We got the tip from my sister that we’d be wise to get to the Vatican early; that way, we’d beat all the queue that inevitably would form. So we left the hotel shortly before 8am, got in a cab and arrived when St Peter’s Basilica opened at 8:30. The line to get in was minimal and not much of a hassle. We duly noted the Swiss Guard, and headed in. I’m not going to tell you about how it was, because words won’t really do it justice. It’s big, though, I’ll say that.

But it bears mentioning, also, that this was the fourth straight day of touristing and looking at “old stuff.” So the “sensation saturation” or “sensory overload” was starting to kick in. My brain can only handle so many marble statues, y’know? Still, we took a right immediately upon entering and the first corner we got to held Michelangelo’s “Pieta.” (a picture of it can be found here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pieta) Lori, the art major, told me about how this was the only work that Michelangelo actually signed his name on.

To give an idea of what sensory overload might do to you: While we’re standing there, a couple around 50 comes walking up from the other direction. If they’ve been circling the basilica (and I believe most people do this) then that means that they took left when they came in, whereas we took a right, and they’ve now come almost full circle around the entire church. I remind you again that it’s a big church. It has statues and priceless art exactly everywhere. So they’re walking up to what might arguably be the most famous piece of art in St Peter’s, and the man says “so what do we have here?” to which the woman responds “some woman holding a dead guy” and then they keep walking.

Lori and I looked at each other and rolled our eyes. “Some dead guy?” Jesus H. Christ, it’s Jesus Christ! What famous dead guy do YOU think would be prominent in the VATICAN?

Six hours later that same day I was, however, going to have the greatest sympathy with them. Because after six hours of St Peter’s Basilica and the Vatican Museums, my head couldn’t take it anymore. But I’m rushing the story now, and that won’t do.

So we finish the circle, with its endless stream of marble statues (some, honestly, not that great) and we take specific note of how it seems that women in marble statues can’t help themselves when it comes to exposing their breasts. I speculate that showing the breast hanging out is the artist’s way of making sure that the spectator understands that he’s looking at a woman and not just a clean-shaven man with long hair. I also speculate that the exposed breast in marble statues filled the same role in that day’s art as sex scenes with Angelina Jolie does in today’s movies - it doesn’t bring the story forward, but it might sell a few extra tickets.

I turn to Lori to test my hypotheses, but she shrugs and says that she doesn’t know why they did that. Bah! What do I need her for then?

After another hour of pointing, whispering, hmming, oohing and aahing, we finally exit the basilica and shortly thereafter panic. Let me explain why.

The “Vatican,” as in the parts of the Vatican that you’re supposed to see as a tourist, is actually divided into two separate places. It’s St. Peter’s Basilica on one hand, that we had just exited, and the “Vatican Museums” which contains among other things the Sistine Chapel on the other. And with these huge crowds walking around, it’s really easy to just automatically follow the current. And that’s what we did when we left the Basilica; we followed the current. All of a sudden, I realize that we’ve passed a point where it says we’re not allowed to go back in the same way and I furthermore realize that that means that we’re now OUTSIDE of the Vatican again. And I look back to the entrance which, unlike when we had arrived a little over an hour ago, now featured a queue so long that it would surely take 45 minutes to get through it.

And there we were. Outside. We realize that we hadn’t seen the Sistine Chapel, but we didn’t yet realize that leaving the Basilica was not a problem. We were actually supposed to leave the Vatican and move around on the outside of it to get to the Vatican Museums. An English lady who worked as a tour guide must have sensed that we were troubled, so she offered to help and nicely explained where we were supposed to go. We breathed a sigh of relief and started walking in the direction that she had pointed us, to get to the Vatican Museums that were due to open at 10 am - and it was now 9:40.

As I said, my sister had told me to get there early so we could avoid the lines. 20 minutes before opening ought to do it, we thought.

We were wrong.

We find the queue, though, not a problem. But we couldn’t actually see the door from the back of the queue, we just sort of figured that “this big line, here, that must surely go to the Vatican Museums” and parked ourselves at the back of it. It turned around a corner about 150 feet further forward, and in my head, the entrance to the museum was just another 50 feet down after the corner.

Again, I was wrong.

Once we rounded the corner a half hour after arriving at the back of the line (are you sick of me mixing “line” and “queue” yet?), I realized that the queue (how about now?) actually continued for quite a bit more than 50 feet. It turned at the next corner as well. And, I see now, the NEXT ONE AS WELL. We were in that line for a bit over two hours. Two hours of standing, walking a few steps, and standing. And repeat. Feet hurt. Legs were tired. We were starting to get hungry.

And then we get into the Vatican Museums, pay the €13 per person entry fee, and started the tour. Walking around and looking at everything took another two hours, and it was at the end of that tour that I realize just how saturated a mind can get with priceless art. When we finally got to the Sistine Chapel (which is among the last things you pass on the way through) I wasn’t dazzled and amazed - I was tired and hurting. I looked up, but my neck hurt so I just made a quick scan of the ceiling to get some idea of how it looks. I’ll say this: The Sistine Chapel is smaller than I had expected. Then again, for a “chapel” it’s pretty big, so I suppose I had my expectations way up high.

Lori was more interested in the Raphael rooms than the Sistine Chapel, and we lingered around his painting “School of Athens” for awhile. Read about it; it’s interesting.

Finally, at 3pm, we had left the largest collection of priceless art behind and were desperate for two things: a chair and food. A nearby restaurant was able to supply both. Sitting there, eating my pasta, I fully understood how someone could pass by Michelangelo’s Pieta and mutter how it’s “some dead guy.” At this point, the pope himself wouldn’t have been able to pique my interest.