The tour of the Vatican was really interesting because our tour guide gave us lots of background we wouldn't have known otherwise. For example, the name "Vatican" comes from a Pagan prophesying ritual. We walked through the museums and saw lots of stuff by Raphael and Michelangelo, including Rafael's tapestry reproduction of The Last Supper, Transfiguration of Christ, and Adorazione dei Magi, (Adoration of the Magi).
There were lots of sculptures, a lot of which are pretty famous, I guess. None of them have body hair, though, which was something I had noticed before on some sculptures and in paintings, and I always thought that was weird, because from what the media says, this whole aversion to body hair we have going on now is a new thing, thanks to porn stars and manscaping. The Romans' reasons for not having hair were a little different. The way they used to bathe was to cover themselves in olive oil and scrub with a pomus stone. Then, they’d use metal to scrape off all the oil and dirt, and the hair would come with it. Here's Hermes, who, as a sculpture, has "perfect proportions," according to our guide:
There were also some frescoes by this guy named Fabulous. I guess it was a pretty common name back then for Romans. He was so good that the Emperor decided that whenever he liked something, he would call it “fabulous.”
Despite what I might have thought going in, there was no reason for me to be a scared Jew afraid of smiting. The Sistine Chapel was actually decorated with the theme of unity between Christianity and Judaism, and for that reason there are images from the Old Testament on the ceiling too. It was painted soon after Jews were expelled from a bunch of European countries, so this was done as a way to reach out. So Michelangelo had a pretty big job to do, painting all these frescoes for the walls and ceiling. Especially because he had never actually painted a fresco before. It’s a really difficult and precise thing, and because of the methods used with the plaster, messing up one part means you have to start over. Before he began working on the Sistine Chapel, Michelangelo had some friends come in for three days to show him how fresco-painting worked. Then he sent them off and made this:
You’re not supposed to take pictures in there, but what are they gonna do? Probably send me to hell – but hey, I’m Jewish, I was going there anyway. Another interesting tidbit: before about 1990, the chapel was lit only by candlelight. This damaged the paintings and they became really dark. So, if you were there before the early/mid 90s, you saw something very different than I did. They’ve cleaned it up, but they left a few patches of dirt so you can see the difference. Oh, and also, Michelangelo never signed his work, but it turns out he did have a way of marking it. If you look closely at the eyes of the people in his painting (which, obviously, we can’t do in the Sistine Chapel), he left his fingerprint in all of them.
We checked out St. Peter’s Basilica (above) and then got pizza nearby. It was OK. Here’s the thing about Rome: before I went, my friend Mariel (who’s Italian and from New York) told me I’d be disappointed with the food, because it’s geared toward tourists and tastes like bad New York Italian food. She was right. I mean, the food wasn’t bad – I’ve certainly had much worse (hem hem, Boston) – but I’ve had much better.
After lunch, we walked past the Coliseum again (we walked past it about a million times), along with all the guys dressed up as gladiators who charge you €10 to take a picture with them. We went to the Palatine, which is where the Roman Forum is. It was really pretty. Lots of “ancient shit,” as we got used to saying.
On the way back to the hostel for a nap, we stopped at a food place and got some bad pastries and wine. We “rested” and then met up for dinner. Right near the place we ate was an arcade called “Atlantic City,” so I got excited about my Jerseyness. Had fettuccine bolognese for dinner (which I had most nights; the pasta choices without fish were limited).
We went out to a bar that night where there were a lot of American tourists and some Italian guys, on the prowl. The problem is, with the language barrier, the only message that seemed to get through was “Want to go to disco?” I did get to use my Spanish, though, because it’s similar to Italian. Always happy to break that out, even though I haven’t taken a class in years and my grammar is horrible. Like I said, though, there were a lot of Americans too because it was clearly a “touristy” bar. There was even a painting on the ceiling.
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