It took a while for the little boys to grasp the concept that we were visiting a whole new country without leaving Italy. “But wait, you mean there is another COUNTRY behind that wall?!” they asked, as we trudged like penguins around the enormous brick wall enclosing the Vatican city. “Yep. The smallest sovereign state in the world, with 900 residents, their own currency and postal system, as well as their own military guard.” “And the country belongs to the church?!” It is a little hard to imagine having been raised with the “separation of church and state” being almost a national motto (even if it is misquoted most often) but the Vatican is just that, church AND state.

We didn’t get to see the Pope. We had it on good authority that he was in Arkansas drinking good German beer with the Gildner family (having tired of grappa, they told us) and it must be so, as he didn’t come out when we rang the medieval doorbell. We did, however, spend hours with our jaws scraping the floor and our eyes popping out of our heads as we toured the Vatican museums.

The Sistine Chapel is the heart of the Vatican and the center piece of the museum, but truly, we were overwhelmed long before we got there. In every single room are a hundred paintings worthy of the title of “lifetime masterpiece” for any painter, and there is room, after room, after room of them. There are no words that would do it justice. All I can hope is that Tony’s pictures are worth a thousand words because I have only one: “Wow!” If you ever get the chance, come and see it for yourself; Catholic or not, it is worth the pilgrimage.

We spent a long while in the Sistine Chapel. To stand beneath Michelangelo’s brush strokes and look with my own eyes upon the paintings I’ve seen in glossy art prints was humbling, to say the least.

• Ezra immediately found the devil in Michelangelo’s “Last Judgement.”
• Elisha’s favorite was “the young man reaching out to God” (the two figures with fingers almost touching in the “Creation of Man.”) Isn’t that everyone’s favorite?
• Gabe noticed details in the various scenes on the side walls and Hannah, ever practical, noticed the section missing at one end of the room: “Oh man! That must have been a bad day when that fell down Mom!”

I prayed for everyone who came to mind as we sat soaked in history and art. I found myself wondering what the designer and architect and sponsor of the chapel would think of it now: crowded with tourists, most of them disrespectful of its status as a church and place of worship, being clapped at by perturbed guards trying to enforce the rules of “silence” and “no photography.” They would be amazed, to say the least.

Saint Peter’s was worth the wait. Even if it was nearly an hour and a half in the hot sun of the courtyard before we could be turned back at the security checkpoint for our lunch knife. (Tony sloped off to hide it in the men’s toilet before returning to act like it had been checked in at a non-existent desk). Not being the sharpest tool in the shed, we were standing before the tomb before I realized the connection: It is called St. Peter’s because the ACTUAL Peter is buried here… you know, Christ’s right hand man? That one. Under a huge black and gold pavilion with lit candles and mosaics and the best decor the middle ages had to offer. Mass was being celebrated and the choral selections added an ethereal aspect to the whole experience. Every now and then I still have to pinch myself to believe that we’re really here.

Today was spent less on the fattening diet of great Vatican art and more on the anxiety inducing joy of navigating Roman public transport. For being a civilization that prided itself on its road systems and navigational superiority their public transport system is abysmal. Perhaps this is one of the pieces of the puzzle that went between the cracks in the fall of Rome. All I know is that the longer we are here the LESS we want to ride our bicycles out of this city.

Among other things, we saw a crowd of thirty (or so) east indian men run out of the park across from the colosseum, down the hill and directly into on coming traffic… to avoid the police chasing them in a raid for illegal aliens. Later there a man juggling in the intersection with two lanes of traffic running in either direction. “Oh yes,” explained our host over dinner. “The mafia.” “The mafia juggles in traffic?” I asked, something must be lost in translation. “Not THE Mafia, but a mafia… they take the homeless guys around to the various intersections to perform and then they collect the money at the end of the day.” Wow. An industry that had never occurred to me.

In between buses, trains and frustrating hikes through the maze that is central Rome, we did manage to peek through a keyhole, which is a local secret. It is on a hill across from St. Peters and was specifically designed by the Masons to show a perfect view of the city. Tony made a fool of himself trying to get the picture just right… I’m sure you’ll appreciate it. I wish we had a picture of his contortionist act in front of the door; he’s always a little too tall.

We also found the Pantheon, which, in spite of its name, is now a church to one God. The thing that most struck me about the Pantheon was the color… every shade of burgandy, gold, green, white and grey… without a drop of paint. The marble it is constructed out of is beautifully colored. What struck the boys was the big hole in the ceiling and the drains in the floor. “I wanna to go a church where it rains INSIDE Mom!” says Elisha.

The best news of the day, however, is that we are not leaving Rome tomorrow as we’d planned. We bought our ferry tickets to Africa last night. The ferry runs only once a week, between Civitavecchia and Tunis, and that is on Wednesdays. Our kind hosts have insisted that we stay with them for the coming week, and we have joyfully accepted. I am beside myself with excitement over having another whole week to explore this beautiful city. We’ll even get to go to a liberal political demonstration with our hosts to protest some of Belasconi’s “creative” measures to preserve his power and position. Home schooling at its best!