Tuesday, September 9, 2008

I meet a bunch of girls down at Campo de’ Fiori. We’re determined to see the Sistine Chapel today. I mean to take a scarf or a t-shirt to cover my shoulders, but I forget in my hurry to have enough time to buy a bus pass since mine just expired.

We meet without fuss and walk to the Vatican together, consumed, the entire time, with worrying that they won’t let us into the museum with bare shoulders. We try to convince ourselves that no, it’s just the Basilica that you need appropriate dress for… but we’re really not so sure. I at least wore jeans to cover up those sinful knees of mine. But of course, when we round the final corner to enter the museum, there’s a moment of relief because there’s no real line, but guard won’t let my naked shoulders pass.

Out of the corner of my eye I spy a little shop across the street with cheap scarves hanging in the window. I take off, dodging traffic with practiced apathy, and pick a pretty scarf and plunk down my coin. I run back to meet the girls, who are waiting for me, and drape the scarf over my shoulders. I do a little model pose and a half twirl for the guard, asking, “How’s this, better?” He smiles and actually blushes as he says, “Perfect. Thank you very much.” I’m sort of touched by how genuine he is and throw him another shoulder toss as I say “Of course! Of course!” and pass on through.



I try my best to get us a cheap school group rate, but we would need to show a letter from our university (fat chance) so we all just rally to pay for our individual entry fees. Fourteen euro is a small fortune, but it’s the Sistine Chapel for St. Pete’s sake, so what can you do? I get up to the ticketing booth and plunk down my 20 euro bill and the man in the booth points to a small sign with a photo of the International Student Card which not only do I not have with me, but I never actually put my photo in it or signed it so I’m not sure it would work anyway. I shake my head and pull a pouty face. He laughs and exclaims, “Bella!” then asks me how old I am. Remembering that student discounts in Europe are only good up to a certain age, I lie and tell him I’m twenty-two. He laughs at me again, shakes his head and says, “No, no, eighteen maybe!” takes my twenty and gives me ten back in change—charging me the student discount fee. I thank him and he winks and me as he says, “Ciao, bella!” I like to call that the blonde discount. It’s good all over Italy and most parts of Spain.





It takes forever to get to the Sistine Chapel. I’m sure there’s a direct route, but they make us carve through this maze of a route. We’re all getting impatient and it’s crowded and hot and we just want to see the ceiling and get out of there… Cortney keeps asking, is this it? And it never is. I tell her, just wait, suddenly everyone will be looking straight up.



Sure enough we enter the Sistine Chapel and everyone is craning their necks up. The guards are screaming “SILENCIO” at the top of their lungs, the irony of which is not lost on me, but I’m worried if I snicker that I’ll be thrown in the dungeon at the Castel Sant’ Angelo. You know, the Sistine Chapel is smaller than I expected. It’s different. I’m glad I saw it, especially because Tony told us all that if we go to Rome and don’t see the Sistine Chapel we’re sure to burn in hell. Well, all I know is that St. Peter, the holy bouncer, holds the keys to heaven and I have a sneaking suspicion he’ll rather hear from me that I went to his church and rubbed a little more of his foot off…



As we exit, we stop in at the Vatican post office. I write out a quick note to Grandpa Rolly, since he used to collect stamps and mail it right there. The Vatican, being sovereign and not actually a part of Rome or Italy or any nation, has its own postage currency and its own postmark. Basically, because Vatican City is about five square miles, that means that this is one of the rarest postmarks in the world. Well, probably not considering how many tourists come through here with the same idea as me!



We hustle back to Campo de’ Fiori to meet with Tony and Giuseppe for our individual conferences about our final projects. There’s still so much work to be done!

I head home early to get cracking on my work. Dave and Paola and I have a lovely dinner of gnocchi with a combination sauce of pomodoro and pesto. I’m up late working, but that’s how it goes… play hard, work harder.