On Tuesday morning I set out for San Pietro. I parted from X on the metro as she was going to be working all day. At the exit from the metro station there were many tourists standing around with maps wondering in which direction to go, but I had come armed with advice to walk down the road with the large potted trees lined either side. After about ten minutes of walking I could see at the end of the road some archways, and behind them columns.
I reached Piazza San Pietro from one side of the great, curved colonnade. I wasn't expecting to be confronted with rows of X-ray machines, but at least today they were out of use. Presumably some security is required when the pope does his weekly thing. I stepped out from the shade of the colonnade and into the hugeness of the piazza. It really is impossible to convey the scale of the place, and not only is everything so big, it is also intricately ornate. All along the roof of the basilica and colonnade are full scale statues, each representing weeks or months of a long dead artist's work. Every feature of every surface is carved or decorated. I lingered for a while just gazing at everything, trying to take in every detail, but there was just too much to look at, so I settled for absorbing the general ambience of the place. I made my way slowly towards the basilica, up the steps (where I turned and looked out upon the symmetry) and finally between the columns of the fa�ade and inside.
The first thing I saw was what I suppose must be the foyer of St Peter's Basilica, it was big and grand and milling with people, but it did not prepare me for what was inside. I entered through The Holy Door, and didn't catch my breath again until I finally left this place. The marble seems to stretch on endlessly in every direction, and in the centre of every wall, and in every nook and crevice stands some huge statue, or painting, or more usually several huge statues and paintings. It is as if someone said, "build something bigger than anything conceivably necessary, and then keep building, and when you think you're done, build some more, and then fill it to the brim with countless riches." The place is overwhelming, and I soon began to find it somewhat sickening. It just doesn't seem right, somehow, to have that much wealth all in one place. I wonder what it is for, and I wonder who paid for it.
After walking all around the inside, I encountered some steps which led down into underground vaults, much more plain and simple than upstairs. There were small chapels leading off the corridor, and at the end it opened out into a large room containing caskets and more artwork. After following the route round, I came to a ramp which led up and outside. It was here that I saw the queue for the cupola. I had not known it was possible to ascend to the top, and as I am a fan of tall buildings I joined the queue without thinking too much about it. It was very long, but moved quickly, and I only had to wait about ten minutes. I read the sign that showed ticket prices, there was a choice between taking the lift and taking the stairs. Knowing that I probably had a lot of walking ahead of me anyway, I chose the lift, and figured out how to ask for what I wanted in Italian. I reached the counter, asked for, "uno bigletto con ascensore per favore." I handed over my L8.000 and got my ticket. The guy in the queue behind me asked for, "one with the lift," with very much the same results. Still, at least I made the effort.
The lift went most of the way to the roof of the Basilica. Once up there, the cupola still towered high above. There were two flights of steps, and then I was inside the dome, looking down on the basilica below where I had been not long before. It's quite novel to be so high up and yet inside. The people below all looked like tiny ants, and yet we were all inside the same building. It put a whole new perspective on just how big this place is. Even though we were so high, the dome still towered so far above that it made my legs weak to look at it. After lingering for some time, and noticing that the ledge I was on seemed precariously attached to the inside of the cupola, I continued up. There are many more steps, I was quite glad I had taken the lift. I bounded up, while others who had taken the stairs all the way gasped and wheezed as I passed them. Before long the staircase got very narrow, and the walls started to curve in, until at one point everyone had to lean over at forty-five degrees and hold on to the inside wall. Then there were some more normal steps as we neared the top, and centre, and finally a steep spiral staircase, and out into the air. The view from here is superb. Most striking of all is the symmetry of the colonnade and the sight of Via della Conciliazione stretching all the way to the Tiber, with Castel Sant Angelo perched at the end. I took my time gazing at the view in every direction, and finally my stomach forced me to descend and go in search of food.
I had hoped to find one of the little take-away pizzerias I had been in before, but everything was very touristy around here, so I eventually settled on a Pizza from one of the mobile vans. It wasn't particularly nice, so I treated myself to a lemon flavoured ice-cream, which while not up to the standard of the proper gelato I'd sampled the previous day, filled a void quite nicely. I next set off in search of the Vatican Museums and the Sistine Chapel. These are quite a walk from the basilica, you have to follow the road anti-clockwise around the outside of the walls to the entrance. By the time I got there it was ten to four, and it had all closed at half past three. So I missed my chance, but rescheduled my visit to Castel Sant Angelo to today.
I walked the length of Via della Conciliazione (I am very pleased that I just typed that without looking up the spelling) and soon reached the castle and the river. After gazing at the many views, of Basilica di San Pietro, of the Tiber and its bridges, and of the outside of the castle itself, I entered. After the bustle and extravagance of where I had just come from, Castel Sant Angelo seemed a modest, low key affair. It was originally a mausoleum built by Emperor Hadrian, was later made into a fort, and is now a museum containing various treasures. Unfortunately I cannot tell you much about them because although the plaque describing in English the spiral ramp was very promising, all the other descriptions of the exhibits were in Italian. Still, it is a very nice little castle for walking around, and sometimes it is good to look at historical objects and just wonder about them, without really knowing. At the top there is a bar, which would have been a good place to finish the afternoon with drinks had I not been alone, so I settled for walking all around the ramparts, absorbing the views.
After leaving the castle I had some time to kill, so I sat a while in it's park, imbibing the atmosphere. The park seemed a meeting place for children and their mothers. They played energetically on the grass in the summer evening air, while the parents watched or sometimes joined in. I was infiltrating a community, but I did not feel out of place. I looked on my map and decided to have a walk down the west bank of the river to Isola Tiberina.
At each bridge along the way I had to cross the street. It's probably about time I said something about crossing the street in Rome. It is not for the faint hearted. There are zebra crossings everywhere, but cars do not even think about slowing down until after you have walked in front of them. This means you have to put a lot of faith in the observation skills of the drivers. Coming from a place where drivers have all the observation, reflexes and wits of a houseplant, this did not come naturally. Even more frightening than the cars are the motorinos, scooters and mopeds of various sizes and temperaments that flit around cars and swarm across zebra crossings five or six abreast. They are completely unpredictable. And yet after a few days in Rome I found myself marching out into the street in front of traffic in full flow, along with everyone else. You just have to remember to stop doing it when you get back home, because people don't expect it there, they refuse to stop and instead they run you over. I think that despite the crazyness of Rome's driving, it is kept relatively safe just because drivers have to be so alert all the time. Most of the time it works, most of the time they do stop when you step out in front of them. One final tip, don't trust the crossings with pedestrian lights. Motorinos think nothing of going through a red light, and often if the crossing is on a junction the pedestrian light may be green but cars will still come speeding around the corner.
I finally reached Isola Tiberina, a very quite and picturesque little place with a similar haven in the middle of a metropolis feel to New York's Roosevelt Island. I leant against the wall looking down on the river as the water rushed under the bridge and over the weir. People were sat right on the edge next to the river or on the struts under the bridge without a thought to the certain death they would face if they slipped and fell in. I left the island and decided to wander the streets of the city a bit and end up somewhere near a metro station. I tried to go in a sensible direction, but the first thing I found that I could identify on my map was the wedding cake monument. From there I strolled down Via del Fori Imperiali where the sight of heavy traffic driving between archaeological sites and around the Colosseum reminded me again of the way Rome's modern life blends seamlessly with its history. I sat and mused this back at the Colosseum, before heading for home.
That evening X and I took the tram to San Lorenzo, a studenty kind of district full of inexpensive, lively eating establishments. We went to a proper pizzeria, where we tried a few different starters, and I had the best ham and mushroom pizza I've ever tasted. The base was very thin and crispy, and the topping was very thick. The ham wasn't the little diced bits of ham I was used to, but huge slabs of it draped across the pizza. To finish we sampled a strong lemon flavoured spirit, which I think was called limoncello. We left the restaurant at midnight, something you simply can't do back home, and caught the last tram back.