Vatican City, or Where is Monica's ID?

Our first (and only) morning in Rome was spent not actually in Italy, but instead in Vatican City.

Let's talk for a second about the Roman metro system. I know there are a cornucopia of ancient ruins that can't be disturbed by a subway system running underneath them, but something's got to be done! For those of you who haven't had the joy of taking the metro while in Rome, it's pretty easy, and cheap. Not hugely efficient, though --- there are two lines, A and B, and they intersect at only one station, Termini. Thank goodness our hostel was just two blocks from Termini, but really, Rome! There's got to be a better way. There's never not rush hour at Termini Station. It's like somebody combined a snowglobe and an ant farm. Lots of frantic scurrying, lots of shaking and looking around to see where the herd's going, zero elbow room. Needless to say, it made me miss New York quite a bit!

We beat the crowd to the Vatican, patting ourselves on the back. By this time, our merry group of travellers had split --- Carmen, Jac, Sarah and Will were off to Paris, while Nia went to London. Lexi and I wanted more time in Italy, so we swallowed all our doubts and language insecurites (there weren't many, actually, we figured our smiles and good intentions needed no translation) and headed off to Rome alone.


Something about this morning was very stressful. I'd heard that from other travellers we'd met along the way, that Saint Peter's and the Vatican Museums were the most hair-raising experiences you could have in Italy. It's overwhelming in every sense. Beautiful, absolutely, but nearly too much to take in. It was especially a mental shock for me to wander around the piazza and see the Church as an establishment, having spent the entire semester in Ireland, one of the most Catholic countries in the world. At the same time, how much of Irish history has been exhausted on the persecution of Catholics, or the war between the Catholics and Protestants? To step inside lavish Saint Peter's, to kneel and pray in the gilded and marble chapels, it was too much. How strange, to think about the young men and women who died because of their association with Catholicism. I doubt the religion they suffered for had much to do with the glory and extravagance in Saint Peter's.

Anyway! Though troubled by my thoughts, I was still able to appreciate the Vatican immensely. Easily two-thirds of my time there was spent with my jaw hanging open. Lexi, with her passion for audioguides, convinced me to pay five Euro and get one to show us around. The narration was pretty heavy-handed, what with the narrator calling me "pilgrim," but I learned a lot.


After we emerged bleary-eyed into the sunny noon, Lex and I went over to the Vatican Museum to see the Sistine Chapel. I hope I'm not offending anyone's artistic sensibilities if I say that I'm not sure the Sistine Chapel should get top billing there. Out of all the treasures and beautiful rooms there, I don't necessarily think the Sistine Chapel is a worthy centerpiece. All the tourists rushed from room to room, holding their breath until they reached the Chapel. Is it awful to say it's a little underwhelming? It's jammed full of people, with guards yelling "SILENCE PLEASE" in a half-dozen languages. It is anything but restful or reflective.

Feeling a little betrayed by Michaelangelo, Lexi and I trudged back to Saint Peter's to return our audioguides. By this time, the piazza was chockablock full of sweating pilgrims downing water and snapping photos. Knowing we had just a few more hours of daylight in Rome left, we were ready bid farewell to the Swiss Guards, handsome as they were, and to get out of the Vatican. Clutching our receipts, we arrived at the office to return our guides --- only to be instructed to go back out to the piazza and stand in the TWO AND A HALF HOUR line to get back in. "But, but," we stammered...No luck, just a stern Vatican grimace.


There was no way we were giving up two and a half hours to wait in line to return a piece of plastic. So, cringing at our dubious morality, we left.

Ahh! I'm still so guilty about it. Please don't think I'm proud of this! I'm mailing back the guide tomorrow. It's my very own telltale heart now, sitting in my bag under my bed. I know that if I want to, I can lean over and be told in eight different languages about the cupolas of the Basilica. I'm sick thinking about it.

In any case, it's not like I didn't make a sacrifice. The audioguide office required a deposit: a passport, a credit card, a student ID, or 100 Euro. So that's where my ID is. In the Vatican. I'm amazed --- if we had left any of those others as collateral, you're darn right we'd wait in line another two and a half hours to retrieve them. But our flimsy purple NYU IDs? Completely dispensible.

I'm awful, I know. But it makes a pretty good story!