Fight Change

[Yes, we've been back in the States for a week now, but Steph got behind in posting and never caught up. At least for our own memories I'm going to finish posting based on notes I made.]

Right away in the morning Steph picked up an email that indicated there was a schedule change for our flight to Vienna. Now, that sometimes means it's departing one minute later. Or it could mean something much more. In our case it turned out that our 1:30 p.m. flight got bumped to 6:30 p.m. Yowza. We were both too tired to venture into the city, so we opted to head to a laundromat we'd seen. We'd given up hope of having the time or opportunity to attend to our laundry anywhere other than bathroom sinks, so we jumped on this chance to both lay low and have clothes that felt a bit cleaner. Up to this point Steph had washed only socks in the sink so had no presentable clothes to wear to the laundromat. She was left with no choice but to wear Ellen's bright, checkered flannel pants out in public in a very fashion-conscious country. It's a good thing she herself is not too concerned with high fashion, but it was still a bit embarrassing. We encountered several students at the laundromat from Gonzaga University in Washington, there on their own study abroad experience.

Our hotel allowed us to store luggage and then hang out in a lounge until it was time for us to catch our buses to the airport. This allowed Steph a chance to write for the blog and Ellen to run a couple of errands. We headed out with enough time to stop for one final serving of gelato at a bar around the corner, but it was rather melted so we decided to try at the airport. The last gelato experience had to be worthy of all that gelato can be.

We are glad we arrived at the airport plenty early, though there was no definite news about our flight. We had learned earlier on the phone that the delay was caused by a strike by some of the ground crew, but they managed to piece things together for a 6:30 flight. We were a little anxious because the center of our three weeks abroad has become two performances in Vienna on the following two days. It would have been a very last resort (due to the dismal chance that either of us would get a single wink of sleep), but an overnight train to Vienna would at least ensure we were there for Beethoven and the Lipizzaner Stallions.

In the end, we had nothing to worry about. Our flight left at 6:30 as promised. As usual, it took a while to get through passport control, collect our luggage, and make our way to our hotel via bus, subway, and foot. But Steph emailed to say we would arrive later than expected so a staff member stayed to let us in at about 10:15. We ended up in a double bed for the first time, but at least in Austrian hotels that means two twin mattresses in the same wooden frame. Brilliant design, really, because it means you don't feel each other turning during the night.

A pretty dull day picture-wise. Ellen did snap one of Steph in those checkered pants, but she's saving it for blackmail at a later date.

One full day in Florence

Florence is a much more manageable city. It's much smaller than Rome and the main things of tourist interest are in a much more compact area. I think we are wise to spend two nights here, though.

We got to town just after 6 p.m. yesterday. By the time we took care of personal needs, bought biglietti (tickets) for the bus, nearly got on a bus going the wrong direction, found the right bus, got off 3 stops later, asked for directions twice, walked at least 6 blocks to go less than 2, got our bags up the smallest elevator yet, and checked into our room, it was after 8. We settled ourselves, found a pizzeria nearby (again, after more walking than "necessary"), and fell into bed. What Steph considers heavenly memory foam beds, especially after 4 nights on beds with only the top mattress and through which springs poked at rather uncomfortable points. Ellen found our Rome beds even more uncomfortable than did the younger Steph, but our Florence beds are much less of an improvement in her estimation.

The hotel in general is a bit of a piece of work. The elevator is smaller than any of the other tiny European "lifts" we've come across yet. And it's so old (or just basic?) that you actually have to close the outer cage door then the inner doors yourself. The walls of our room are a rather garish maroon color, which accentuates the blemishes rather than covers them. And the shower. Oh, the shower. It takes at least 3 minutes to get hot water, and the first morning we totally flooded the bathroom floor because we didn't realize that the wall of the shower doesn't make contact with the wall of the room so enough water leaked out to leave a standing puddle, which only accentuated the gross-out factor.

On the plus side, the woman who checked us in marked up a map of the city for us and showed us where to go for the most amazing gelato yet. And there's a slightly more substantial continental breakfast her for our 5 euros. Including gluten-free bready options so Steph finally experienced the delights of chocolate hazelnut spread at breakfast.

We visited all the sights we wanted to, plus several on our wish list, all in one day.

We got up and out in time for Steph to climb the 463 steps to the top of the dome of the cathedral before the long lines form in the mid-morning. What a view! Photos below. And what an accomplishment to build such an enormous prefectly circular dome. On the way down I stopped to view the various hoists and equipment that had to be designed in order to build the dome, to lift the enormous supporting timbers and roof tiles, etc.


Ellen stayed down and viewed the inside of the cathedral when it opened. She was unimpressed by the understated decor compared to other churches we've visited, but couldn't climb to the top with Steph; signs indicated that people with heart conditions, vertigo, or claustrophobia should not attempt it so she was definitely out. She did find some lovely chocolate across the street, though.

Steph descended with time to spare before our rendezvous, so bought some gelato in order to use a restroom (public toilets are much harder to come by in Florence). This put Steph ahead by one serving of gelato, though, which was a point of contention for the rest of the day. But it was so worth it.

After we met up, we set out to find the gelato shop that the woman at the front desk of the motel had told us about. When we found a place with over 30 flavors, including several we had seen nowhere else, we decided this must be the place even though the name didn't match. And it was amazing, just as she had said, so we were happy with our pre-lunch snack.

Just around the corner a woman sat in a tiny booth selling tickets to enter the Uffizi Gallery, a place notorious for long lines. For a few extra euros we bought our tickets right there with absolutely no line, then headed out to explore more of the city until our designated entrance time.

We walked across the Ponte Vecchio bridge, ogling at some of the expensive jewelry items there and taking photos at the midpoint of the bridge. Not too far from the other end of the bridge is the enormous Pitti Palace. Ellen laid on the warm bricks of the plaza like many others were doing, then we high-tailed it back across the bridge to the museum. A slice of potato pizza balanced out the sugar coursing through our veins.

Steph really wanted to return to the Uffizi Gallery for the express purpose of sitting in front of Botticelli's painting dubbed "La Primavera" for as long as she needed to soak it in. We saw some other lovely things along the way, and things that just belong in a museum but don't exactly speak to the soul. A series of seven paintings by Botticelli reflect the seven Virtues, which was also captivating. I just love how he paints women. There's a tenderness without banality, an understated but unmistakable strength at their core. Somehow. Mmmm.

Both of us have very little patience for museums, so we exited early through an emergency exit (with permission!). We sat in the large Piazza della Signora with a little snack (cannoli and a bit of chocolate). Ellen was taken in by a clown performing at the edge of the square, and Steph took a little time to work on the blog and people watch.

Earlier in the day we had taken photos of the copy of Michelangelo's David there in the square. We decided that we had neither the energy to walk up the hill to the original location of the statue (where now sits another copy) nor the desire to go into the Accademia museum where the original is now kept safe.

However, we set out on what became a bit too long of a walk for Ellen's hip. We visited the Piazza of San Lorenzo (the church had just closed to visitors) and patronized a few of the market stalls that line the street on the way to the big Mercado Central. We then walked by the Santa Maria Novella church, with its similar stonework to the cathedral (I think this older church was part of the inspiration for il Duomo). We came upon a fascinating old-style butcher shop with smoked pork hanging from the ceiling and a restaurant next door. We had a mission, though. Steph had found a restaurant online that promised gluten-free pasta options, so we pressed on in that direction even though Ellen found it painful to walk by this point. We walked through Piazza del Repubblica and a block further east discovered Festival del Gelato, the even more amazing shop that our hotel lady had tried to mark on the map for us. Eureka! Ellen counted 62 flavors.

We stepped into a church when the sound of an organ concert beckoned us in. Apparently there are two performances nightly as a fundraiser for the church. We left as the finale bounced off the many hard surfaces and made something close to a cacophony for Steph's stuffy-headed sensitive ears.

Just another block or so down the street was Vecchio Firenze, the restaurant we were seeking. Oh, boy, was it worth the trip. We each ordered the set menu, which gave us four courses for 12 and 15 euros respectively. It was our best meal yet, both for quality and price. Tuscans really know what to do with food. And the owner came around to each table to chat as you finished your meal. Ellen had a clear view of an older man eating his dinner who she surmised was the original owner, the father of the man schmoozing with the patrons. And the older gentleman most definitely fit her profile of a member of the mafia.

We managed to hoof it up the hill to our hotel on our own power and fell into bed after a full but delightful day.

Coliseum and Farewell to Rome

This was our final day in Roma. We finished packing and bade farewell to the sweet sister who was so attentive to us during our stay at the guest house. We rode the packed number 64 bus once more to the Termini metro (subway) station and eventually found where to store our luggage for the day.

We set off for the Coliseum, the final big tourist destination on our list for Rome. As we heard from several sources is wise, we stood in a short line at the Palatine Hill to purchase our tickets instead of the ridiculously long line at the Coliseum. But we needed fuel for our bodies before we walked around the sizeable area of ruins.

In the end we decided to pay for a guided tour of the Coliseum, in the hope of getting more out of the experience by hearing the historical context. It turns out we got the world's most long-winded guide and discovered that we could read from signs the main things we needed to know so abandoned the tour group (as did others). By that time we were too tired to walk back up to and around in the neighboring Palatine Hill area, so sat for a few moments with our smallest (stingiest) gelato yet, then got on the underground back to the train station to collect our luggage.

On day 12 of our 21-day trip, Ellen is showing signs that her lack of sleep is catching up with her. For example, there was a glazed look in her eyes as she said she could find the bathroom in the train station by herself; it was clear that I needed to accompany her. Good thing I did. Even with me there she tried to take off in the wrong direction with only about 6 minutes to spare before our train departed.

We caught a late afternoon train to Firenze (Florence). It was lovely to travel that way in the daylight so we could see the mountains off to our right, the towns built on hills in the foreground, the vineyards and rows of other unknown crops. That is, when we weren't in a tunnel and trying to pop our ears from the pressure changes as we zipped along at 249 km/hr (155 mi/hr).

Ellen insists that the 249 kph is comparable to our bus rides to and from Subiaco, though she concedes that the train tracks do make for a smoother ride. She was able to sleep on the train; on the bus, she was literally holding on for dear life.

It was a good thing we got to Florence earlier than expected. Ellen napped during much of the 90-minute train ride but was still exhausted by the time we drug our suitcases the long way around to our hotel over cobblestone sidewalks. Dinner at a pizzeria (where Ellen found a light French beer she likes and Steph paid for water yet again) was all we could manage before bed.

A day apart and together

Tuesday we decided to each do our own thing in the morning. Steph saw burial places; Ellen saw the seat of Roman Catholicism.

One of Steph's regrets from her time in Rome 13 years ago was that she didn't go to a catacomb. In the first several centuries AD no one was allowed to be buried within the city walls of Rome so they built vast underground burial chambers just outside the city. At least 66 have been discovered, five of which are open to the public for guided tours. I visited the Catacombs of Priscilla, known especially for the many surviving paintings on the walls and ceilings of certain chambers. We saw only a small sector, but one could walk over 8 miles on 3 levels past some 40,000 tombs. Wealthy or important families were often buried together in larger chambers but most people were buried on what is basically a shelf dug into soft rock, often 6 shelves built up one wall. The body was sprinkled with lye to speed decomposition, wrapped in a cloth, placed on the shelf, then sealed behind a terra cotta or marble slab. One thing of note about the Christian catacombs was that a rich person with an engraved marble stone might be buried next to someone so poor their covering wasn't marked, not each in their own separate sections of the catacomb--a radically egalitarian approach amidst a society with clear class distinctions.

Meanwhile, Ellen made her way to St Peter's on her own and worked her way through the security line to enter the basilica. She was very impressed with what she saw inside and spent about 90 minutes taking it all in. There are lots of side chapels, two of which are strictly for prayer so silence is especially enforced. Ellen spent some time in one of them. She also appreciated that the sacrament of reconciliation is offered in a certain area. She enjoyed the frescoes on the walls, and she felt tranquil and at home. She appreciated that amidst the bustle of visitors they manage to maintain a prayerful atmosphere, especially at the various tombs inside. The basilica is so huge that there can be multiple things going on. She even happened upon a large group of students preparing for a special children's mass with the pope.

We met up just after 1 p.m. to walk together around the outside of Vatican City to the entrance of the Vatican Museums. Lines are incredibly long in the morning so we intentionally waited until we could basically just walk straight  through security to the ticket desk. The only way for a commoner to access the Sistine Chapel is by walking through the museums. We took the short course through the museum, seeing enormous maps and tapestries, numerous sculptures, and artifacts from cultures around the world. But, like most people, our real aim was to see the Sistine. Steph had downloaded an audio guide from Rick Steves onto her phone, which was immensely helpful in deciphering what we were looking at on the ceiling and walls. Since we were sharing a pair of earbuds, we did contribute a little to the need for guards to continually shush the crowd, but it was overall a much more uplifting experience than Steph's December visit 13 years ago. We couldn't help but giggle when the audio guide pointed out that one of the figures in the "Last Judgement" on the wall behind the altar looks as if he is being condemned to a life of eternal constipation. A truly miserable sentence indeed, and he certainly looked miserable.

We rested our feet and fed the pigeons in a square, then boarded a bus to the Spanish Steps. A map of the city bus system turned out to be an invaluable investment for our time in Rome since they have only managed to build two subway lines while dodging ancient sites. In so many cases, the bus meant less waking, which extended our energy for the rest of the necessary walking. Even the central part of Rome, the old city, is quite large. Ellen calls the whole thing "downtown," to Steph's constant amusement.

We finished the evening with a larger meal, aiming toward a traditional Italian meal (melon with prosciutto, mixed salad, risotto/gnocchi) and a fair bit of the red house wine. Our waiter was truly fabulous. We continue to get by easily with English; our native Italian waiter was quite fluent in English and can also speak enough German to do his job. Of course we finished with gelato as we strolled toward Piazza del Popolo. Or so Steph thought. It turned out we were walking in the other direction so we caught our normal bus home. This was our latest night out, scooting in at 10:30, still in time for the 11:00 curfew at the guest house.

No photographs allowed in the Sistine Chapel, but here's one of us with a Good Shepherd casting later on in the museum and another view of the dome of St Peter's.

Bits & Bobs

It's probably too early to use that as a subject line. It's the British way of saying "odds and ends." (Thanks, S. Karen, for this bit of knowledge.)  But it's fitting for this collection of random thoughts and observations.

Ellen is tired of the "squatter" toilets. So many here have only the bowl but no seat. We definitely have some toilette stories, but don't want to gross anyone out here. We have a very loose competition / reporting system about the best and worst restrooms we each come across. There have been some real doozies.

But Ellen has fallen in love with the chocolate-for-breakfast norm around here. Let's just hope that the customs dogs don't sniff out the little packets of hazelnut chocolate spread she will likely have stuffed into her suitcase.

Speaking of suitcases, Ellen's still comes in a few kilos heavier than Steph's, but they're both beasts. And we're only at the midway point. Everyone else gets a packet of hazelnut chocolate spread as a souvenir!

Recommendation for other travelers to the European Union: take great care not to rip any paper money. We spent 3 days alternately trying to find a vendor who would accept a 20 euro bill that was missing a little piece and looking for a bank that would give her a fresh bill in exchange for the apparently worthless one. With help we finally found a Banca di Italia that gave her a new one with no questions asked, a surprise after all the vendors who insisted the bank wouldn't accept it from them in turn. At an exchange rate of approximately 1 euro to $1.35, Ellen is happy to have 20 spendable euros back in her pocket.

Ellen is convinced that she keeps seeing members of the mafia. All over the place. A man who gives off a sense of authority and has a certain look is definitely a member of the mafia in her mind. Definitely.

These are the three most important Italian words in our vocabulary these days:
Toilette (it's not even Italian, but they all know it)
Gelato (a trillion times better than ice cream)
Scusi (excuse me)

And here is the fabulous view from the window of our room at the guest house. Yes, that's the dome of St. Peter's Basilica, which is really lovely when lit up in the evening and early morning.

Subiaco

Monday we took the bus across town and the subway all the way to the edge of the city, only to miss a bus to Subiaco by about 2 minutes. But that gave us time to figure out where to buy a ticket (at the coffee bar) and for Ellen to have another serving of what she considers to be far-too-strong coffee. She has a little bottle of French vanilla flavoring that she carries around to "fix" the coffee. She does, however, like the cappuccino.

We arrived in the hill town of Subiaco with our lives intact, but not exactly looking forward to the return journey around tight mountain turns at near breakneck speeds. I kept assuring Mom that that's just how Italians drive, they're used to it, they know what they're doing, it's safe. That did little to appease her queasy stomach, but at last she was able to nab a seat up front with a view through the windshield.

The town of Subiaco is built into the hillsides and has some very steep streets and pedestrian steps that cut straight up through the town. Our reason for endangering our lives to get there was that Steph wanted to visit a monastery founded by St. Benedict, which is about 3 km out the other side of town. There is no longer a taxi available, so she set off on foot after managing to buy a couple of slices of cheese from a shop where basically no English was spoken by the staff and just barely enough little Italian words by Steph, plus a lot of sign language.

I hiked up the mountain road's several switchbacks. It's a good thing cars had to go relatively slow around them because there was absolutely no shoulder, which is common around here. I made it to St. Scholastica Monastery during the midday siesta time so couldn't see much.  I filled my water and popped into a library where they have on display (under a skylight, much to my consternation) a few dozen of the monastery's oldest oldest hand-written and illuminated manuscripts. It's always a little amazing to me to see the square chant notations essentially the same as we still use today in choir.

I headed up the mountain another "500 meters," though I really question whether that's as the crow flies or the distance on the road. About half way between the two monasteries I finally realized that a nature trail I'd seen not too long after the sidewalk petered out at the edge of town was in fact a short cut instead of walking all the switchbacks on the road. This meant it was a very steep climb, but proved to be both a time saver and a way to really see the terrain of the mountain on which an adolescent Benedict set out to live as a hermit.

The siesta time ended soon after I arrived so I did get to visit the chapels built around the area where Benedict is said to have lived in a cave for 3 years before he was convinced to lead a community of other spiritual seekers. And I mean literally built around it--onto the side of the mountain. In places the chapel walls are the exposed side of the mountain rock.

After paying appropriate homage, I very nearly ran down the mountain via my newly-discovered off-road shortcut.  I'd left Mom waiting in town, and knew there was no way I'd get back by the promised time but hoped I wouldn't make us miss too many buses headed back to Rome. She was very patient; she enjoyed a visit to a church (basilica?) and a stroll through some of the town.

We were indeed later getting back to Rome than my hopeful estimate in the morning so finished the day with dinner at a place where Steph was at last able to have gluten-free pasta instead of risotto. And gelato on our way home, of course.

Sunday in Roma

After a small breakfast (the typical breakfast here is a roll with jam; our guest house also offers Nutella and a soft cheese) we set out down the hill toward St Peter's Square. Along with thousands of other people. The next hour gave us a new understanding of the phrase "packed in like sardines." Body against body on two to four sides at all times, shuffling up toward the security check points.

At last, we made it through the funnel and into the square. The seats had long ago filled up, so we stood for the next 3 hours as well but were very near one of the giant television screens and speakers. Later in the day we ran into several students from the CSB/SJU Ireland study abroad group who managed to get seats in the 7th row. It would have been amazing to be that close to the steps and altar, but we may have had an even better view and got a couple extra hours of much-needed sleep. We had a great perspective of the square. It was literally packed to overflowing. We've heard that the square will hold 65,000 people.

We did manage to receive communion, thanks to a priest in front of us who took the gold dish containing the blessed hosts and worked his way back through the pressing crowd.  It does seem like we're still a greedy, fearful lot with all the pushing that went on that day. Or perhaps fervent better gets at the underlying motivation. I'm not sure.

Ellen saw that people were still receiving communion after the end of mass. Well over a hundred priests who had seats up on the "platform" near the altar set out down the gated-off aisles in their green vestments to distribute it, but it takes a long time to get to 65,000 people. We moved ourselves closer to an exit area for the close of mass, including the papal blessing. Ellen held out a little glass bottle of water for a friend and a magnet of Pope Francis for herself, so they are blessed as well.

It was also powerful to hear the prayers of the faithful in several different languages. We were a little surprised to learn that the whole assembled crowd says the rosary together to prepare for mass, so we read along in our booklets for the Italian words (of course very similar to Latin).

The pope's homily was all in Italian, but the little part Steph could catch went something like this:
The family that says these three things will survive:
Please
Thank you
I'm sorry.

The chronology got slightly out of order here, but after mass and the papal blessing we left and found a free toilet next to the bus stop (amazing!). By the time we got bus tickets and worked up the courage to board one of the unbelievably full busses we finally started to see the throngs of people exiting the square. Apparently Pope Francis did make a loop in the popemobile, but we're okay with the experience we had.

The rest of our day:

Piazza Navona, with lunch right on the square for a little people-watching

Gelato at the Pantheon, one of Steph's absolute-musts of the trip. After the gelato was consumed we went inside. Standing under the circular opening in the roof of this ancient circular building is a powerful experience on an energetic level, even when surrounded by hundreds of tourists milling about.

An accidental visit to a group of cats who live at one of the excavated sites (someone said up to 360 of them, though we only saw 8). They live entirely on charity, but apparently may be better taken care of than many of the people who beg for money around town. The cats turned up their noses at the breadstick Ellen broke up for them; they seem to prefer the little tins of actual cat food that some people bring.

About 3 hours resting our feet at a cafe after all of the standing we did earlier in the day.  And Steph troubleshooting her wi-fi/data connection.

Trevi Fountain just after dark when the lights come on. This is the fountain into which one throws a coin in order to return to Rome. Christina, my coin went in "for" you, if things can work that way.

A slice of pizza to go, the requisite second serving of gelato for the day, then the bus home.

In lieu of photos from mass, here's one of Ellen from the previous day just after she picked up our entry tickets, and one from the Trevi Fountain.