9/12/16,
“Wishing and Praying”
Vatican
City, Vatican City State (The Holy See)
What’s a
nice Jewish boy doing spending the better part of a day inside the walls of
Christendom’s holiest city? What’s
someone who doesn’t believe in superstitions doing throwing coins into a
fountain? What he’s not doing is wishing
and praying, but that would be the seeming design of today’s activities. Every site I visited today, including the
Houses of Parliament, could be considered a place where one goes for wishes or
prayers, but I did none of that. I went
for the history, to see the two thousand years of history embodied in these
sites. I went to be wowed by the artwork
and architecture.
To that end, I
succeeded at the highest level, but, for the people who surrounded me at these
sites, surely for many of them the sites held different meaning. One of the unique things about Rome is that
it contains almost 2000 years of continuous history, and evidence can be found
of every era throughout the Eternal City.
It is a name well-earned. As I
embarked on this trip, I said that, other than Athens and London, there is no
city in the world like Rome. Now, after
having been here for three days, I am ready to remove that qualification. There is no city in the world at all like
Rome.
It is a cross between Athens,
London, and, as I learned today, Jerusalem.
If you combine the ancient history of Athens, the early modern
architecture of London, and the religious significance of Jerusalem, then,
maybe, you get Rome. On their own, each
of three cities fails on its own against Rome.
Another thing that Rome has in common with London that Athens lacks is
the history of global reach. London used
to control a worldwide empire, as did the Romans. The same cannot be said of the Greeks, whose
reach never expanded beyond the Hellenic world.
Okay, so that said, how did I spend my last full day in Rome? If my reader believed my hopes from last
night that today would be more relaxed and fun than yesterday, he or she would
have been wrong. Today consisted of
about 8 or 9 miles of walking and climbing up (and later back down) over 500
steps. It consisted of doing this not in
the casual attire I had worn yesterday, but in my suit. The weather was not, moderate as it was after
the rain storm yesterday, but rather sweltering all day. While, yes, it was fun seeing the sites I
saw, nothing was relaxed about today.
After I closed last night, I got my gelato, but I was unable to figure
out a way to watch the US Open online, and I smoked a Davidoff after the
gelato. Instead, I messaged back and
forth with my friend, as he provided me with the color commentary of the
match. To my delight, it soon became
clear that Djokovic would lose. I don’t
know why, but I just can’t stand the guy.
Murray is, by far, my favorite player currently on tour, and I always
root for him to win. We wondered what
this would mean for the future of Men’s tennis, the reign of the “Big Four”
finally coming to an end with Djokovic losing to Wawrinka, Murray losing to
Nishikori, Nadal suffering an early round upset, and Federer being out
injured. We also saw a potential for Del
Porto to break his way into that crowd.
In other words, we had gone from four players dominating the tour to now
having a wide open group of seven very strong players.
As soon as the match was over, it being past
2 AM here, I went to sleep. I paid the
price for staying up so late and, again, overslept. My plan for the day was to walk from my hotel
to the Vatican, stopping on the way at Trevi Fountain, the Pantheon, and the
Houses of Parliament. I figured I would
be at the Vatican by 2 PM, at the latest, which would give me plenty of time to
see the Museums, have a meal, go up to the top of the dome of St. Peter’s
Basilica, take a picture in front of the Vatican Parliament, and write this
entry in front of St. Peter’s before dark.
In the end, I did have time for all of that, but as I will explain
later, I did not properly figure in certain elements of the timing. I got to say “Vatican City Complete,” and I
saw all the paintings I wanted to see, so I guess that’s what counts.
I stopped for a cappuccino across from my
hotel, which I wound up pairing with a small sandwich and a Toscano. I realized that the Casa del Habano cigar shop
was on the way, but they didn’t open until 3:30 PM, and they closed at 7
PM. Those were very unusual hours. In fact, those annoying hours have prevented
me from visiting during the entire trip so far.
Hopefully I can go tomorrow, but there are some Twilight sites I want to
see in Tuscany that would take precedence I think.
I stopped for another espresso on the way to
the fountain, and I was soon there. There was a huge crowd in front of it, and, not wanting to be an
asshole, I left my cigar off to the side.
I took my pictures and, as is the tradition, threw three coins in the
fountain. I got a replica of the
fountain from the nearest vendor and headed to the Pantheon. The sun was directly overhead, making a
picture difficult.
I hadn’t realized that
the Pantheon was actually a temple, which meant it fit in quite nicely with
today’s theme of wishing and praying. I
took my ceremonial pictures there, I believe finishing up the Toscanao at that
point, and I got my replica of the Pantheon, from the nearest vendor, as is my
wont. All that was left before the
Vatican was the Houses of Parliament.
Like most countries, it has two houses, but they are two separate
buildings, so I had to take pictures at both spots.
At the first spot, I realized a big mistake I
had made that had the potential to ruin the rest of the day. I had left the cord to charge my phone off my
laptop in the hotel. That meant I was
limited to the available battery on my phone, and, unless I seriously conserved
battery power, it would risk dying before I took all my pictures for the
day. I took my pictures at the first
house and then headed to the Senate, stopping on the way to get my flag
pin. It was a short enough walk to the
Senate, and I took my picture there as well.
I then lit up a Don Carlos and made my way to the Vatican, which
entailed walking across the Tiber River.
As I soon as I got to the bridge, I could see the dome of St. Peter’s
off in the distance. I stopped at a
ticket office, which was selling a “Skip the Line” special pass for the Vatican
Museums. It was slightly less than
double the price of the standard admission.
I had done my research ahead of time, and it was recommended to get one
of those. She said I could be in and out
of the Museums in about 2 hours with it, which was perfect timing, since I
wanted to go St. Peter’s afterwards, and that would close at 6 PM. It was close to 3 PM by the time I got to the
Museum.
That was when I realized what a
rip-off the ticket was. The only line I
got to skip was the ticket line, but, it turned out, the line to pick up
tickets was actually longer than the line to buy tickets. It would have been cheaper and easier to just
go the standard route. It didn’t
matter. I was inside. Once again, I found myself in a maze, the map
not being much help. Eventually, I
figured it out, and the first place I went, after the gift shop that I had
visited before getting my ticket, was the Pinacoteca, which had an original Da
Vinci and a very famous Caravaggio.
Those were the only paintings I cared about, so I blitzed through that
to just see those pictures.
From there,
it would be a long and circuitous route to get the Raphael Rooms and the
Sistine Chapel, which were all the way at the end. I didn’t care about seeing anything else in
between, though I was certainly impressed with the collection of art from
different ages and cultures that I saw.
I also noted an outdoor sit-down restaurant, which would be perfect for
my Official meal. I assumed it was the
only proper restaurant in the country open to the public. My legs were almost ready to give out, and I
was positively spent by the time I reached the Raphael Rooms. To add insult to injury, the way the museum
was laid out, instead of being able to briskly through the museum, I had to
weave my way through throngs of tourist groups.
I didn’t care.
I soon found the
painting I most wanted to see. “The
School of Athens” by Raphael. To a
philosopher, especially a travelling philosopher, this is THE painting to
see. I saw it. I loved it.
I was wowed. I took my pictures,
posted them to social media, and left. I
didn’t need to spend more than a minute looking at it. Then it was time for the big finale, the
Sistine Chapel.
There were signs that
said no photography. Huh? When I saw the huge crowd in the chapel, I
wondered how they could possibly hope to enforce that. I walked to be right underneath
Michelangelo’s “Creation of Adam” and took a picture of the ceiling from that
spot. That was when I learned how it was
enforced, in the form of a sharp elbow to my side from the person standing next
to me. I gave him a sheepish look and
put my phone away. I didn’t care, I had
snuck in my picture. Again, I saw
it. I loved it. I was wowed.
I left after two minutes. It was
my “Grand Canyon moment”, but, like the Grand Canyon, it gets boring after a
few minutes. That’s one of the reasons I
like to write these entries at such iconic spots. It allows me to stay in front of an iconic
vista, enjoying the vista through my peripheral vision, without getting bored
of it.
I headed to the restaurant, it
being slightly after 4 PM, and my appetite starting to build up. The restaurant was no longer serving
food. Fuck. In fact, the only place to get food inside
sovereign territory of the Vatican was a snack bar in the basement. It was a dump. I got a lemon Fanta and a salami and cheese
sandwich. That was hardly a proper meal,
but it was the best I could do. At this
point, I was completely spent and soaked through from sweating so much. I could barely walk. Reader, bear this in mind as I recount what
followed.
I knew that the inscription
photo for the World Heritage Site of the Vatican City was taken from the dome
of St Peter’s Basilica. I couldn’t not
take that picture. There was a small
admission fee to the dome, slightly higher if you wanted to take the
elevator. I opted for the elevator. Soon enough, the elevator took us to the
dome. That was when I realized that it
took us to the base of the dome, but the picture was taken from the top of the
dome. To get up there, I would have to
walk up (and later back down) about 250 steps, the equivalent of approximately
20 flights of stairs. I was in no
condition to do that. I couldn’t not do
it.
I did it. The stairs were of inconsistent height and
width, the stairwell was constantly narrowing.
I was doing all this in my suit and with my heavy shoulder bag. It was certainly an adventure. Before long, I was at the top, and I found
the spot where the photo was taken. I
recreated the photo and then headed back down.
Relieved to be back outside, I went in search of the legislative
building. No one knew what I meant. I found three priests who spoke English. They understood, but they didn’t recognize
the name I had given. They took me to
some Swiss Guards, who knew exactly what it was and where. “You can see it from the dome.” NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!! I was not going back up that dome to take a
picture of the legislature from the distance.
I asked if there was any way to walk over to take a picture. No, not possible. GRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Well, I figured that, seeing as the political
structure of the Vatican is technically an absolute monarchy with the Pope as
its head, I would have to count St. Peter’s Basilica as the government building. I went on an unsuccessful search for my flag
pin and then returned to the main square.
I lit up a Montecristo and took my ceremonial picture in front of St.
Peter’s, announcing, “66. Vatican City
Complete.” That was that. I had done what I meant to do here, and it
was still light out. In fact, the sun
has only just set. I sat down along a
fence at the outermost part of the square, where I proceeded to write this entry,
which I will now close so that I can get back to me hotel and relax, tend to my
wounds, and charge my phone before dinner.
All in all, it’s been a great day so far, and I have the perfect place
chosen for dinner. And, in a bit of fun,
as I reenter the territory of Italy, I will be walking across an international
border with my cigar, something I have only done maybe two or three times
before in the past.
Rome, Italy
Before I
continue, I would like to address the point that I made in closing the earlier
entry. I said that I thought I had
previously walked over an international border with a cigar maybe two or three
times. I actually now think that walking
from the Vatican City to Italy with a cigar marked a first. For starters, it would have had to have been
a Schengen crossing, and, best as I can recall, the only time I have walked
across a Schengen border was from Germany to Poland at Muskauer Park. Every other Schengen crossing I did was in a
vehicle (car, boat, or plane). I know
have driven across numerous international borders while smoking in the car, but
that is not the point under consideration.
Okay, correction, I actually found a recorded instance of me walking
across an international border while smoking a cigar, and I love the fact that
it was almost exactly a year ago today, on 9/13/15, as I walked across the
Zambezi River from Zimbabwe to Zambia.
Alright, so that fun fact examined, I can continue on recounting my
day. It should come as no surprise that
tonight contained yet another amazing dinner, but it’s Rome, and if you eat at
the right kind of places, you can’t have bad meals. I’m trying to think of an equivalent. Again, Athens would be closest. If you go to the old part of Athens and eat
at any restaurant that’s not a chain and brings you cooked food, you can’t go
wrong. Rio, too, we had a similar
experience, but I will also had the caveat that it only applies to restaurants
that bring food out of the kitchen, as opposed to a display counter.
There really is no place like this in the
world, and I am going to miss it when I leave, in a way that I usually don’t
miss other places I have traveled. I
will reflect more tomorrow on what exactly I will miss, but this view and the
sounds coming from the street below might be first on the list. In terms of the great cities of the world,
Rome was the biggest hole in my list, and I am so glad to have filled that
hole. I suppose that Madrid and Dublin
will be the only such holes remaining after I have visited Sydney and Melbourne
at the end of this year. Madrid and
Dublin are both on my list for trips to take in my 30s (yes, reader, that list
exists and already has 21 trips on the list to take during that decade).
Okay, so after I closed, I could barely
walk. I hobbled out of the Vatican and
into Italy and towards the piazza in search of a taxi. Fortunately, I found one before I even had to
make it all the way to the piazza. I
told him my hotel, and we were on our way.
My phone died as soon as I tried to use it. I didn’t care. I just wanted to get back to my hotel so that
I could tend to my wounds and relax. I
made it up to my room and immediately plugged in my phone and changed out of my
suit.
I wasn’t entirely sure what to
wear tonight, not wanting to wear my dress shirt and the only extra shirt I had
being a Rio 2016 shirt, which was not appropriate as I would not be doing any
Olympic stuff tonight. I decided I would
shower tonight instead of in the morning and then just wear tomorrow’s shirt
tonight as well. I examined my wounds,
and they were even worse than I expected.
I figured it was 50/50 if I would even be able to walk around Florence
tomorrow. Usually, blistered skin is
quick to recover, but this was bad, real bad. I showered and, upon getting my phone to about 50%, headed out.
As soon as I locked the door, I realized I
had left my key in the room, in the energy saver slot. Ugh. I
had to get a new key at the front desk, which was much less of a process than I
had feared. I then, still hobbling,
walked down the street to the restaurant I had chosen for dinner. They told me they were fully booked for the
night. I found a place that was just as
good, according to the reviews on Google, another block down. They had the same things I wanted to order anyway.
It was crowded and buzzing, both with locals
and tourists. I ordered a quarter liter
of wine (two glasses), a pasta dished called fettuccini alla Romana, and a
special Italian veal dish called saltimbocca.
I was starving. I had probably
burned close to 1500 calories from all of my walking and climbing today. First came the bread and wine. The price point on the wine was about half of
what I would spend in New York at a decent restaurant for one glass of house
red. It, like everything else, was
incredibly good.
The pasta came out
almost immediately. Despite its fancy
name, it was simply the most classic type of pasta imaginable, topped with
tomato and meat sauces. It was as good
as everything else. I sopped up the remaining
sauce with some bread, and the Korean tourist next to me remarked that I must
have been hungry. I was.
Then came the saltimbocca, which was the best
part. It was thinly sliced veal, topped
with some type of sliced and cured meat, in sauce that was to die for. It did not last long. Again, I sopped up the sauce with bread. I paid the check, which was less than I pay
for my weekly Chinese meal on 28th Street with no alcohol. Afterwards, I asked if I could go outside to
finish my wine, wanting to have my cigar.
I was told that I could but that I couldn’t go too far from the
restaurant. That was fine.
There were some chairs outside, and I had no
intention of standing. I was in heaven,
smoking my special edition Toscana and drinking my wine, as I messaged some
friends back home, well, one in NYC, one in NJ, one in Cali, one in
Mexico. It’s weird, actually, the people
I talk to the most, only two of them live in NYC, two in NJ, one in Long
Island, one in Cali, one in Oregon, one Mexico, and, now, Detroit has joined
the mix, too. I finished my wine and
deposited the glass back inside and then finished my cigar as I walked to the
gelato place where I went the first night.
This being my third visit there, I have now claimed the mayorship on
social media. The city is now dying
down, earlier than it did on the weekend nights that began this trip, and my
pipe is done, so I will wrap up. I opted
for a mix of tiramisu and chocolate hazelnut gelato, the smallest size they
had. I finished it on the walk back to
my hotel. When I got back to my room, my
phone almost dead again, I fielded some early birthday wishes via telephone
from my friends back home.
For my pipe
tonight, I chose another Italian pipe, a Rinaldo this time, which is made not
by the Roveras, but instead by the Rinaldo brothers. This pipe, one of the best they ever made, is
not quite up to the level of the previous two I smoked, which was reflected by
a price point significantly cheaper, but it has a good grain, and it is a
pretty standard shape, other than the cut tiers that make it look like a
wedding cake. I don’t smoke it as much,
since I don’t quite love it the same way I love some of my other pipes. I then lit up the pipe and proceeded to write
this entry, which I will now close so that I can publish and get to sleep. Tomorrow, I turn twenty-nine in Tuscany. I hope my reader likes that alliteration, which
I will repeat to open tomorrow’s entry.
It promises to be a busy and interesting day. It will also be the first time I have left
the metropolitan area of Rome this trip.
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