Day 5: Vatican City

Yesterday we and 28,000 of our closest friends visited Vatican City--and 27,993 of us happened to be in the Vatican Museum all at the same time.  Imagine one of the following and you will know what it was like to be in the Vatican Museum yesterday:

• You're in a 10X6 elevator with 72 people when the power goes out.
• You're in the middle of a mosh pit at a punk rock concert (and you're the only one not stoned).
• You're part of a group that is trying set a world-record for how many people can fit into a Volkswagon Beetle (mind you--all the doors and windows must be shut and no body parts are allowed to hang from the vehicle.  The record is currently set at 17--check this out).
• You just stayed at a Holiday Inn Express last night, and suddenly think you can run with the Bulls in Pamplona.
• You're in the front row at the Eurocup finals, and the home team just lost their best player to a red-card.  Suddenly, the 27,993 people in the section behind you start rushing in your direction to lynch the referee.
• You're at Disneyland in July at 2:00 p.m., and the only ride that's open is "It's a Small World" and the entire park of 27,993 people is standing in its line in front and in back of you.

Yeah, it was that bad.  Let's just say that I can now empathize with Sardines.  Lest you think I'm kidding, check out this picture.

Of course, there is nowhere to sit--not because 27,993 other people have taken the available benches but because there simply aren't any benches. An art museum with no benches? Really?  Is the point of the museum to get through it, or to experience the art?

By the time you make it through miles of tapestries and maps, you finally get to what you what you came for: Raphael's rooms and the Sistine Chapel.  First, the Raphael rooms:  rooms that Raphael designed and  that he his "people" (see, even art guys have "people") painted for Popes for private chapels, study rooms, etc.  These are incredible pieces, but the lame audio guides we rented at the entrance of the museum did little to make them interesting. And, of course, there was nowhere to sit in any of these rooms, and because I could smell the breath of the patron next to me, it was difficult to enjoy them.

Then came the biggest disappointment of my trip so far:  the Sistine Chapel.

Tragic, really.  Perhaps the greatest single artistic achievement on the planet, and I couldn't wait for the Rick Steves' audio guide that was playing through my phone to end so I could leave.  Not that Rick wasn't engaging (in fact, his free audio guides are not only cheaper than everything else out there but usually better, more engaging, and they tell a better story), but it was the 29,993 other people in the chapel that ruined this experience for me.  

The only thing that had gotten me through that sweaty, crowded maze of the Vatican Museum was the prize of finally seeing the Sistine Chapel--one the wonders of the world that I couldn't wait to see.  By the time I got to the chapel, I was just exhausted.  We stood in the chapel (this time there were benches along the side of the chapel but they had long been occupied).  So, we all stood there in the middle of this throng of people, earphones in place, necks kinked upward for the 27 minutes while  Rick Spoke to each of us, pointing out how Michaelangelo takes us on a journey form Adam to Christ all in one chapel--all the while, I'm trying to navigate the crowd to get a better look at what Rick is talking about until I finally give up, decide to just stand in one spot, and state at my shoelaces because my neck now hurts too bad.

In the background, Vatican security officials bellowed:  "Shhhh!  Silence, please!" along with the phrase "No Photo!"  Ironically, these guys were more disruptive to the peace and spirit of the chapel with their constant screeching about silence and photography than the other 27,993 people combined in the chapel.  So, my childish side came out, and just to spite them I took a photo. Don't worry, I made sure my flash was off, and I knew that the shutter opening and closing on my phone's camera was not going to reduce the lifespan of this great work of art (although I'm sure the breath of 27,993 people per day in that space (which is smaller than I had imagined) is doing "wonders" for the art--soon, moss will start to grow on the walls of the Sistine Chapel).

I didn't really want my head in that shot, but to be discreet I flipped the camera mode from front to back, and then looked at that phone as if I were using it, and then snapped my "revenge" photo. I know:  it's childish but it felt good at the time.

When Rick uttered his last word, we quickly left: my family through one door and I out the other.  There's a short cut from the Sistine Chapel, which takes one directly into St. Peter's Basilica, the other main attraction in Vatican City.  Apparently that short cut is not always open to the public, and so you should be grateful if it is; otherwise, you must walk all the way back through the Museum to exit (heaven forbid), and then take a 15-minute treck along the perimeter of the Vatican to St. Peters, where you stand in another line to get into the basilica. When the security folks were waiving people into St. Peter's, I sent my family into St. Peter's, while I returned the audio guides at the front of the museum.  I was to meet them in St. Peter's in 15-20 minutes.

Rick Steves had warned me about getting audio guides at that Vatican--by having them I would be unable to go through the shortcut to St. Peter's, as I would need to return to the entrance of the Museum to return them.  Sadly, I didn't listen.

My first look at St. Peter's square was jaw-dropping.  The TV doesn't do it justice.  The colonnade and the sheer presence of the massive facade of St. Peter's is impressive:  It's huge and beautiful.  

St. Peter's Square from atop St. Peter's Dome

But within 5 minutes of arriving at the square I had this terrifying thought:  what if I can't get in there quickly to meet my family?  I then glanced over at the line to get in, and saw what I thought must be another 27,993 people standing in line for St. Peter's (the line to get into the Museum that morning--which we got to bypass because we ordered online--was a least a 90 minute wait; I was now worried that it was the same deal here). At that point, I called my family and told them that I wasn't going to make it in, and for them to just enjoy it and see everything.  They, of course, would have nothing to do with that thought, and they started pestering various Vatican officials to see if their husband and father, who should be with them but had to return audio guides, could skip the 90-minute line and be with them in the Basilica.  I was doing the same thing in the Square, asking the same question to the Vatican Police and to various "officials" wandering the square. But our pleading was to no avail.  They either didn't understrand us, or they just didn't really care (and why should they?).

Lisa, of course, who had had the same experience I did with the Museum and the Chapel, wanted to leave that moment. I begged her to stay, and not let this ruin this once-in-a-lifetime chance to see St. Peter's.  She acquiesced and stayed in there for the kids' sake.

Meanwhile, I stood outside, sitting on the steps of the giant obelisk at the center of the square, feeling sorry for myself that this day gone from bad to worse:  the museum was a sweaty nightmare, the Sistine Chapel was a disappointment, and now I wasn't even going to be to see St. Peter's Basilica.  I then started to get mad, and started thinking of all the reasons why I was happy there was a Protestant Reformation. After stewing at length, while I sang Lutheran hymns to myself, I thought to myself, why don't you just go stand in line until the family is done with the Basilica, and perhaps you might get lucky and get in before the family is done.

20 minutes later I was inside.  Apparently, I hadn't appropriately sized up the length of the line (I had mistaken the constant stream of people leaving the right side of the basilica as part of the line to get into the place). Suddenly, I felt sort of stupid for pouting, for singing praises to Luther, and Calvin (even Henry the VIII for getting divorced), and for asking every vatican official if I could skip the line (I now realized why they didn't seem too concerned about my plight--they must have been thinking: What is this guy's problem?  He's making a 20-minute line seem an eternity).

Once again, I learned that perception is often not reality.  Some lessons need to be learned again and again and again.

In the end, St. Peter's sort of saved the day:  because of its sheer size, even in its crowded moments, there's plenty of space to move around in, albiet there are still few benches to sit on. Michaelangelo's Pieta was better than advertised (click here for a peek), Bernini's alter was incredible, and the view from the top of the dome was outstanding.  

Sweat, 29,993 others, and the bellowing Vatican officials in the Sistine Chapel notwithstanding, this ended up being a good and memorable day.  Good night.

Daphne, rubbing St. Peter's toe, a tradition dating back about a 1,000 years.

A view of Bernini's altar

Mom bear-hugging Jeffrey in front of Bernini's altar.  "Stop, Mom, you're embarrassing me!"

A view atop the dome, before we headed to its exterior to climb even higher.

Climbing the dome.

Standing on the roof of the basilica. 

In the colonnade.

Abby, doing her best impression of the "Shhh-silence-no-photo" guys.

Abby, doing her best impression of her Dad when he learned that he had to wait in line to get into St. Peters to see his family. Poor guy--that was a long 20 minutes.