Do as the Romans Do (Part 3)

   The third day was devoted to exploring the Vatican.  Sadly, while waiting in line for entrance, my host family was targeted by recruiters for guide agencies because they were speaking French.  There were employees of various travel agencies talking to the people in line for entrance against the walls of the Vatican, trying to convince visitors to go with a tour group.  The first two tried to communicate with me in English, offered faster admittance and a tour guide if we booked the events of our day through their company.  The person that spoke French came over to our group of four waiting in line, and proceeded to give the same speech, except with different prices.  Due to the long line and full schedule for the day, we were eventually convinced to go with a tour group in order to be admitted with enough time for the museum.  I remained with the French speaking tour, hoping prior knowledge and similar words, along with my expanding skills, could enable me to enjoy the tour.  It began in front of the travel agency, where the tour guide spent an hour and a half speaking over different rooms and objects within the Vatican. Once we finally entered the Vatican, it was apparent why.  Due to the crowds and an invisible schedule only the tour guide was adhering to, the group did not actually stop in front of the artifacts, but instead passed through the packed rooms to admire replicas in the lobbies.  Instead of going into the Sistine Chapel, the tour guide spent forty minutes in the Garden pointing out interesting parts on different pictures, or at least that is what we assumed she was doing.  There was also difficulty with the microphone, and (it wasn't just my French skills that prevented my understanding!) and no one could hear through the static over the radio.  It was at this point my host family and I broke away from the tour group, and while the Vatican was packed with thousands of people, it was much more enjoyable choosing our own paths through the exhibits.  Once again, my advice for any future travelers to Rome, whether they speak French, Dutch, English, Italian, and/or Elvish, is to research beforehand in order to find accommodations to suit your preferences.  When in Rome, do as the Romans do, and conquer/build your own roads find your own path.  It was much more enjoyable using placards, prior knowledge, and curiosity to find our way through the various exhibits.  While a guide would have provided an interaction open to questions, with centuries of material to cover, the tour would be at the mercy of the guide of the particular day to determine the route and artifacts they chose to lead a group past.

On our own, we found our way through the Sistine Chapel.We were not allowed to take pictures or talk, but it was a truly impressive sight.  Of all the things to notice, the ceiling is so much higher than I imagined, but the room was filled to the brim.  Security prevented anyone from stopping in the actual chapel, not that there was a choice with so many people pressing to move forward!  If claustrophobia is an issue, perhaps a different time of year would be better to visit. It was still brilliant wandering though the exhibits on cultures of the world, from ancient Egypt, China, India to the new exhibit in process about the support of the Vatican with archaeologists preserving Aboriginal cultures in Australia.

The best part of the visit was the visit to the top of St. Peter's Basilica.  Though it was a separate ticket, it was worth the trek for the best view of the Vatican, and the city of Rome.

The evening passed with a private show from my host sister on a piano in small seafood restaurant and some browsing around the city.

     The next day, I wandered in the Piazza di Spagna.  Directly beside the famous steps rests the former home of John Keats and the Shelleys that is now a museum.  While my host family shopped in the downtown district, I gleefully explored exhibits.  It took a trip to Italy to learn the origins of a popular English expression.  Apparently, the phrase 'pushing up daises' is derivative of the feverish ravings of Keats in the master bedroom.  Dying of tuberculosis and mad with fever, Keats believed himself to already be dead for several months before he succumbed.  He would often say that he felt the daises growing into him.  The ceiling, with ornately carved daises facing the floor, still has the decorations, despite everything else being burned in the room to prevent the spread of disease.  

     After that enlightening experience, my host family and I spent the last full day wandering around Rome into various churches and light tourist shopping.  We were blessed with beautiful Italian weather the entire trip.  After another day exploring (and eating) Italian cuisine, we departed in the morning the next day for the airport to take us back to our Belgian home.

I've been told this is a natural picture of me.  Be it that I'm always eating, or I usually have a smirk on my face, some people have called it beautiful.  Not to brag about myself, I think the best thing in this picture is the tomato-garlic-gnocchi.  It was my favorite meal in Italy, and I have yet to find gnocchi that tastes similar. 

The Belgian coming out in my host sister while dining in an outdoor restaurant in Rome.  Note the proper way to eat Belgian frites: with copious amounts of mayonnaise and a fork.

Lise was the one outwardly showing what we were all feeling inside.  Taken right before I discovered if I was flagged for travelling through Atlanta and Brussels (TWICE) within the past three months in the wake of Ebola spread.