Saturday, November 12 - The Holy See

The next stop on the travel itinerary was the Vatican, and due to the sheer vastness of the place and the quantity of its treasures, we had a show-up-late-and-die call time of 7:30 Saturday morning. Those of you who have had the misfortune of dealing with me any time before 9:00am know that I'm just not at my best at that hour, particularly when I'm still getting over the effects of a cold. Well, never one to disappoint, I hauled myself out of the hotel in a grumpy mood, completely unfit for the holy site we were about to visit. It was early, I was tired even beyond my usual level at that hour, and I had managed to knock my camera battery charger off the Kleenex dispenser in the bathroom (the only available outlet in the room) into the toilet. Sometimes, I'd have to confess that I'm probably not good for international relations.

But we pressed on into the daylight. As the world's second-smallest independent nation, the Holy See nevertheless receives staggering numbers of tourists-some 10 million last year-and nowhere is this more evident than in the morning queue for the Vatican museums. On this morning, the line snaked out the museum doors, the remaining length of the north walls, and about three-quarters the distance to the east wall's opening at the mouth of St. Peter's Square. Apparently this line is particularly long in the mornings because the museums aren't yet open, so we optimistically took our place in the queue and waited for our local guide. After she arrived and gave a brief introduction to the site the museum opened, and-to my surprise-the line began to move. Before long we were at a security checkpoint, and with a wave of the officer's hand, we were in. Surprise!

Unfortunately, my feelings of rapture were to be somewhat short-lived. The Vatican museums are impossibly vast, and today they were brimming with all the tourists I had observed earlier while waiting in line. These both make the site somewhat difficult to take in, and although I walked that day among some of the world's finest masterpieces of devotional art, I came away with precious little that I could say about them. Our tour began at the Cortile della Pigna (Pinecone courtyard), proceeded through the tapestry collection, the Gallery of Maps and the Raphael rooms, and concluded at the Sistine Chapel. This testament to Michelangelo's genius is truly awe-inspiring, but was packed so tightly with visitors that it's nearly impossible to fully appreciate on a normal visit. Still, we doggedly made our way through, but after getting completely separated I spent the last 45 minutes of the tour trying to locate the rest of our group among the throng of tourists and pilgrims. Although I eventually found our party, they were leaving the museum and I would be unable to go back on this visit. Dang.

Needless to say this didn't do my already-glum disposition any help, and I moped along, now feeling especially sorry for myself. I briefly protested as we got in another frightfully long queue to enter St. Peter's Basilica, but more optimistic heads prevailed and we went anyway. By this time my moping had just given way to full-scale pouting, and I resigned myself to another dreary visit to another boring site I wouldn't even be able to see for the crowds. So I stood thus, waiting... for death or some similar fate to overcome me.

Upon entering the sanctuary, I immediately realized that death might well be the only human spiritual experience comparable to that which inspired St. Peter's Basilica. The interior, which houses hundreds of enormous and incredibly gorgeous works of art, is built to such an impossible scale that-as author Bill Bryson attests to in his book Neither Here Nor There-you have to be standing right next to a column or some other part of the physical structure to get any idea of just how huge it is. I walked around the Baldacchino and the papal altar to the south, dragging my jaw along the floor as I went, until I arrived at the back of the shrine directly under the dome. There, a Saturday afternoon service was in progress, and after listening to the choir and the magnificent organ, I collected myself and made my way dumbly back to the exit, taking pictures as I went. Thousands of other visitors were probably in the Basilica at the same time, and I never once noticed. The overall effect was just far too overwhelming.

After leaving St. Peter's, we stopped for a few moments in the Vatican bookstore to look around a buy a couple of stamps. Later that afternoon we toured the interior of the Colosseum, stopped to hunt down a geocache, and got a bite to eat, but those activities went by in a blur. Soon, it was time to head back to the hotel and digest what I'd seen. I tried for a while to read through a visitor's guide we picked up at the bookstore, but I just got overwhelmed all over again and had to go to sleep. I'll sort through it at a later date, I guess.

Good night,
Leanne

Friday, November 11 – Rome

So this is actually my fourth time in Rome, with the first two visits being very ho-hum trips through the city by train on our way to the airport, and the third being the disaster last week. Given these previous experiences, I was perhaps understandably reluctant to get on a bus and go back, but one of the realities of exploring Europe the way I have is that I don't always get a vote on how we get around... I just have to be glad I get to go at all. And this time around, Rome was to be our destination, not just a stopping point on a trip someplace else, so it seemed there was only so much that could go wrong.

Nevertheless, I was pleasantly surprised in this case by how smooth the trip actually went. It seemed that in no time at all we had arrived in the city, checked into a hotel, grabbed a quick lunch, and were on our way to meet our guide for the afternoon walking tour at the Colosseum. This legacy to ancient Rome manages to stand despite being bathed in automobile exhaust 24/7 and also having been looted time and again for material to build other structures. Commissioned by Emperor Vespasian and built in 72, the Colosseum was inaugurated in 80 with a series of gladiatorial battles between men and thousands of wild beasts. One of the most popular legends about the site - that Christians were fed to lions - seems to have been discredited by today's historians. However, the Colosseum's popularity as a tourist attraction experienced an unprecedented surge as a result of the recent Russell Crowe film, The Gladiator, which seems to indicate that historical accuracy isn't nearly as effective in drawing visitors as a good, thrilling story. Glad I don't have to tell that to the anthropologists.

After spending some time looking at the Colosseum's exterior, we moved on to immediately adjacent Roman Forum. Walking from one site to the other, you pass through the Arch of Septimius Severus, erected in 203 to commerate the 10th anniversary of the Emperor's accession. Then, proceeding past the Temple of Saturn and the Rostra, we arrived at the impressive Basilica Julia, erected by Julius Cesar in 54 B.C. This temple, which has been restored and used as a church, was the seat of the civil magistrates court.

Moving on from the temple, we walked through a small meadow, finding ourselves at the House of the Vestal Virgins. The priestesses who lived here were selected for this duty at between six and ten years old, and were expected - on pain of death - to preserve their virginity until their 30-year term was served. They were also whipped if the sacred flame died out, as this was their primary duty. For this they enjoyed status, financial security, and the power to pardon condemned criminals. Was it worth it? I supposed that's anybody's guess. Opposite the House of the Vestal Virgins was the Basilica of Constantine, upon which construction began in 308 by Maxentius and was completed by Constantine in 312. Finally, as we followed the path out of the site, we ascended Palatine Hill to get an overview of the entire forum, before continuing on the rest of our walk.

At this point we left the forum and proceeded north to the Piazza del Campidoglio. This Piazza's geometric paving and building facades were designed by Michelangelo and added as a "facelift" to the existing buildings in 1536. From that piazza, one descends a long staircase to arrive at the side of the Victor Emmanuel Monument, inaugurated in 1911 in honor of the first king of the unified Italy. This building is particularly immense, and it's guarded by the fiercest traffic imaginable. Since there are few traffic signals in this part of town, crosswalks are negotiated by getting together in a very tight herd and crossing as one single unit. Lone pedestrians rarely survive a crossing unscathed.

Although we still had three major sites to visit, it was beginning to get dark by this time and I was unable to get much else in the way of pictures. Still, we got to visit the Pantheon (completed in 125), the Fontana de Trevi (famous as a result of the film, Three Coins in the Fountain), and then our tour ended at dusk at the Piazza de Spagna and Trinita dei Monti, better known to English-speaking tourists as simply the "Spanish Steps." Here, among the rest of the sightseeing horde, we decided to call it a day and give our feet a rest, heading back to the hotel via a very crowded subway.

That put us in bed by 10:00. A rare occurance, but we had a 7:30 date with the Vatican, so it made sense to turn in early. Can't keep the Pope waiting, you know.

Buona sera,

Leanne

Sunday November 6 - The good, the bad, and the ugly

Today was a travel day, headed back to Italy. As usual, that meant an early morning, but this time we were able to arrange a flight back to Florence - rare, but cool, since it meant we wouldn't have to endure some hellacious transfer from Pisa like we typically do.

So we walk to Amsterdam Central Station, catch a train to Schiphol, and board our flight on time. So far, so good, and it was an uneventful trip to Rome, where we were to change planes. I didn't quite get why they made us go through security all over again in Rome (did they think perhaps the Dutch authorities smoked dope while they screened passengers or something?), but I was too preoccupied to care much as I had spotted something on the tarmac that I'd been hoping to see the entire trip: a Russian jet, this one being a Tupolev TU-154. We just don't see these in the U.S. anymore (not that they were ever common on our shores), and I was bound and determined to get a photo of this one, regardless of how much I hate shooting through terminal windows. Fortunately, we exited the security checkpoint at exactly the right place to get a reasonably clear shot of the Tupolev, and although it's certainly not stock photo quality, it will always occupy a special place in my collection.

All good things must come to an end, I suppose, and of course this applies to good days, too. However, it's always preferable if good days end as the clock strikes twelve, rather than turning miserably, horrendously BAD, and I had no way of knowing how wrong our day was about to go until we got to our departing gate in Rome and were informed that our connecting flight was cancelled. This pronouncement is enough to strike terror in the heart of even the most intrepid traveler, but it's worse when you're in Italy and are flying We-Don't-Care-What-Happens-to-You-as-Long-as-You-Go-Away Airlines. When I asked what they were going to do with us, they let us know that they would take us to Florence by bus. That's right... a BUS. Florence to Rome is, under perfect conditions and no stops, a 3-1/2 hour bus ride, and perfect conditions rarely happen on Sunday nights. Normal people make this trip by train unless they're flying someplace entirely different and are connecting through Rome. And we certainly didn't intend to be in Rome in the first place - our outgoing flight had connected through Milan, and for some inexplicable reason this trip took us south. But a BUS? Wasn't there something else we could do?

As it turns out, were thoroughly and royally stuck. When we asked about the possibility of getting back by train, Alitalia refused to give us a reimbursement that would come close to covering the cost, and we had no way of knowing whether seats would be available on the Eurostar to Florence anyway until we had foregone the bus ride back and gotten ourselves to Rome Central Station. Frustrated by this time but having no other viable options, we trooped miserably downstairs, collected our bags, and then trooped back upstairs to the ticket counter where our boarding passes would be traded for bus vouchers. By this time an angry mob had assembled in front of the counter, and the mob didn't get any happier as an hour went by after we had been told the bus would depart and still... nothing. At about two-thirty we were finally herded outside and put on our coach home, but the nightmare wasn't over yet. As the bus drove on north, clouds that had looked pretty threatening for the last hour gave way to rain, slowing things down until road construction could deliver the final coup de grace, bringing traffic to a virtual standstill for over an hour and a half. Nothing anyone could do and no amount of muttered-under-the-breath oaths could change the fact that about 50 people who purchased and paid for plane tickets so they could get home from their weekend trips at a decent hour were stuck on a bus that wasn't going ANYWHERE.

And for me, insult would soon be added to injury. While the mob in the bus got on each others' nerves and plotted bloody revenge against anyone associated with the airline that had put us in this situation, some combination of being over-tired and trapped in confined places with coughing, sniffling people finally took its toll on my own constitution. Occasionally, a head cold can take over my system with remarkable speed, and after leaving Rome in what I considered to be a normal, healthy state, I was actually surprised by how crappy I felt when we finally hit the pavement in Florence, over five hours later. Unbelievable.

The rest of the ordeal has faded to a bad, blurry memory now, and I think I prefer to leave it that way. Eventually, I'll get healthy again. But one souvenir will remain...



God I love Russian jets!

Cheers,
Leanne

Saturday, November 5 - Amsterdam

A quick note to readers: if airplane-geek stuff bores you, you might want to skip today's blog and move right on to tomorrow's. You've been warned.

Today was my chance to do one thing that I secretly hoped for since this whole journey became reality: visit Schiphol airport with a camera. Amsterdam's KLM hub is a Mecca for aviation enthusiasts: interesting traffic, and VERY spotter-friendly. Fortunately for me, the European contingent of my airliners.net friends is easily manipulated into a meet, and this event just worked itself together a couple of months ago.

So off I went on a train to the airport. I arrived at about 8:45, located a few of the group who had already assembled in the arrivals lounge, and once we'd met everyone (most of them came from the U.K.), we trooped off to the panorama terrace, probably one of the best of its kind anywhere in the world. We hung out there for a while, watching the action on the ramp, while our Dutch host, Erwin, took groups of four at a time to the spotting location known as "Polderbaan," which was where the rest of the day's events would take place. A popular hangout for local airplane nuts, the Polderbaan is a grassy strip next to a rural road that is separated from one of the runways and the Martinair cargo facility by only a narrow canal. In practical terms, that means a perfect shot of departing aircraft with no fences to get in the way. Plus, when the cargo planes depart, they taxi right past the far end of this strip - coming within 20 yards - and wait there if there is traffic on the runway they have to cross. Needless to say we had a good time, and in the six or so hours I was there I shot about a gigabyte of photos. Wow.

All too soon, however, we were shivering and it was time for the U.K. crew to catch their flights back home. I made my way back to the airport train station and was soon back at Amsterdam Central. Since we enjoyed our first nights' dinner so much and knew it would be a while before we had the chance to have it again, we decided to return to the Indonesian restaurant where we'd had that amazing rijstaffel. It didn't disappoint.

Back then to the hotel to prepare for an early morning flight back to Italy. I can't wait to return someday...

-Leanne

Friday, November 4 - Amsterdam

Another morning in this terrific place! Woke up and skipped the hotel breakfast this morning. One thing we've come to learn is that the included-in-the-room-price breakfasts that you get throughout the continent get to be monotonous. Generally, they'll have a buffet of some sort (though not always), which will include some dry cereal, bread, sliced ham and cheese, perhaps hard or soft boiled eggs, juice and tea. That's not bad if you're on a tight budget and I don't mind eating the same thing every day at home, but it's kind of a drag when you fill up on that stuff and then, the moment you step out of the hotel, you find really good food EVERYWHERE. So, this morning it's a waffle at a place up the street. I got mine with the white chocolate frosting, and although it tasted really good, it's was also overwhelmingly sweet and I don't think I could make a habit of eating these. I'd be diabetic in about two weeks.

While we were wandering about, we also stopped back at the photo store for a sensor cleaning kit. Digital SLR cameras share one drawback with their film counterparts in that dust can get into them when you switch lenses. Unlike the film camera, however, the digital SLR has a CMOS sensor (a chip of sorts) that is used to record the image, and dust spots on that are both unavoidable and a major drag to fix once you've taken your photograph. The solution is to clean the sensor, which is a somewhat tricky job but one I'm getting tired of paying $50 for other people to do. So... now I have the implements, and it's just a matter of getting on the web long enough to print out a guide on how to get it done. Cool.

Next stop was the University of Amsterdam, where I needed to obtain some contact points for my project. The university is spread out among several buildings in the city, several of which - interestingly enough - are located in the heart of the red light district. It strikes me as a bit of a distracting place to study, not because it's all that dangerous, but because of the scores of tourists who descend on the place every night. Soon, however, I was able to get the information I needed, and we were able to move on pretty quickly.

Next on the agenda was to get to the museum of modern art, the Stedelijk. We're both fans of contemporary art, making this one a must-see. Speaking for myself, it's interesting because it serves as inspiration to be creative in whatever ways I do. One highlight here was an exhibit of short films by a Chinese filmmaker, Yang Fudong. They're very thought-provoking, but hard to describe; one that comes to mind used a total of 10 screens in a room, configured in such a way to make viewing all of them from one location impossible. On the eight outer screens, one or two musicians stood on rocks at the edge of the sea, playing long tones. On the two inner screens (which were on opposite sides of the same wall), one couple was riding a horse on the beach and a second had been shipwrecked. I'm so far unable to understand the message the artist wished to convey with this piece, but I normally have to ruminate on things like this for some time before I'm able to "get" them.

Once we'd overwhelmed ourselves at the Stedelijk, we decided to explore the wharf on foot for a while. Amsterdam is a city of canals, much in the same way Venice is, and most are navigable by boat. Canal tours are very popular, and houseboats, owned (I would assume) by local residents, line the waterways as well. Some boats at the wharf were designed more for channel tours, and one captain we spoke with said that his 9-passenger boat specialized in multi-day charters during the summer. Sounds like a neat way to see the coastline.

At this point the sun was setting, so we walked back to the hotel. After dropping off camera bags it was off to dinner, and this time we tried an Argentinean steakhouse. While I didn't like it as well as one we have at home, it was still a pleasant meal. Eventually, it was time to turn in, so one more walk back up Rokin Avenue, and soon were snoozing away. I'm always amazed at how tired one can get while on vacation...

More tomorrow,
Leanne

Thursday, November 3 - Amsterdam

Well, we made it! Woke up this morning to a nice, sunny day, which we weren't really expecting. Wow. The hotel here is pretty basic, but the bathroom and shower are wonderful, and after all... that's what we look for in a hotel most these days.

Started our day by making our way on foot toward the train station. The goal was to get Metro passes that would cover any bus or tram (light rail) trips for the next three days. Unfortunately, it's not all that easy to get somewhere in a hurry here; there is SO much to look at that we ended up stopping a million times along the way. One of those stops was at a camera shop, where I found a great deal on a really nice 22-55mm lens I've needed, to replace the piece of crap short lens I've got. Cool.

After getting our Metro tickets, we caught a tram out to the Rijksmuseum. The museum is located in this neat park with ponds and a giant "I amsterdam" sign, so we - along with a couple dozen other tourists - took our pictures next to the sign as the wind blew leaves around. It was one of those gorgeous fall days that you hardly even hope for, so we're making sure we take advantage of every ray of sunlight.

The Rijksmuseum, located in a very upscale neighborhood, is home to many of Rembrandt's most famous works, as well as a lot of his pupils' and teachers.' Here again, it was thrilling to see in person many works of art I've only seen in pictures. Among the museum's collection are pieces such as Jeremiah lamenting the destruction of Jerusalem, The syndics of the Amsterdam drapers' guild, The denial of Peter, and The Night Watch, as well as many, many others. Wow.

Once we'd made it through the museum, we set back out for the hotel to drop our bags before foraging for food. At the recommendation of one of my airplane friends, we set out on a mission for Rijstaffel, an Indonesian meal consisting of numerous meat and vegetable dishes, served with bowls of rice. We ended up near the flower market at an Indonesian warung (I'm assuming that means "restaurant") called Sukabumi, and that's where the REAL fun began. Started the evening off with a really nice bottle of the house wine, and then an array of dishes appeared, the likes of which I had never eaten. Beef, pork, chicken, three kinds of vegetables, tofu, eggs... and every single one was a culinary event in and of itself. I was very sorry to come to the end of it all, but I'm sure we'll be back as soon as I get my wits about me again. It was really that good.

A quick trip through the red-light district (we're tourists so we had to see it, but it wasn't all that interesting), and a stop at the internet café to e-mail home wrapped up the evening for us. Pretty soon, we were heading back to the hotel to crash. More museums to visit tomorrow, and my feet are still just getting their calluses back. Better set aside at least a little recovery time...

Good night,
Leanne

Wednesday, November 2 - Florence Airport

Unbelievably, we're off again... this time to Amsterdam. Normally we wouldn't leave on a Wednesday afternoon like this, and especially not after being in Florence for less than 48 hours after the previous trip. However, in this case availability became a bit of a problem; partially because of the holiday, and partially because Amsterdam seems to be a popular destination. Leaving early helped get flights and hotel accommodations, so we're sitting in the departure lounge, nodding off. Such are the wages of sin, I suppose.

More later, when I wake up...
ZZZZZzzzzzzz.