First stop, the Colosseum, where we were accosted, actually assaulted, by 3 burly gladiators. After they plopped the hat on Dave and made me point the sword right...there...they demanded 20 euros ($35!!!) Dave gave them 2 euros, which made them very grumpy and belligerent.
Then the metro,
to St Paul's Basilica,
which is the size of about 6 football fields and holds the remains (or presumed remains) of St Paul. This photo shows a side area of the main nave. Note the size of the people near the doors, which are, by the way, about 60 feet high. Also note: this is a side area, no pews, no chapels, just columns. (Dad, correct me if I'm wrong)
Back on the metro, dark and crowded and rather grimy. Not a place I'd want to be on my own at night.
If you want to find the way to the Vatican, just follow the nuns. There are lots of them to follow.
Or you could follow the crowds...
There are lots of them too.
At this point, after nine weeks of dozens and dozens of fabulous sights, walking 3,000 miles, driving through the countryside, small towns and cities that are impossible to navigate and populated with crazy drivers... we are ready to come home.
We have been communicating in Italian, reading menus we don't understand, figuring out the bus to get to the best pizzeria, and it's all been fantastic. Amazing. But now we just want to sit. And drink wine. We find a take out pizza joint down the block, buy a couple of slices of pizza (in French!) and take it back to our hotel. It is the very worst pizza we have ever had. But the wine is delicious and our feet are up. And we found an english channel on TV, so much better than the Italian version of Wheel of Fortune, which we have renamed Breasts of Fortune. Cleavage is important in Italy.
So our final night in Italy is spent much like our favourite way to spend an evening at home: food, wine, and good company.
KA
No comments:
Post a Comment