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How terrible is this place! this is no other but the house of God, and the gate of heaven. Gen 28: 17

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At St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome, the chair of St. Peter is kept in a large reliquary in the apse of the church. The reliquary is part of a colossal bronze statue by Bernini. In this statue, the reliquary of St. Peter’s chair is held aloft by four Fathers of the Church. The four Fathers depicted are St. Augustine, St. Ambrose, St. Athanasius, and St. John Chrysostom.

It has been part of the plan of God to see to the preservation of the religion of His Son by raising up zealous teachers in every age. The Fathers of the Church handed down the holy faith to us, preserving it from errors and confusion. They were men of great learning AND holiness. Christianity could not have survived without them.

St. Charles Borromeo

St. Charles’ feast day is Election Day. We can say that St. Charles voted.

He voted at the Council of Trent. This meeting of bishops clarified Catholic doctrine at a time of great confusion. The Council never would have happened if it weren’t for St. Charles. His clarity of mind and diplomatic skill fostered the successful completion of the Council’s work.

After the Council, St. Charles saw to the composition of the Roman Catechism.

The Baltimore Catechism is based on the Roman Catechism. So–for those of us who swear by the St. Joseph Baltimore Catechism #2–today is a day of joy and profound gratitude.

You can read the entire Baltimore Catechism #3 online.

If you are among the unfortunate who do not have at least three copies of the St. Joseph Baltimre Catechism #2–one for upstairs, one for downstairs, one for the car–you can order copies from Amazon.

St. Charles was the baptismal patron of our dearly departed Pope John Paul II, Karol Wojtyla.

St. Charles Borromeo, pray for us!

Reached Rome around 7:45pm. Tried to find the Tourist Information(TI) to get the Roma Pass. Roma Pass is very economical. It is 20Euro per person. It covers unlimited public transportation for 3 days, 2 Museum entrance fee(No need to stand in line), plus discounts in other museums. The TI outside the railway station was closed. Rick Steve’s had said that there is one TI at platform number 23 or 24. So we spent 15 minutes walking up and down the platform searching for it and finally went to the car rental near that platform and found the TI hiding there. The TI was supposed to be open until 8:30, we were there at 8 and the ladies there closed it down and refused to sell us the Roma Pass With disappointment walked to our hotel, Hotel Guiliana. Since it was dark, it was difficult to read the street names, but somehow managed. The hotel was this old building with huge doors. It was ok. After storing the luggage away, stepped out to the halaal pizza place which was next door to our hotel. Took some slices for take out. It was ok. Then retired for the day.

Next morning got up early and left for Vatican in the Metro from the Republica station. Got down at Cipro. Later fond out that Otaviano station is closer than Cipro.

We were at the Museum gate at around 7:20 am. There were around 500 people ahead of us. But without much wait, we were inside Vatican by 8:30 am. The highlight of the day was that they charged me youth fee though I told them I not a youth anymore. What will we do in this world, if not for these simple pleasures!! The ticket prices in all the museums had sky rocketed. We took the audio tour as well. If you don’t take the audio tour, it is a easy short walk from the Systine Chappel to the Basilica. If you take the audio tour, you need to come back to the Museum entrance to give the audio guide back. It was sad to see the violence in all the paintings. One can only imagine the atrocities commited in the name of religion. Makes me pray harder for a peaceful world. The Sistine Chappel was breathtaking. Michael Angelo has stolen my heart. The spiral staircase on the way out was cool!

Spiral Staircase Vatican Museum

After spending around 3 hours, walked to the St. Peter’s Basilica. There was a huge line for the Duomo. Waited for about 30 mins and gave up. Decided to come back the next day. Went inside the Basilica. It is grand. Reeks of wealth. The best part is Michael Angelo’s Pieta. It is breathtaking. Make sure you take your binacular to check out the Michael Angelo’s autograph across Mary.

Michael Angelo's Pieta

The cherrubs are huge After spending 30 mins, walked to Castel Sant’Angelo. On the way grabbed some awesome gelato as usual. Got the Roma Pass from the information center there.

From there walked to Piazza Del Popolo. A very nice walk by the Tiber. From there took a bus to Corso d’Italia and walked to Villa Borghese. We had taken a reservation there by phone. We were there an hour early. So grabbed lunch from the cafe. Awesome pizza. Cheapest and good in the whole of Rome. Then went inside the gallery. Nice one. The statues were wonderful so were the paintings. Spent around an hour and half. Came out and took the park mini train for a tour of the Villa Borghese. It was nice and relaxing. Took the bus to Spagna, from there took the Metro to Baberini. Walked to the Trevi fountain from Barberini. Got ourseleves one more gelato and soaked in the beauty of Trevi.

Trevi Fountain

After throwing some customary coins on the fountain, walked to the Spanish steps. Sat there for sometime. Nice view of Rome from the top with the sunsetting and the choirs filling the air from the church. It was a nice atmosphere. Then returned back to our hotel in the metro.

Relaxed, freshened up and went to Trattoria Antica Boheim for dinner as per the recommendation of Ashwin from Hotel Guiliana. It was pretty good. The gnocchi and pesto linguine, the roasted potatoes, house wine.. One word Yum! After a wonderful dinner, walked ourselves to the nearby internet cafe at Via Napoli and mailed to friends and family. (About 1.50Euro per hour). Came back to the hotel and called it another wonderful but busy day!!

303 Rome Vatican St. Peter’s Basilica, originally uploaded by Catherine_Holt.

For the weekend, my mom, Missy, Austin and I flew into Rome and met Darcie and my Aunt Susie.  We definitely didn’t get enough time there to visit or to see everything but we still managed to cram a lot in!

You can’t miss seeing relics in Rome.

Devotion to relics is waning in the church today as far as I can judge. In the western world, influenced as we are by scientific thinking,  we find them puzzling. Rome, the center of the Roman Catholic Church, is filled with them.

Most of the churches we are going to, like St. Peter’s and St.Paul Outside the Walls, were built to house them. So why are bones of saints and relics of the mysteries of the life of Jesus, like relics of the cross in St. Peter’s Basilica and Holy Cross in Jerusalem, the holy stairs at the Scala Sancta, St. Peter’s chains in the church of St. Peter in Chains, the crib from Bethlehem at St. Mary Major, there in the first place?.

The cult of relics flourished when people believed in an “enchanted world,” to use a phrase from Charles Taylor, where heaven and earth were close together and God was seen as actively engaged in nature and history.

Our western world believed in an enchanted world until the time of the Enlightenment in the 17th century, when scientific thinking began to emerge. From then on, religion came under the microscope of science and reason more and more.

You can see an enchanted world in the psalms. “The heavens declare the glory of God,” (Ps.18) God is “maker of heaven and earth, the seas and all that is in them.” (Ps.146) God is savior as well as creator: “The Lord sets prisoners free; the Lord gives sight to the blind…The Lord protects the stranger, sustains the widow and orphan,  but thwarts the way of the wicked.” (Ps. 146) He “dwells in a holy temple” and they are happy who find him there. (Psalm 84) He “takes delight in his people.” (Ps.149)

God is close to creation and is its loving savior, these prayers say.  God is not distant, as many followers of the Enlightenment came to believe, or unknown as many might say today. According to Christian belief, God is present in our world, as Jews believe, but he reveals himself now in Jesus Christ, his Son.

The sacraments of the Church–Baptism, Confirmation, the Holy Eucharist, etc..– are special signs of God’s abiding presence in our world. They’re signs of Christ who remains with us from birth till death, and leads us to a kingdom that will come.

Relics are part of the sacramental dispensation. Relics of the saints, like those of Peter and Paul,  are reminders that God works in people on earth. Now they see him face to face, yet “from their place in heaven they guide us still.” They are part of a communion of saints; even now drawing us into God’s loving friendship.

Similarly, relics of mysteries like his cross and his birth are sensible reminders that the great mysteries of Christ abide with us too.

One danger of an “enchanted world,” a world where God is close, is that people misuse its powers for their own selfish purposes and not as aids to salvation. The abuse of relics became particularly acute in the 15th century when they were bought and sold and used superstitiously. A slide to magical thinking began.

At the time, voices within the church condemned the abuse of relics, but church authority didn’t move quickly enough to stamp out the abuse–partially because they benefited economically from it themselves.

A major attack came from Martin Luther and other Protestant reformers, who not only condemned the abuse of relics for endangering  faith, but also called for their elimination altogether.

In its own movement of reform, the Catholic Church upheld the practice of honoring the relics, but laid down laws governing their use. They are not magical objects that give us power over things, but holy signs calling for conversion and humble recognition of an all-powerful God.

A second attack on relics followed the scientific revolution that began in the 17th century. Rationalist scholars, focusing on the Christian faith, questioned the historicity of  Jesus himself and the gospels. Since relics were part of church belief and practice, they also came under scientific scrutiny. If they didn’t pass the test of science, they were rejected.

Because of religious and scientific questions about relics, some avoid them and turn to art and architecture instead. But don’t miss the relics. They’re important; you can’t understand the churches without them.

Great news everyone! We just received “the last two tickets in the country,” according to Father Di Fabio, to the cannonization ceremony being held in St. Peter’s Square tomorrow morning. The ceremony will be presieduta da Sua Santita’ Benedetto XVI

I’m even more excited then I was the first time! Hopefully the camcorder will work.

Tomorrow’s event includes the cannonization of Blessed Alfonsa of the Immaculate Conception. Blessed Alfonsa was from India. Her beatification tomorrow is significant for us because there is a Syro Malabar Rite (an Indian-Catholic Rite) church within the parish of Saint Oliver’s that serves Indian Catholics from all over the Archdiocese. The Church is currently called Blessed Alfonsa after the presumptive saint. After tomorrow the church may be called St. Alfonsa’s. She is the first descendant of the church in India to be cannonized.

Watch for pictures and videos probably Sunday afternoon (East Coast).

UPDATE: Here are some of the miraculous pictures from this morning (12 Oct 2008). Happy Columbus Day!

“He who heareth my word, and believeth …hath life everlasting.” (John, 5, 24) This affirmation by Jesus, which we heard in the Gospel, makes us think of the hardest moments of the pontificate of Pius XII, when, perceiving the collapse of every human certainty, he strongly felt the need, even through a constant ascetic effort, to adhere to Christ, the only certainty that never passes. Benedict XVI on Pius XII: (Translation from Rorate Caeli)

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Throughout his papacy Pope Pius XII was almost universally, regarded as a saintly man, a scholar, a man of peace, a tower of strength, and a compassionate defender and protector of all victims of the war and genocide that had drenched Europe in blood. At the end of the war Western nations paid tribute to his efforts on behalf of the oppressed. When Pius XII died, Jews praised him for his help and were among the first to express sorrow and gratitude for his solicitude during the Holocaust. Immediately after his death, the world at large proclaimed Pope Pius XII worthy of the title, Saint. Referring to Pius XII’s sanctity in his letter to Margherita Marchione (February 22, 2001), Bernard Tiffany quoted the following letter from Padre Pio’s secretary, Reverend Dominic Meyer, OFM, Cap.: “Padre Pio told me he saw the Pope in Heaven during his Mass. And many miracles have been attributed to His intercession in various parts of the world. Pictures of the Pope have been printed with a prayer for His beatification. But so far I have not seen any with the prayer in English (June 30, 1959).”

In his Diario, one finds a confirmation of the above statement. When Pius XII died on October 9, 1958, Padre Pio was consoled “by a vision of the former pontiff in his heavenly home,” according to Padre Agostino. A more recent confirmation of this event comes from Pius XII’s niece, Marchesina Elena Rossignani Pacelli, to whom Padre Pio repeated the same words. On May 19, 2002, Elena Pacelli confirmed this statement. (Article on Pius XII)

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Funeral of Pius XII:

The Tribune Tower on Michigan Avenue in Chicago is one of my favorite buildings. Yes - it’s a great building.The architects won a huge contest in 1922 for designing, as the contest requested, “the most beautiful and distinctive office building in the world.”  The Tribune newspaper publishers were serious - they offered a $100,000 prize. The building is a combination of the medieval and the modern. And though the building is quite remarkable, mostly I love it for the quirky stones embedded in the exterior walls that are from famous buildings and historic structures around the world. Pieces from more than 30 countries and all 50 states are represented.

Rock of Peter

Yes, I know these rocks and bricks don’t make for grand photos, but I am so totally taken with the very idea of journalists bringing back these kinds of artifacts to their boss - just so he could mount them on his building. The claim is that they were all obtained by appropriate methods, but who really knows. Imagine asking the Pope for a piece of the Dome of St. Peter’s Cathedral!

The story goes that the Tribune’s Rome correspondent informed Colonel McCormick, longtime editor and publisher, that the above stone was obtained from the Pope’s apartment “due to the fact that repairs were being made.” Oh. Okay.

The stone does come from the largest and one of the most widely known Christian churches in the world which took 181 years to build (1445-1626). The dome itself was built from 1573-90, and designed by Michelangelo who died in 1564.  This is really quite the artifact.

Tribune Tower Historical Stone

New Hampshire is represented by this brick from Fort William and Mary in New Castle. The fort, built in 1704-05, was one of the first forts involved in the new country’s struggle for independence in December of 1774.

I managed to take photos of about 80% of the stones. Some were just too high for me to photograph. Looks like there may be a few Tribune Tower posts in the next few months. Seems like something I would like to document. I can’t find much information about them anywhere on the internet.

Yesterday, Sunday, Jonesy and I went to the 10:00 a.m. mass at Our Lady of La Salette Church here in Rome. It is right across the street, naturally, from the General House of the Missionaries of La Salette where we are guests. The Mass was in Italian which meant that we had a little trouble knowing when to stand and what to say.

So today Father Di Fabio, one of the La Salette priests, took us to the Vatican so Jonesy could say Mass in English at–get this–St. Peter’s Basilica. Father Di Fabio I would guess is known in the Vatican. He literally drove us to the door of the church. We walked up a flight of stairs from the street and were in the Sagristia–or Sacristy. You just don’t go walking in to the Sacristy of this church. But Father Di Fabio brought us in and immediately one of the altar boys was handing Jonesy some vestments. After he was dressed, another priest walked us through a corridor and then into the sanctuary past the Bernini Columns and the high altar and down a flight of steps so that we were under the main sanctuary. There we were dashed past a cue of Priests and Bishops and their congregants waiting to be assigned a chapel. This is when I realized Fr. Di Fabio’s influence in our little project: We weren’t on the schedule; we weren’t that large of a group; we weren’t a commanding presence. And yet, with Fr. Di Fabio accompanying us, we just zipped right in past Bishops and Priests and Monsignors and their rich constituents who had to wait like paupers to get in.

Just before we were set to go in the chapel–the Chapel of St. Colombo or something–two nuns walked in and asked to join and in what language the mass would be said. They took seats in the small chapel and we began. The Mass was very special for Jonesy and me. It was offered for the Youth of St. Oliver’s Parish, and for my Mom. After Communion I could hear a small chamber ensemble, perhaps a duet of violin and viola, playing Gounod’s Ave Maria in a chapel somewhere down the hall, and then children singing in some other language. It was perfect. When Mass was over, Fr. Neil pointed to a tomb that said Giovanni Paulo II that was mere steps from our chapel. Around the corner was the tomb of St. Peter. We had only been in the Vatican for forty-five minutes!

Afterward, we went back to the Sagristia to see more Bishops and more Priests waiting to get vestments and chalices and books. We deposited the remains of his vestments and the un-consecrated wine and water in the Sagristia and then walked to the top of the Cupolla dome above the high Altar. Amazingly enough, even with the wonderful cup of coffee they serve on the roof, what happened above pailed in comparison to what happened below. I’m just saying.

We walked around outside St. Peter’s Square, and then out of the Vatican, for a while and stopped in some little shops. Then we got on the bus and headed back to the General House.

(So long as they don’t bite me.)

So file this under ‘extreme coincidence’:

If you ever go to the main page, WordPress has about eight blogs they’re promoting under different topics. I occasionally check out the one for “Travel”, just to see what they’ve got that I don’t.

So today, the featured ‘travel’ bit was some kind of entomology report about bed bugs. It had a 12-step program for examining your hotel room (and I was literally lying in a hostel bed as I read it - many, many steps down from a hotel room and very intimidating as my mind started to process the odds). Seriously, as I glanced through, I felt my skin literally come alive and start creeping and crawling. The power of suggestion.

Then I got up and went through the copious and extensive and gross exam (looking for blood stains, checking my own self for 3-pronged bites, etc.) It all looked okay. I felt creeped out and vulnerable and someone had left a comment about waking up in a room alive with cockroaches and I HATE cockroaches, but as for bedbugs, it looked okay.

So anyway, I’m kind of under the weather. I have the full-bore stuffed up nose, headache,and general malaise of the slightly ill. I put in a full day at the Vatican Museums and St. Peter’s Basilica. After a bit of a struggle with the subway system (i.e. went the wrong direction for three stops), I got to the museums around 9:15 and got in line. By 10:05, I had my ticket in hand and made a bee line for the Sistina Capella. I even snapped off a couple photos before they started screaming at me that photos weren’t allowed (oops. Who knew!?).

It’s a weird thing, but the place is so incredibly amazing and grandiose and ornate, that after about three hours, you really can’t take it any more. The sight of more marble mastery and ancientness and genius and attention to detail makes your head hurt (or maybe that’s my cold or flu bug talking?) Seriously though, I took about 2.2 million pictures, and then I literally couldn’t stand the sight of it for one second longer.

By the time I got to St. Peter’s, I was so overwhelmed that I was like, ‘Yeah. There’s Michaelangelo’s Pieta. Nice.” I’m a bad tourist like this. I tend to get somewhere, get overwhelmed or bored or underwhelmed, and a small voice in my head announces “Eiiffel Tower. Check.” and I’m kind of done.

Okay, so I interrupted myself on the extreme coincidence part of the story: I read this horrific bedbug thing on WordPress (always trying to figure out what makes certain blogs do so well. Blackcelebritykids, for example. That has been the top blog since I joined in May. Gives me little hope that I have anything to say that the masses want to hear. Seeing as I’m not currently stalking Will Smith and his family, nor do I have any kind of dirt on 50 Cent’s numerous bastard offspring [I don't actually know that there are any. Just assuming]…I may as well throw in the towel!) Anyway, read it around 6pm, checked the bed, felt itchy and generally unnerved, slept for an hour, and went out in the common area.

Around 9pm one of my roommates - a very grouchy Mexican girl living in Spain - came home. If I needed to do a brief synopsis for a yearbook or something I would say: Adamantly unfriendly, and a snorer. She completes my unbroken streak of Central and South American girls snoring like men. You pay extra for the all-female room, and they carry on like that. It ain’t fair…

Anyway, she came home and went in the room for a while. About twenty minutes later she came out and showed one of the hostel owners some kind of damage to her person. I was too far away to see, but she presented him her arm and leg and said, “I’m like this all over.”

He looked at me. I assumed we were talking bugs (and the weirdness of the timing started to hit me).  “I’m cool.” I confessed. “Maybe they don’t like me?” Anyway, he tore the bed apart, and was really clearly concerned (and I was, for about the tenth time today, spooked), but he didn’t find anything. And the snorer left (for the mixed gender room), leaving me by my lonesome.

The way I see it, if the bedbugs liked her last night, they’ll just track her down next door. And if they didn’t like me, they’ll keep leaving me alone. The power of attraction (or repulsion, in this case) and positive thinking. No worries. Plus, for tonight anyway, I have a single room.

Well, sort of single, Just me and a few hundred of my closest blood-sucking friends…  Buon Appetito!

Journal entries from my weekend in Rome:

Our Mercedes-Benz bus......

12 Sett 2008 - Halfway there
We are out in the countryside of Italy; it’s so green and beautiful! Tons of trees and hills everywhere mountains in front of us.. It makes me feel more at home. The homes out here are amazing. They’re all so old, like in the city, but they have much more character. Ristorante stop!

We’ve travelled about an hour and a half and just stopped for a snack. The gas stations here are so funny–instead of having just a little shop with your basic candy bars and sodas, they have a full on restaurant, cafe, and grocery store in one building. We all piled off our buses (3 buses of about 45 kids) and invaded this place. It was absolute chaos!

There is a kid on the bus who has his music on so loud I can hear it over my own headphones! He’s listening to some hip-hop that has the same exact beat throughout the whole song….what a moron! He’ll be deaf by the time he’s 30 if he keeps listening to his tunes at that volume. Time to invest in some noise-cancelling headphones.

Spanish Steps

Later that day…

Oh man! We went on a walking tour of Rome. So many cool places to see..so much history! We went to the Spanish Steps, the Trevi Fountain (which was pretty cool but ridiculously crowded with tourists), the Pantheon (also amazing, more on this one later) and we saw some fantastic architecture. The hotel is apparently a 4-star hotel. It’s pretty nice, big room, aaawwwesome shower.

Okay, back to the journal entries later. Now I’ll explain the sites we saw with some pictures!

Our first stop on the tour was the Spanish Steps. They were fully funded by the French, but they are a path from the Holy See (yes, SEE, not sea) to the Spanish Embassy.. thus, they are the Spanish Steps.

I climbed to the top of the 138 steps and was pretty stoked to see my first bigger view of Rome. Since we arrived on the bus all I saw was the streets and the tall buildings.. but couldn’t get a bigger picture of what Rome really looked like. A lot of the other students compared Rome to New York City–minus the skyscrapers of course. I’ve never been to NYC so I can’t really have a legit opinion, but I’m not too sure why they compared the two cities… I would imagine that they are nothing alike. Maybe the “big city” atmosphere? (Side note: my laptop battery was getting low, so I decided to reach for the cord to plug it in …reachhh…almost…WHAM! My chair fell over and I smacked the solid floor rather hard. That’ll leave a bruise. Laptop ..plugged in.) 

The Pantheon is amazing. It has these fantastic columns that are over 2000 years old and were brought over by boat from Egypt. If I remember correctly they are 45 feet tall with a diameter of 3ft. The actual structure was built in 125 AD. At the top of the dome, there is an oculous that is 29ft wide!!! It kept raining..so it rained inside. It was kinda weird but the guy who designed the Pantheon apparently had reasoning behind it. Oh, and just FYI, Raphael is buried in there. No big deal. I got to see Raphael’s grave.

Pantheon - "Temple of all the gods"

After the tour we went back to our hotel and rested for a little while. Katie, Aneisa and I were in one room, so naturally we ended up venturing out together to grab a quick lunch and find something to do. We decided to head towards the Roman ruins and go inside and walk around….but when we got there (after staring at the

Roman ruins

map for a good 20 minutes to try and find the entrance), we found out that we had to pay to go in. Both of our tour books of Italy (including the one and only Rick Steve’s), said that the entrance to the old Roman forums was free! We asked the ticket people and they said they changed it in May.. bummer. We walked around the forums outside the fences and read through a bit of my tour book to get the main ideas. We could see the ruins just as well as anyone inside probably could have! It all seemed so unreal.. the old worn columns and buildings..

On Friday night, Katie, Aneisa and I went to a restaurant that our program people recommended to us called La Carbonara in Campo de’ Fiori Square–about 3 minutes walk from our hotel. It rained a little on our walk there but otherwise it was pretty nice out so we decided to take an undercover outside table. We got a table, ordered our food and water (you have to pay for water here…..) and got our bread…. Then WHAM!!! HUGE RAIN STORM! (see below) ..It was windy and ridiculous! Some of the umbrellas blew over and took some tables and dishes with them. The picture below is from the entrance of the restaurant. We stood there with the rest of the people from outside just waiting for the customers inside to finish eating. In the end, our food was fantastic (I had Ravioli Spinaci… aka Spinach Ravioli) and we had some great conversation!

La Carbonara in the rain..

On Saturday we got up early again and hopped on the bus. We arrived in the Vatican City….The Piazza is gigantic–it’s probably the biggest one I’ve seen. St. Peter’s Basilica is…even more incredible. It’s absolutely enormous from the outside.. then you walk in…and it’s breathtaking. (It is, in fact, the largest basilica in the world.) When I walked up the stairs to the entrance I was already in awe..then I walked in! Man.. I thought it was pretty cool in pictures and my history books, but seeing it in person is an entirely different experience. When our tour guide pointed to my right to show us where Michelangelo’s Pietá is displayed, I felt speechless and .. Yeah I know I’m totally cheesey, but guys!!! I was SO excited to see Pietá!! In PERSON! In any case, the basilica was huge and cool and I got to see a lot of art that was in my art history books in just one place, ..and I also learned a lot more about its history and architecture.

St. Peter's Basilica -- Look closely at the people on the steps of the basilica; it's pretty big, eh?!

Michelangelo’s Pieta

Me in St. Peter's

After the basilica we went to this lame fortress that I don’t even remember the name of….. Then we had free time! I chose to head over to the Sistine Chapel (duh, who wouldn’t?!) where I got to see even MORE art history come to life. I’ll be honest, the Sistine Chapel didn’t blow me away–I was a bit irritated by the guards loudly.. and sternly.. telling everyone to be quiet and “NO PEECTURES!”..It was really crowded but I tried to enjoy it. There was so much to look! I think I was more excited to Michelangelo’s “The Last Judgement”, and Perugino’s and Boticelli’s frescos than I was to see the famous Creation fresco, (God giving life to Adam). The wall frescos were much bigger than I imagined.. Hmm. I think you just have to see it yourself

Michelangelo’s The Last Judgement

Finally! The last day, Sunday, we went to the Coliseum. I couldn’t stop thinking about Gladiator. I asked our tour guide how accurate that movie was to history and his response was a silly little old man laugh,.. and a “not one bit!” Then he continued to break down all of history comparing it to the movie.. Oi!

The Coliseum, where countless men and animals were murdered for human entertainment..

Today while in the Vatican Basilica I saw something I didn’t think I’d ever see and something that hasen’t been seen here likely in about forty (or more) years in St. Peter’s Basilica!

They brought back the old giant carpet covers for the choir benches at the altar of the chair. It’s difficult to explain what exactly these are, and it will be impossible to get close to get a photo. But today they were putting them out.  From Orbis Catholicus

On every side the dread phantom of war holds sway: there is scarce room for another thought in the minds of men. The combatants are the greatest and wealthiest nations of the earth; what wonder, then, if, well provided with the most awful weapons modern military science has devised, they strive to destroy one another with refinements of horror. There is no limit to the measure of ruin and of slaughter; day by day the earth is drenched with newly-shed blood, and is covered with the bodies of the wounded and of the slain. Who would imagine as we see them thus filled with hatred of one another, that they are all of one common stock, all of the same nature, all members of the same human society? Who would recognize brothers, whose Father is in Heaven? Yet, while with numberless troops the furious battle is engaged, the sad cohorts of war, sorrow and distress swoop down upon every city and every home; day by day the mighty number of widows and orphans increases, and with the interruption of communications, trade is at a standstill; agriculture is abandoned; the arts are reduced to inactivity; the wealthy are in difficulties; the poor are reduced to abject misery; all are in distress. Benedict XV: Appealing for Peace

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Originally seen at Idle Speculations

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I cannot even begin to describe all the ways these past three weeks have changed my life. I know it sounds cliché but it also could not be more true. Let’s just say that I have spent a large portion of my life being led through life, and it only recently occurred to me to take control for myself. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful; I have been given tons of opportunities and have never really been led too far astray. But I also have not experienced even a quarter of the things I want to, not even close, so it just seemed like time to take charge

In December of 2007, following some very inspiration advice from a friend (thanks Luke), I convinced my equally complacent little sister, Annie, that we should pool our graduation money and travel during the summer. Europe seemed the natural choice for us, since I had heard nothing but rave reviews from everyone who had visited and was eager to check it out for myself. Our family vacations, though amazing, had largely consisted of English speaking destinations (Australia, New Zealand, the Carribean and the Maritimes) and I was anxious to break these boundaries. It seemed the perfect way to get over myself and finally start living life for myself. And it was. I left home worrying that I would spend the entire time curled up in my hostel bed wishing it would all be over, and I came back wishing that it never had to end.

So here is the trip, six days in London, three in Amsterdam, six in Paris, one day in Venice and four in Rome. Sleeping in hostels, living out of a backpack, spending 24 hours a day with my little sis. It was an adventure.

Instead of overloading you with pics of me standing next to all the major attractions (which I absolutely could do, seeing as I ended up with 1,300 pics in total), I will try to just show you the bits and pieces that made this trip the best time of my life.

London

London was our first stop and the perfect place for us to adjust to the pace traveling. We stayed with my cousin Emily in her beautiful house in Wandsworth and got a taste of suburban London life. Em, a freelance graphic designer, Robin, a fishmonger (who trains students from Jamie Oliver’s Fifteen!) and their two adorable halfie children Joey, 7, and Nicky, 5, welcomed us into their home despite only having met us a couple of times before. It was wonderful to get to know them better and have unofficial guides to the best of the city.

Every morning began (and ended) with a cup of English Breakfast tea, before we headed down Trinity Road to Tooting Bec station to ride the “tube” into the city. Our jet lag for the first couple of days was unbelievable. But there was so much to do that any attempt to sleep in was marred by guilt at all the time being wasted (Annie will probably tell you otherwise). Still, despite lack of sleep and the horrendous exchange rate) we managed to get a lot accomplished. We rode a double decker bus (where I swooned over our adorable tour guide), paid an inordinate amount to skip the line to ride on the London Eye, saw Spamalot in the West End (and had to sit on the arms of our chairs to see over the ogres that sat in front of us), oogled the Princess Diana (Annie’s lady love) goods at Kensington Palace, bought adorable lunch bags at Harrods, and took the train to Windsor for dinner with some more family.

However, my favourite day, by far, was our last one in London, spent exploring Portobello Market. Em, Joey, Nicky, Annie and I met our other cousin, Jennifer, in Notting Hill (where she lives) for some lunch and shopping. After fueling up on pizza, we headed out to the market to browse. It was insanely busy but totally worth it. There were booths and booths packed with everything from clothes and shoes to giant pans cooking paella. Within the first twenty minutes I had purchased a sparkly dark blue wallet. And not long after I bought a funky turquoise and white striped bag too. On the way home we stopped at Paul Smith, an uber-trendy boutique store in a beautiful, converted Victorian house. Though the wares were way out of my price range (even without the conversion) it was a ton of fun to browse. When we (and the little guys) were beyond exhausted, we headed home to dine on Thai food and watch Love Actually.

Amsterdam

Amsterdam was unreal, to say the least. Our journey began at 8 AM in Clapham Common Station. This was our first train ride and Annie, not one for enclosed spaces, was nervous about the trip underwater on the Chunnel. Little did we know that the train from London to Paris would be the least of our worries. Though we nearly missed boarding time, we arrived at Paris’ Gare du Nord on time and scarfed a hamburger and fries before boarding the train to Brussels. I sat next to a scruffy Belgian man with a ponytail, who smelled of cigars and sweat. Every once in a while we would catch eyes and smile at each other over the top of our books.

The buzz from my sort-of-flirting with the ruggedly handsome Belgian was soon replaced with frustration when we arrived in Brussels to discover that trains traveling to Amsterdam would be severely delayed due to a (tragic but infuriating) suicide on the tracks. After (what seemed like) a hundred hours of sleeping, reading and waiting in the train station, we were told we could board a train to Antwerp, where we could catch another to our final destination. After a successful ride to Antwerp, we thought our luck had finally changed. We were proven wrong when, after boarded the train to Amsterdam, we sat unmoving train for about 15 minutes before a series of anouncements (in Dutch, French, German, then English) informed us that our train was without a conductor. Fury erupted all around as we were instructed to unloaded back onto the platform and wait for the next train to arrive. Ten minutes later, when the next train pulled in, people were scrambling for seats on the already crowded train. In our only bout of luck that day, a nearby angry mob forced their way into the first class car (Annie and I meekly taking up the rear). With the chaos of all the delays, the staff had no choice but to let us stay on and we settled into our seats, happy to have begun our last ride of the day. We arrived at Amsterdam’s Centraal Station 12 AM the next day, two hours late for check-in and exhausted beyond exhausted. After a quick meet and greet with our new hostel buddies, we fell into our beds and were asleep within minutes.

For our first day we decided to take a ride on the canal boats. We bought 24-hour passes and spent the whole day riding around and admiring the sights (with a few breaks in between to souvenir shop, eat crepes and indulge in a little coffee shop-ing). I was blown away by the aesthetic of the city: wide canals; small, arched bridges; tall, leaning houses; adorable houseboats; and bikes everywhere. It was so unexpectedly beautiful. Though we came to Amsterdam for touristy reasons (brown cafes, smart shops, the Red Light District), we ended up falling in love with the city itself and were content to soak up as much of it as we could. Sprawled out in our seats, we rode around, chatting, writing, taking pictures and admiring attractions like the Rijksmuseum, the Van Gogh Museum and the Anne Frank Haus (which we sadly, upon seeing the insane queues from the comfort of our sun-soaked seats, vetoed visiting… Next time!).

But what really made Amsterdam so amazing was our hostel, Hostel Cosmos (please stay here is you are in the neighborhood). It was within walking distance of everything; we could literally pop back to refuel between adventures. It also meant that we could meet up with our hostel mates for some great nights out. It was both freeing and heartbreaking to party with people who you will likely never see again (Thomas if you ever happen upon this post, you were awesome and I am sad we didn’t get to know each other better). And the mentality of people on vacation, especially those who choose to visit Amsterdam, is usually a recipe for some pretty crazy experiences. We engaged in unsavoury activities on the steps of the Palace in Dam’s Square, sampled wares all across the city, were propositioned (and witnessed a rather dramatic fight) in the Red Light District, ate hamburgers from a vending machine and just had an insanely memorable time. We were heartbroken when we packed up to leave only three days later and resolved to one day return.

Paris

Unfortunately, Paris had many factors working against it from the start. First of all, it was our next stop after Amsterdam so the adjustment from such a liberal general attitude to a more, ahem… uptight culture was noticable. We had also book hotels instead of hostels, so instead of late nights partying with fellow backpackers we ate breakfast with seniors and families, explored the city alone and had many early nights. Then there was the fact that, Paris is the city of lovers; not necessarily the most ideal place for sisters. Yes despite all of this, we managed to have a pretty amazing time.

After arriving in Paris around lunchtime, we showered, unpacked and stocked our mini fridge with the most delicious groceries (favourite meal, hands down, an unbelievably delicious dinner of warm baguette, brie, prosciutto, apples, with some wine and Madeline cookies for dessert). Later that night we met up with an Amsterdam hostel mate, Troy (this guy literally embodied the terms “All-American boy” and “hunky beefcake”), who was headed back to Paris to fly out the next day. He showed us around and we had dinner and some drinks at a lovely restaurant next to Notre Dame. The rest of our week in Paris we visited the Louvre, Musee D’Orsay, Jardin de Luxembourg, Sacre Coeur and the Eiffel Tower. We ate lunch along the Seine, browsed book vendors in St. Michel and bought pastries for breakfast each day. We also met an amazing Aussie lady (that she and I, right) who became our grandma for the day, spoiling us by taking us shopping in galleries, for coffee in charming Parisian cafes and imparting much missed parental words of wisdom. Some more atypical but no less memorable Paris moments include spending hours listening to these three Parisian black men play songs by Red Hot Chili Peppers, U2, Bob Marley and James Blunt, and having a caricaturist call us cows (in French) when we refused to pay for a picture he insisted on sketching.

But the most beautiful memory I have of Paris is of this adorable guitar player I fell in (vacation) love with at dinner one night. We were indulging in a much needed (and very un-French) steak dinner to replenish our protein and doing some people watching on the patio of an uber touristy restaurant when I spotted this really cute guy (the one on the left) and his friend eating a baguette and Nutella. They were sitting on these backless folding chairs and dipping their bread straight into the jar so, figuring they were just budget savvy fellow travelers enjoying a little street picnic, I snapped a pic of them. (Oh yeah, I am a creeper like that!) Turns out that they (and another friend who joined them after the baguettes) were street musicians, who played the most delightful music (think Amelie Soundtrack) for the remainder of our meal, while I made googly eyes at him. It was a truly memorable experience, but nothing like what was to come…

Venice

Venice was like a dream for me. The whole time, I felt like I was watching everything unfold, but was not actually there. It was like a scene from a movie; too perfect to be real. Opening shot: pan across Paris’ small but busy Bercy station to two girls sitting on their backpacks and eating fruit they bought in the Metro. Annie gets up to wash the mango juice off her hands and I distractedly eavesdrop on a cute American boy asking (in adorably broken French) for help validating his ticket. I muffle a giggle and pretend to be engrossed in a wad of gum that threatens to stick to my flip flop when I feel a shadow fall over me. The boy stands above me and asks, in another failed attempt at French, if I am waiting for the train to Venice. I reply (in English) that I am and introduce myself. Blond haired, impossibly tanned Dan from New Hampshire has been travelling alone for almost two months, mostly around Greece, and seems eager for a conversation in English. We chat until the train comes (mostly about Greece, I am dying to go) and then we head to our separate seats

In my compartment, I meet a cool German couple taking the train around Europe for the summer and a Korean-Parisian brother sister duo off to Venice for the weekend. The language barrier makes conversation pretty difficult and I can’t quite get adorable Dan out of my head so I slip out to the bathroom keeping my eyes peeled for his bouncy blond hair. Within minutes, I spot him hanging out of one of the washrooms (i.e. a sink and outlet, no toilet) guarding his dying iPod as it charges. We instantly re-bond over a mutual excitement for the upcoming Batman movie and end up spending the entire night (and a good portion of the next morning) squashed in this tiny washroom getting to know each other… Then, before heading to bed to catch a couple of hours of sleep, I convince him to join us at the beach the next day.

We arrive in Venice at 9 AM the next morning. It is hot and sticky and we want nothing more than to jump in the water. Annie and I are painfully aware of our time crunch (our train is scheduled to leave at 6:30) and determined to enjoy our time in Venice. We catch the ferry over to the Lido (after getting a little lost; the only un-movie like aspect of our day) we stake claim on a corner of the crowded beach and head to the water (Aqua-phobic Annie sticks her nose in a book and watches over our stuff). We spend the day swimming (montage of us playfully splashing each other, floating on the waves and a fireman’s carry kiss), eating gelato and improving our tans (while laying hand in hand… okay the cheese factor on that one even makes me a little embarassed). After we are all beached out, we wander the city centre and stop for the most delicious spinach and ricotta pizza I have ever tasted (I still have dreams about it). Not really wanting the day to end, we linger on the steps of the train station, drawing out what little conversation is left. At 6:15, it is time to say our goodbyes (a quick kiss and exchange of emails) and prepare for the journey to Rome. Zoom out to long shot of station and fade to black.

Rome

Rome was out last stop and, though exhaustion from three weeks of travelling had definitely set in, we were determined to go out with a bang. There was a certain comfort and liberating quality to knowing that, after arriving, all we had to do was make sure we made it to the airport on time and our trip would be complete (and major mishap free). But beyond my newfound carefree attitude, I found Rome to be my favourite stop on our journey. The city was bursting at the seems with grand architecture, rich history and engaging culture; it was intoxicating.

On our first day in Rome we ambled around the city making stops at the Trevi Fountain, the Pantheon and the Spanish Steps, each one overwhelmingly beautiful (though horrifically crowded). On the way home, we picked up a couple of bottles of (€7) wine to coerce our fellow hostel mates to join us for a night on the town. We found a kindred spirit in fellow Canuck, Bula, who eagerly agreed and joined our cause immediately. We prepared a delicious pasta in the hostel’s kitchen (a great money saver if you can find one) and polished off the wine (after which we went on several mini mission to procure some more) and then, in the company of some delightful English boys, headed out to a pub. We sat on the patio, drinking and people watching until last call, and our hostel’s curfew, approached. But by then, we (Bula, Annie and I) were sufficiently sloshed that it this didn’t really matter to us (the rest were smart enough to make their way back on time). Instead, we approached the bouncer for the address of an after hours club and took a cab over to continue the party. The venue turned out to be a beautiful, rooftop gay club with flower filled trellieses, a huge DJ booth and swarms of half naked men gyrating against each other. Throughout the course of the night Annie was kissed by a big balding drunk man, Bula got hit on by a toothless lesbian and I met a beautiful (straight) half-Alaskan half-Danish boy. We partied there until closing (around 5), when we were forced to make our way back to the hostel. This presented a dilemma, as the door to the hostel would not be re-opened until 7 am, and it was then only 6, but our exhausted minds decided that it would be safe to pass the time sleeping in the street (sooo not a good idea!). Luckily some men happened to be taking out their garbage and saved us from a drunken plan would’ve certainly ended horribly for all of us. I threw myself into bed, still wearing my party dress and jewellery, desperate to squeeze every second of sleep out of the four hours left before our hostel’s mandatory lock-out began (try to avoid hostels with this restriction, it may seem like it won’t affect you, but you never know).

Despite our late night, with a power nap in a park and an early bedtime the following night, we manged to take in some breathtakingly beautiful things in Rome; things that have ruined my experience of living in Toronto forever. The Villa Borghese, the Coliseum, the Vatican Museum (and the Sistine Chapel), St. Peter’s Basilica; everything was so impressively intricate and completely decadent, It was a bit overwhelming and left me feeling like a small and insignificant part of such a large and complex world.

As our vacation finally neared it’s end, we made our final farewell while eating gelato on the step of a fountain in a busy square across from the Pantheon. By a stroke of strange luck, almost all of our fellow hostel mates ended up at the same location and we banded together to celebrate our collective last night in Rome. Each moment was filled a desperate want to absorb every last detail, making the night painfully bittersweet. As if in perfect narration of this all-encompassing emotion, a two piece jazz band began playing not too far from us. The music played above the sound of busy tourists shuffling around o the cobblestone streets and I thought I might explode from the surreality of it all. When everyone else wanted to head home, I made a fast friend in Will, an adorable English boy who seemed just an enamored with the setting as I. We followed the jazz musicians into an enclave of the Pantheon and sat at the base of a pillar, talking, but mostly just being, existing in the atmosphere that surrounded us.

On the walk home I remember repeatedly thinking to myself, about the entire past three weeks, “I cannot believe that this was real.” I worried that my memory would never to my experiences justice but felt overwhelmingly grateful just to have had the opportunity to live them. I will never ever forget this wonderfully trip (quite literally, as I have had it inked on my hip). Thanks to everyone who helped me get here (from Luke to everyone I met, and especially the parents, who were generous enough to reward me with such a fantastic graduation gift). You cannot imagine how much it has meant to me. And fear not, the travel bug has bitten, so stay tuned… this is not the end of the life-chainging adventure of Lynn.