On the sixteenth, I had the unspeakable pleasure of entering, after three tries each of which included a half an hour wait in the burning sun, the Vatican Museums! They were incredibly beautiful, including the Sistine chapel, which was really small! I mean, when you see the posters of the painting on the roof, you gain the impression it is 1000 feet long and 300 feet high, but In reality it was about 60 feet across, and about 120 feet long. It is quite high, however, making it difficult to pick out details. The majesty and talent of Michelangelo is effortlessly apparent. I moved through it rather quickly, despite the lead up being several miles of rooms filled with minor works of art, and hope to have the pictures I garnered from it up shortly. Afterwards, I lunched at the Vatican cafeteria, forgoing the "wine-in-a-juice box" for a coke and pizza containing some type of tough-skinned fish. I didn't eat slowly enough to really examine it, however.
After attempting some shopping, which resulted in a few items for others, I metro-ed back to Tiburtina to catch my bus, confident in the knowledge that I had already been on this bus, and thus knew everything that was necessary.
I become so distracted by the Italian countryside, however, that I neglected to notice my stop. This is a hazardous move when you are on an inter-city bus. I exited the bus in Palombara, Italy, A small town where people substitute comprehension for volume. However, communication was made, and I found myself sitting on a low wall, with a brittle smile on, hoping that the bus both came by here, and took the same route back. Both turned out fine, and I gratefully fell into bed, aware of my flight the next day.
Determined to make this flight uneventful, I shuttled into Rome, Metro-ed to Tiburtina, and train-ed to Ciampino. The town, outside of the airport. Drat. I hoisted my trunk and began walking. after a half an hour, I stopped to ask directions, and was told that it was far too far, would I like a ride?
I arrived 8 hours early for my flight.
I spent the time rearranging my bags in the desperate hope that I would somehow lose 4 kg, the amount over my baggage was (they had a 15 kg limit). I was sweating bullets by the time I approached the check-in counter, but the lady waved my bag through without a backwards glance. Yes!
A few hours later, I was inside Stansted airport, after fording the sickening lines in front of Customs.
I found myself in between a store called "LoveJuice" and a man using a luggage trolley as a wheelchair.
I bought myself a ticket to London Gatwick on a bus which ran directly there, and sat on my duff.