We arrived Saturday (16 February) night in
You really can’t avoid them. Old means one thing in the
Monday: Paying to see the really famous ruins
The Coliseum, Palatino, Circus Maximus: check, check, check. Here, I have a confession to make: finding that the European Union has wised up and started charging non-Europeans less to enter historical sites (in place of a student reduction!), I pretended to be a French citizen to get a half-price ticket. I sort of felt guilty about it. But only sort of. So I worked up some good Catholic guilt and went the next day to repent of my faux-Europeanism.
Tuesday: Getting Holy at the
I thought I’d cross an international border and enter the smallest country in the world:
Impressive, huh? And the inside of the Basilica even more so. You honestly don’t know whether to look at the floor, the walls, or the ceiling: all is so highly-decorated and incredibly beautiful. I wonder what God thinks of it?
Trains are probably my greatest source of joy at the moment. They represent the highest form of public transportation: clean, efficient, fast, comfortable. Like a tour bus, trains take me on tours through the countryside and then onto everywhere I want to be. Better than Visa. We left
Thursday: Obligatory picture holding up the
No, you’re right: I didn’t take it. I thought this post was a fine substitute, though. We spent the most pleasant afternoon in
We came back to
Saturday: Of Dukes and Pigeons
When you leave the Palace and enter St. Mark’s Square, WATCH OUT FOR THE PIGEONS. Even if you don’t pay a euro to buy a tiny packet of birdseed, the pigeons will still love on you. I was glad to be fully covered with coat, hat, and gloves, because the pigeons land everywhere. Very sociable animals. I named this one Chet.
Well, after a night flight and bus into