June 7th, 2003	SENSORY OVERLOAD! Today, thousands of years of history are about to be compressed like a book on tape. As exhuasted college students on a weekend tour of Rome, we have an elementary knowledge of history and tidbits from passing tours as our only guides. The crisp, cool, cotton sheets had felt better than a bubble bath as I slipped between them earlier, but now my sleep is interrupted. Wake-up call from front desk. Up, wash, dress, breakfast, out the door. Go, go, go. Termini, subway, back above ground, step into God's country. Big fountain, running water, flowing people, waves of crowds. God's a popular guy. Party at the Vatican means B.Y.O.R. (Bring Your Own Rosary).
			Through the metal detectors, into the Basilica. My eyes widen as I kick myself for not having brought a camera. Statues, alters, painted ceilings, even the floor is artwork here. I try to slow down and take it all in, but my eyes dart around like a pinball. Up, down, left, right, six-foot tall letters, patterned floors, famous statue behind glass, other famous ancient stuff. Walk around. Take it in in bits and pieces. Sort, sort, sort. Only so much fits on the memory card. Zoom in on murals, zoom out to see it as a whole. Should've gone to the chapel first, line's gonna be long.
We begrudgingly return to the sunlight. Sweat. Our desire to stay cool is overcome by our desire to see Michelangelo's work. Get 'em up, move 'em out. Get 'em up, move 'em out. Beautiful, breathtaking, ancient, over. On to the next house. Gotta wait to get in. Line runs down the side of the building, sweat runs our backs. Shade, lean, get up, move forward, forward, forward. More metal detectors, more men in suits, more money from our pockets. More, more, more. Head phones give an explanation for room after room. Skip ahead with the c.d. to the Sistine Chapel.
			In the four years Michelangelo spent on scaffolding, high above the floor we stand on now, I wonder if he ever thought people would spend $10 a pop ($15 if you include the narrative headphones) to see his work. Nah, I think he was probably too busy cursing the paint dropping in his eyes. Walk in, head up, stare in awe. More listening, more awe, more time. Take it in, in, in. Some drop out, hit the hotel to nap, others march on. Head towards the steps. Waters: $2.50. Give a group directions, keep on moving. See, saw the steps, but shopping will have to wait until McDonalds, McDonalds, McDonalds. On to Gucci, Fendi, Dolce, Dior, Prada, Fendi, Gucci, Fendi. Empty-handed, empty stomach.
	7:30-meet at Coliseum. We mull around like kids who've lost their parents. Wandering across the street or staying put at the meeting place. Time to decide what to do. The plan was to go on a bar crawl. Three euro off if you wear a toga. Unfortunately, the only thing most of us want to do with our sheets is sleep on them. Skip the bar crawl and walk on. Waiting, gotta pee, waiting, gotta pee, walking, gotta pee. Finally, a restroom.
		Piazza Navona. The beautiful square is alive with families, vendors and performance artists. We look around. Nice, but we take an intermission at the cheap bar. Big drink, restroom, drink, Piazza, no food, bad idea. Watch the Piazza show. Slowed down too long, move, move, move again. Random bites of pizza. Back to Trevi. The fountain is lit up at night, as are we, the combination making it all the more surreal. We take pictures, in the fountain, wet pictures. The wet picture people walk home to sleep on their togas.
Journal by:Kimberley Coughlin Photos by: Mike Memoli			Back to top