Vatican

Un Café, day 3 Rise and shine! Piazza San Pietro St. Peter’s Piazza was a constant shuffle of four and twenty nuns, priests, tourists, and Vatican security staff clad in uber-pious… joker-wear? Everyone seemingly with pressing holy business to attend to, criss-crossing under the watchful eyes of 70+ statues of popes, apostles, prophets and such encircling the square overhead. We’d heard that St. Peter’s Basilica was unmissable, and read that it was open on Fridays… but, the joker-clad guy blocking the gate said it wasn’t open that Friday. I wasn’t sure if it was a tourist-gag comedy routine at first, till he actually got snippy with a couple people. These jokers were serious business. We hatched a cunning plan to sneak into the Basilica by way of the ol’ blackjack-a-priest-and-steal-his-cassock routine, but I think Nick must’ve gotten distracted by another ice cream stand or something before we could pounce. Vatican wall We wandered along the wall connecting the nation of Vatican City to the fortress Castle Sant’Angelo. Evidently, that’s where the pope would hole himself up when the peasants got ornery, barbarians were on the march, or if Roma beat Milan at home. Much of the wall forms the border between the sovereign nations of Italy and the Vatican. Castel Sant’Angelo Having been snubbed by St. Peter's, we made an extra stop at Castel Sant'Angelo to make our Vatican outing worthwhile. There were a few nifty turrets, catapults, and other fortressy doodads along the long winding tunnels leading to the roofdeck, but the best part were the views from the top.

Centro Storico stroll

Vines, vices, and vigilance As we strolled thru Centro Storico, Nick’s Italian ice cream addiction struck again. Shortly after, we were nearly attacked by vines. All the while dodging mini-cars that would zip down impossibly narrow walkways, missing the tips of street-eatery tablecloths by inches. It’s amazing we survived. Piazza Navona The fountain melee (Quattro Fiumi et al) in Piazza Navona was entertaining. You almost feel sorry for the spouting statues with their strained poses and agonized expressions, helplessly besieged by tourist flashbulbs and pigeon pellets. The Pantheon The canonical dome. Simple, basic, functional, fundamental. Fit right into the idiom of the efficient, elegant utility of ancient Roman engineering. Stark difference from the Renaissance painting and sculpture in Capitoline Museum and St. Peter’s Square. Such an awesome variety of styles and eras and influences scattered across town. Like everything else in Rome, we didn’t see the Pantheon coming until it was right on top of us. From the outside it looks more like a beat-up old gas can than an iconic prototype for modern architecture. Lively scene outside the Pantheon. Wine & veggie detour We’d been tasked with providing some essential goods for the evening’s festivities at the Villa, and our meandering search for wine and snacks took us past a few more sights.

Party at the Villa

Back at the penthouse Villa, a BBQ was brewing. We arrived late so my natural-born American grilling sensibilities weren’t utilized, except in the tasting department. Wine was corked, brews were iced, ladies got fancied up, a kiddie pool was inflated… The night kicked off in style. Hostess Helena had four girliefriends from the Irish old country visiting for the weekend, dislodging Nick and I from our bedroom (or, would it?) and seeding the soiree with some bustle as other guests trickled in. About half were Irish, half Italian, at least one Canadian, and I the token American as the air crackled with thickly-accented banter, clinking glasses, riotous laughter, and VIP views of Roman ruins on a patio overlooking the Tiber River. It wasn’t long before things stepped up a notch, chit-chat devolved into a kiddie-pool dance-off, whiskey sour indulgence, one lad’s determination to go pants-free for the evening, the appearance of Nick in his champion regatta commandant hat, more whiskey sour indulgence (sans the sour), and the inevitable game of don’t-step-on-the-broken-glass-while-dirty-dancing-in-flip-flops. At a certain point I realized that Nick’s & my train to France would be boarding in 7 hours. Arrivederci Roma! More Roman party pix from Nick…

Roman kitsch-n-stub montage

Full Rome photosets: Andy’s (flickr) | Nick’s (SimpleViewer)

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