Fin

A big end... and a big beginning

Our final day on the Continent began very early indeed. We arose around 5:30am and gathered our things. Making sure we had everything, we dropped our keys with the security guard and boarded the airport shuttle bound for Ciampino Airport, south of Rome. The trip took less than an hour, which is about an hour earlier than we had expected to arrive. I guess it's better to be an hour earlier than an hour later.

Now I've flown on Ryanair before, but I had forgotten how chaotic it is. We found the check-in desk and discovered that several hundred people had also found it. Overhearing some conversations in the line-up, we came to realise that there may be more people in this line than will fit on a plane. It seems there had been an air traffic controller's strike the previous day in the UK, and as a result, several flights had been bumped. Some of the people in the queue had been moved onto our flight. Pessimist (or realist depending on how you look at it) Mark and optimist Darryl tried to remain calm. Luckily the flight would be arriving a half hour late, so the slow-moving line shouldn't be a problem time-wise. It was whether or not we would get a spot onboard that worried me.

After crawling along, we finally reached the desk and walked away with boarding passes. Now to the departure lounge for another queueing session. Ryanair is cheap for a reason. It's not like other airlines. For starters, there is no seating assignment, so mob mentality rules here. The first ones on the plane get the best choice of seats. Luckily we were near the front of the line. Standing for another hour was the small price to be paid. At that point though, neither of us really cared where we were sitting on the plane. So long as we were on it.

Half an hour after we were supposed to board, the shuttle bus pulled up and we began herding onboard before departing for the plane, where we ran for the steps. Once the plane was boarded, the "captain" came on the speaker to inform us that there was a back up in takeoffs, so there would be a bit of a wait. About forty-five minutes later, we began taxiing to the runway, and another fifteen or twenty minutes after that, our plane finally hit the sky.

From the air there was a great view of the alps, and there was a clear view of France and Great Britain as we crept to the edge of the Continent. I could see the white cliffs of Dover and the entire path that we had sailed to Calais three weeks prior. We began our descent into East Midlands Airport, and then, clearing passport control and retrieving our bags, boarded the Skylink to take us back into central Nottingham, where my friend Tom would meet us.

I did a few banking and phone bill duties while in the city and then we headed to Tom's. After relaxing for a bit, I popped down to my former residence two doors down to say hi to the housemates and pick up my mail. There were £8 worth of bus vouchers awaiting me: the result of my angry email regarding my missed bus a month and a half prior. I intended to use them for the bus ride to London the following day.

We headed down the road to Maddog's, another friend, where he graciously let us use his Internet and printer to book our bus tickets. After that Darryl, Tom and I headed to the grocery store to pick up some supplies for supper. Whilst Darryl and I relaxed a bit more, and socialised with Tom's housemates, Alex and Adam, Tom began making a curry.

A few hours later, the curry was served, and it definitely hit the spot after a long day of travelling. Tom's other housemates, Neil and Mike joined us, along with Maddog. Adam gave me a keepsake of Nottingham, an official goaltender shirt from Nottingham Forest Football Club, and an antique Forest program. The hours passed and before long we were ready to settle in for a couple hours of sleep before having to arise at 4:30am to catch the 5:40 to London. Tom had graciously given up his room to Darryl and me.

In the morning, we grabbed our stuff and took a cab to the bus depot, and a few hours later we were at London Victoria, where we immediately grabbed a train to Gatwick. This was the official end to the whole big journey. And this is also where the surprise ending comes in. Despite what I let others believe, save for a handful of people involved, I had always planned on coming back to Canada with Darryl. In fact Darryl booked my ticket when he booked his. So here we were, on our way to Winnipeg; Darryl with his pack, me with my pack and a large suitcase for a couple months' stay. The plan was to lay low for a week, and then surprise my parents at my cousin's wedding, a special gift for their fortieth wedding anniversary.

The flight was smooth and quite comfortable, especially when set against the wholly uncomfortable flight of the previous day. As we landed in Winnipeg, I was blown away at the sight of it, how spread out the land was. I had forgotten how vast this country is, especially the Prairies. I made arrangements to crash at my old digs, the Roslyn, and Darryl was hopping on another plane bound for Regina. This was where we parted ways after thirty days of being together.

Darryl waved goodbye as I was chauffered away in a stretch limo. For $20, it was cheaper than a cab, and more convenient than a bus. I had a great chat with the driver. He was genuinely interested in hearing about my adventures. I pulled up at the Roslyn and began my holiday in Canada. The first bit would prove to be the hardest. Though I was thrilled to return to life as it was, I was dreading the idea of pretending I was in England for the sake of the surprise. In the end it was all to work out.

More on that later.

Cheers.

Cittá del Vaticano

Another city and country. No passport required.

We had planned to get up fairly early to catch the 9:00am shuttle to the Vatican, but ended up sleeping a bit later, and dawdling a bit in the morning. We figured 11:00am would do, so we popped into the restaurant to have some breakfast, "American-style." What the Italians don't seem to realise, however, is that it is very uncommon in the Americas for people to have dry toast with their breakfast. Butter and margarine don't seem to be very common accessories to toast there.

We got on the shuttle bus and sweated all the way. The ride was only about ten minutes, and when it stopped, we were a bus load of people with no idea where we were. I wasn't expecting the bus to drop us off in Piazza San Pietro, at the steps of St. Peter's, but we were in a mystery spot, though it was only a few blocks away from the walls of the Vatican. The driver in his broken English pointed us all in the right direction. On the walk there, I noticed a University of Manitoba bag, and struck up a conversation with some fellow Bisons. That was the first and last we saw of them.

Climbing a set of stairs, we came up to the wall of Vatican City, a whole other country within Rome. We could see the entrance to the museum and began walking down the queue to find the back. We kept walking and walking and walking, and finally we found the end. Despite its length the line was moving pretty fast, past the people handing out ads for their restaurants, past the destitute beggars, and past the golden opportunity bottled water sellers. Alas, the entrance, and alas, the metal detector routine. We paid our €13 to get in (a price I'm sure the Vatican sets because of the deep meaning of the number. Coincidentally, the Vatican is the thirteenth country I have visited). We followed the crowds through the musuem, most of whom were just itching to see the famed Sistine Chapel. We were ourselves as well, but if we knew how far the pilgrimage to it was, we might have moved through a bit differently.

We went through halls of statues from ancient Rome, by the famed Laocoön and his Sons, sculpted in the First Century B.C. Then into the many rooms and chapels of the Vatican, much of which was frescoed by Raphael. All along the way there are signs pointing toward the Sistine Chapel, and there are hordes of people with audioguides and live guides, buzzing through without paying any attention to whose feet they are stepping on, snapping pictures of everything. Somewhere in the shuffle, I lost Darryl. I knew I'd meet up with him in the Sistine Chapel. No worries.

Just before the chapel, there is a large exhibit of modern religious art, which was a breath of fresh air after so much of the antiquated stuff, and a bit of a break before the ultimate painting, Michelangelo's ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. Unfortunately most people didn't seem to share this appreciation and kept buzzing past. In one room there were three Salvador Dali paintings. I stepped out of the stream of spawning salmon to gawk at them for a bit. Only one other person did the same.

Continuing on, a British woman behind me was grinding my gears with her "I could do that" attitude about modern art. I felt like turning around and saying, "Well you didn't so put a sock in it." Later in the Sistine Chapel I heard that same woman say, "We queued an hour to see this?" Before getting to the chapel there is a staircase, where guards tell everyone to put their cameras away. No pictures. There are also signs telling of the sacredness of this place, and that you must be quiet. Meanwhile the guards yell, "No cameras" and "Shhhhh" at the top of their voice, and then walk around whistling.

The Sistine Chapel is quite a sight. The ceiling is much higher than I had imagined and is covered in Michelangelo's work. It's hard to imagine that he spent four years on his back painting this. Some of the most recognised images of Renaissance art are in that fresco.

We found our way outside and then followed the wall back to get to St. Peter's Bascilica, the piece de resistance of Vatican City. I tried to walk in near the Pope's apartment and was very gently told by one of the Swiss guards that St. Peter's was further down.

We came upon the arcade surrounding Piazza San Pietro from the back, and walked beneath for a bit. In the square there were thousands of chairs set up. Darryl had read somewhere that the Pope comes out of his window every Wednesday. This was Tuesday, so the chairs were likely for that. The heat of the day was at its peak, and after seeing the line to get into the basilica, we decided to grab a bite and a drink first.

We braved the mob and got through the metal detectors. The basilica is free to enter, but one must pay to go up the dome or down to the tombs of the Popes. We opted for the freebie again, though a later attempt at going up the dome would be futile, as they close it at 4:00pm. Inside the church, it was immediately evident that this was the church of churches. The entire interior is marble with gold trimming everywhere. In one of the side chapels, near the entrance, Michelangelo's Pietá sits behind glass, the result of an attempted vandalisation some time ago.

All along the outside walls are mini chapels, some bearing the mummified remains of Popes, all with ornate carvings and paintings. At the very heart of the church is Michelangelo's amazing dome. Beneath it is Bernini's Baroque alterpiece and below that is the tomb of St. Peter. Of course all around, in every direction, are people.

Back out on the streets of the Vatican, we headed along the river, past the solitary priests and groups of nuns, to find ourselves in Rome once again. We headed for the Pantheon, as our last stop. It was open and we stepped in to the great dome, with its oculus, projecting an oblong spot of light on the interior. It is also in this church that Raphael's tomb is located. We sat on a bench inside for a bit and then headed back to the campground for a quiet and early night. Our shuttle service to Ciampino Airport departed at 6:45 the next morning.

But that's a whole other adventure that needs its own post.

Cheers.

Roma Termini

The cradle of civilisation... if you can call it civilisation

After bumping ourselves up to a later train at no extra cost, we boarded for Rome. This would be our last Continental stop, since we had booked a Ryanair flight back to Nottingham for the 23 May. This was 20 May so that gave us about a day and a half in Rome, which would prove to be about right for us.

When we stepped off the train at Rome Termini, we could tell the weather was even hotter than it had been in Florence, and there wasn't a cloud in the sky to provide any intermittent relief. Our first task, as usual, was to find our accommodation. Again we chose camping. The place was a bit complicated to get to, but we followed the instructions in the email closely and found ourselves in the Rome Metro. Much like its other European counterparts, once you know where you're going, it's quite easy.

Our next step was to take a bus. We waited and it arrived, and we sat near the front to keep an eye out for the supermarket, where we would have to get off. While we were seated, a couple of fiftysomething Canadian guys asked us where we were from. "Saskatchewan," "Where?" "Weyburn." It turns out this guy lived in Vancouver but was originally from Kinderseley and played hockey against the Weyburn Red Wings, Notre Dame Hounds, etc. They informed us that they were going to the camp as well, so the pressure was off to watch for the stop. Once we got there we thanked our Canadian guides and began the walk through the overpass to the campground.

A bubbly Italian woman checked us in to our cabin, or bungalow as they call them. This one was a stand alone mobile unit with ensuite bathroom. Pretty luxurious for the price. The campground had the usual bar/restaurant, market and Internet place. This one also had a pool and a gelati stand. We acquainted ourselves with our surroundings and then got back on the bus to head into the city. After all we didn't have much time to spend.

We decided we'd just go straight to the Colosseum and poke around the Ancient City area. This required the bus ride and then two Metro rides ending at the stop called Colosseo. When we came out of the station, the ancient arena was right there in front of us. We crossed the road like chickens, Italian-style, and then looked around for a while. The admission to go inside was €11, so we decided to pass on it. We walked all the way around instead, and then headed past the Arch of Constantine to the ruins of the Forum, where we spent a good hour or so strolling around. This site was unearthed in the Nineteenth Century after centuries of being buried following the fall of the empire. From the state of it, one would guess the site was felled by a bombing campaign, with pieces of columns strewn about.

At Piazza Venezia stands the Victor Emmanuel Monument, which is, like many places this time of year, covered in scaffolding. Next to it we stopped briefly at the also-scaffold-clad Trajan's Column, a freestanding column with very intricatetly-carved spiralling relief. Next to it was Trajan's Forum, all part of the ancient city of Rome. Looking out beyond that, things started going a little more Anno Domini. We walked northward toward the site of the Pantheon, a Second Century Roman temple, now a Catholic church. We arrived just as they were closing the doors, so we decided we'd come back the following day to see its great dome topped by its open eye on the sky.

We made our way back to the campground via the Metro at the Spanish Steps, and once there sat down at the restaurant to enjoy a meal discounted by the coupon handed to us when we checked in. I got a pizza, the best I had had in Italy thus far (though I must say Italian-style pizza is not my favourite style), and Darryl got a lasagne. We relaxed a bit after that, and let the day sink while we thought about the next one. Vatican City was the main destination. Once we had been there, we would be satisfied enough with Rome.

More on Rome in the next post. Be sure to check out the video at Darryl's site.

Cheers.