Vatican City's Wow Factor Was Lost in the Sweltering Heat

Part Four of Nine

Rome, Italy

Our morning was an exercise of processing numerous sites and locations throughout Rome. Our afternoon was spent processing all that is Vatican City. It's equally as overwhelming, and as singularly spectacular. Except for the heat, the skin searing soul - sucking stifling heat.

Before departing the restaurant and the fabulous company of Leo and Fabio, we, regardless of the heat, had to cover up. To visit the Vatican, one must have their legs covered to the knees or below and their shoulders. This was akin to asking the four of us to don bikinis in a blizzard in the sweltering heat. Francesco, the seasoned tour guide, had the Mercedes nice and cool when we all returned from the ladies' room, attired adequately for the Vatican, and already sweating.

Francesco handed us over to one of his colleagues, a tiny minute of a woman named Braydon. Young, beautiful, intelligent, and highly educated, Braydon has dual citizenship in Italy and Canada and degrees in History and Art. Yet the one word I would use to describe this little woman is formidable.

Upon entering the world's smallest and wealthiest country, Vatican City, we learned that people there do not believe in standing in line. After making our way through security, it was a virtual mosh pit of people shoving, pushing, and trying any way they could to funnel through the turnstiles ahead. We looked at Braydon, imploring her with our eyes to tell us what to do.

All she said was, "push and keep moving forward." So we did. I had a fleeting thought that if this is normal European behavior, I never want to go to Euro Disney.

Once in Vatican City, we caught our breath and had it taken away at the same time as we entered the central courtyard and caught sight of St. Peter's Basilica and the interior of the most exclusive country in the world.

Beautiful … immense … intimidating. Braydon explained that there are only 800 people who hold passports to Vatican City; most are the higher-ups in the Catholic church, and few are women. Fewer people know who those 800 are, as it is very secretive. Those who live in this enclave, this exclusive little Country Club (pun intended), can use gas for free. Residency is so sought after people dress up to gain access as priests, cardinals, etc. But as one would expect with the wealthiest country in the world, security is at an all-time high, and while we felt the serenity and beauty of the City, we were also aware that a lot of eyes were on it.

After allowing our jaws to drop in the dramatic Pinecone Courtyard, we entered a literal maze of galleries. Unfortunately, the crowds came along too. Braydon, all five feet of her, gave great advice that warrants being passed along, not just for the Vatican but for other structures that draw crowds that are literally like slowly moving schools of fish.

Without really saying it, she made it clear that these buildings are old and lack windows and exits. As she put it, should something happen and the crowd panics and runs, you want to be in the front of the pack, not in the back, and certainly not in the middle.

One look around and the intense heat of the day made us realize how right she was. So, we were commanded by our tiny but fierce guide to stay in a single line behind her when she started to move, and like good children, we obeyed. She took on the pace of a speed walker, went outside the crowd, and forced people out of the way until she got us to the next safe place or spectacular piece of art deemed a don't miss.

I had never thought about the dangers of being in crowds like this and would never have noticed the lack of windows and doors until we finally reached the one open window in the last of 53 galleries, all of which you need to pass through to get to the entrance of the Sistine Chapel. One of my Soul Sisters was dripping with sweat, and the open window and fan were life-saving.

Braydon proved to be three times her weight in gold. Her knowledge of everything in each gallery was impeccable. To describe all that we saw would be a lesson in futility. Entire books have been written about the treasures to be found. So, let me share a few of the antiquities that struck a spiritual cord with me. I can say that, despite your faith or lack of faith, one cannot help but tap into a spiritual place as you see the wealth of history and inspiration in the masterpieces in the galleries.

There are many benefits to having a personal guide, which I highly recommend and would encourage using one with a small group of friends. The questions from the four of us were coming at her rapid-fire, and she was quick. She also has some good inside scoop. For example, she taught us that the way to identify if an Italian artist created one of the thousands of sculptures in the galleries was to look for hidden supports, an Italian trademark of ancient artists.

Immediately, four clueless women felt like we were on our way to becoming art experts. Throughout all the galleries, the floor mosaics (when you could see them briefly through the sea of humanity inching along) were each spectacular, matched only by the intricate and impressive ceilings above. The crowds make it hard to see everything, but again, I doubt one afternoon is enough time to take in every artifact housed in the museums.

My favorite memories include the map room, which featured maps created in 1583. Every map is 87 percent accurate compared to today's Google Map technology. These maps were created long before man invented flight, let alone the ability to put satellites in orbit.

The tapestries throughout the museums are so large and intricate that it's difficult to imagine how these hand-created art pieces were produced so long ago. Especially the one that depicts Jesus and his disciples. It's enormous, with Jesus prominently featured in the very middle. As you walk the length of the tapestry, watch Jesus' eyes … they follow you. We each did this several times, both back and forth, and this optical illusion was real. Braydon shared that experts to this day cannot explain how the early weavers created this illusion. It is one of the great mysteries of the Vatican Museums.

After literally sweating and pushing our way through all 53 galleries, we arrived at the Sistine Chapel. I was particularly excited about this, as my mother's one international trip in her life was to Rome, and she has talked about the Sistine Chapel incessantly ever since.

Because we were with a guide, we bypassed the long line and entered the Sistine Chapel. Braydon reminded us that while the Sistine Chapel is one of Italy's most visited tourist locations, it is still a place of worship. There are rules. No speaking.

No picture taking. Keep your shoulders and knees covered. Braydon would wait in the back for us, and we were to find her when we were done.

I expected serenity. I expected peace. I got none of that.

The Sistine Chapel was packed. Every bench was full, and between the talking by the visitors and the shouting by the guards to be quiet, it evoked anything but a spiritual feeling. The guards constantly yelled at people trying to take pictures, and telling people to cover up. It was stifling hot, and to be blunt, people were flat-out rude. To the guards. To each other. To the experience itself.

I was genuinely disappointed and quickly walked the length of the Chapel, looking at Michelangelo's work and noting, as Braydon had told us, the improvement in his method from the front of the Chapel to the back. But in the end, I couldn't wait to get out of there.

What came next was a lesson in grandeur … scale … opulence. St. Peter's Basilica was, in a genuinely overused word, astounding. One would expect something grand from the largest church in the world and the burial site of St. Peter, but the vastness, scale, and intricacy of the elements of the church are jaw-dropping.

Everything is a mosaic. The numbers around the top of the walls are a staggering eight feet high yet look like textbook font. And the pièce de résistance is Michelangelo's La Pietà, which now resides behind bullet-proof glass due to damage done by some crazed tourist with a geologist's hammer. It is the only piece Michelangelo ever signed, and it is spectacular.

Melanie and Evonne visited one of the side chapels to pray while Elena and I admired the church. It was overwhelming. Breathtaking. Spiritual. Inspirational. And I'm not even Catholic.

Outside, I welcomed the sunshine and the fresh air. I understood where the saying "Rome is the center of the world" came from. One afternoon, I took a much too quick walk down the path of history and felt affected and grateful. Awed.

I wish I had more time to get lost in the center of the world. I don't know that I'd ever want to leave.