We made the Vatican City our number one must-see places in Rome, so we decided to head down on the second day. Upon hearing rumours of a very long queue to get into the Mvsei Vaticani (translates into Vatican Museum in English), we made arrangements to catch a taxi to the Vatican early in the morning - 6.30am. When we got there, we found an extremely long queue of what looked like 150 people. Many were seated on the pavement, while others stood, leaning against the sky-high walls that bounds the city within. We worked our way from the entrance to the end of the line, and with every step and every observation of tired old tourists dying to maybe catch the Pope at his window contemplating and of very moody and cynical Americans who really wished they had stayed back at the hotel and slept in for a while longer, I grew wary of how long it might take to get into the museum just to see some of the world's most spectacular pieces of art and interesting history.

The line looked too long. We decided we just couldn't stand in line for more than an hour just to get in. Uncle Fusil and his daughter, Diana (dad's friend came along with his family) went searching for this tour guide service somewhere behind the cafes that face the museum's entrance. Before the American who spoke to my dad about his holiday (he was stupid enough to think that we Asians don't know what "(to) freak out" is. What a doofus.) in Rome and some other irrelevant nonsense continued with his story about his friend and a hotel, Diana calls us over to the tour guide centre.

The deal is, if you want to cut short a very very long queue in Rome (especially in Summer, when the rate of tourists is simply drop-dead high), you must pay an extra dollar or two for a tour guide.

What we didn't know: you are likely to be joining more than 150 people (like the other queue) in another queue.

It was hell. We waited for an hour until the line started moving. 'Sides, the Vatican Museum only opens at 8.45am, and it was already 7am. It was the most boring wait I had ever sat/stood/leaned-against-something through. Although, I did find an opened condom on the side of the pavement which I was sitting on and the short, stubborn American woman with frightening blue and black eyes was being a bitch to our guide, who was telling her nicely that she was in the wrong queue. She deserved what she got in the end. Bwehehe. That's for telling us to move to the back of the queue when we weren't even trying to cut into her space!

We finally got into the Vatican Museum. Security is tight. They scan our bags and all. Before really entering the museum, our tour guide gave us a rather length talk about the history of the Vatican City, what is shown in the museum, key artworks through the museum and the very famous frescos on the ceiling and walls of the Sistine Chapel. We were given headphones and a little walky-talky to listen to the guide if we do stray afar. I never knew tours could be so tech-like. It was way advanced compared to some of the tours I've been in, where your guide shouts off the top of his voice, fighting against the other guides shouting off the top of their voices.

The artwork amazed me. Just wondering how on Earth did these artists create brilliant, perfect sculpture masterpieces on the ceilings. And let's not start on the flawless paintings and frescos. There was history everywhere. Behind every frame, centre of a paiting or fresco, sculpture and face was a story. And to think these artworks were created centuries ago!

The Sistine Chapel was even better. It was spectacular! Unfortunately, I have no pictures of the artworks and architecture of the chapel because we were not permitted to take photographs or videos of the inside of the chapel. However, I sneakily suggested Riana to turn her camera facing the ceiling of the chapel and capture a video of it as we made our way out of the chapel. It was crowded anyway. The guards were too busy taking care of the people who had actually taken their video cameras and cameras out in the bare to capture photographs and videos of the incredible chapel. It is in this chapel where the famous frescos such as Michelangelo's piece of the creation of Adam and Eve, and the large wall-piece The Last Judgement.


We headed over to the Basilica di San Pietro in Vaticani ("The Basilica of Saint Peters") after that. The queue into the crypt where they keep the bodies of the ceased Popes was far too long, so we decided to skip it.

The basilica was enormous and majestic with it's high ceiling and incredibly large domes at the top. It was jam packed with people, of course. It kind of took the whole feeling of divinity and a peaceful mind away, but nevertheless the experience was simply one of a kind. All the ceased Popes were buried beneath the marble floors we walked on. The basilica was built in the shape of the cross, and right in the middle of the two diagonals was the tomb of the first Pope of Rome, Saint Peters. There was a large altar with gold on it and candles around. Directly beneath it was his tomb.

The fact that there were dead bodies of people in the basilica creeped me out. It was even more startling when we spotted a tomb on our way out of the basilica. I guessed it was a Pope, otherwise why would you be kept here? You could even see his wrinkled, darkened hands! Thankfully there was a mask over his face. Imagine what his face would've looked like...

We walked out onto the piazza (translates into "centre" in English) as we left the basilica, where there were hundreds of chairs lined up for Sunday's mass with the Pope. We curiously tried to spot the Pope's apartment from there. I couldn't remember what the guide was saying about it's location. I imagined the Pope to be some kind of closet person, who would peep through his curtains every now and then to watch us below, taking photographs after photographs of the buildings and pointing aimlessly at every window, gasping now and then in wonder that what they point at could very well be the window of his apartment. But no. I highly doubt that.

We headed to Via dei Condotti after that, the street where every fashion-freak would die for. The street leads to the famous Spanish Steps. I hate shopping, you should know. It was horrible for me. Standing around aimlessly, wondering - searching for a seat or footstool to sit on. I was tired and hot. I was wearing jeans because I thought we had to cover up to get into the Vatican. What bullshit. It was great. Hours and hours were spent shopping on that noon. Not more than what was actually spent though, if you catch what I mean.

We stayed back at the hotel for dinner that night to watch the World Cup match of Italy Vs. Ukraine. The Italians are incredibly passionate people. The first goal sent by Italy sent the Italians on the street mad. At the end of the match, the noise started. Passionate and patriotic noise, of course. It didn't end till God knows when!

To be continued...
Ciao bellos and bellas!

PS. Sydney couldn't be any colder. I have a nice, cosy big room with a big bed and big space. I like it. I also have holiday homework on top of today's homework and assignments due in a few weeks time to complete. Oh bummer!
PPS. I haven't felt this home sick since last year. I actually desperately want to go home and study in a worse school. I wish I had the support of my KL friends. I'm in need of them. Fuckin' Malaysian government... *mumbles* they just had to screw everything up.