This post is going to be out of order but I am so stinking excited I have to post this one before I tell you about yesterday.

After receiving ten kinds of whiplash, almost clipping the front end of a Vespa off  and joining hips with the side of a bus, AND learning all sorts of fun new Italian words that start with the letter F, my taxi driver got me safely to the Vatican for my evening tour of the Sistine Chapel.  I visited three years ago when I was here and became fascinated with the lives and times of Michelangelo, Da Vinci, the Medici family, the popes, and the clandestine relationships between them all.  I have wanted to come back ever since.  Tonight I got my chance.

The Vatican itself is stunning in sheer magnitude and quantity of ancient statues.  Everything from the days of Ancient Greece to the Renaissance and everything in between is lined up in the Vatican.  One of my favorites is "Laocoon" which tells the story of Laocoon, the ruler of Troy, and his two sons being pulled down to Hades by sea serpents so they cannot warn the people of Troy the Trojan Horse is full of murderous Greeks.  The talent of the sculptor rivals Michelangelo in the sense that every muscle and feature looks almost real.  You almost expect to hear him crying out it is so realistic.

There are rooms (and when I say room don't think of your living room...think 40 foot high ceilings and thousands of square feet) full of animal sculptures, busts of Greeks and Romans, warriors, emperors, granite baths, sarcophagi, mosaic floors that were in the largest bath houses in Rome,  tapestry hallways, map painting hallways and on and on forever.  A person could be there for a month and still never see it all.

Since we were there after St. Peter's Basilica was closed we got to tour Raphael's apartment.  I did not realize this but Raphael lived in the Vatican and was charged with painting many frescoes in some of the apartments.  Needless to say I was stunned when I walked in and there up on the wall in 200" x 300" dimension was the real authentic "The School of Athens".  I almost cried.  The art of modernity is junk in comparison to the art of the Renaissance.  The focus on saying something, explaining the worldview of the time, the use of color and material to work in high and low light, and using techniques that would stand the test of time are all so evident in the work of this time period.  It took my breath away.

I thought things couldn't get any better than seeing that but when I walked into the Sistine Chapel I could see I was very wrong.  I was one of only about 200 people in the whole chapel.  This was unbelievable.  And what's more?  The guide said we could stay in there as long as we wanted until they kicked us out.  And that is just what I did.  I was the very last one out of the Sistine Chapel tonight.  The guards followed me out and locked the doors.  I got to turn around and take one last look at an empty Sistine Chapel.  I got to see the Last Judgment the same way Michelangelo did when he painted the last stroke and stood back to admire his work.  It was truly an amazing experience.

To top it all off I actually got a really good taxi driver on the way back to my hotel.  He drove calm and I didn't even feel like I was going to die once.  He got the tip sleepy scary guy didn't.

I'm Alive...Barely

One of the scariest experiences in life has to be taking a taxi from the airport in Rome into the heart of the city.  I knew I was in for it when my guy rolls up in a busted up jalopy of a vehicle.  I almost told the innocent newbies behind me to go on ahead.  They would have thought I was just being friendly.  In my heart, however, I knew that would not have been the motivation.  I got in and immediately started praying.  First there was a little...shall I say...hole or dip or squishy spot??...where my butt fit nicely on the seat.  I know this doesn't seem very profound but trust me...later on I was not only praying to God but all the saints that when we did crash that little dippy spot would somehow keep me stuck to my seat so I didn't fly through the window.

The next sign of danger ahead was the fact that right after the first bend in the road he was forced to slam on the brakes and the car started burping and sputtering.  That was easily remedied though by stopping in the middle of the road in between big busses and other crazy Italian drivers to give her a little restart.  At this point I think I may have even prayed to the Blessed Virgin Mary just in case.  Once she was running smoothly again we proceeded to jet out into the chaos of the Roman roads.  This is when it got really scary.  My lovely Italian grampa guy driver started blinking reeaaaallly slowly.  Yep, as in so slowly I thought he was for sure falling asleep.  All while driving 100 kilometers an hour and weaving back and forth between the cement guard rail on the left and the various and assorted cars on the right.  I kept making noises, like little coughs, to keep this guy awake.  I even tried asking him if he was tired but he waved me off like all good Italian men do. I think at this point all that pent up constipation I had been having was quickly going to become unclogged.  

After about 15 of the scariest minutes of my life we finally, thank the good Lord, made in to the "off-ramp" area of the highway.  At first, I thought this was a good thing.  Not so much when we entered that area while still traveling 100 km an hour and weaving back and forth. I really did think that was going to be the end of my short life.  He somehow managed to stop the speeding bullet within 2 seconds without slamming into the 40 cars in front of us.  Thank God for the butt dip I was sitting in.  The humor of it all was that this guy would give the ultimate stare down to the poor people in the cars he almost smashed into.  I guess he felt they were in his way and no one should dare to interfere with his driving path.

I honestly thought about asking him to stop the car and let me out to just walk my way to the hotel.  That was until we almost ran over a poor clueless woman who was walking on the side of the road.  I figured at least I had my seat hole and some metal around me.  Stupid woman.  Everyone knows not to walk anywhere near the road in Rome.  Certain death awaits you.   I think by now I had also prayed to Buddah and Ghandi just so all my bases were covered.

After 30 death defying minutes, we made it to the hotel.  I have never been more happy to get out of a car.  When I handed the guy the agreed upon 50 euro he kinda looked at it like something was missing.  YEAH BUDDY...LIKE I'M GONNA GIVE YOU A TIP FOR ALMOST KILLING ME 1,000 TIMES!!  I don't think so.  Take your grunts somewhere else.

Since I'm writing this you know I am alive.  The moral of this story is two-fold.  One, if you must get transportation into Ancient Rome from the airport try to take a bus where at least if and when you crash or get crashed into the luggage underneath will be the thing that gets squished and not you.  And two, it is the Lord God that will get you somewhere safely.  Not Buddah or Ghandi or the Blessed Virgin Mary...so don't get your feathers ruffled...I was only kidding earlier.