The Sistine Chapel

After the tour of St. Peter’s, Barbara, Carol, and I had about two hours before our tour of the Vatican Museum and the Sistine Chapel would begin. My companions both needed to conduct a bit of personal business, so we walked around outside the walls of the Vatican until we located an internet site and, around the corner, an ATM machine. After completing business we stumbled upon a small pizzeria where we stopped for lunch, choosing a small table near the window. The gorgonzola and sausage pizza appealed to all of us so we each ordered one…and it was heavenly; rich, pungent, gooey. Judging by the many moans emitted from our table, we were either enjoying the pizza or having a religious experience, or perhaps a bit of both.

After finishing the pizza and a bit of red wine, none of us really felt like going on a museum tour. A nap would have been much more my speed, but we had already paid for the tour and, besides, when would I ever get to visit the Sistine Chapel again? We dragged ourselves up the street next to the Vatican wall, over to a café’ across from the museum entrance, and down a flight of stairs to await the rest of our twenty member tour group. Our two guides arrived and we twenty were split into two more manageable groups and led into the Vatican Museums by way of a modern entrance.

The Vatican Museums are HUGE, room after room after room of Greek and Roman statuary, paintings, tapestries, frescos, and mosaics. The Sistine chapel is not reached until two hours into a three hour tour. I loved the gorgeous ceilings, which are all extravagantly decorated and painted. My favorite room was the Hall of Maps, an enormous, long room with an illuminated, arched ceiling divided into small sections, each one a different painting. Large, painted maps of the regions of Italy decorated the walls, including the painstakingly reproduced maze of canals that make up Venice. The maps are surprisingly accurate considering they were painted hundreds of years ago!

Finally, we reached the Sistine Chapel where the crowds of visitors were shushed into reverent silence. Pictures are not allowed in the chapel as part of an agreement with an Asian company who financed the 13 year cleaning of the chapel in return for a copy write on all images. We walked to the far end, where we had a magnificent view of the vast space. The entrance wall of the chapel featured a huge fresco done in shades of blue. If you look closely you can see that the painted figures are arranged in the shape of a human skull. We were told that Michelangelo was not happy about having to paint the chapel and was very upset when he climbed off his scaffolding to discover he’d made the figures too small. He was even less happy to have to repaint. We’re so thankful he did, though, as the chapel is an absolute masterpiece. The tour group was to have visited St. Peter’s at the end of the tour, but found it still closed after the special ceremony earlier in the day. Barbara, Carol, and I were so thankful to have taken the separate tour in the morning or we would have missed the basilica altogether.

We had debated walking back to the apartment on Piazza Rondanini by way of the Trevi Fountain after the tour, however dark had settled while we were inside and after 6 plus hours on our feet we were tired and voted to catch a taxi. Upon arriving home we walked around the corner, past the Pantheon glowing in the dark, to a small grocery store where we bought inexpensive wine, salami, proscuitto, fresh pecorino cheese, bread, and chocolate for dinner from a young, male cashier who was flirting with me. Cheap wine in Italy is exceptionally good and it is no hard task to drink quite a lot in a short amount of time, so after we three had finished two bottles, Carol and I volunteered to make a second run to the store for more while Barbara cleaned up after our feast. My cashier was still on duty and looked rather happy to see me, greeting me in English as I passed. As we wandered back past the Pantheon and turned the corner, we heard singing. Not knowing exactly what was going on, we debated for a moment, and then turned around to walk back to Piazza Rotunda. Lo and behold, a young man had set up a chair and a portable stereo and was singing Italian opera songs in a beautiful tenor voice. His white poet’s shirt billowed in the gentle breeze as he belted out lovely songs, including the famous Nessun Dorma. Carol quickly turned on her camera and made some short movies of his impromptu concert. Where else but in Italy?? It was a perfect ending to an incredible adventure!