Prologue
I had finally managed to cram everything into my suitcase whilst listening to Paul questioning everything I put in. “ Do you really need all those clothes?” “How many pairs of shoes?” “We’re only going for a week!” Has he not realised over the years that I need to take clothes for cold weather, clothes for warm weather, daytime outfits, night-time outfits, comfy shoes and posh shoes, not to mention underwear and pyjamas. Just because he can manage on eight t-shirts and two pairs of jeans!
Passports checked, tickets and boarding passes checked, coffee made, all ready to leave for the airport by 12.30 am, but just as we were about to leave Paul realised he couldn’t remember where he’d put his glasses. So there followed a half hour search, which was to no avail. In the end he had to settle for his second pair which, he informed me later, had lost a nose pad. I was going on holiday with Jack Duckworth!
The trip began in that pouring rain and strong wind which makes driving a chore. Especially when there are lorries on the road throwing up huge plumes of greasy spray. We were doing well and had just passed Leicester Forest East services, which were closed due to major road works, when the fuel light came on. “Why didn’t you fill up before we left?” I snapped. Paul tried to assure me that it would go off once we reached to top of the hill and levelled out. It didn’t. There followed a long, teeth clenched, 20 miles to Watford Gap where we finally filled up. From there it was an easy run into Heathrow. Another brief spat over how to park in the car park. Your ticket allocates you your spot. I tried to point this out to himself but, as usual we had to drive all the way round the car park before he’d take MY word! A short bus ride took us to the terminal where we were soon checked in and through security. Whilst we waited for the flight we had some breakfast.
The flight was uneventful, with Paul falling asleep almost as soon as we’d taken off. I did try to read but soon joined Paul in the land of nod. I woke up to the most stunning view of the snow capped Alps. I did try to get pictures but they don’t do the sight justice. And Paul told me I was a complete saddo! Very soon we were heading down the Italian coast and into Rome.
We collected our cases and headed out to find the railway station and the train into Rome. On the trip in through the suburbs Paul commented that it was like being back home since all the high-rise flats looked like the ones you see as you pull in to Sheffield. Once at the main station we had to find the Metro which would take us to near our hotel. We found our way to the entrance, only to find that it was closed. And even I could translate the notice stuck to a pillar nearby. The Metro workers were on strike! So back we went to street level to find a taxi. Like everyone else. The queue was huge so Paul suggested Google mapping our hotel to see if we could walk there! Now, I’ve had experience of his “it doesn’t look that far” before so my answer was to join the queue for the taxi. The street along the front of the station was in complete chaos with taxis pulling up four abreast and hustling the punters in. They must have been loving the strike. We eventually reached the front and were ourselves hustled into a waiting taxi which, Paul thinks took us on a more scenic route than was necessary and charged us more than he should.
After a hairy ride around some very narrow back streets he double parked on a busy road, about 100yards from our hotel, and unceremoniously dropped us off. We walked along the street to the hotel, hardly noticing the proximity of the Colosseum as we were searching for the entrance. A small unimposing doorway sandwiched between a gay bar and a greasy Pietros! We went inside and found a notice pinned to the office door telling people to go up to the first floor. Here we found the entrance to the rooms. And the receptionist cum cleaner. She took us back downstairs to the office to sign in before taking us to our room. Which was quaint. And those who know me will know what I mean. It was definitely bijou. And when she told us that if we were bothered by the music from the bar immediately below us we could use the complimentary earplugs you can imagine my reaction. She did offer us some pastries she had left over from that mornings breakfast. Once she had gone I checked the “luxury” bathroom to find an extremely small and very blue shower room. With pink plastic beakers for tooth mugs.
Paul suggested I opened the curtains. Which made quite a difference to the ambience of the room. And the view over the park, complete with ruins, across the road was pleasant. And if we leaned out of the window we could see the Colosseum about 100 meters away.
After unpacking; not easy given that there were very few drawers and coat hangers were at a premium; we had a rest before going out for a wander out to orientate ourselves.
It was a lovely warm afternoon as we strolled round the outside of the Colosseum and up towards the entrance to the Forum. Back down near the Colosseum we found all the information we needed for our visit the next day. From there we wandered along one of the streets where we found an information centre and picked up leaflets and a map. By then we were ready for a coffee, which we had sitting in a draughty gap squashed between two restaurants and listening to the melodious sound of a garbage truck endeavouring to empty an overfull bin. Back at the hotel Paul had a bit of a snooze before we went out to find somewhere for dinner. We ended up in a restaurant overlooking the Colosseum, well, Paul was, I had my back to the view. And because of its locale we were charged silly money for a mediocre meal served by a sullen waitress, who tried to get us to buy an expensive bottle of wine by telling us they had run out of the Chianti we had ordered! We didn’t go back there. Following dinner we called in at the local Carrefour and picked up a few bits and bobs to keep us going. We returned to our room and got ready for bed to the gentle throb of music coming up through the floor from the bar below us. To be fair, it only woke us when some drunk tried to sing karaoke very badly.
Colosseum, The Forum and Palatine
After a not too bad a night I opened the shutters to a beautiful morning. Paul was still asleep so I got back into bed. After a while I dug him in the ribs to wake him up and suggesting it was time for breakfast. He took one look at his watch and grumbled that it was too early. I had a moan about wanting to be out early to get tickets for the colosseum. At which point he realised that he had not altered his watch so he thought it was an hour earlier than it was! We hurriedly got dressed and went for breakfast. This was served in a tiny room which appeared to be a kitchen. The receptionist, a man this morning, greeted us and sat us at a small table set with cups and saucers straight out of a 60s coffee bar, a plate each with a bread roll and a knife. There was a selection of half a dozen pastries to chose from and I did spot some cereals on a shelf above the coffee machine. One bread roll and a cup of coffee later we were back in our room getting set up for our day of sightseeing. Whilst Paul fannied about doing nothing in particular I put slapped some makeup on. On the walls, that is. I pressed the nozzle on my foundation bottle and was aware of something whizzing past my face just as I realised that I had squirted nothing onto my finger. The nozzle had been clogged so the foundation had shot out in the wrong direction and hit the wall and the curtain at the side of me. Paul was not amused as he tried to clean it off with a baby wipe, which spread the stuff out even further. Ten minutes later he had managed to get it off the wall but we had to fold the curtains back in such a way as it wasn’t too noticeable.
We eventually left the hotel and headed for the ticket office at the Colosseum. Luckily there was no queue so we quickly purchased our tickets for the Colosseum, Forum and Palatine, plus extra ones for the guided tour of the underground passages and the third level at midday. €21 each. So much for all the rubbish the tour companies tell you about needing to pre-book their 4 hour walking tours at £100+ each! Tickets in hand we passed through security and into the arena. Which, I have to admit, was not at all as I had imagined it. We mooched around the first tier for half an hour and then wended our way up to the second tier. This was accessed by two flights of very steep stairs. I always thought the Romans were quite short, so why did they build such high steps. By the time we reached the top Paul was whinging about his bloody knee! And that it was getting rather warm in the sun. Even I was regretting putting a jumper on this morning. This level was much the same as the first but with slightly better views. To be fair, I was really enjoying it, but it’s quite hard to describe in a way that does it justice. I think we are not so easily impressed at the size of these structures in this day and age due to the number of run of the mill buildings which would now dwarf them, but when you think that the Colosseum was designed and built without the aid of technology as we know it today, and then clad with white marble, it starts to become more impressive. Paul had me take loads of photos of the many inscriptions so he could stick them on Facebook. Personally, I think he likes to collect that sort of stuff. He’s as geeky as me in his own way.
By now it was time to head down to the meeting point for our tour of the underground. Armed with our MP3s and freshly sterilised earphones we were led through a tunnel leading into the arena at gladiator level. Standing there in the blazing sun I got a small sense of what it must have been like for those gladiators! Who were basically slaves or men who were trained to be put to death in the most entertaining way for Roman entertainment. We were shown the restored trap-door which used to be opened to allow wild animals into the arena, just to make the games more interesting. From there we were led out of the arena, through a locked gate and down into the underground passages where we learned how the trap-doors worked, where the dead and injured were taken, where the animals were kept and where the gladiators warmed up, ready for their fight to the death. And here we also learned that there are some people out there who think the movie “Gladiator” is the truth! From there it was back up to the second tier; Paul insisted we took the lift; where we were led to another locked gate and more steep stairs to the third tier and some excellent views across to the Forum. The whole tour took an hour and a half and our tour guide made it interesting, allowing us plenty of time to wander around each area to take photos.
I really enjoyed it and I would recommend it to anyone thinking of visiting the Colosseum. By now we were getting a little peckish so we went in search of lunch. We ended up at a restaurant down one of the side streets which ran along the back of our hotel, and what a find. In my opinion the food was far better than our last experience and it was about half the price.
After returning to our room to drop off our heavy coats and have a bit of a rest we headed to the Forum. For which we had to queue for about 15 minutes to get through security. Once inside we spent a couple of hours wandering around what is essentially a large pile of stones scattered over a few acres of wasteland. But it is interesting and once again it is difficult to describe. By this time the crowds had built up and there were tour guides waving brightly coloured pennants around every corner. But the Forum was a public place so it is meant to be crowded and noisy. And if you imagine the present day crowds all dressed in togas wandering around the shops in this Roman shopping mall it all comes to life. All too soon we were being ushered out as it was closing time. How these tour companies can offer a four hour walking tour of all three sites, including the underground and third tier and do them justice is beyond me. We had been at it for six hours and we still hadn’t done the Palatine!
Back at the hotel we decided that, since we’d had a big lunch, we didn’t want to have another big meal. So we nipped out to the Carrefour and bought some ham, cheese and salad to eat in our room. It appeared half the tourists staying in the area had had the same idea! We also bought some sandwiches for the next day’s lunch. After our supper I had one of my mini bottles of Prosecco whilst Paul fell asleep. How he managed it I don’t know since I couldn’t drop off for the noise from the bar below us. In the end I had to resort to the bloody earplugs, which weren’t all that effective. I must have dropped off at some point since I can’t remember it going quiet.
The following morning, after our brekkie in the kitchen, we packed our sandwiches and headed off to finish what we couldn’t do on day two, The Palatine Hill. We arrived at the entrance to be told our two day ticket wasn’t valid because we’d already been into the Forum and that and the Palatine counted as one area. Not sure whether I misread something but I had the impression that the ticket was for three separate areas not two. Hey ho, you live and learn. So we paid again, and be warned, you can’t just pay for the area you want to visit, you have to pay for the whole lot. I had my usual abusive grumble for a few minutes until Paul told me to shut up and stop embarrassing myself. Again, it is really just a few acres filled with ruined buildings. I managed to get my downloaded guidebook up on my iPhone so we could orientate ourselves and read about what we were looking at. Like the bit of aqueduct built for Clavdivs. I was surprised to discover how little building technique and engineering have changed over the centuries. And that many of these ancient Roman buildings resembled later buildings, such as those at Ironbridge. And we did get an idea of the vastness of some of the palaces each new emperor built or extended; yes, even the Romans were into extensions! The remains of the palaces of Augustus and his wife Livia were quite small but you could see how intricate the brickwork was in some places. From there we went to the spot overlooking the Forum, and looking down on it you began to see how it was laid out. Here we had a brief sit down whilst we people watched a couple of dozen people taking photos of and selfies with a couple of seagulls that appeared to be posing for said photos and selfies. We then wended our way back down to the Forum via the house of the Vestal Virgins and over the road for a welcome coffee break.
Trevi Fountain, Spanish Steps, Museum and Ossuary of the Capuchin
After coffee we embarked on our own walking tour, organised by me and not costing an arm and a leg. There are several touristy must dos whilst in Rome, Trevi Fountain and the Spanish Steps being two of them. I did give Paul the option of taking the Metro but he declined saying it was just as quick to walk. Famous last words! So off we went, soon arriving at a junction where there was a sign saying McDonalds, 3 minutes in the direction of Trevi Fountain. So we went the way it pointed, figuring that if we found said McDonalds we would find Trevi nearby. Not as straight forward as it seemed. After much backtracking, punctuated with the odd cuss, we eventually found the fountain. And like a lot of stuff in Rome it was in the middle of a very unimposing area.
On arriving at the Trevi Fountain we found it surrounded by the usual tourist hoard. With my trusty camera in hand I dove into the throng in an attempt to get close enough to the fountain to get some good shots. I decided that it would be nice to get a pic of me by the fountain so I went to fetch Paul down. And I couldn’t find him anywhere! He’d completely disappeared. I even tried to phone him…..no answer. How he can manage this trick has always been a mystery to me, it’s not as if he’s small. I finally found him perched on a railing, waiting for me and claiming to have been watching my search! We went back down to the front so he could get some nice photos. I perched on the edge of the fountain without realising that my dress had dipped into the water. Photos and the obligatory selfie taken it was time to continue our tour.
Our next port of call was The Spanish Steps. We found a quietish corner and perused our map before setting off. By now we were feeling a little peckish so joined several other folk, perching on a railing seat around a column with a statue, to eat our sandwiches. A short walk brought us to the steps.It was like a waterfall of people, there were so many of them, all sat sunning themselves on the warm and sunny afternoon.
We joined them for a restful half hour before making a move to our next stop. Like Trevi, there’s not really much to do once you’ve seen them and taken the obligatory photos. Again, we consulted our map and arrived at our next destination with very little trouble.
The Convent of the Capuchins is a little gem of a place. You go through a small museum with some quite interesting religious exhibits before entering the crypt. Which is what you’ve really come to see. There are six niches which have been constructed from the bones of dead Capuchin monks. All very gothic. I wish I could have got some photos but this is not allowed as the convent remains a sacred place. As we came out of the convent Paul decided to check his bloods since he felt a little light headed. It was way down. He ate a couple of biscuits whilst bemoaning that I’d tried, once again, to kill him with all this walking in the hot sun! Anyone would think I made a habit of it. The biscuits didn’t have much effect so we walked slowly back to the main square where we found a couple of chunks of stone at the side of the road where he could sit down for a few minutes. And then we spotted a pharmacy across the road. So, taking our lives in our hands we negotiated the busy intersection, weaving our way between cars and buses to get there. Fortunately we made ourselves understood and came away with some glucose gel. We perched on the railings around a fountain for about ten minutes whilst the glucose took effect. I asked if he would prefer to take the Metro back to the hotel rather than walking. I think he has something against using the metro services anywhere since he nearly always chooses not to use it, even if it means walking for miles! I still remember Paris! However, had he chosen to use the Metro we wouldn’t have stumbled upon our last find.
A little private museum/art gallery, still owned by the family who started it a couple of hundred years ago and who still live there in the private apartments. It was quite amazing, the number of pictures there were. Apparently, when all around them were selling off their collections to raise money they had something in place which legally prevented them from doing the same. So now they have one of the best private collections around.
From there we made our way back to our hotel and had a well earned rest before going out for dinner. We returned to the restaurant behind the hotel had a lovely meal. The service was exceptional, when the waiter felt that my meal wasn’t cooked enough he took it back to the kitchen to make sure it was fully cooked before allowing me to have it. Back home I would have to have managed it myself and if I’d have complained it wasn’t properly cooked I’d have been grumbled at. Back in our room we were surprised to find that it was much quieter below us and with very little rocking we were both fast asleep.
Via Appia, Catacombs, and Circo Di Massezio
It was my birthday and it was another warm and sunny day, although there was a hint of March crispness in the air. We went to the kitchen for our breakfast and found we were now sharing with a group of loud German women. Very cosy! Back in our room I suggested that we take advantage of the continued good weather and take a trip out to the Appian Way. Apart from it being the oldest road in Italy and somewhere I’ve always wanted to visit; ever since watching I Claudius many moons ago; there were several attractions I wanted to see along the way. Getting there involved a bus ride out of the centre of the city. We had sussed out the bus stop the evening before on our way back to the hotel. We had been standing there for about ten minutes watching buses coming and going when Paul wondered how we paid since no-one seemed to be paying the drivers. Realising that we were supposed to pre-purchase our tickets we hurried across to the Metro station to find the ticket machines, most of which were not working! As fast as we put a banknote in the machine it was spat out again. And this was happening to everyone at every machine. Then we spotted a maintenance man at one of the machines so queued up at that one. Eventually, with tickets in hand we returned to the bus stop with a few minutes to spare. The bus ride itself was an experience! All I can say is that being built on seven hills is not the only thing Rome has in common with Sheffield. It has equally bad roads, and not just because of the cobbles. And who needs one of those vibrating “lose your fat in a week” machines, just take a ride on a Roman bus and you’ll get the same effect! We vibrated our way out through the suburbs and onto the Via Appia Antica where we missed our stop and had to walk back from the next one along a very busy road with no pavement.
First on our list were the Catacombs of San Sebastián. We bought our tickets for the tour in English which was due to start in the next five minutes. We were in a group of about ten of us, several Americans amongst them. Down we went to the second level and wended our way through the tunnels which made up the catacomb. Apparently there are 12 miles of tunnels in just this one set of catacombs alone and there are a lot of catacombs in the area. As we wove around we could see other tunnels leading off in all directions so we could appreciate why we had to join a tour. It would be very easy to get lost. And all the tunnels were lined with tier upon tier of burial niches, some for one person, some for a couple and some for entire families. We were shown some original carvings made by the early Christians to commemorate their dead. Next, quite unexpectedly, we came to a little chapel, dedicated to San Sebastián, in the middle of all the catacombs. Here we learned that the original resting place of San Sebastián had been turned into the chapel at a later date and that the workmen who had done the plastering had left their names in graffiti on the walls, which was how they could date the work. From there we were led through some more niche lined tunnels until we came to a small pagan necropolis which had been covered over and lain undiscovered for thousands of years. It comprised of three ornate family tombs which were richly decorated and, according to our guide, had never had any restoration work done on them since they had been so well preserved. From there we passed through a small museum area and up into the basilica. No photos allowed.
Back out in the sunshine we continued our trip along the Via Appia. After only a few hundred yards we came to the entrance to the Villa Di Massezio, which is free to enter, but they do like a voluntary donation. It is a huge, peaceful, grassy area with the ruins of the villa and a huge mausoleum could be found alongside the Circo Di Maxentius. We found a handy bench where we ate our picnic lunch and where Paul sat and snoozed in the sun whilst I took myself off to explore the circus. This one was really fascinating. Well, it was to me. Unlike Circo Di Maximus, still has the remains of the starting gates and the towers at one end, the archway at the other, the spina down the centre and the surrounding walls. And there, halfway down what would have been the race track, surrounded by walls now overgrown with trees and weeds, it is so quiet that you begin to imagine the view the chariot racers would have. I mooched around here taking photos for a while before going back and rousing Paul so we could move a bit further along Via Appia.
The next stretch of the road was supposedly the original huge stone cobbles and is closed to traffic. So, according to all the guide books, we were walking on the same road surface as the Roman emperors, their households and legions of soldiers had, 300 years BC. I only hoped, with Pauls penchant for falling over or down things, he didn’t stumble on a giant cobble and twist his ankle or even worse, bust his knee!
After posing for a couple of photos we continued on to the Mausoleum of Cecilia Metella. We went to pay for our ticket but the card machine threw a wobbly, so the girl in the booth let us in to look around whilst she contacted her boss to see what she should do. It wasn’t really up to much and it took us all of ten minutes to see everything. There were some interesting funerary objects though. Paul says I’m not allowed a marble coffin, spoilsport. Although I suppose the pall bearers might have something to say about that too! As we were leaving, the girl in the booth tools us that the card hadn’t been charged and we could pay at one of the partner sites, which we never managed to get to, due to time getting on. Our last site was the Capo Di Bove, a bath house discovered when the house owners began to excavate their garden to add a swimming pool! Some folks are just lucky.
At this point we decided that we didn’t have time to get to any other sites before they started closing so we retraced our steps back down Via Appia, to the bus stop we should have got off at, to catch the bus for another hair-raising ride back into town. Time for a quick shower before heading out for my birthday meal. Back round to Pasqualinos as we’ve had a couple of excellent meals there. And we weren’t disappointed. As it was my birthday the maitre d’ gave us, free of charge, a glass of Prosecco each. And when he bought me my cheesecake with limoncello it came complete with a candle and a rousing chorus of happy birthday. Back in our room the noise was once again at a more muted level and we were both soon sound asleep.
Happenstance Sunday
Another fine day with a few wisps of cloud streaking the sky. We had nothing specific arranged for today so after breakfast we decided to have a happenstance day. We often have these days, where we just go out and see where we end up.
We started off with the tiny Vespa Museum, situated in the basement of a scooter rental shop, with about ten old Vespas on show. Well, it’s the nearest I could get for something motor related for Paul.
We then wandered along a few back streets until we came out at a large imposing looking building. The Quirinal Palace, which is something official to do with the head of state. You can book in advance for a tour but that would be like booking to go round 10 Downing Street and I’m not that interested in the lives of political types. Paul looked up where we were on the guidebook app and suggested we wander a bit further along the road until we came to a small church. Several tourists were going in so we decided to follow suit. And what a nice surprise we had. It was beautiful. And I could take photos, without a flash of course. We spent a good while in there. I think Paul liked it because it meant he could sit down and check the app whilst I wandered around taking said photos. From there we headed further up the road, taking in a small garden, until we reached another church. This one had a crypt to visit, down quite an unusual staircase. Photos taken. I did get a little annoyed when trying to get a photo cos people kept going up and down the stairs! Paul told me to wind my neck in and be patient. I eventually got my photo. Not as good as the one I’d taken from the side of the staircase. As we exited the church Paul, who had been reading the guidebook, pointed out the crypt windows at street level and the four fountains on each corner of the crossroads, which had originally been a piazza. We then worked out that we needed to start heading down towards Barbarini, where we’d found the pharmacy the other day. About halfway down this road we come upon the Palazzo Barbarini and, as Paul had read that it was a “must do” whilst in Rome, we went in. Mainly because it had toilets and we both needed to go. And I do have to say, they were very nice toilets. We paid our €7 entrance fee apiece to then be told that the whole of the second floor and several galleries on the first and ground floors were closed due to staff shortages. I had a bit of a chunter about this, well, they could have at least reduced the price since we couldn’t see a large proportion of the exhibits. I was still chuntering as we were asked to put our bag into a locker by a miserable looking guard before going into the galleries that were open. About all that can be said about the place was that the trompe de l’oeil was bloody good. Some of the “panelling” was so good it had Paul fooled. He was well impressed with it. I think the woman guard thought we were a bit odd since we were taking photos of the walls and not the paintings hung on them. I did take a couple of photos of the paintings, one of Jesus on the cross where the artist had given him a six-pack that looked like something else completely and one, supposedly a masterpiece, of a woman who looked like she was enjoying her own company a little too much! It didn’t take us long to see everything, even having to wait for the herd of tourists on one of their expensive walking tours to move through each gallery. By now we were getting a little peckish so we went in search of lunch.
We had decided to have a good lunch today and have supper in our room tonight. We found a very nice place at the top of the Spanish Steps where we had a scrumptious pizza apiece. After lunch we went down the Spanish Steps and headed in the direction of the Pantheon which entailed walking down what must be the most exclusive shopping street in Rome. It was like Meadowhall on steroids. I could just imagine Kate walking along here. We did get some photos for her. After I had edited them since Paul decided to use the video setting and managed to look like he was stalking people. The best was the bald head!
We got to the bottom of the road, crossed the intersection and in that few yards we went from the noisy hubbub of a busy shopping area to almost absolute silence. It was weird. We came out into a piazza and found yet another church. I poked my nose in but it was nothing special. Then a few hundred yards or so further on we came to the Pantheon. It’s a bit of a strange place. You queue up to go in, they only let a few in at a time, and when you get inside there’s only one thing to do. And that is to find the centre and take a photo of the hole in the top of the dome. Once you’ve done that there’s no point in hanging around as there’s little else there.
Outside we found a busker playing some very good renditions of Neil Young and Pink Floyd. After listening to him for a while and dropping some coins in his box we returned to the hotel for our Carrefour supper and a glass of Prosecco. The noise from downstairs was a little louder and we had to listen to a very loud, very bad, out of tune drag act until midnight. I mean, he sounded bad up here so what on earth he sounded like close up I dread to think! And he was followed by some thoroughly atrocious karaoke. Do these people ever actually listen to themselves, I wonder? Time to break out the earplugs again.
The Vatican Museums, Sistine Chapel and St Peters Basilica
Our last day in Rome and we were off to the Vatican. We managed to get our Metro tickets with no hassles today and we were soon on our way. Some how we managed to get off a stop early and had a bit of a walk to get there, not that it mattered where we got off since it is a long walk from any metro station to the Vatican. As we walked along the road leading to the entrance we were accosted by the numerous ticket touts, all promising us miss the queue entry and a guided tour for ridiculous prices. I had pre booked our tickets, which gave us a time slot to arrive, so we had a little time to kill before we could enter. We found a cafe across the road, where we sat and watched the touts plying their trade and the tour guides trying to organise their groups, whilst sipping our coffee. Soon it was time for us to go in. Before you even get to the ticket office you have to go through the security check. Then we had to find where we exchanged our e-voucher for our tickets, not that bad to be fair. Within ten minutes we we on our way into the museums. At the top of the first lot of stairs we decided not to follow the river of humanity flowing down the long gallery towards the Sistine Chapel but to have a look round the Etruscan museum first, which was all but devoid of people.
After mooching around there for a while we re-entered the main gallery. Which appeared to have unclogged, so we had time and space to appreciate the art and decoration. As usual, Paul was more taken with the marbling and trompe de l’oeil than the “fine art”! As we wended our way along the galleries and through the rooms lots of photos of ceilings were taken. I was quite impressed with the way we were routed around the museums. Since you can only go the one way you don’t have to fight a flow of people trying to go in the opposite direction. And you get to see everything en route. And not at any point did we feel rushed.
And so to the Sistine Chapel. As we entered we were greeted to a sea of people, all with their audio guides glued to their ears, heads back as they slowly turned on the spot, staring at the ceiling. It was very pretty but not as impressive as I’d been expecting; think Mona Lisa; it definitely didn’t make me gasp in awe! As we entered, the guards were ensuring that, if you wanted to stand and stare you moved into the middle to allow for free movement around the edges. We made our way towards the back and stared upwards for a few minutes before Paul managed to get a sneaky photo by setting the phone to selfie mode and pointing it at the ceiling, as did a couple of others we noticed.
Not pushing our luck we exited the Chapel and continued our tour; with Paul taking loads of photos of paint effects and gold leafing; before exiting via one of the most gorgeous spiral staircases I have ever walked down. We had a short rest in the gardens; where we decided that we had enjoyed our afternoon in the Vatican Museums; before finding our way to St Peters Square where we joined the queue to go into the Basilica. I had already decided that we were not going up the dome, 551 steps in total. Or you can take the lift part way leaving only 320 steps to climb. I wasn’t prepared to have Paul having a wobbly episode right up there, no matter how fantastic the view is! We passed through security and entered the basilica. Unlike the Sistine Chapel, the basilica did get a gasp as we entered. Apart from being huge, it is sumptuous and ornate. Again, lots of ceiling photos. And unlike the Sistine Chapel, the Basilica did have an air of spirituality to it. Possibly aided by the service being held near the altar, an area roped off to prevent us tourists from going closer. To be honest, whether it’s your thing or not, the service and the music were quite calming and actually added to the atmosphere of the place. By the time we came out of the basilica we were well and truly exhausted so when Paul suggested we could walk back to the hotel I told him, sacred place or not, where to go in no uncertain terms.
We used the Metro! And since it was only one stop further we went out to Circo Maximus so I could take a few photos of all the underpinning arches of one of the palaces on Palatine Hill. And to say we’d been there. Back at the hotel it was time to put our feet up for a while before venturing out for our last evening meal. Back at Pasquelinos. We returned to our room where we eventually, after resorting to the earplugs once more, fell asleep to what sounded like tribal drumming from the bar below.
Epilogue
On our last morning, the day following our Vatican visit, I was checking Facebook and found, quite coincidentally, a post from one of my cousins about a special service held on the afternoon we were there, to honour St Gregory the Great on the nearest day to his old feast day. Which explained the small procession we saw and the service being in English. After our last brekkie in the kitchen it was time to pack and check out. And pay the bloody tourist tax. Although we have always been well aware of this tax I really think holiday companies should be forced into putting this fact more prominently in their blurb. Just one of those enduring niggles we’ve always had about travelling abroad, and having to remember to make sure we’ve got the cash to pay it. We dragged our cases over to the Metro station, where half the ticket machines were out of order again, and down to the platform. We had an easy ride into the main station where I left Paul guarding the bags and went off to buy our tickets for the train to the airport. These ticket machines were working, so tickets in hand I returned to Paul and we went in search of somewhere to sit down whilst we waited for our train. Once at the airport there was more waiting so I had a coffee and Paul had a rather yucky sandwich whilst until it was time for our check in followed by another interminable wait for our gate number and boarding time. The flight went without a hitch and we were soon back on English soil. Then the fun started. We cleared customs, well, Paul did. The electronic, bionic scanny thing had a problem with my glasses so I had to go through a manned gate. Note to self for next time, take your glasses off! Outside we found our bus stop and within a few minutes had arrived back at the car. And the door wouldn’t open. Flat battery. We opened it up with the key, stowed our luggage and Paul went off to find someone to assist us. He wasn’t gone a couple of minutes before he returned, followed by a white van. Apparently this happens so frequently that Heathrow have set up a jump start service with a man in a van patrolling all the car parks looking for people returning to cars with flat batteries. Once we had the engine running we noticed a rather disgusting smell inside the car. We worked out that it was from the wet carpet from when all the rain had got in through the sunroof which had been left partially open all through the winter. We also worked out that Paul had left one of the interior lights on from when he was playing with all the switches, trying to close the sunroof, which was why the battery was flat! Never mind, we were on our way. But only as far as the exit barrier. Paul put our ticket into the machine, which promptly displayed that we needed to pay £156.14 before we could leave. Quite a few expletives later Paul pressed the assistance button and explained to the woman in the office that we had pre-booked and paid before our holiday. Fortunately she found our booking and let us through. From there we had a good journey home where we just dumped our bags in the front room and went straight to bed. Where we fell asleep to the sound of silence.