Day 10
I just realized that I never touched on breakfast at the hotel. While not great, it is worth mentioning. There were croissants, bread and bread rolls, cold meats, cheeses, cakes, yogurt, and fruit. What I like best about a hotel breakfast is the scrambled eggs and sausages, but the hotel fell short on that. The sausages were cut up viennas and the eggs were watery. The coffee was good though and now that the staff knew we liked a reasonable cup instead of an espresso-sized cup, all was well.
When we were ready to go, the hotel shuttle brought us to the subway station, and the subway took us to Rome. This time we didn't bother with the Hop On - Hop Off bus, we took an Uber to St. Peter's Square where the souvenir shop was where we had booked the guided tour. Shortly before 12:30 an elderly man appeared, who would be our guide.
I thought he would take us to St. Peter's Basilica, but as usual, I was wrong. He indicated to our group, about twelve of us, to follow him. We did so and we walked, and we walked, and we walked. I thought … where is this guy going? To give you an idea of the walk, take a look at this map.
Do you see St. Peter's Square on the right and Vatican Museums on top? That's where our guide took us.
Quite a few people uttered their displeasure. It was at least 30 degrees, the streets were uphill, and we all became tired and thirsty. Eventually, I approached the guide and told him in no uncertain terms that if I had known it would be such a long tiring walk, I would have taken a cab and met him at the back of the Sistine Chapel because that's where he was taking us, not at the front entrance, but the back entrance.
Having reached the back entrance of the chapel, a crowd of people were waiting.
Not to worry the guide said, we had priority. After ten minutes, we were indeed allowed entrance to the chapel. After three security checks, we each received a name badge and an earpiece to listen to our guide and we were on our way.
Our guide led us into a museum, and another museum, and another, and another. When we all just about had our fill of museums, our guide took us outside where he discussed various panels of the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. He went on and on for forty-five minutes. Within the first five minutes, I went and sat in the shade. Several members of our group joined me.
When he was finally finished, we all thought that now we were going to see the chapel … no, we were not. We saw another museum, and another, and another. Several museums later, my back was breaking from the slow strolling and frequent stopping, it was stifling hot in the rooms, and the crowd of people made me claustrophobic. I had to get out, I had to get out of there!
I noticed the light of an exit and was about to make a dash for it when I remembered why I was there … so Dieter could see the famous ceiling of the chapel and the basilica. When I noticed a guard I approached him and asked him ...
"Where is this famous ceiling?" (I had nearly added the word damn, but seeing that I was in a chapel, I refrained.)
"Just up the stairs," he told me.
Stairs? Stairs?! Now I had to climb stairs!
I took one look at those stairs and my heart plummeted into my shoes … there were at least fifty of them. I took a deep breath and blew out a long sigh, I could do this, I had to do this, Dieter had to see the ceiling, I had come all the way to Rome for him to see the ceiling.
Oh, the things we do for our kids.
With each step I thought, now we're going to see the ceiling, now we're going to see the ceiling. Did we see the ceiling? No, we did not. We came to a museum, and another museum, and yet another museum. One followed another. I could have screamed!!!
When our guide stopped at yet another tapestry, indicating some insignificant detail, I had enough, I had it up to here. I ripped out my earpiece, handed it to the guide, and moved on. Ceiling or no ceiling, I had to get out of there.
I marched through yet one museum after another, and suddenly there it was … the Sistine Chapel's famous ceiling.
By that time though we were both so tired, with such a sore back and painful legs, that neither of us gave a …
We both glanced up, yeah, it was nice. Taking pictures was not permitted in this area.
Hundreds of people were crowded in the room, it was stifling hot, conversation buzzed around us, and suddenly I knew that I was going to faint.
A guard noticed my distress and allowed me to sit down next to a ventilator. A short while later I felt good enough to move on.
When I asked the guard how we got to St. Peter's Basilica, he said "Through that door."
Unfortunately, Dieter and I were no longer with our tour group and as such we were denied entry. Oh, we could enter the basilica from the outside, but that would mean standing in line for at least three hours. I could have screamed. Now Dieter wouldn't get to see the splendour of the basilica, wouldn't get to see St. Peter's statue with his rubbed foot (rubbing the foot grants you a wish), wouldn't get to see the Pieta.
We left the chapel via a circular exit. I didn't really notice much because I was fuming.
If we had visited the basilica first, we could have gone through a door and been in the Sistine Chapel within seconds. Instead, that stupid guide had taken us all the way to the back of the chapel and dragged us through at least thirty-five museums.
I thought that he should have told us this little detail. If he had, I never would have agreed to that plan of action, or I would have at least been prepared for it. (That's what my dad used to say ... nothing is quite as bad as it seems as long as you're prepared for it.)
Hot and exhausted we were in desperate need of a drink. Across the street, we found a cafe and waited for service.
By now we were both in a bad mood. After we'd finished with our drinks, we felt a little better and decided to go see the Trevi fountain. An Uber took us there. The fountain was beautiful, but again, far too many people.
Everywhere it was the same. When I was in Rome as a teenager, I could count the number of tourists around me. Now there were thousands of them.
When I spotted an ice cream store, I headed straight for it. I had raved to Dieter about Italian gelato and maybe now he would get the chance to sample it. Chocolate for him, melon for me. The ice cream wasn't bad, but again not the way I remembered it.
After this, we passed on the Colosseum and the Mouth of Truth. I think both of us had enough of crowds of people and disappointments.
We called an Uber and decided to go to the station.
If you think we had seen quite a bit of Rome by car, because we had taken several Ubers, think again. Most of the time, I kept my eyes closed while in the backseat of a car. The way the Romans drive is harrowing. They zip through traffic at a dazzling speed and change lanes when and how they feel like it. Using indicators … pfft, you must be kidding.
Strangely enough though, we didn't see one accident or even one damaged car.
Back at the hotel, we packed. I couldn't wait to leave Rome. People say that Rome is a nice, beautiful city ... I disagree. Rome is a filthy city, full of beggars and thieves.
Should you ever visit Rome, don't keep any of your belongings in your back or even front pockets, because guaranteed, pickpockets will take it from you. Instead, get a small bag such as this one. It has several zip-up pockets and you wear it on your chest.
We had actually planned to visit the Leaning Tower of Pisa and Venice, but that would have to wait for another year. Research told me that it takes 3,5 hours to reach Pisa, so there and back we would take seven hours.
As for Venice, we would have to take a plane to visit that city. If Pisa and Venice were anything like Rome (overcrowded), I'd pass.
For dinner, we chose to have the entrecote again for our last meal at the hotel. The following day we were leaving and I had a funny feeling we would need every single bit of strength we could get.
To be continued
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