|
|
<$BlogRSDURL$> Archives
|
And then there was one. I booked my return train ticket back to Milan from Rome the previous night to ensure that I got on and didn't miss my chance to catch my flight. Emotions were running high - I didn't want to go home. I was comfortable and associated with the city. There was so much I still wanted to see and do - why was I going home now?I had to make the best of my last day in Italy. It started out in a hotel room down the street from the hostel we stayed at before we left for our disappointing and rather frightening trip to Naples. We had to pack our backpacks and hoof them over to the hostel where my co-part was staying when I left. Our day bags were packed and we were off to take in everything we hadn't done in the first week of being in Rome. The Pope had died only the day before and already, Rome was beginning to feel the squeeze of pilgrims and tourists. Buses were harder to catch, the subway was more squishy and the streets were a never ending line up of people walking. Posters were planted on phone polls, windows, walls and doors all over the city. The poster had a picture of Pope John Paul II looking up to the sky. It was sad and heartwarming all at the same time. Some people cried as they sat on the street, others held small vigils on street corners. This place had a little bit of every emotion running wild. The day before we had taken a trip to Vatican City. A line up had buried the city streets disallowing anyone to pass through to St. Peters. We decided to stand in the line not knowing what it was for. We crept up a little closer to the church every 20 minutes or so, the sun beating down on us. It was hot, miserable and not a chance of getting out to pee. I was screwed for however much longer it was going to take for us to get through the line. A solid 6 hours later, we were at the front of the line walking up the stairs to St Peters. We were about to see the Pope lying in State. There was nothing that could prepare us for this - we held hands and walked through the mound of people until we saw him. The push by was quick - we were warned not to stop but to continue walking. He was ghostly, small and humble looking. Everyone around us had their camera out, snapping shots of him as fast as they could. We didn't - the image will remain in our minds better than a picture could anyways. After being ushered out of the basilica, we were off to grab a bite of pizza at the local shop on the other side of St. Peters then it was off to the hotel - a venture that seemed like forever. But the day was almost over for me and I was anxious to do everything. I still has gifts to buy for people who requested an authentic Italian somethingorother brought back. After a disappointing (for me anyways) trip to a museum with a bunch of paintings and statues we were off to find the museum which prided itself on it's displays of human bones. Creepy but really cool to look at. It was time. A quick stop to the hostel to pick up my bag and it was off to the train station for me. It was hard. Looking around the train station, it was sad. I was leaving to go home. My adventure though, was about to get harder. I wasn't ready for what was ahead of me. Posted by Bella at 8:12 PM# 0 Comments:
|
