When (I was) in Rome

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I'm editing this phrase. Doing as the Romans do is undoubtedly code for wear sunglasses any time you're awake and eat the third grader's dream diet (pizza and ice cream). You may all safely assume I fulfilled my when in Rome duties for four days straight.

I left on Valentine's day. Supposedly romantic, right? To be in Roma during the commercial holiday of love. But unfortunately for the Italians there was already a high standard upon my arrival, because my valaurelentine surprised me with homemade chocolate covered strawberries before my flight that afternoon. Still, I appreciated the convenience of the novelty. Plus, Rome got extra points for giving us a tour guide named Valentine.

This was one of the first trips where I really regretted not being able to show pictures from. Not that I didn't take pictures. I've come to figure that I can take advantage of my photo limitation by only taking really worthy photos to fill up my card with, and not have 2 hour slideshow presentations for everyone when I get home. However, if I were to make a digital photo album with just the Rome pictures, the cover would be the very first picture I took of a major Hallmark couple on a street corner, leaning in for a kiss from their respective Vespas, helmets still on.

The rest of the pictures you could probably just as easily find on Google images, or in the movie Gladiator, or in the Lizzie McGuire movie for that matter. You know, the one where she goes to Rome and becomes a famous singer? I mean, what? I'm a cultured intellectual. Gladiator, history, and Russel Crowe.

On Friday it was a lot of the must sees, resulting in me going to bed at 8, partly because of fatigue, partly because my program director decided to give me my very own room and I had some seriously luxurious sleeping to do. On Saturday, after eating my usual portion of half the breakfast buffet, I went to Vatican City, and spent about six hours there.

St. Peter's Basilica is a neck-ache waiting to happen. It is the very definition of Vast. It only further proved my conclusion that we have surely regressed in architecture in the last couple centuries. I mean, don't get me wrong, Big Pink sure is cute, but comparing it to St. Peter's Basilica? Timeless gold and marble and stained glass cloud-reaching architecture versus some 80s pink glass lopsided rectangle.

So you can imagine my hesitation to climb to the top for the view. Fortunately, my prayers were answered that day, by Fillippo Andreas. Fillippo works at the Church and was helping with the mass. Either because he was psychic, or because I was just that awkward in trying to follow along during an Italian mass, he approached me afterwards and asked where I was from. Then he showed me the secret elevator to get to the top. (Being awkward wins again!)

Speaking of awkward, my neck at this point was already permanently craned upward, so I decided it was a good time to see the Sistene Chapel. Which was neat. I just felt sorry for all the other equally impressive ceiling art on the way that got not nearly enough credit in God's finger's shadow.

I thank the rest of how my day turned out on the Vertigo-causing neck-ache. Because first, after Vatican city, I went to the Retiro of Italy (remember, Retiro is the Central Park of Spain). I got a little lost, and somehow ended up in the Italian Zoo, and found out that Italian animals are much better entertainers than the American ones. Then, I bumped into a guy on my way out of the park, who turned out to be the Director of the Art museums in Rome and Munich. He gave me tips on less touristy must see spots to see, and then bought me 8 different kinds of pizza (Not exaggerating. I'll prove it: Sausage, Cilantro, Green Olive, Potato, Tomato, Cheese, Lasagna, and a dessert Nutella flavor), insisting that I had to try all his favorites.

That night, I went to the Opera on a whim. It was only 15 euro and was more of a medley of every Italian opera ever, and quite lovely.

On Sunday, I went back to the Vatican to see the Pope speak from his window. He had a very Popely voice, like a friendly old library. He gave a blessing in about 10 different languages, so I've now officially been blessed 10 times by the head of the Catholic Church. I'm pretty sure that makes me invincible. That's why I didn't even need to make a wish at the Trevi fountain (Not that I would have anyways. I have this problem where every time I'm supposed to make a wish, all I think is "Make a wish!"), but I'm sure I'll be returning to do as the Romans do again someday.

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