A 2.30am wakeup call and a bus-hopping dash though the desolate night streets of London is a bad way to start any day. Queuing for an hour to be herded like cattle onto a budget Ryanair flight is even worse. Add to that a rather rainy and bleak intro to Rome at the derelict budget terminal of Ciampion airport and your travellers weren't in the best of moods for first impressions of Rome.
At least the hotel was relatively easy to find - a quaint 6 room joint perched on the forth floor of an old stone building (not exactly a unique description in a city that measures history in millennia). Despite the incessant drizzle outside and the inviting bed inside after 8 hours on the road, there was no rest for the party as they set forth for the wonders of Roma.
After a damp trek a magnificent sight finally rose out of the mist... Was it the grandiose dome of the mighty St Peters? No. Was it the monumental facade of the Colloseum? No. It was a tiny pizzeria offering a warm sanctuary from drizzle which was rapidly transforming into a downpour. Steaming slabs of pizza were rolling out of the oven and into hungry patrons hands - everything from simple margerhitas to juicy eggplant and bacon creations. I would elaborate but as I type this the scent of fresh dough and tomato paste is drifting through the window from the pizzeria below the hotel, making further prose on the subject an exercise in stomach rumbling...
Anyway, having finally started the expedition on the right slice (bacon and feta) so to speak, it was time to pursue loftier sights. Rock immediately spotted and arbitrage opportunity. Surely, he argued, with the rain pouring down no one would be dumb enough to queue for the Sistine Chapel. He was right on both counts - indeed the queue was no more than 20 minutes, and indeed it was a really dumb idea because after no more that five minutes total saturation had occured. Waterlogged apparel, however, was instantly forgotten at the sight of the first vast chamber. Art is not just hung on the walls - it covers the ceiling in the writhing patterns of vines and columns and the floors in the intricate mosaics. It even covers the bellies of the fat Americans who purchased the tacky Michaelangelo-on-a-t-shirt apparel from the hawker who set up shop opposite McDonalds. But trying to describe the masterpieces of Raphael or Boticelli in ascii (although no doubt some geek has in fact done them all in ascii art...) is like trying to convince the umbrella hawkers that no, a third umbella will not solve world hunger. So suffice it to say that the endless chambers of the Vatican Museum, including the Sistine Chapel, are everything they are hyped to be and more. Standing in awe under Raphael's monumental School of Athens is priceless, for everything else go read a mastercard ad.
On the way home, one final stop to round out the day (not including the final gelato and pizza pit stop) - the Trevi Fountain. Nestled in a small piazza, the giant figures from mythology writhe in a timeless dance as the water cascades beneath them. Perfecto! And thus ended day one in Roma.
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