Today we would visit the Vatican. A visit to the Vatican is absolutely positively required when one is taking a Roman vacation, whatever your views on the iron fist of Catholic authority (or the shining and brilliant light of God). The Vatican is a giant immensity that can be seen from pretty much everywhere in Rome: the Catholic Church's awe-inspiring/distressing power can really only be grasped within the confines of the Vatican City, an entire country unto itself. (There is a little papal railway beneath the city so I'm told, that leads to the central rail station - what are they doing under there?!?!)
The Vatican is not unpopular, so a visit entails getting there early. Thus we somewhat complainingly wolfed down the ten-different jams breakfast at the Hilton. Since we were moving into an apartment near the Spanish Steps for the remainder of the trip, we caught a taxi and lugged all our bags into it. We moved into the apartment (homey and nicely located, if very brown) and were immediately off to the Holy See on the subway. We were booked onto a group tour, which I was immediately unhappy about, because if there is one thing I despise it is group tours. Something about shuffling around and looking at things that someone who is (often) not that informed themselves fills me with bile and irritation.
I also hate the headsets. I often forget I am holding them and drop them, for one thing, and when I am attempting to conjure up some sort of a deep thought about a Roman antiquity, hearing a guide screech into my ear THIS IS FROM ROME AND IT IS QUITE OLD is unwelcome and irritating. However, a guided tour through the Vatican museum does offer you an easier way into the Sistine Chapel, and everyone really likes the Sistine Chapel quite a lot, and standing in line for it with a bunch of sweaty and jostling penitents can fill you with feelings that are anything but Christ-like. So make your own choice regarding the group tour, dear readers.
One of the Vatican City's lawns. Where the Pope hosts wet t-shirt barbecues, I guess. Well, some of those popes anyway.
Being a jaded douchebag, I have been to the Vatican and the Vatican Museum before. The Vatican Museum is comprised of the papacy's incredibly vast holdings of stuff, amassed over hundreds of years and by hundreds of kleptomanically inclined popes. It is an incredible collection and it is housed in an incredible building, winding room and ornately decorated hallway (complete with endless masses of simpering, overweight cherubs) filled with the wonders of the past, stuff like that. I like Roman art a lot, something about the martial immensity of it, all that promise that was destroyed by the Dark Ages and (whoops?) the rise of the church (whoops?) and enjoyed seeing the tremendous and pupil-less heads on the marbled floors of the gallery.
I am also partial to the Laocoon with the Snakes, possibly because the concept of someone being devoured by snakes is endlessly appealing, and also because Laocoon's face displays a startling amount of emotion and pain for someone who has been carved out of marble. Unfortunately the guided tour hustled us through the museums at break-neck speed, as the guide treated us to gems like "This is Venus" as if I did not already know. I went to a Waldorf school and received a semi-classical education and I suppose I am more up on my Greeks and Romans then most people, but for christ's sake, for christ's sake (taking the lords name in vain, also).
Dal Toscano
Some golden gentleman. Could be a girly Hercules. Could be David. Don't ask me.
My favorite part of the Vatican is the map room, which has a series of topographical maps of Italy, created by the very patient friar Ignazio Danti of Perugia. It took him three years to bang them all out and they are great little works of geographical art, representing all the cities and kingdoms of Italy that the Pope considered to be his holdings - spiritually, anyway, and as everyone has figured out by now that counts for a hell of a lot more then political power in most situations. As for the tapestry section, I am left cold by Flemish tapestry, I suppose, although having a carpet of the Killing of the Innocents in ones anteroom could brighten up any dull and depressing space.
I enjoy the Raphael rooms, but I found myself liking the work by his students in one of the Pope's apartments even more - though I cannot imagine going to sleep or reading a book or simply passing the time in a room so aggressively, fearsomely, decorated. To have a cavalry charge of awesome proportions leaping out of the walls at you when you are scratching your ass thoughtfully and looking out the window. I could not live up to the pressure.
The Sistine Chapel. To get there you must pass through the church's emotionally disturbing collection of modern art , down a few flights of stairs, and into a side entrance. Therein you pass into the Chapel admist a sea of tourists who are taking pictures and talking about things mostly unrelated to fine art (there is also a coke machine). There is an attendant who sits in a chair at the end of the gallery and shushes people every five minutes. I am hedging on describing the actual contents of the Sistine Chapel because everyone else has done it before and I have nothing new whatsoever to say on the matter, other then that one of the apostles (Isaiah) looks exactly like Jon Stewart. Observe.
Jon Stewart's day job.
I believe Michelangelo's inclinations are apparent by his portrayal of women, namely that there pretty much are none on the Sistine Chapel, including Mary, who to my eyes resembles merely a burly and imposing male with a pair of unimpressive knockers tacked on. This is not to discount the quality of the work, mind you, which is the most powerful and burly expression of the majesty and ambivalence of religious fervor. But, readers: lady looks like a dude.
Ceiling in St. Peters. It is very gold.
Next stop after the Chapel was St Peter's basilica, which may be directly reached from one of the chapel's doors, something my mom and I did not know last time. This forced us to wait outside in the baking hot sun in the tremendous piazza of the holy see and it was very unpleasant so remember that. The route to the Basilica takes you through the basement where many a pope is interred, including John Paul II. I was rather intrigued by the variety of people pausing at various tombs and offering prayer - a sort of understated religiosity that I don't come upon much. It is interesting to observe the behavior of tourists at the Vatican and try to pick out who is a gawker (us) and who is a person on a religious holy-journey - small behaviors can be observed, people cross themselves at one moment or another.
A thought: bodies are often interred in churches. All well and good, but is there, well, a smell factor? Do stone crypts successfully prevent the problem? Can anyone help me out here?
In any case, we walked around the place (huge) and into the basilica (very huge). The sheer scale of the place still is hard to fathom, a tremendous beast of a building, all gilded in black and gold. They could have gone the frothy cherubim way with the thing, but this is powerful religion here, this is the symbol of the still-awesome power of the Catholic church, this is a building meant to remind you of a thing or two.
No matter how many tourists roam around the center of the marble floors, it always feels relatively empty and quiet - you are a mite before the feet of the apostles, you are a tiny speck beneath the tremendous bulk of Michelangelo's dome, you should probably repent now because we are definitely watching you.
The dome in question.
I would love to see an incense burner swinging through the center of this thing - it would be on par with various ancient and mysterious rituals. It does not do to spend too long in there as an unbeliever, though, I think. If you are an agnostic the power and intimidation the place emanates becomes oppressive, reminds you of the machinations of the church that molded the past millennia and are working (with less efficiency) to mold this one as well. You find yourself in the position of being impressed but not reverent or even (in my case) all that respectful, in which case you rather desperately want to get out and find yourself a restaurant wherein you can think about asses without the sense that a lightning bolt will strike you. There was a beam of light coming in with perfect precision from when of the windows when we there, probably was engineered that way. I didn't jump in the middle of it.
From there to lunch. We wandered outside the Vatican for a bit and stumbled upon this place:
Ala Toscano
Via Germanico, 58
00192 Roma (RM), Italy
+39 06 97615872
A Tuscan centered restaurant, this eatery focuses on good meat and lots of it. While walking to the bathroom immediately upon being seated, I found myself in a veritable gallery of cut, aged, and hanging dead animals. It made my heart pitter-pat with anticipation. The Europeans are much more realistic about the consumption of meat then we are in the Americas, are okay with window tableaus of hanging and flailed rabbits and lambs, do not become distressed when confronted with hocks or other unpleasant details. I like it.
A simple starter of prosciutto (thicker cut then what I'm used to, but good) and some figs. The figs are notable in that they are golden and very large, different from what I've had before. And expensive. Everything in Rome is goddamn expensive.
A prehistoric-type veal chop. Veal is cheaper then beef in Italy, which always amazes Americans. This was delicious, tender, and slightly primal. My mom grew more possessive of it then she usually does.
My dad ordered a simple steak. Steaks in Italy are usually thinner, rarer, and more flavorful then what we eat in the USA. This was delicious down to the beef-fat. Good Italian restaurants can truly do justice to a side of cow.
I ordered beef with porcini mushrooms, a sort of Tuscan stir-fry with rosemary, fresh and meaty porcinis, and cuts of thin steak. I really enjoyed this - rich as hell, would have been delicious on some sort of chewy bread as a sandwich. Fresh porcinis are a delightful thing in Italy, vastly better then the reconstituted ones.
As a side dish I had some very nice leaves of broccoli rabe, or at least that's what they told me. Whatever it was, it was a slightly bitter leafy green, one of my favorite things when cooked in a little olive oil and garlic. Could eat this all day.
Sweaty and tired, we headed back to the apartment for a nap. Being in the presence of awe-inspiring spiritual power can take it right out of you.
For dinner, we decided to hit up one of the various trattorias near the Spanish Steps. There's a profusion of them and most of them are at least okay. This one was vetted as acceptable by the faceless internet food authorities and off we went.
Otello alla Concordia
Via Della Croce, 81
00187 Roma (RM), Italy
+39 06 6791178
A laid-back place with its own courtyard and an indisputably old school Italian feel, Otello alla Concordia is a decent choice near the steps. The food is not spectacular, but is simple, well executed, and a nice feed when you'd rather not drop a mortgage on haute cuisine for the fifth night in a row. Nice al-fresco dining too.
A simple caprese salad. Good tomatoes - surprisingly hard to find in Italy. Mozz was also on target, though as I have mentioned before, I have been ruined on the stuff due to Umbria.
An antipasto plate - good selection of meats. The butter, believe it or not, is a traditional accompaniment to prosciutto. I don't get it, but whatever makes you damn Italians happy.
I went for a classic: chicken cacciatore. This was pretty good, if a bit oily - reminded me of what I make at home from Marcella Hazan's invaluable book. The meat was tender and the peppers provided some good flavor.
Another Roman standby: a half chicken cooked under a brick. Good and juicy, although a bit basic - but that's what Roman trattoria food is, meaty and simple. I like the style. Couldn't find any chicken alla diavola on the menu in the places I went, which depressed me, but so it goes.
My mom had a seafood risotto. Nice flavor, slightly chewy and al dente rice (way I like it) and plenty of aquatic friends. Could have been a spot warmer but otherwise nice.
We headed to bed. Forum tomorrow.
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