Rome. The entire trip was just a lead up to this port. We debated endlessly about what we would do in Rome. Every tour seemed to leave just one important piece out, forcing you to make an excruciating decision about what to leave out. After narrowing down all our choices, we had to choose which to sacrifice: the Colosseum or the Sistene Chapel. The Sistene Chapel visits had gotten mixed reviews, with many people complaining about the arbitrary ban on photography (other people were taking pictures without penalty but they were forbidden) and how obnoxious the overwhelming the crowds were. We were leaning toward the Ancient Rome and so we decided to go on Jumping Back into Eternal Rome.
Although it would be our longest day, our meeting time was not our earliest (that would be at La Spezia the following day) so we were afforded a tiny bit more sleep. Our designated meeting place was Animator’s Pallette and the place was overflowing with people. We met up with our tablemates Andy and Laura here as it was the first and only excursion we had in common. They had been taking a lot of ports on their own and so were able to sleep in most days. They understandably were not too excited to be up so early but they got no sympathy from us, as we were expecting to die from sleep deprivation at any moment.
We were on the first bus out. The bus was not our main mode of transportation as it was for pretty much every other excursion. Our bus was just a shuttle to the Roma Express, a private train rented for all of us on this excursion. It was charming and comfortable, though the boarding process was marked by chaos and confusion that would return again and again on this excursion. The sheer number of people on the excursion meant that the single guide accompanying us (once we got to Rome, we’d have another, the tour guide, but it was not her job to keep track of us all) was helpless when we all came together like this. At least four buses were unloading at the same time and so the groups were all mingling together. We all loaded the train at different points than the rest of our group and the end result was, although we were initially sitting with Laura and Andy, we were separated and relocated so that bus 21 was more or less in the same car. This served absolutely no purpose as we didn’t see our guide again until Rome. We did, however, see Peter Pan, who burst into the car with his signature rooster crowing, waking up half the people who had just fell asleep. One young girl across from us was particularly furious with Peter for doing this, and when he came to her and asked where she was from as he did everyone else, she just stared him down until he moved on.
The view from the Roma Express was uninspiring with the exception of a large field of sunflowers that seemed to go on endlessly into the distance for the brief seconds we passed. We would fly through tunnels every so often which would cause incredibly uncomfortable pressure in our ears for reasons I don’t quite understand but assume has something to do with the air displaced as we sped through a tunnel with only a few inches clearance on either side.
We arrived in Saint Peter’s Station and we were all handed our Whispers, the devices that would allow us to hear our guide even when far apart, and the earpiece to use with it. The earpiece for Pompeii was an pair of headphones, but these were a plastic tube with a piece of gel with a hole at the end that you stuck inside your ear so you can be uncomfortable all day. We all adjusted our Whispers to the correct channel (in a brilliant piece of industrial design, the Whisper’s channel resets to 01 when turned off. There are 69 channels.), shoved the awful earpiece in our ears and were introduced to our new tour guide, an elderly woman in a tanktop with far more energy than any of us had even at the start of the day. Some might call her impatient while others would say determined as she never waited past the appointed meeting time and cared not for those who shuffled behind. She was Darwinian in her touring but the whirlwind tour of Rome we had signed up for necessitated such cutthroat tactics. If you wanted something leisurely, you shouldn’t have signed up for the 11.5 hour tour that takes you to 800 different sights. Our guide pointed out St. Peter’s Basilica, just a dome behind a lot of buildings in the distance (it was this magnificent view that the train station was named for), which would be our final stop. For now, we were boarding the bus for a scenic drive to the Colosseum.
Ancient ruins lay in the middle of busy streets like land reclaimed for parks and recreation in the States. Instead of trees and benches there are columns and arches. We passed by temples the names of which I’ve long since forgotten as the drive afforded no time for reflection or, more importantly, a picture of the sign in front of the place so I know where I’d been. I do remember how low all of the ruins were. Rome’s risen about fifteen feet since the first Romans built their city, so the ruins all sit in pits surrounded by their modern counterparts.
We entered the Piazza Venezia and drove past the Victor Emmanuel Monument, a massive and ornate (get used to that word) structure which desperately wants you to believe it was constructed by the ancient Romans but was instead built in 1870 to celebrate Italy’s first king (the titular Victor Emmanuel) and the unification of the country. It stands, looming large over its surroundings, at the heart of modern Rome, which is precisely why the modern Romans hate it. It’s taking up prime real estate and the over-the-top design and statuary have led them to dub it “The Wedding Cake”. The Tomb of the Unknown Soldier (of WWI) rests here, its eternal flame guarded by soldiers on each side. The effect the monument has on tourists (myself included) is positive, though, as evidenced by the throngs lined up to take their picture with a misplaced Centurion (calling himself a Gladiator. They all call themselves Gladiators regardless of the costume).
We turned and suddenly the Colosseum lay in the distance. We approached and drove past, but we would return, it was just that parking isn’t easy in Rome and you have to drive away from somewhere before you can return to it. We parked alongside an aqueduct and Palatine Hill, something I had heard about constantly in Ancient Greek classes but looked kind of sparse and ignored, at least from our vantage point. It wasn’t important enough to go in apparently, so we walked right past and made our way towards the Arch of Constantine.
The Arch of Constantine stands right alongside the Colosseum, looking a lot better kept considering it’s not much older. It was built in the 4th century in honor of the battle that brought Christianity to the status of official religion for much of the western world and at first glance it looks like a rather impressive monument reflecting that. Look a little closer and you’ll see something that’s fairly common around these parts: the monument was actually built from bits and pieces of other monuments because they were strapped for cash during its construction. Our guide told us that there used to be a beautiful fountain in front of the Arch but since Mussolini, douchebag that he was, wanted to march his troops through the Arch, they tore the fountain down.
We made our way past the Arch and as we approached the Colosseum we encountered a group of Centurions and Gladiators (again, all claiming to be Gladiators) that we had been told ahead of time required money for their posing for pictures. Lisa, of course, desperately wanted to take a picture with them, but I said I would buy the same costume at Target (they weren’t even ashamed of how plastic their armor was) and she could stand next to me back home. Disney sided with Lisa, though, and they had already prepaid a group of “Gladiators” to pose for pictures with us while Disney snapped their overly expensive photos for back on the ship. Our guide, wonder that she is, allotted exactly the 7 seconds it took her to walk past them for picture taking. We still managed to get a few in before we had to run to catch up.
We walked past the immense line that reassured us that the vast amount of cash we had put out in order to take an excursion was at least somewhat well-spent. We entered through the group entrance after having everything inspected and metal detected and were suddenly inside the Colosseum.
The Colosseum, like most other large, marbled, ornate structures throughout Europe, was used as a quarry when it outlived its usefulness. It definitely shows, especially through the hundreds of large holes that dot the structure, the places where the metals supporting the stones were before they were carved out. The marble, of course, only remains in tiny fragments on pieces that have fallen from places too high to easily reach. What remains is impressive for its immense size in its present form, but the architecture and the history that it contains are wholly dependent on your imagination in order to fully enjoy it. My first reaction was disappointment: this was it? The giant house of murder and mayhem was certainly a shadow of its former self, with just the skeleton of its support structures remaining. Not even the seating remains so you can register its capacity at first glance. It was only as we spent more time there, half-listening to our guide recounting its history, that the true spirit of the place began to unfold. The floor was missing, revealing the tunnels underneath (the Utilidor, if you will) where the animals that would be released to fight the Gladiators were caged. As you circled the amphitheater, the various exits and stairwells (most gated or destroyed by time) you realize how much our modern stadiums owe to its design, how crowd control was down to a science even two thousand years prior.
Every so often a unique view of Palatine Hill or some other monument would be offered somewhere off the main walkways and the separation from the group was encouraged by a bit of free time. This was probably the biggest mistake of the excursion, because the Colosseum was so crowded and the venue so gigantic that you were constantly afraid of being left behind, especially since our guide was on a schedule we could barely keep up with. Our remaining time in the Colosseum had this fear hanging over it, so that Lisa grew progressively more nervous that we would be left behind and eventually forced us out into the street where we learned we had left 10 minutes ahead of the scheduled time with no way back in. This led to our first big fight of the trip which was resolved only with Lisa’s thoroughly apologizing and my banking my “I was right” points for future use in arguments. The most aggravating thing by far was that our Whispers still worked outside the Colosseum, out by the Arch of Constantine where we were waiting, so we could hear the tour our guide was giving to those who chose to remain with her. It was during this time, in between whispered yells, that we learned that the Colosseum was named not for its own immensity but for the ridiculously huge statue of Nero that once stood outside it.
We rejoined our group, following our tanktopped guide who had a black rose hoisted above her head, her sole concession to keeping the group together. We boarded the bus across the street from Palatine Hill and were on our way to the Trevi Fountain.
The longest pedestrian part of our tour began as we boarded the bus and made our way to the Trevi Fountain. The place was packed, but the pace was leisurely, and most every tourist here had the same thing in mind: throwing a coin over there shoulder into the fountain to ensure their return to Rome. The common purpose gave the bustling crowd some sort of hive mind organization, with polite queues for coin-tossing and pictures and separate scattered areas for milling and gawking. The locals here were there to people watch and relax instead of constantly on the move like elsewhere. It was an oasis in the middle of the chaos, despite it seeming chaotic upon first glance. Disney had sent their picture teams here, and they took pictures of everyone who wanted one. The people would then step aside and have their picture taken by the couple that had gone before them. Everyone returned the favor.
Rick Steves’ guide dismisses Trevi Fountain during the day and only slightly recommends it at night, but I can’t see why. It’s a beautiful fountain of white marble that remains pristine, away from the pollution that stains all the marbled monuments alongside the roads. There was even some local charm to the tourist trap, as enterprising men with magnets on telescoping rods fished out the very euros that the people alongside them had just thrown in. They were brazen, too, especially considering that once a week the coins are removed from the fountain and given to charity. Once we were all done taking our ten thousand pictures, we made our way to the Pantheon.
The Pantheon clearly has inspired countless buildings since its construction and its not hard to see why. The twelve massive columns of the entryway are each made from only one stone, floated down the Nile from Egypt. They weren’t the only remnants of Rome’s conquests in Egypt as the Pantheon shares its square with an Egyptian obelisk, one of many found throughout Rome and the surrounding parts of its former empire. The Pantheon, though, was the subject of everyone’s attention. It’s the most perfectly preserved ancient building in the world because it was converted from a temple to all gods (hence its name, Pantheon) to a church dedicated to all martyrs just after the fall of Rome and so all the invaders throughout the years left it intact while they pillaged from other ancient sites. This is even more surprising when you step inside through the massive bronze doors to see the wonders contained inside.
The Pantheon is lit only by its oculus, a circular skylight at the center of its impressive dome (there are small holes on the floor that act as drains when it rains). The use of the light is incredible, as the room is illuminated perfectly in this way, but by far the most impressive thing is the construction of the dome. The dome is so perfect that it has been admired by architects from the moment it was built. Its use of forced perspective makes it look far larger than it actually is (viewed from the outside, it’s actually quite shallow) with the pattern used getting smaller and smaller the higher up you go on the dome (you Disney nerds will recognize this technique as its used throughout the Disney Parks when a building needs to look larger than it is. The materials also differ as the dome gets higher, with the lightest material, a porous volcanic rock, used at the very top. There was plenty to marvel at, but part of me regretted that it was ever turned into a church as the iconic imagery of Christianity paled in comparison to the wealth of Roman gods that must’ve once lined its walls.
Our next stop was Piazza Navona. The famed Bernini fountain of the square was under renovation, the huge Egyptian obelisk peeking above the scaffolding. The massive church of St. Agnes laid behind it while the rest of the square was lined with charming and colorful buildings, giving the whole thing a sort of split personality that seemed to fit the artists and musicians scattered throughout the square perfectly We were left again here to take pictures and admire the fountain that wasn’t under renovation before we were to meet up with the bus again for our trip to lunch.
We had been misled, thinking the bus would be waiting for us just off Piazza Navona but instead we trekked endlessly to meet up with it. Perhaps the idea was to work up an appetite, but we had worked up our appetites hours before. Still, it didn’t hurt, since lunch was incredible. We dined in the Tanagra Café Concerto, a cavernous restaurant who ably served the several buses that emptied into it. There was an antipasto as well as a dessert, but none of those were carved into memory since the highlight of the lunch, perhaps the culinary highlight of the entire trip so far, was the lasagna. I have never even entertained the thought that lasagna could be one of my favorite foods but after tasting theirs I can say with all seriousness that I would consider eating it every night for the rest of my life. The table had been genial up until the point it was served and then suddenly all conversation stopped as we reveled in the majesty of our main course. I’m sure I saw the darkness in the eyes of those who finished first while they considered the lengths they were willing to go to for seconds. I almost scammed a waiter out of a second helping when an insane young lady at the table next to ours refused hers, but the head waiter rerouted the willing waiter before he could hand off the meal.
Our tablemates included Andy and Laura as well as two adult brothers who were taking their mother through Europe. They had braved Vesuvius and hiked it during the insanely hot day we had been in Pompeii. They said the view was worth it and although it took 45 minutes to climb, it only took 10 minutes to descend, since the trail was so steep they essentially ran down the mountain.
Disney had paid a silhouette artist to wander the restaurant and he had all the children stand in profile while he cut their shapes from black paper that he would then give to them free of charge. The man did this at insane speeds. Andy timed him at 35 seconds for one kid. These were not simple, either, he would capture every misplaced hair, every ridge of the nose. Andy’s beard made him a perfect adult candidate for the silhouette and he did so at his usual blazing pace, producing a flawless reproduction of his profile, down to the unkempt hair and the soul patch he had let grow a little too long and thus stuck out of his silhouette a little too far, giving him body issues for the rest of the meal.
Fat and happy, we piled onto the bus to head to St. Peter’s Basilica.
We entered St. Peter’s square head on, the massive area where the Pope holds his public masses on Christmas and Easter unfolding before us. 300,000 people gather here to see the Pope speak and it’s easy to see why: other than the holy father himself, the square is beautiful, lined on all sides with sculptures of a hundred saints.
There was no line-jumping here, though, and the line was quite long. It moved at a brisk pace, though and we were at security in under 20 minutes. We hadn’t brought a bag, so I put my two cameras, voice recorder, and sunglasses on the belt by themselves. By the time I had made my way through the metal detector and picked up my stuff, my voice recorder was gone. Bags were passing through the machine quickly, so it didn’t seem as if it was stuck inside. Our guide (from the bus, not tanktop lady) saw that I was looking for it and asked the security guard to check the machine. He yelled something in Italian and refused to take his feet off their comfortable place on top of the machine. I said that there was a possibility that one of the many Disney cruisers had gotten it caught in their bags and that they might turn it in to Lost and Found on the ship when they found it. Lisa took this to mean that Brian, the DISboarder we had met at the Roy Suite who had also been in front of us in the security line, had stolen my voice recorder. She chased him down and embarrassingly told him that he had our voice recorder in his bag. I gave up looking in the machine and ran over to make things right, telling a flustered Brian that my wife was insane and that, while there was a possibility that my voice recorder had slipped into one of the many pockets on his bag, it was equally likely that it had not, that this was not a big deal, and that he should go about his day and enjoy himself. I consoled myself with the notion that now I could say I had something of mine stolen at the Vatican, which is worth more than the voice recorder was.
The Vatican has the same rules as all the churches in Europe: no bare shoulders or knees. The difference here is that there are suited men in a tent that won’t let you through unless you meet their stringent requirements. Quite a few people were held back, but my standard outfit and Li’s now covered shoulders let us pass through and get on the final line, the one that would take us inside St. Peter’s Basilica. From here we were able to admire the square as the Pope would see it from his balcony. The slightly elevated position allowed us to fully appreciate its magnificence, an entrance to a church far larger than most other churches. It was almost enough to prepare us for what we were about to see.
What can you say about St. Peter’s Basilica? It’s beyond words. It’s insanity, too much to see at once, as if your eyes refuse to focus. It makes you understand how the church ruled for so completely for so long. How could any peasant not immediately obey whoever could make such a marvelous thing? We felt rushed seeing it all, but how could we not feel rushed? The place was bigger than big and every inch of it was covered in ornamentation and sculpture. Peek into one corner and there’s Michelangelo’s Pieta. Peek into another and find a dead Pope. Look up and see the magnificence of Bernini’s 70 foot tall bronze canopy above the altar. Look up further and see Michelangelo’s dome, ridiculously beautiful amongst a sea of beauty. There were pilgrims amongst the tourist, rubbing parts of things that were supposed to bring them luck, gazing upon the golden features of one of the three Popes laid out for all to see. All the stories begged to be told, but our time here only allowed for glimpses at the glorious images. My eyes fell upon a statue of Saint Veronica, tearing at her robes, her motion and anguish captured wonderfully in the stone.
We wandered in and out of the tour group, as everyone did, knowing that nothing she said could quench our thirst for more information and settled for images of things to further research when we returned home, things we’d see again when we returned on the trip that had now been cemented in our minds.
It was time to leave and there was no time for souvenirs, much to my dismay as a rosary from the Vatican seemed like a perfect gift for my grandmother. Our guide pressed on, though, forcing us pass the shops and down into the damp and hot corridors of the below-ground garage where our bus, of course, was not waiting for us. We stood there for at least 15 minutes, time we could’ve spent getting my Grandma a rosary, until our driver finally showed up and we were ushered onto the bus whose air conditioning, of course, had just turned on.
The insane traffic patterns of Rome meant that we made a 10 minute circuit to get to a tunnel that was literally 3 feet from where we came out of the garage. We were taken back to St. Peter’s station where we parted ways with our commando tour guide and waited on the platform for the Roma Express, which sat tauntingly on the other side of the platform. Eventually, once we had all tired of standing around looking at it, it pulled away, only to return on the right side of the tracks a few minutes later. We boarded it again, this time more wary of the seating arrangements, and rode back to Civitavecchia. Laura and Andy had both noticed the uncomfortable pressure the tunnels made on your ears and we spent a good part of the ride making funny faces at each other while we yawned as a countermeasure.
Our thoughts? We were most certainly rushed but that’s what we signed up for: to see as much of Rome as possible in the little time we were allowed. What we did see gave us great jumping off points for our intended return trip. We knew we could only scratch the surface of what Rome had to offer and I think this excursion did that as well as it possibly could have, save a few speedbumps.
Exhausted, we stumbled back to the room where we washed away the sweat that had replaced where half our bodies once were. Truly, finer showers were never had.
Dinner was at Parrot Cay and we scarfed it down greedily, with me getting the Tomato Risotto and the Warm Smoked Bacon, Onion and Cheddar Cheese Tartlet for appetizers, the Tamarind Rubbed Baked Pork Tenderloin and the Roasted Grain-Fed Sirloin of Beef with Truffle Jus for the main courses, and several desserts I don’t remember since I didn’t take picture of them. Rest assured I had a ton.
We returned to the room where Laurel had left us a towel animal that confused me when I saw it on the last cruise. Your first guess is a dog, but it could also be a rabbit, or a Jester on all fours. Along with it were the Euro mints and a rolled up scroll inviting us to yet another DVC meeting. DVC was out in full force this cruise with countless presentations and an ad enticing us on our bed or over the phone at least once a day, sometimes more. They were pushing it extremely hard, and I hope this is a good thing for those of us that were already members.
We collapsed again. We had our second day at sea ahead of us, and every minute of sleep counted.