I'd just like to take a moment and relay my bittersweet feelings concerning this post. Sure it is the last of a very long project I have been working on since returning from my trip. There were times when I would go weeks without posting anything, and you must be wondering why. Well, writing a blog everyday isn't as easy as it sounds. When I was in Europe with my sister, I tried to write a journal entry everyday, this strained my attempted style of the journal as I was trying to maintain the integrity of each post but was finding it hard not to resort to cliches. The result was a hurried and oftentimes bland recount of the events I have recounted here. I chock it up to being young and without a unified vision behind the writing, which I responded to by rewriting some of the things in my journal before posting as I am a perfectionist and the drivel I had written was only the mere mentions of much more fantastic and magnificent memories I still hold. I would also like to mention a new project that will make an appearance here on Notes of a Dirty Young Traveler in the coming weeks and months. Since I am now living in Lyon, France I would love to share with you all a piece of my experiences here as well as my trips abroad. I arrived in France at the end of August 2011, and plan on living here until June 2012, during which I will be studying business, philosophy, history and the French language. I will periodically write posts updating you about my current situation as well as delving into the mindset of a American student abroad. So for now enjoy the final post of the Eurotrip 2009, and expect new posts from France soon.
Bittersweet feelings on this July day. My heart hangs in the balance between wanting to stay here in Europe, where things are beautiful and strange, and returning home, where I will once again be surrounded by my familiar culture. Leaving will put to rest the sense of anxiety one experiences when abroad in new and foreign lands, but I can't help but think how much this trip has changed me, not in the desperate cliched way of an innocent abroad, but in the way a ceramic bowl becomes hardened and solid in the crucible of an oven. That's how Europe has been for me, a series of tests and the resulting moments of bliss when the hard work has paid off and I was allowed to indulge in the secret pleasures allotted to me.
Today was spent seeing the things we had missed the previous days, but mostly we sat in reflection of our time abroad so far. We pondered the minute and immense things that make Europe so enchanting to Americans and we hit upon a single strain that seems to pervade and inspire this feeling, and that is the sense of nostalgia. Many people come to Europe, and they (hopefully) know that it is certainly older than the United States. However, even knowing of the general history surrounding this continent won't prepare you for the reaffirmation of the human existence. Seeing the massive churches and experience the culture of centuries past remind us of our persistent link to history. It is both inspiring and reminiscent of those fleeting days of self-discovery when we become aware of the surroundings in which we inhabit. It is quiet the experience, one I would recommend to anyone.
After a few drinks at Murphy's Pub, (where a group of well-wishers met and talked with us about Amsterdam life, and we in turn divulged secrets about the very different and sometimes disgusting American life), we went to another Italian restaurant where we ate pizza and pasta. We decided to walk a bit further after dinner and came to the place we had eaten the other night. We decided to sit and have a drink. We had almost finished a bottle of Rose when one of the patrons recognized us from the night before. He came over and we talked for a bit. When he left I smiled to myself, my sister and I had become bar-rats in Amsterdam. By this time it was late, so we went looking for a club. Finding one, we pushed our way inside and ordered two beers at the packed bar. We passed the time soaking up the atmosphere and drinking our beer. I danced with a few girls to music that was would have found home on the Billboard 100 from 2003. We were about to leave, so my sister went to the bathroom. She had hardly unbuttoned her pants when a massive barbarian woman kicked in the door yelling, "you can't pee here, this is the men's room, you pay 50 cents and wait your turn!" She grabbed my sisters arm and started dragging her out of the stall. My sister quickly broke her hold and after flipping her off tossed the contents of her beer at her feet. She then tapped my should saying, "Bryan, we've got to go," as she bolted for the door. I finished my beer and ran after her. I got as far as the first step when three bulbous bouncers caught hold of my arms and lifted me in the air saying, "you pay for toilet now!" As my feet kicked helplessly as air I responded, "I didn't use your fucking toilet! Let me go!" Thankfully the barbarian women showed up and said, "it wasn't him, it was her!" She pointed to my sister who had already ran several blocks and was by this time a fading shadow among the neon signs.
They let me go, and I met up with my sister at another Irish pub, where we laughed about the whole thing. Soon though she retired to bed, and I was obliged to go with her. She went to sleep but I stayed up and went out onto the balcony to talk with David and Adrienne who were finishing the last of their weed. I told about the night's events in detail, and they seemed to understand. I was putting off the inevitable by talking to Adrienne after David went to sleep. I was prolonging my stay here in Europe as long as I could as I knew our flight tomorrow would come early and with a vengeance. But when I finally said goodnight I rested on my pillow and sighed a contented sigh that summed up my three week journey in Europe.
Our early morning flight left at 10 am. I say early because I didn't want to get up for it. I felt woozy again as I had so many other days throughout the trip. Fearing I would again throw up I grabbed the extra plastic garbage bag from our room and we went to check out. We took a train to the airport and I was successful in suppressing my urge to puke. Once we arrived at the airport we took an escalader to the second floor and that's when I lost it. I hurled into the plastic garbage bag everything I had eaten since Tuesday. I found my sister looking at the flight schedule, she sneered and asked if I felt better, and I have to say I did. We got to the check-in line which was a quarter of a mile long. It was easily the longest airport line I've ever seen and one that almost made us miss our flight. When we finally made it to the front the attendant told us we actually didn't have seats. She said to take our receipt and go to the gate anyways and see if they had anything available. We did, but were stopped en route by a tall, gangly man who asked us if we were carrying anything illegal in our bags. We said no, but he persisted in asking us specific questions ultimately trying to get us to slip up and admit we were drug traffickers for Tony Ramone. We got past him and approached the United desk. The attendant typed furiously for five minutes and told us cheerfully she had found us two seats on the next plane. My sister and I breathed a collective sigh and soon we were on our way to Portland.
We touched down at 12:30 pm, our dad picked us up and asked hundreds of questions. When we arrived at home our mom asked us hundreds of questions. I went downstairs to my room, which was strange because I realized I was home in Oregon with nothing to show of my endeavor but a bag full of stinky clothes and a handful of souvenirs. "And thus," I thought, "ends my three week escapade in Europe," as I went upstairs and outside to play basketball.
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
7-21-09
Today is the first day on our own! Our parents had left on a flight at 3am and were long gone by the time we had woken up. This morning went much smoother than the past few mornings, I put shampoo in my hair, and managed not to trip over anything. Our train was at 5pm, so we had time to go back to St. Peter's and look around some more.
Today was HOT, and not like Oregon hot, this was South Carolina in August hot. It was muggy by 9am when we left our hotel and made our way across town to the Vatican. We took a tour of the Pope's Tomb - which is a series of catacombs that sit beneath the Vatican Basilica. Thankfully it was cool underground, and that there weren't too many people on tour at the moment. We perused the Popes of old, stopping at some to read the captions printed on tablets next to their crypts. We stopped briefly at John Paul II's tomb as there was a small gathering people praying and remembering the late JP. Surprisingly they let us take pictures, so my sister snapped a few before we mounted the steps towards the Basilica. And yes this is really how it looks on the inside-------->
We walked around the Vatican for a while, and slipped into a side chapel hoping to catch a service, but they weren't performing anything at the moment so we left. We took the crosses we bought yesterday and dipped them into the holy water thinking that this would ensure a safe trip across Europe. What's funny is that neither of us are religious, and we felt a little silly dipping a sterling silver pendant into a bowl of dirty tap water, but as they say "When in Rome, do as the Romans do." However, I can't help but think that's not what they meant by the saying. Enjoy this humorous comic from Cyanide and Happiness
We left the Vatican to pick up our bags from the hotel and walk to the train station. It was even hotter on the walk to the train station, and it didn't help that we were carrying 30+ pounds of clothes on our back. But we made it with time to spare, so we took turns getting dinner at the cafeteria. My sister unfortunately got stuck behind an elderly Italian woman, who took forever to order her food. She must have been barely 5 feet tall, with the pouffy-died hair that so many grandmas tend to sport at a certain age. She wore a pink dress that came down to her ankles. She walked with a shuffling stiffness, as if she was unable to move her upper body each time she took a step. She seemed a sweet lady, one that you'd love to have as a grandma, and as she sat behind us eating her Mozzarella sandwich and drinking her Coke Lite, I couldn't help but think she was waiting for a grandson or daughter to arrive on the train. My sister pointed her out to me saying, "Isn't she the cutest old lady you've ever seen." I agreed. But just then, the lady got up and tried to push in her chair, which got caught on one of the table legs. She became upset, and repeatedly smashed the back of the chair against the side of the table in an attempt push in the chair. When she had left my sister turns to me and says, "that's one violent grandma!" Don't mess with her!
We caught the train, and sat in one of the six person cabins, which was empty as first. I was excited because the seats reclined in a way to make a bed, and I thought we'd get a lot of sleep during our overnight train ride. This wasn't the case, as more and more people started to get on at various stops. Soon our cabin was full, and there was no way we could reposition ourselves to make sleep possible. For the 12 hour train ride my sister and I sat side-by-side, pining for the moment when we could stretch our legs, and breath fresh air! Vienna here we come!
Today was HOT, and not like Oregon hot, this was South Carolina in August hot. It was muggy by 9am when we left our hotel and made our way across town to the Vatican. We took a tour of the Pope's Tomb - which is a series of catacombs that sit beneath the Vatican Basilica. Thankfully it was cool underground, and that there weren't too many people on tour at the moment. We perused the Popes of old, stopping at some to read the captions printed on tablets next to their crypts. We stopped briefly at John Paul II's tomb as there was a small gathering people praying and remembering the late JP. Surprisingly they let us take pictures, so my sister snapped a few before we mounted the steps towards the Basilica. And yes this is really how it looks on the inside-------->
We walked around the Vatican for a while, and slipped into a side chapel hoping to catch a service, but they weren't performing anything at the moment so we left. We took the crosses we bought yesterday and dipped them into the holy water thinking that this would ensure a safe trip across Europe. What's funny is that neither of us are religious, and we felt a little silly dipping a sterling silver pendant into a bowl of dirty tap water, but as they say "When in Rome, do as the Romans do." However, I can't help but think that's not what they meant by the saying. Enjoy this humorous comic from Cyanide and Happiness
We left the Vatican to pick up our bags from the hotel and walk to the train station. It was even hotter on the walk to the train station, and it didn't help that we were carrying 30+ pounds of clothes on our back. But we made it with time to spare, so we took turns getting dinner at the cafeteria. My sister unfortunately got stuck behind an elderly Italian woman, who took forever to order her food. She must have been barely 5 feet tall, with the pouffy-died hair that so many grandmas tend to sport at a certain age. She wore a pink dress that came down to her ankles. She walked with a shuffling stiffness, as if she was unable to move her upper body each time she took a step. She seemed a sweet lady, one that you'd love to have as a grandma, and as she sat behind us eating her Mozzarella sandwich and drinking her Coke Lite, I couldn't help but think she was waiting for a grandson or daughter to arrive on the train. My sister pointed her out to me saying, "Isn't she the cutest old lady you've ever seen." I agreed. But just then, the lady got up and tried to push in her chair, which got caught on one of the table legs. She became upset, and repeatedly smashed the back of the chair against the side of the table in an attempt push in the chair. When she had left my sister turns to me and says, "that's one violent grandma!" Don't mess with her!
We caught the train, and sat in one of the six person cabins, which was empty as first. I was excited because the seats reclined in a way to make a bed, and I thought we'd get a lot of sleep during our overnight train ride. This wasn't the case, as more and more people started to get on at various stops. Soon our cabin was full, and there was no way we could reposition ourselves to make sleep possible. For the 12 hour train ride my sister and I sat side-by-side, pining for the moment when we could stretch our legs, and breath fresh air! Vienna here we come!
Monday, April 18, 2011
7-20-09
I woke up this morning, and instantly regretted it. Not because we were visiting the Vatican Museums today, but because I have a problem dressing myself before the hours of 9am. After taking a shower, I tried to put on my pants, but the message between my brain and my feet was lost somewhere along my spine, and I ended up tripping over the clothesline. I slammed against the dresser, waking up my sister, who yelled at me to keep it down. Don't you love sisters?
We made it to the tour bus with time to spare. I hardly noticed our tour guide standing the aisle as I made my way to my seat. She was roughly four feet tall, and as browned and wrinkled as a raisin. I apologized for nearly bowling her over, and found my seat next to cam, who was fast asleep, drooling in the window seat.
Walking into the Vatican Museum, our little old tour guide tried to organize us into lines to make the security checks go quicker. Unfortunately, there were a number of other tour groups, and they were all adamant on getting through first. The result was a massive mob of overeager tourists, some of which were hyped up on too much Italian coffee. I however wasn't, and keeping sight of our raisin-like tour guide was like trying to find a pebble among boulders.
After mobbing the poor security guards, we mobbed the poor assistants handing out the museum headsets. We then miraculously found the raisin-lady and circled around her as she began our tour.
The madness was well worth it. The Vatican Museum was incredible. Everything from the tapestries of Jesus to the Sistine Chapel was breathtaking. I learned what a fresco is, and why Michelangelo must have had a hell of a neckache after painting the Creation of Adam.
Our tour guide
After that tour we caught a ride over to the Coliseum, where we paid a giant German man wearing lopsided sunglasses to give us a tour. He turned out to be a history student studying in Rome, who gives tours on the side to pay for beer - we lucked out. He turned out to a kooky fellow with an odd sense of humor. For example, he was telling us about how back in the day women weren't allowed to sit in the Coliseum (because it was a man's arena, ETC.) As he was saying this two of the girls from our tour sat down on one of the big stone blocks just inside the entrance. The German stopped mid-sentence to tell the girls, "No no, you can't sit there." Which he thought was hilarious.
He then took us to Palatine Hill, where the Romulus Ruins and the Roman Forum are. Though to get there was a short walk, down small hill. Our guide had a bike that he
stashed for the specific purpose to get from the Coliseum to the foot of Palatine Hill. This was great, except none of us had a bike. So here's our tour guide sailing down the hill towards Palatine Hill, and us rushing after him to catch him! Sort of like this ---->
The rushing was worth it, as we walked all over Palatine Hill, and bought ice waters so as not to die of heat stroke. After the tour was over, our guide disappeared as quickly as he had come, on his bike peddling back up the road towards the Coliseum.
That evening we met the group at Campo De Fiori, and sat out on the veranda of Leisha's place to drink wine and watch the sunset before going to the restaurant. After dinner my parents left to go back to their hotel. They were leaving at 3 a.m. the next morning so I said goodbye to them, we wouldn't be seeing them for 2 weeks. My sister went with them to catch some sleep, and I tagged along with Charlie and Cam to the new Harry Potter movie being shown at the local theater. Surprisingly it was in English.
I caught a cab, and said goodbye to Charlie and Cam. As I watched them disappear into the Italian night, I thought about tomorrow, my sister and I would be on our own, in a foreign country with nothing to guide us but a map and our minds.
We made it to the tour bus with time to spare. I hardly noticed our tour guide standing the aisle as I made my way to my seat. She was roughly four feet tall, and as browned and wrinkled as a raisin. I apologized for nearly bowling her over, and found my seat next to cam, who was fast asleep, drooling in the window seat.
Walking into the Vatican Museum, our little old tour guide tried to organize us into lines to make the security checks go quicker. Unfortunately, there were a number of other tour groups, and they were all adamant on getting through first. The result was a massive mob of overeager tourists, some of which were hyped up on too much Italian coffee. I however wasn't, and keeping sight of our raisin-like tour guide was like trying to find a pebble among boulders.
After mobbing the poor security guards, we mobbed the poor assistants handing out the museum headsets. We then miraculously found the raisin-lady and circled around her as she began our tour.
The madness was well worth it. The Vatican Museum was incredible. Everything from the tapestries of Jesus to the Sistine Chapel was breathtaking. I learned what a fresco is, and why Michelangelo must have had a hell of a neckache after painting the Creation of Adam.
Our tour guide
After that tour we caught a ride over to the Coliseum, where we paid a giant German man wearing lopsided sunglasses to give us a tour. He turned out to be a history student studying in Rome, who gives tours on the side to pay for beer - we lucked out. He turned out to a kooky fellow with an odd sense of humor. For example, he was telling us about how back in the day women weren't allowed to sit in the Coliseum (because it was a man's arena, ETC.) As he was saying this two of the girls from our tour sat down on one of the big stone blocks just inside the entrance. The German stopped mid-sentence to tell the girls, "No no, you can't sit there." Which he thought was hilarious.
He then took us to Palatine Hill, where the Romulus Ruins and the Roman Forum are. Though to get there was a short walk, down small hill. Our guide had a bike that he
stashed for the specific purpose to get from the Coliseum to the foot of Palatine Hill. This was great, except none of us had a bike. So here's our tour guide sailing down the hill towards Palatine Hill, and us rushing after him to catch him! Sort of like this ---->
The rushing was worth it, as we walked all over Palatine Hill, and bought ice waters so as not to die of heat stroke. After the tour was over, our guide disappeared as quickly as he had come, on his bike peddling back up the road towards the Coliseum.
That evening we met the group at Campo De Fiori, and sat out on the veranda of Leisha's place to drink wine and watch the sunset before going to the restaurant. After dinner my parents left to go back to their hotel. They were leaving at 3 a.m. the next morning so I said goodbye to them, we wouldn't be seeing them for 2 weeks. My sister went with them to catch some sleep, and I tagged along with Charlie and Cam to the new Harry Potter movie being shown at the local theater. Surprisingly it was in English.
I caught a cab, and said goodbye to Charlie and Cam. As I watched them disappear into the Italian night, I thought about tomorrow, my sister and I would be on our own, in a foreign country with nothing to guide us but a map and our minds.
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
7-19-09
Today is the classic Rome Tour, a day filled with camera-touting tourists all complaining about how hot it is while waiting in line for the Vatican. A day filled with much standing, and even more walking.
But before I get into it, I want to want to take you through my morning, which can only be described as a series of unfortunate events. First, I wake up too early. Who knew I'd be effected by a non-existent time change between Tuscany and Rome? Then, being grumpy from pre-dawn awakening, I get irritated with my sister, who seems to have the uncanny ability of pointing out my every flaw before 9am. Getting fed up with her, I 'accidentally' throw my toothpaste violently into my toiletries bag, whereupon she exclaims "CHILL!" And secondly, while taking a shower, I proceed to wash my hair with hand lotion instead of shampoo. I desperately needed coffee.
We met with the parents in the lobby and powerwalk through Rome in time for my dad to weasle us onto the same tourbus as Charlie, Victoria, and the rest of the clowns. We then had 30 minutes to sit idly outside an espresso shop, where I ate a stale croissant, and drank an 'Italian Coffee', which I quickly learned was simply a shot of espresso in a dainty cup, perfectly molded to the manicured hands of Italian men. We finished our espresso, and left for the bus. I said 'hello' to Cam, and then dozed off in the chair while the bus pulled away from the curb, and the tour guide was imparting her 'extremely important instructions.'
We stopped first at the Trevi Fountain, a masterpiece carved into the side of a building somewhere around mid-town. Designed by Salvi, the statues depict Neptune, god of the sea, Health, and Bounty - I assumed these last two were gods of Health and Bounty, but I can't be sure. Before leaving we were instructed to toss a coin over our left shoulder in hopes of one day returning to Rome, and spending more money on these expensive tours. I realize this is a tradition every naive traveler partakes in because upon meeting others on our trip across Europe, we would tell them we'd visited Trevi Fountain, and all of them would brighten in the eyes and ask, "Did you do the coin thing?" We'd say yes, and with a gleam of enlightened surety and a slight smile they'd say, "that means you'll be back."
Next stop was the tomb of the first king of Italy, also known as the Pantheon. Not to be confused with the Parthenon, the Pantheon is in Rome not Greece, and is still a functional building if you don't count the gaping hole in the middle of the ceiling. Originally cast as a Pagan church, they left the hole for their sacrifices to travel up to heaven. But when the Pope went all popeish on Rome's ass, he converted it into a Catholic church. He did this mainly by draping velvet sheets over the various Pagan gods, which still line the foot of the dome. Nothing like a quick fix for Catholicism, am I right?
After the Pantheon, we hit up Navona Square, and its famous Four Rivers Statue. The statue, designed by Bernini, consisted of four women who represented the Danube, Congo, Ganges, and the Rio Del Plato - supposedly the 'biggest rivers at the time.' If Bernini had chosen to represent the four grossest rivers: 1. The Willamette would've definitely made an appearance, and 2. We probably wouldn't be talking about it because it'd be hideous.
Next stop would be the Vatican. To get there though we had to cross the Rome river, which cuts Rome into the Vatican state and Rome. We stopped briefly at a souvenir shop so everyone could go to the bathroom, and buy worthless crap that symbolize peace, but really just symbolize monetary gain, as the clerk takes your $20 bill.
Finally we arrived at St. Peter's Square. For me, being a secular non-believer of religion, I couldn't help but be impressed by the immensity of the Vatican. My awe was quickly doused by the fact that it was hot, like really hot. And not just hot, but muggy too. The shade was just as hot as the sun, and I could feel my boxers dampening from the sweat rolling off my back. Upon making it to the front doors, I praised god for his decision to put air conditioners in the church. How merciful he can be sometimes.
Cam and I went to see the Pieta, the first commissioned work from a 19 year-old Michelangelo. Then we strolled by the various artwork and sculptures, taking pictures of the most beautiful. I learned from our low-talking tour guide that there are in fact three types of baptism. Sacrement is done with water, the most popular, obviously. Desire of Faith is done with a priest, and requires no aqueous solution, unless you are 14 and a boy. And the final is Martyr, or baptism by blood.
When the tour finished, I was in need of my babptism at the Hard Rock Cafe, but instead of water or blood, I wanted milkshake and cheeseburger. I was not alone, and so me and my group of merry tourists gorged ourselves on American cuisine, and headed back to the hotel rooms to wait out our food comas.
Apparently the hotel we were staying at was booked for that night. So my parent moved to a hotel down the street, and did my laundry, which turned the water in the sink brown. Before we knew it, we had worked off our heavy American lunch and it was time for dinner.
We met the group in Campe de Fiore, for our final night together. Margie, Gunner, Julie, and Tom were leaving in the morning, so we had our last supper during the fading light of a Roman sunset, while we listened to street performers playing music in the square. Now that's what I call a religious experience.
But before I get into it, I want to want to take you through my morning, which can only be described as a series of unfortunate events. First, I wake up too early. Who knew I'd be effected by a non-existent time change between Tuscany and Rome? Then, being grumpy from pre-dawn awakening, I get irritated with my sister, who seems to have the uncanny ability of pointing out my every flaw before 9am. Getting fed up with her, I 'accidentally' throw my toothpaste violently into my toiletries bag, whereupon she exclaims "CHILL!" And secondly, while taking a shower, I proceed to wash my hair with hand lotion instead of shampoo. I desperately needed coffee.
We met with the parents in the lobby and powerwalk through Rome in time for my dad to weasle us onto the same tourbus as Charlie, Victoria, and the rest of the clowns. We then had 30 minutes to sit idly outside an espresso shop, where I ate a stale croissant, and drank an 'Italian Coffee', which I quickly learned was simply a shot of espresso in a dainty cup, perfectly molded to the manicured hands of Italian men. We finished our espresso, and left for the bus. I said 'hello' to Cam, and then dozed off in the chair while the bus pulled away from the curb, and the tour guide was imparting her 'extremely important instructions.'
We stopped first at the Trevi Fountain, a masterpiece carved into the side of a building somewhere around mid-town. Designed by Salvi, the statues depict Neptune, god of the sea, Health, and Bounty - I assumed these last two were gods of Health and Bounty, but I can't be sure. Before leaving we were instructed to toss a coin over our left shoulder in hopes of one day returning to Rome, and spending more money on these expensive tours. I realize this is a tradition every naive traveler partakes in because upon meeting others on our trip across Europe, we would tell them we'd visited Trevi Fountain, and all of them would brighten in the eyes and ask, "Did you do the coin thing?" We'd say yes, and with a gleam of enlightened surety and a slight smile they'd say, "that means you'll be back."
Next stop was the tomb of the first king of Italy, also known as the Pantheon. Not to be confused with the Parthenon, the Pantheon is in Rome not Greece, and is still a functional building if you don't count the gaping hole in the middle of the ceiling. Originally cast as a Pagan church, they left the hole for their sacrifices to travel up to heaven. But when the Pope went all popeish on Rome's ass, he converted it into a Catholic church. He did this mainly by draping velvet sheets over the various Pagan gods, which still line the foot of the dome. Nothing like a quick fix for Catholicism, am I right?
After the Pantheon, we hit up Navona Square, and its famous Four Rivers Statue. The statue, designed by Bernini, consisted of four women who represented the Danube, Congo, Ganges, and the Rio Del Plato - supposedly the 'biggest rivers at the time.' If Bernini had chosen to represent the four grossest rivers: 1. The Willamette would've definitely made an appearance, and 2. We probably wouldn't be talking about it because it'd be hideous.
Next stop would be the Vatican. To get there though we had to cross the Rome river, which cuts Rome into the Vatican state and Rome. We stopped briefly at a souvenir shop so everyone could go to the bathroom, and buy worthless crap that symbolize peace, but really just symbolize monetary gain, as the clerk takes your $20 bill.
Finally we arrived at St. Peter's Square. For me, being a secular non-believer of religion, I couldn't help but be impressed by the immensity of the Vatican. My awe was quickly doused by the fact that it was hot, like really hot. And not just hot, but muggy too. The shade was just as hot as the sun, and I could feel my boxers dampening from the sweat rolling off my back. Upon making it to the front doors, I praised god for his decision to put air conditioners in the church. How merciful he can be sometimes.
Cam and I went to see the Pieta, the first commissioned work from a 19 year-old Michelangelo. Then we strolled by the various artwork and sculptures, taking pictures of the most beautiful. I learned from our low-talking tour guide that there are in fact three types of baptism. Sacrement is done with water, the most popular, obviously. Desire of Faith is done with a priest, and requires no aqueous solution, unless you are 14 and a boy. And the final is Martyr, or baptism by blood.
When the tour finished, I was in need of my babptism at the Hard Rock Cafe, but instead of water or blood, I wanted milkshake and cheeseburger. I was not alone, and so me and my group of merry tourists gorged ourselves on American cuisine, and headed back to the hotel rooms to wait out our food comas.
Apparently the hotel we were staying at was booked for that night. So my parent moved to a hotel down the street, and did my laundry, which turned the water in the sink brown. Before we knew it, we had worked off our heavy American lunch and it was time for dinner.
We met the group in Campe de Fiore, for our final night together. Margie, Gunner, Julie, and Tom were leaving in the morning, so we had our last supper during the fading light of a Roman sunset, while we listened to street performers playing music in the square. Now that's what I call a religious experience.
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