to evacuate the Pope in times of attack. He would go to the Castel for protection. We walked across the Ponte Sant Agelo, the bridge that is adorned in saints. Next we strolled by a monestary, which he had a difficult time explaining in English. I wanted to walk more but Romans do not like to walk it seems. He left me to finish my wandering on my own. I made my way back to the Colosseo and bought my ticket for that and the Palatino hill. The Colosseum is indescribable. More steps of course because this is Rome. I climbed and walked around the top gazing at the relics that have been dug from this site, statues, animal bones and dice to name a few. I walked to the lower level to see where animals and gladiators would have been kept and raised up. The structure is a maze. I overhear a guide explain how expensive it was to put on the games. He said because of the expense it was not as common. Bears are native to Italy so they were used more in the games than other animals such as lions which would have had to come from the far reaches of the Roman Empire. I finish circling, taking in the view from all perspectives and move on to the Palatino Hill. This area is massive in acreage and legend plus archaeology says it is where Rome began. It is the first settlement and was to home to emperors as well. The Circus Maximus is located here, thought at first to be for chariots but later determined too small. It was likely used for foot races. It overlooks the Forum a place where philosophers and politicians would debate; the roots of our American system likely were discussed here. The Emperor Augustus made his home here. Tunnels were built under his gardens, with frescoes of scenery painted on the walls which allowed him to wander his gardens even when it was in the middle of the hot Roman summer. The gardens are still blooming with purple verbena and other purple flowers; the color of royalty is my guess. The grounds take me hours to traverse. There are museums, arches, ruins, gardens, fountains and pathways. As I make my way toward the exit I hear bagpipes playing. They are coming from the Scottish church nearby. I begin the walk back to my apartment, fulfilled and tired. I pass Mercati Traianei, the Colonna Treiana and start my climb up. I walk until I reach the Repubblica and the Fontana of the Naiads. Yet another representation of Neptune. The sea is a central theme to all of the fountains and perhaps life in Roma. I check in at the hotel office to see if my luggage has arrived. I have by this time been wearing the same dress for two days. They say no it has not arrived and we check with the airline once again. I have to go shopping in Rome. I need clothes for my journey South and luggage as well. I set out before returning to the apartment and buy several outfits. I haven't worried once about my clothes being lost maybe because I am thinking that God clothes the birds of the air and knows I need clothing so of course he will take care of that. I buy very nice clothing that will work for the rest of the trip. Once at my apartment I fall into a deep siesta, taking on the Italian culture. I awake hungry and ready to go out once again. Allesandro sends me a message to meet him once again and I am off. Tonight he is much quieter but still we journey to a few places but in a more silent manner. He asks when I am coming back to Rome. I tell him not until Thursday and suggests we meet again then as long as he is still in town. I am aware I will not see him again but I make no effort to keep contact information. He was to me a beautiful example of an Italian man appreciating a woman and I will not soon forget him. I turn in exhausted and ready for my journey to the country the next day.
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