Rome (days 2 and 3): Ruins and the Vatican

Over the next two days, Jenn and I acclimatized to the city. With uncontrolled pedestrian crossings that spanned up to eight lanes of traffic, it's clear to see why Romans are a people of strong faith. To look both ways before crossing the street is to look unconfident: tourist websites encourage visitors to look straight ahead and stride purposefully to the other side, noting that traffic will not slow down to avoid you, but will "swerve around you." Comforting.

We visited St. Peter's Square and the Vatican Museums, including the Sistine Chapel. We had foolishly thought that we could fit the museums and the basilica into one day. Jenn sums up Rome best by saying it is "amazing, but overwhelming."

We also visited the Roman ruins: the old forum, the Colosseum, and the palaces of Palatine Hill.

Since Jenn has nixed us visiting Kutna Hora when we are in Prague, I convinced her to visit the Capuccin Crypt. Upon arriving, "we" realized that, unlike other crypts, where the bones are firmly tucked away in marble tombs, in this crypt, they formed the scenery and furniture of six rooms. "We" were a little creeped out. Bizarrely enough, as the notice in French (thank you, Mr. Bobby) explained, this wasn't considered sacrilegious. Rather, since the bones were of 4,000 holy monks who had died in "saintly" manners, and the layout of the bones invited the visitor to "meditation and prayer" (the last room, in several languages, more or less says, "You're gonna die"), people who pilgramaged to the bones on certain days actually got indulgences from the Pope at one time.

We ended the night with a stroll through Rome, admiring the sights and window shopping. Our path led us past the Trevi Fountain, where many florists were operating. Unlike Florence, I noticed that the mechanics of sales transactions worked a little differently: the flowerman would push some roses into the nearest girl's hand, then proceed to explain the system to said girl's man. Curiously, they spoke excellent English up until the point a "no" was heard, at which point they reverted to miming the timeless gesture for money. The operation as a whole was a sight to behold: in a manner that mixes the best of clandestine drug deals and pimps with their women, another man (who I call "Papa Giovanni") would go from florist to florist. As a result of years of experience, Papa Giovanni knew the exact number of fowers a man could hold in one hand while still being able to "keep his pantomime hand" strong. Papa G would periodially collect the proceeds of the evening from the various flowermen, thus ensuring they would always have a pitiful collection of coins to show for their evening's work. Quite a sight! The fountain was nice, too.