Rome

Most cities in the world make you feel small and feeble, like an ant running through blades of grass. The buildings tower over you and block your view entirely. You’re never sure where you are or where you came from, the streets and buildings create an endless labyrinth. It takes months to feel at home in cities like that.

But then there are cities that were just built differently; consciously. Paris. Washington, D.C. And Rome.

The difference lies entirely in the way that the city is laid out. In Rome there are plazas with countless roads radiating out from them. In the center of the plazas are usually things of incredible cultural and historical importance, like the Colosseum, the Vatican or the Forum. On any of these streets you can see the beautiful view of the colosium or the Basilica for blocks and blocks. And when you get there, the buildings are all meticulously built in such a way as to allow for the best, awe-inspiring views possible.

The same goes for the view of Napolean’s Tomb from the Louvre Museum in Paris, or the view of the Mall from Lincoln’s Memorial in Washington, D.C. The feeling is similar to the feeling that one gets when standing at the very top of the tallest mountain and looking out over the entire mountain range. You no longer feel small and feeble, you feel like everything within your considerable view is conquerable.

Rome must have given the same feeling to the Roman Emperors, who in their day conquered almost the entirety of all the land known to their culture at the time. Or, perhaps more likely, the Roman Emperors gave that feeling to Rome. Either way, it remains today.

We were in a rush today, which is never a good condition to be in in Rome, but such is the way of cruise ship traveling. We first made a quick stop at the Colosseum, which is gigantic and magnificent. We didn’t go in, but stayed long enough for one of the Italian, gladiator-garbed impostors ask us in every language he could whether or not we wanted to “make a picture” with him. Somehow the Nike high-tops and the big, fat tattoo on his shoulder didn’t allow for much feeling of authenticity.

We walked through the Palatine, which I believe in the location of the famous Roman Forum, but I can’t be sure. Note: Rome is a place that, before you visit it, requires you to do enough research to appreciate it. I, sadly, had not.

If you take a brisk walk through the Palatine, up the hill, down the steps, past the gelato stand and the Nigerian selling sunglasses, you’ll find a bus stop and eventually Bus #64. If you board the bus and ride it to the end of it’s you’ll eventually end up in the Vatican City.

The Vatican is enormous. The Basilica of St. Peter (Paul? Matthew? I don’t know…) is huge, but even larger in the structure next to it, which houses the Sistine Chapel.

You may think that you could just pay you 12 Euro and get right into the Sistine Chapel. OH NO. The Vatican Museum is a colossal building of connecting chambers and chapels and hallways – mostly, interestingly, empty – with the extreme exception of the amazing artwork on every wall, ceiling, overhang and floor. The place is covered in art, there is not a single space left in the entire building on which to paint, were one audacious enough to think that they could add to the artistry with their own strokes. The Cistine Chapel is not necessarily the largest or more elaborately painted room in the Vatican Museum, although it certainly is the most striking.

Also – and this is, I believe, very culturally important and something that everyone should know before visiting Italy or indeed Rome – I must tell you that I do not believe people when they suggest that the Italian word “gelato” has a translation in English. There simply is no word for it in the English language. To call it it’s common translation: “ice cream”, is to do this delicacy a serious and unforgivable disservice. This is not just “ice cream”; this is heaven in a waffle cone. The Romans may have lost their empire, but the modern Italians have compensated for the loss with the soft and lovely gelato.