On Thursday we left “home” eager for our full day on the bus.
The sky was overcast and the air was slightly misty. Shortly after we mounted
the bus, gaining the front row on the top, it began to rain more in earnest.
There was a canopy above but this covering did little to prevent showers
entering through the open side windows. Billie had elected to sit on the
inside; without the cover of my rain poncho she would have quickly been
drenched. We stayed aloft for quite some time as the bus made the usual rounds:
the church of St. Mary Major; the Colosseum; the Circus Maximus; the Foro
Romano; the Capitolino; and etc. As the weather became progressively more and more chilly, we eventually moved to the ground floor of the bus. Unfortunately, there were no
seats available there, though it was somewhat warmer. But there we were stuck.
The regular stops of the bus in that area were not close enough to Metro
stations to make an escape for home possible, and the bus driver would not
allow us to get off except at the regular stops. Moreover, the driving rain
slowed all of the traffic – drawing out our by now quite uncomfortable stint on
the bus by at least an extra 45 minutes. We were philosophical and managed,
happy to land finally at the terminus from which we had begun, grab something
to eat, and head for the comforts of our little room, both determined not to
again try the hop-on, hop-off route.
Later in the afternoon the rain was forgotten when the sun
came out and made all beautiful. We took the Metro to the Spanga station to
view the famous Spanish steps. These lead to a church built by the Spanish in
the late 18th century but are mainly known as a place of meeting and
greeting on lovely days and evenings in Rome. It was dusk by the time we
arrived but the steps carried a fair number of people just happy to be there
resting and enjoying the scene. We joined them for a while. Billie took my
water bottle and filled it at the ornate fountain at the foot of the steps as
had her cousins. I managed to get a photo of her, not actually getting the
water, but returning from the fountain. Billie is reticent in the extreme about
having her picture taken so I am forced to grab what I can when I can, usually
to protests on her part. I keep telling her that years from now she will enjoy
having a pictorial record of her excursions.
From the Spanish steps we walked to the Piazza del Popolo,
the largest of the squares in Rome, which lies adjacent to the vast Villa
Borghese. One of the twin churches at the southern extremity of the piazza is
now completely covered with scaffolding for renovations, spoiling the particular
beauty of symmetry with its sister church. It was a lovely evening and we
gradually made our way back home by foot, catching up on all of the exercise we
had missed during our morning ride on the bus.
We planned to get off early yesterday morning in order to get to
the Vatican Museum before the crowds became too heavy. Not early enough, I’m
afraid. We reached the Vatican by Metro about 10:30 to be greeted by an
alternative given by a legion of ticket sellers: take the regular line to the
ticket office where you will be charged 24 euros for the two of you, but
the by-now extensive line will take you two hours to get inside, OR, buy the
tickets that we can sell you that will let you skip the regular line and get in
quickly, for only 63 euros. We elected to join the throng of plebeians, wait our turn,
and save our dwindling store of cash. It did take about two hours to get in, but it was
alright. We amused ourselves by playing solitaire and a game of hearts on my
cell phone – Billie got to play one hand and I took the next. We won the game.
Yay. It was warmer than we had so far experienced but Billie had put on
her funny black hat with what looks like two ears sticking up at the top, and sprinkled with a succession of spikes. Despite the heat she kept it on the entire day,
in fact, as she lies opposite me on her bed, she wears it still. What an
amusing kid.
Once inside the Vatican we moved forward through the numerous
halls and passages which funnel the crowd through the museum toward its final
glory: the Sistine Chapel and the works of Michelangelo. It is a lengthy journey.
We made our way past innumerable gaggles of tourists suffering (as I would have
experienced it) the detailed discussions of the significance of each room and
artifact given by their tour directors. It’s a marvellous place in which one could
get lost for many days if one so desired, but for me the only real point of
interest to which I wished to direct my kid in tow, was the Sistine Chapel. It was crowded, of course.
Along each side of the hall are seats which one can nab as another tourist prepares to leave, then rest as long as one wishes,
taking in the ceiling which depicts Michelangelo’s vision of the first chapters
of the Old Testament, and, the enormous main wall showing the Four Last Things –
death, judgement, heaven, and hell. We did gain two seats after not a long wait
close to the edge of the room. There we spoke in hushes – though one of the
gentlemen ushers periodically uttered his SILENCIO over a loudspeaker. I
pointed out some of the main features to Billie, after which we sat quietly
just taking it all in. I had the distinct sense that I would not likely return
to the Sistine again. I have been there five times now with my various
companions in Rome and feel no need to return again. I said a sort of fond farewell
and thank you to the chapel and to Michelangelo before we filed out and began
the long process of touring other anterooms and halls before finding ourselves
in a cafeteria area constructed since my last visit.
We sat with the hordes and partook of a set meal of penne in
tomato sauce with lots of cheese, a crusty bun, a bottle of water, and, a cake
with an overabundance of soft, gooey icing. A brief walk-about the Vatican
garden, another set of stairs and halls, until finding ourselves outside, close
to the entrance area, not as I had at the last visit, in a passage leading
directly into St Peters. We walked around the Vatican walls to the entrance of
the basilica but found another long line waiting to enter. Not another line-up
today was our common sentiment. We headed for Via Victor Emmanuele and waited
instead in a line for the #64 bus to return to the terminal. It was vastly overcrowded;
we stood close to its center holding on as well as we were able to the polls
and straps overhead. At last the terminal and home. I went out later to check
on the price of the train to Rome’s airport that we will take on Sunday
morning. Billie declined to join me – a first in our trip together. She had
simply had enough for one day.
Today we will head for the Colosseum, our last significant
site before we organize ourselves for the long journey back to Toronto.
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