I wore a Stetson to the Vatican
Stetson not pictured....
I am going to give 'back-blogging' a stab. I had jotted down a few things here and there for the rest of my trip and i'll stick it up her eand there (you all seem genuinely interested!) Hell, even my mom has found this blog. I will TRY not to let it change the way i write, but i am only human. I may not say 'shit' all that much anymore or talk about substance abuse quite so much.
But then again, substance abuse has fallen sharply off since Italy, Slovinia and Scotland.
Rome was, well, Rome was not a happy place for me. It maked a change in the trip. Suddenly, Robert was gone and daily needs and work struggles raised their ugly heads. 'Doesn't reality suck' quoted a friend. But, it doesn't suck. It is just very very different and i think the sudden shifts need a necessary period of adjustment.
One morning i headed out to the British Airways offices out in butt f&%$ nowhere. Actually it was quite an adventure. I had to change my ticket and that was supposed to be the only place in Rome, other than the airport, where i could make the payment.
It poured rain, i mean, poured. I had rolled up my pants to above my knees, had successfully navigated to a landscape that looked more like Antonioni than Fellini, and was completely and utterly lost. The rain assured that no one was around to harass for directions. But that is a boring story filled with mundane details about spending more money than i really could and all the little stuff that qualifies as 'reality sucks-ness'.
That night, my last in Rome, i went for a long walk from my hotel by the train station over to the Vatican. As i arrived, in the dark, at where i thought would be the holy city, i found myself faced with a wall that was never never ending. I decided to circumnavigate. "There MUST be a way in somewhere around here" I told myself.
As long minutes past i realised ... man... this place isn't just a city... it's, like, a COUNTRY.
Yes, one can call me a lapsed catholic.
I began to muse: could it be that there is such a thing as a holy presence and is it angry at me for all my sins? Is IT not letting me IN?
That is when i found the main gate. Whew... pardoned. That was easy!
But holy presence i didn't feel, and the vast empty space lined with plastic chairs here and there and the odd worshiper filled me with nothing. Certainly not the feeling of power and awe that i felt at, say, the wailing wall or the shewedagon pagoda.
Maybe it was the hat?
