THE VIEW FROM ROME
In 2004 I attended a private mass with Pope John Paul II in St.Peters Basilica. I was row 5 from the front and sat in the first seat on the centre isle to watch the pope float by on his hover throne. I was flanked by nun’s and priests from all countries taking photos as I stood there with my mouth gaping open.
Earlier that morning I sat at breakfast with my lonely planet book that I picked up before leaving the Leonardo da Vinci International Airport to decide what I wanted to do while in Rome.
Imagine my naivete when I quietly whispered to myself while sipping my espresso….”WHAT the Sistine Chapel is here?” Within minutes my breakfast was over and I was at the hotel reception desk asking for maps and directions to the Vatican.
A public transit strike was occurring and I was assured that it was too far to walk. When I asked how far was too far the hostess replied 30 minutes. I laughed out loud… 30 min ago I didn’t even know I was in th same city as the sisten chaple and now I’m only 30 min away from something I have only seen in art history books. Give me the map!
I purchased another coffee and some gelato and walked past the Colosseum (oh shit you are here too?)
I have to admit to another naive moment. When I made it to Via della Conciliazione (the road that leads up to the basilica) and looked down to see a massive church that I assumed it was the Sistine Chapel.
The adventure began after passing through the metal detectors and guards. As I pushed myself through the crowds to get to the main door of the church I heard a voice say, If you speak English I’m about to start a tour. I stopped in my tracks and considered the offer. Normally, I would not choose a tour but I was alone and could not read or understand Italian so, why not?
The first benefit of joining the tour was learning I was on the wrong tour of the wrong building. The sistine chaple was around the corner this building was St. Peters Basillica. I remained regardless and followed the guide around as she continued to apologize for a special event that was going to happen that evening and for that reason most of the church was roped off. As she ended the tour she said, I have one ticket to attend a private mass with the pope this evening and if you are interested in going, talk to me outside.
As I caught up to her through the crowds I watched her give the ticket away to some one else. I quickly became convinced that I needed to go and I asked the guide if she had another? She told me that all the tour guides were given 1 ticket in the morning to give out at sometime and she saved it until the end of the day. I asked if I wanted to check to see if anyone returned a ticket because they could not attend , who do I need to see. Her answer was the Swiss guard at the brass door.
Of course none of that made sense and I didn’t bring my guide book so exited the basilica and got back inline to re-enter to look for a brass door.
I’m sure you can imagine how well that went speaking English to Italian military personnel who were not interested in helping. I walked up and down the length of the building looking for a clue. Back at the entrance with the metal detectors I noticed a long set of stairs leading up to a big door and two guards in colourful outfits. Art history began to sink in and I remembered the Medici colours of the swiss guard. In the same moment I watched another guard holding a machine gun move a barricade for a nun who wanted to go up the stairs. In her hand she was holding a blue ticket. I screamed inside and had no control over myself as I ran over to the guard with the machine gun, poked him repeatedly in the arm while pointing at the nun and repeating blue ticket, blue ticket, please please please, can I have one?
Without hesitation, he moved the barricade for me to pass and while I was excited that some how that worked I was now ascending the stairs while two men were waiting for me at the top and I was beginning to feel foolish.
How did you get past the barricade? What are you doing here? Barked one man. I’m here to ask for a blue ticket to attend the Popes special event. NO! he yelled back. The other guard quickly asked, how many do you need? I squeaked out one, only one. The second guard went behind the door, returned and placed the ticket in my hand. Speechless and grateful I don’t remember what I said and quickly left back down the stairs to poke the guard again to let me out.
I had a couple of hours to kill before the event, so I headed over to the Sistine chapel to recline on a bench to view The Creation of Adam by Michelangelo.
