Italia: Part 2

Susan & Andy Barry’s Top 5 Worst Fears 

Category: Daughter Going to Europe
1. Daughter is lured by charming European hottie into the arms of international human traffickers, sold to drug lords, then brought back to her Amsterdam hostel in the Red Light District, which was really a brothel all along. Here, she works the darkest corner possible under the red-hued conditions and is quickly conditioned to like copious amounts of cocaine. Because Andy is the owner of a rental store, and not Liam Neeson, there is nothing that can be done. However, The University of Idaho continues to hold the annual Dance for Justice in her honor.

2. Returns with lower back heart-shaped tattoo in the colors of the Spanish flag.
3. Falls in love.
4. Pierces other side of nose.
5. Brings incurable European disease home, which wipes out the Barry Rental dog population because as purebred golden retrievers, they have no functioning immune system anyway.

I am still healthily blogging away, so clearly your #1 worst fear has not yet been realized. Numbers 2, 4, and 5 are still to be determined. I hate to break it to you, Mom and Dad, but I have fallen in love.

Rome 

First of all, Monica and I arrived in Rome from Viterbo safely and were checked into our hostel by a very attractive young Italian. His English was not the best, but we gave him an A for effort and enthusiasm. He was able to give us directions concerning the metro system, and we wasted no time in following them.

Metro Stop: Colloseo
Upon exiting the metro station, metro-travelers are immediately greeted by the Colosseum. 

  

With our first monument sighting under our belts, we continued onwards to The Vatican. There may have been some restaurants on the way, so obviously we didn’t say no to pizza (that would be against Italian code)…but in true cheap-o form, we ordered them to-go and ate it with our 1 euro Cokes (rather than 4 euro Cokes) on the steps of yet another beautiful and important building.

As a born and raised Catholic girl, I have seen pictures and videos taken inside and around St. Peter’s Square many times. However, nothing prepared me for the overwhelming size and beauty of St. Peter’s Basilica.

St. Peter's Square

St. Peter's Basilica

Not the Pope

We happened to be there in time for Holy Thursday mass, led by a little old man with a fancy hat and a tall twisty cane. Although it was said in Italian and I mainly only picked up on words like Dios and Gesu, it was a beautiful mass. Whether you are Roman Catholic or just a Protestant heathen, everyone should experience mass inside of the world’s most important church some time in their lives. 

 
Afterwards, Monica and I strolled around The Eternal City and let it show itself to us.

The Pantheon

Michelangelo's Pietà in St. Peter's Basilica

Point of Interest: When trying to communicate with Italians, Spanish is close. However, not that close. We found it best to speak in English with a heavy Italian accent. For example, when Monica and I wanted to find the best place for tiramisu, no one understood what we were saying. 

“Tiramisu? Tiramisu? Um…teer-ah-MEE-su?”

“Ohh, teer-ah-MEE-su!!”

The Trevi Fountain...we made many wishes. Mostly to return.

Somewhere between people-watching on the Spanish Steps, eating the best chocolate gelato, and making a wish in the Trevi Fountain, I fell in love. Rome is magic. 

Oh you know, just a random cafe covered in lavender

I wasn't joking about the frolicking.

On Good Friday, we stepped off the Colosseo metro stop, beat the 3-hour line at the Colosseum, and bought our Roman Pass across the street at the Roman Forum. It turns out that ruins are very cool, but Monica and I are more into frolicking in the flowery fields nearby Palatine Hill. From there, we walked past the sweating, bored tourists and scanned our tickets to enter the very same place where people used to gather to watch gladiators kill each other. 

FIGHT ME.

Useful Tip: Let yourself get hustled. The waiters standing outside the strings of restaurants and cafés may be aggressive, but they can also get you a good deal. Look at the menu prices as a bargaining process. They are written in ink, not stone. You just might get loads of pasta and pizza, Coca-Cola, free cover charge, lively conversation, and a view of the Colosseum for 8 euro.


After lunch we met up with Maddy and her friend Taylor, explored the city some more, and eventually wound up in front of the Colosseum again, watching Pope Benedict XVI say the Stations of the Cross. 

Yes.

I saw and heard the Pope reenact Jesus’ passion, and then speak afterwards. Alright, maybe I didn’t completely understand every single Italian word, but that wasn’t important. I got the overall message. 

I could see him better than this picture shows, I swear.

The next day, Monica and I got up early(ish) to wait in line at the Vatican Museum.  After a couple hours of chatting with numerous tour guides ("Only 40 euro for a tour! No--35, because you're girls!), turning down umbrella-selling gypsies, and arguing over who got which postcards out of the pack of 20 for a euro that we bought from the postcard-selling gypsies, we made it.  

Unfortunate statue in the Musei Vaticani

I saw the entire Vatican Museum, which is packed with paintings, sculptures, maps, tapestries...you name it, someone who shares his last name with a Ninja Turtle has created it, and the Vatican has it.  The Vatican Museum ends with the Sistine Chapel, which doesn't permit photos.  However, if you would like to see what Michelangelo's ceiling masterpiece looks like, go creep onto any of your facebook friends that have been to Rome, and you will see the pictures that they took of the Sistine Chapel.  Because no one listens to the security guards.  Personally, I just felt that no photo I could take would do the place justice.  After about an hour of open-mouthed gaping in the chapel itself, we concluded our tour.

Playtime in Italy!

Monica and I continued playing with Maddy and Taylor until it was time for us to leave. Actually, it was past the time for us to leave, but we had a hard time tearing ourselves away from our dear Rome. But the prospect of buying a whole new ticket from home to Sevilla last minute certainly boosted our motivation, so after an expensive cab ride, some line-cutting, and running through the airport, we made it on the plane in time. 

Being surrounded by the Italian language, which sounds a lot like if Spanish went to a circus to play on the carousel while writing romantic poetry in a changing-color calligraphy pen, is wonderful. However, when I woke up on Saturday morning I was ready for my own twin bed in Triana, tostada for breakfast, and showering with towel-access again. Also, I missed being able to communicate with the local people by more than an exaggerated accent, grunting, and lots of pointing. 

So Mom and Dad, don’t worry. I fell in love, but Rome and I have a special kind of relationship. I can leave and come back and it will always be as if no time has passed. Rome doesn’t ask about the other cities I’ve slept, it never stops feeding me gelato, and will never leave me—that’s why they call it The Eternal City. 

 Also, Sevilla is still better.