Vatican City (aka the Pope's sweet crib)

About the third day in, we decided to tear up Vatican City as much as possible (quite a task, since there is an ungodly *pun* number of essential sights to see). Here we are in St. Peter's Square bright and early, a keyhole-shaped plaza designed largely by Bernini which features his massive colonnade, an ancient Egyption obelisk of red granite (which around 37AD presided over Nero's brutal displays and Christian slaughters), and of course, the Vatican and its associated museums. The plaza itself is actually designed as if the maternal arms of the 'mother church,' as Bernini said, are welcoming and enclosing all who visit.

So welcome to St.Peter's! First activity of the day: CLIMB IT. See the dome? See the platform type thing on top of the dome? That. I want to stand on top of that.

Well, since the elevator cost €7 and the stairs cost €5, approximately 200 stairs later and €2 cheaper we seem to have made some decent progress-- recognize the dome??

While the view from here was cool (see the saints-below-watching over the city), we could sense there was something even better if we could just man up and climb just a few more (well, a few hundred more...) steps.

Another, say, one hundred steps later, we reached our second stop: a gorgeous bird's eye view of the inner basilica. You're walking through a narrow, dimly amber-lit, combo of winding ramps and stairs, and then there's this little set of steps off to the side that you just barely decide to check out since it might mean a break for a few minutes, but then: ST. PETER'S.

Incredible. Massive. Overwhelmingly detailed, no corner, no square inch forgotten or unintentional. Mind blown yet? No? Then take a look at those images of cherubs rimming the entire basilica balcony...

Those right there, the ones just under the windows, above the golden proclamation that this is St. Peter's.

Yes. Yes, these. Notice anything special about these massive images about twice as tall as I am?

That's right- THEY ARE MOSAICS. Freaking. Mosaics. All of it, composed of bits of smashed up pottery with no single fragment bigger than my own thumb nail. And now, your mind is blown. No time to pick up the pieces though, because guess what! 200 more stairs to go.

 

(Do yourself a favor and PLEASE fast forward through most of this! Also, mute it- good grief, I was so out of breath. Just wanted to give an idea though of the horrifying perils you have to overcome to bring back these freaking rooftop shots...)

Very well worth it.

The view was a gorgeous, complete 360 degree of all of Rome.

Bird's eye view of Vatican City from the top of St. Peter's,
the ''arms'' of the church enveloping the people.

 So, after climbing St. Peter's (and a much needed lunch break at a cafe down the street), we finally returned to actually explore the inside of the Basilica. Needless to say, there was plenty to see.

First, just to the right of where I'm standing in the photo above, which is just as you walk in the doors to St. Peter's, was the 100% for real original Michaelangelo's "Pietà."

If you have ever taken any form of art class, this sculpture was in your book. Michaelangelo completed this stunning masterpiece when he was just about 23 years old; when he heard that the work (understandably) was being attributed to other artists, he actually snuck back in to where it was displayed and carved his own name into the sash around Mary's chest.

Interesting story: The sculpture used to sit within reach of the public, but some years ago a man
suddenly dashed at the artwork swinging a hammer and shouting "I am Jesus Christ! I am Jesus Christ!" Useless leeches of human beings standing nearby, rather than helping or even just standing in stupified shock, snatched the marble pieces that flew off and ran away with them. The attack damaged the virgin's nose and fingers, and though some marble pieces were returned so it could be restored, now it sits safely on a pedestal behind glass. 

Above, Tracy rubs the foot of a (presumed) late 13th Century, bronze St. Peter's. Rub (or, in the days of yore, kiss) the bronze foot that sticks out under his robe, and you'll have good luck. Below is Bernini's baldacchino, an intricate and enormous canopy, made in part from the melted down bronze porticos that originally topped the Pantheon itself. Hence, commonly quoted is the supposed remark of a bystander: "What even the barbarians did not do, Barberini did."

And finally, yup, that is the actual body of Pope John XXIII. Catholics have always clung relentlessly to the concept of beating down death (this was without a doubt the overwhelming sensation I got when first walking through this Basilica: an unrestrained human need and desire to triumph over Death). At any rate, he died in 1963, was decided a saint in 2000, and of course, when they cracked his coffin, his body was in perfect condition... so they decided to stick it in a glass case for all to enjoy.

~

Finally, we headed back out into the bright sunshiny day. Before anything else, we refilled our water bottles at one of the 2,500 "nasoni" (means "big nose," like the faucet) public water fountains strewn throughout the city (haha, we wouldn't have done it if we hadn't seen a police officer do it first!). Then, after only getting lost for a mere twenty minutes, we found our way to the Vatican Museum, and jumped head-first into the mind-melting, seething sea of Renaissance and Baroque art.

Hallway after hallway after hallway of this. Paintings lining hallways with walls covered in their own paintings. Statues lining hallways that seem themselves sculpted. There was even (and this one might have been my favorite) a hallway lined from floor almost to ceiling with nothing but blue cabinets and some random furniture, leading to such questions as: What does the pope do with all the stuff he gets? Do you think there are rosaries and Jesus knick-naks crammed in all those cabinets? Do you wonder if maybe, on some internal level, he's ever been like, "oh great, yeah, another enormous painting of Mary, exactly what I needed..." or "Holy manger, what in heaven am I going to do with life-size porcelain peace swans??" (oh, they had them)

I'm not kidding.

All jokes aside though, nothing could disguise the sheer genius of many of the masterpieces this place did house. Stunning paintings, striking eyes and poses and scenes, literally covered every part of the walls in this place. Remember the "School of Athens" from art history class? The one Raphael painted of all the classic scholars and philosophers? If it helps, this is the one that he painted his own little self portrait into, down the bottom right group of people-- he's the one staring out of the painting right at you.

If that wasn't enough, immediately following in the next room was Raphael's "Fire in the Borgo." Although an assistant likely painted most of this one, Raphael is still believed to have outlined it all. It's based on an even from St. Peter's Liber Pontificalus. Essentially, sometime around 830AD, the Borgo caught on fire, but fortunately Pope Leo IV was on sight and managed to contain the fire with his benediction.

After walking (unfortunately, due to time limits) rather hurriedly through so many similarly impressive rooms, we stumbled (not as unfortunately) through an often not-quite-as-impressive display of modern art (the Vatican does have a phenomenal collection of big-name modern artworks, but we must have somehow missed it). There were several pieces that I genuinely felt, but there were also way too many of the kinds of pieces that just make you wonder why you're in school if you could just get some extra piercings and sell "art."

Ah, yes, had you spray-painted this tablecloth green, its deep and
 meaningful symbolism would have been entirely lost.

Well, I guess I like it, sort of, but I think more
in a sort of "on my fridge" kind of way.

Say whut.

 However, in the end, it made the sudden transition into Michelangelo's Sistine Chapel herself all the more breathtaking. I suspect what they were going for was a 'now and then' contrast, trying to emphasize how faith inspires grand artwork even today or something, but my reaction was really just "Good grief, generation, you nailed some wood and wire to a plank." *focus* So, anyway, you all have got to recognize this classic piece, the God giving Adam the breath of life one, right?

Keep in mind this was finished about 1512, making these paintings on the ceiling nearly 500 years old!!!

Well, it was about as big as I thought it would be, but what I didn't expect was that everything else in this unbelievable room was also painted on the same magnitude, making it just one panel of hundreds. The entire Sistine Chapel functions together, every single panel featuring a meticulously chosen subject, ultimately working to prove the legitimacy of the pope as the speaker of God on Earth, etc, etc. Apparently, Michelangelo actually didn't want the commission when it was first brought to him for a number of reasons, among them that he thought it would only exist to serve the papal taste for grandeur- you think??

Regardless though, mission success. All of Vatican City was grand, grand, grand. No matter your feelings concerning the pope...

*ahem* ...the fact remains that his home base is absolutely bursting at the seams with the artwork of geniuses, and being able to view that work, especially in such close proximity, was the experience of a lifetime.

Highlights:

 

You're in Italy when: the women walk in 5'' stilettos as if they were barefoot. Mama mia! Even if she took the elevator, that's still a grinding 300 narrow stone steps in a row. 

Haha, a fun game designed by our German friend: Can you spot the American car??

Ancient Rome: *insert Roman pun here*

Well, I'll be honest: it was a bit rough coming back here after another fantastic break with friends and family. Infinitely easier than the first time, but still, this is going to be the 30-some week long stretch, so goodbyes were tough. However! Nothing eases twinges of homesickness quite as effectively as gladiators and looking at all the pope's cool stuff, and so with only one day to unpack and repack, Tracy and I took to the skies again to spend a week exploring Rome.

Completed 80AD, so 2011-80=1,931 years ago!!!

Our very first day, we arrived exhausted and starving, but unwilling to let ourselves go to bed without having laid eyes on at least one epic Roman structure. As a result, when I first laid eyes on the magnificent Colosseum, it was already dark outside. It appeared so unexpectedly; I was just walking along the city sidewalk and suddenly: yellow light gushing through stone arches, chilled air full of Roman ghosts.

Neighboring the Colosseum was the Arch of Constantine, dedicated to him
by the people in 315AD after he finally took down Maxentius (who nobody really liked).

We returned to the Colosseum about two days later to explore the inside (as much as was open) during the day. If it screamed "I am ROME and I am on top of the WORLD" from the outside, then the inside, well, it just screamed it louder.

 Brilliantly designed in a theatrical sense, you just look down on everything, from wherever you are. There can't have been a truly "bad" place to watch what was going on down below. They are working on reconstructing much of it now, so what you see in this picture (below) are actually the exposed hallways and cells beneath where the original field was-- the wedge of white platform off to the side is where the field would have been, so imagine that stretching all the way across. It would have been covered in sand too, you know, to soak up the blood of the fallen, etc. 

A closer shot of the series of tunnels, etc that wound underneath the field itself-- they've found all sorts of stuff under here, but especially animal bones. After the animals had (if the gladiator was lucky) been killed in a fight, the Romans took what was left underneath and harvested absolutely anything off of it that could be offered or sold to the people: meat, fur, horns, organs, etc. Very efficient.

The view off of the colosseum was packed full of other major sights too; Ancient Rome was still everywhere. 

It was incredible to sit down for a few seconds and suddenly realize, oh, wow... I am sitting on a massive hunk of rock that over a millenium and a half ago was upright, towering over the city, potentially as part of a sacred temple, etc. Of course, this doesn't mean we didn't have a decent amount of fun being stereotypical cheeseball tourists:

 

From the Colosseum, we headed over to the ruins on Palatine Hill, which are mainly a combination of haunting, crumbling walls and overgrown stones still outlining the original homes (see below).

Stadium of Domitian's Palace, around 6th Century-- they're not quite sure what the stadium was used
for (private track? public stadium?) but it this guy was clearly loaded.

Recently discovered though, were the beautifully preserved original frescos in the House of Augustus <House of Augustus!> BBC has much better video of it than me, since it was so sensitive there was no flash allowed and only five people could go in at once. Fortunately, Palatine Hill was relatively deserted while we were there, so we were able to get in quickly. The experience knocked you backwards though; the small, enclosed rooms seemed to cling to the past, waiting for Augustus to return home.

At the top of Palatine Hill, we then stumbled into the Farnese Gardens, which were pretty much unmistakeable--orange trees (and orange rinds) were all over, so the air itself smelled rich and zesty. People were trying anything to pick the remaining oranges off the higher branches. These gardens were created mid 16th Century by Cardinal Farnese, who bought the remains of the palace of Tiberius, and apparently decided a garden would look nice on top of them.

From the Farnese Gardens, we began meandering our way back down Palatine Hill...

Arch of Titus, c.82AD, honoring his victories etc., but especially the Sacking of  Jerusalem

Detail: Titus' Roman guys making off with the Jewish menorah, among other things

...and it was then we stumbled into the Roman Forum. A stretch of time-worn columns still reaching for the sky, refusing to resign their dignity even among the rest of the ruins, chunks of sacred temples scattered everywhere, slowly sinking into the earth: walking through the remains of the Forum was easily my favorite experience; even today, it made you either proud to be a Roman citizen, or made you really wish you were. It was essentially the Roman city center, ancient government buildings and temples lining the streets of the marketplace.

Overall, I think Ancient Rome has held up to the test of time with shocking grace; I don't think until now I really appreciated the word "empire," especially in the sense of one centuries ago. The Romans utterly dominated the landscape, and even now, approaching two-thousand years later, after earthquakes and storms and countless shifting seasons, in an age of skyscrapers and revolving restaurants, when we look at this we still have to nod to their empire. Regardless of how it finally fell, well done, Romans, well done.

   

The Cast of the Rome Trip (aka, members of Photography Club):

Dirk, from Germany- huge dude with blonde ponytail (total viking), designs computer programs that will eventually be able to count the number of penguins in any given photograph.

Farid, from Malasia- not terribly city-savvy, but his super power of choice is to be Harry Potter (which is brilliant).

George, from Greece- highly intrigued by the concept of "Greek Life" at USA universities: "Yes, tell us, what is Greek Life like?"

Matt, from England- impression of Americans sounded like a drunken New Jersey man repeatedly saying, "That's friggin' awesome!" (apparently they do not say that here) Also, he loved the story of Touchdown Jesus' unfortunate demise.

Steph, from England- visited USA for some time. Apparently every bar she went to, the Americans just begged her to say certain words in her accent (especially "orange," haha, which does sound smashing in British). Long story short, they are TOTALLY aware of the fact we swoon over their accents.