When in Rome (Part 2)

Because we had arrived too late Thursday afternoon to have time to see the Vatican, and because we knew that we would need to head back to Lucca by mid-afternoon Friday, we decided to go to the Vatican Museum as soon as it opened at 9:00 a.m. on Friday morning, before the lines got too long.

We were already too late.  By the time we arrived the line already stretched around two corners, meaning probably a two-hour wait in line.  The only thing more annoying than the mass of people in line was the mass of people besieging us to purchase a tour pass that would let us bypass the line and go right in the museum.  They were relentless, following us all the way to where the line turned the corner (where there were others waiting) and asking, “Do you speak German? English? Swahili?”  The fact that we were ignoring them didn’t matter, and I’m sure the reality of their business is that it is not until the line reaches sufficient length that customers decide they are willing to pay the additional fee to skip the waiting.

We reached the end of the line and made a decision to go to St. Peter’s Basilica first (the entrances are on nearly opposite sides of the Vatican wall).  We followed the wall around to the entrance to St. Peter’s Square.

Entering the Square brought back memories of my previous visit.  In the summer of 2001, while serving as a chaperone on Richard Towell’s junior trip to Europe, Rich Hudepohl, Jack O’Donnell, and I took a Fresciarossa from Florence to Rome, jumped on the Metro to the Ottaviano stop, and then walked the several blocks to St. Peter’s Square.  We had no idea that Pope John Paul II, seriously ill at that point, was making an appearance, not at the window, but in the square, blessing weddings, and we got to see that.  Because St. Peter’s Basilica is closed when the Pope is in the square, we were able to beat the crowds as soon as it opened and climb the 554 steps to the top of the Dome.  I decided not to spoil the memory of that trip by trying to climb again.

The line to go through security to get into the Basilica was not nearly as long as the Museum line, and moved fast.  The guidebooks had indicated there was a dress code to get in (no shorts, skirts above the knee, or bare shoulders) and that it was strictly enforced, so we had dressed accordingly, but we didn’t see anyone turned away.

St. Peter’s is vast and impressive, so much so that churches that might have been impressive pre-St. Peter’s will look ordinary afterward.  It covers six acres, could accommodate 60,000 worshippers at one time, and has more art (including Michelangelo’s Pieta) than most great art museums.  There’s so much to see that it’s almost sensory overload, but there are nevertheless things that stand out, inspiring both awe and a sense of history.  There’s the circular stone where in 800 A.D. Charlemagne was crowned Holy Roman Emperor, and there are numerous Popes buried in St. Peter’s.  In 2001 I remember being impressed by all of them until I saw a simple sign with an arrow pointing down, saying “Peter,” and realized that I was at the tomb of St. Peter himself.  It lies under the main altar, near the spot where Peter was crucified.

Before leaving St. Peter’s we walked to the Museum-Treasury, which requires an entrance fee and which the guidebooks say is not worth the admission. In the hallway leading to it is a huge plaque with the names of all the Popes from Peter to John Paul II.  We didn’t linger to study it, but noted that the first 15-20 Popes have all been sainted but relatively few since.  Were the earliest Popes more saintly, or has the bar for Papal sainthood been raised?  J.D. also wondered why any Pope would call himself Pius, given that’s an expectation of the job. For different reasons, I wonder why a Pope would choose the name Innocent.

We didn’t go in the museum, but Shelley and J.D. bought trinkets at the bookstore there, including finding the only St. Christopher’s medal in the entire store.  While they were shopping, I went out in the hall, and was suddenly told to “step aside.”  Out of a side hallway came two priests, led by a handler, on their way to celebrate 10:00 a.m. mass in one of St. Peter’s many chapels.

You could teach a semester-long course in church history and never leave St. Peter’s, but we decided we’d seen enough to give us a taste.  Back to the Vatican Museum.  In the Atrium as you leave St. Peter’s there is a counter where you can purchase museum tickets to skip the line for 19 Euros (tickets for the Museum are 15 Euros), the same price you pay in advance online, and we decided that was worth it.  I’m still deciding if it’s worth it more to skip the line itself or to be able to get the ticket hawkers off your back.

Our reservation said we could enter the museum at 11:00 a.m., but at 10:40 we walked up to the guard and were allowed to enter immediately.  Once inside we had to exchange our voucher for actual tickets, and then we headed for the Museum.  We had decided that what we really wanted to see was the Sistine Chapel, so we followed the signs for the “short cut” to the chapel.

I’m not sure what it would have been like without the short cut, but the short cut wasn’t short.  We went through enough rooms filled with art that I had the distinct feeling that the Sistine Chapel short cut was a way to expose you to the rest of the museum whether you wanted to see it or not.  The line was slow, for two reasons.  One was the ubiquitous tour groups being herded through the museum by a guide holding a stick with a handkerchief or other cloth attached.  Every time there was a logjam it was because one of the groups had stopped, filling up the width of the hallway.  The other thing that slowed us down was the presence in every other room of a handy place to buy souvenirs, just to make sure you don’t forget the real reason for your visit.

There was a lot of “stuff” available for purchase to commemorate the visit, with my favorite being the jigsaw puzzle of the Sistine Chapel ceiling.  J.D. was disappointed that he couldn’t buy a souvenir mitre, a “Pope’s hat.”  Nothing we saw matched a couple of souvenirs we had seen outside the Pantheon the previous evening, either the Pope bobble-head or the Pope bottle-opener, which should be called a “Popener.”

We finally arrived at the Sistine Chapel, and it was amazing.  Michelangelo’s ceiling is exquisite and detailed and inspiring.  It might even be breathtaking, but that might have been the fact that the room was so crowded that you could barely move or breathe.  The Sistine Chapel is a place of worship, the Pope’s personal chapel (and the place where new Popes are elected), so you are supposed to be quiet and reverent, but it gets noisy, mostly from the loudspeaker announcements telling you to be quiet.

We returned to the hotel to check out, then made a final stop at the Colosseum.  J.D. decided on the way that he didn’t need to go inside, and that was good because of the line, but we walked around it, admiring its historical elegance, and then walked over through the public parts of the Roman forum.  As we left the Colosseum we had a moment that connected antiquity with the modern world, the first century with the twenty-first. One of a group of “Roman centurions” who pose for pictures with tourists was talking on his cell phone.

Before catching the train back to Lucca we stopped for lunch and talked about travel and being a tourist.  We agreed that we were more interested in experiencing Rome through its primary attractions than we were in seeing everything or doing the guided tour where you learn the story behind the story.  If we had more time, J.D. would have enjoyed a “behind the scenes” tour of the Colosseum, but we left Rome satisfied.

We were satisfied because we prefer quality of experience over quantity of experience.  Travel is a “Goldilocks” experience—you don’t want to see too little, you don’t want to see too much, you want just right.  It is easy to get “tourist overload,” where you see so much and so many amazing sights that they start to lose value and meaning.

 I remember coming back from our cross-country trip many years ago and having lunch with a friend at a restaurant.  I was describing the trip and said that Yosemite was nice, but not particularly memorable.  A woman sitting in the booth behind me was offended that I didn’t appreciate how amazing Yosemite is.

 I plead guilty to tourist overload on that trip, and am trying not to make the same mistake on this one.  I am really glad to have seen Rome, and that we will be seeing Paris and London as well, but just as Thoreau could claim to have travelled widely in Concord, I am also happy to travel widely in Lucca.