Vatican City |
 Face is dry. This morning we went to Vatican City. Obviously -- The Sistene Chapel. The first thing I tried to do was figure out what it smells like. It smelled cold and clean, probably because we were the first group inside this morning. The paintings made my head spin. It was so hard for my eyes to focus on all of the shapes and colors and scenes and bodies because they were drinking everything in so fast. When I saw the picture of Pope Sixtus holding the enfleshed shell of Michaelangelo, I wanted to cry. How did he ever accomplish this? I will never understand.
Just ate Magherita Pizza down the street. No tequila. Hardy, had, har. Just plain cheese pizza. Experiencing very bad post-nasal drip. I think I am allergic to Rome. I'm staring out of our hotel room's window and I can see pink and red roses, yellow walls, blue shutters, and blue sky across the courtyard. Very quaint. Very hot.  St. Peter's was just huge. What can I say? It was incredible, but did not inspire the awe of the smaller Sistene Chapel. Nothing will top the Sistene Chapel for me. There were actually people taking photographs in there, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I did take one in St. Peter's, but at least I didn't use my flash. Have people no respect?
St. Peter's made me feel almost nauseous -- but maybe it was just climbing the 350-step very narrow spiral staircase. Geez, Louise. The art was beautiful in the Vatican museums, but how many poor countries could the Church save by selling just a little of it? Would anyone even buy it? I think probably so.
I want my mommy. I'm having a severe allergic fit. I'm sneezing out of fucking control and the snot runneth over. It's hellish. We're getting up at the buttcrack of dawn for a twelve-hour ride on a smoke-filled train because there weren't any non-smoking compartments available. Horror. Pain. Anguish.
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