Italian Penis Envy: My Day at the Vatican

I went into the Vatican with little to no expectations.  I knew I was 'technically' going into another country, and I knew this country was full of amazing religious art.  But that's about it.

I wasn't at all surprised to see an array of marble statues and religious paintings; you can't miss 'em if you're on a tour. But today, I didn't want the typical tourist experience.  So I made a vow that whenever I saw more than five people taking a picture of something, I wouldn't pull out my camera.  As a result I began to see some interesting things.  Like this guy.  Judgmental, and yet wholly uncertain of his environment.  I don't know who he is, but it looks like he needs to talk to someone.

                           And then there was this guy.  Utterly ashamed of his best friend.

It was about this time that I started to become aware of the statues genitals.  Or rather, aware of their lack of genitals.

Example A:

If you take a good look, you'll notice someone has deliberately knocked off this poor man's penis.  It goes from being interpreted as, "What did mommy make for dinner tonight?" to "Well gosh darnit, where the hell did I leave my penis? Sally!"

This wasn't just true for one statue.  There were multiple statues in almost perfect condition, save for a missing penis.  I would have taken more pictures, but I didn't want to risk one of the tour members looking at my camera zoomed in on a statue's crotch.  That would have been one long winded explanation.

My personal theory is that there was a group of men, all castrated, who would run around Rome and knock off statue's dicks.  I imagine they were dressed in Clockwork Orange style garb.  Peet peet peeting away real savage like.

Okay, enough with the dick talk.  Now its time for some straight ridiculous statues.

The first attempt at breakdancing

The first Roman crack fiend

I know, this is all completely blasphemous.  I can only hope that my grandparents don't read this blog. Or the pope. I'm more worried about my grandparents, to be honest.  But I'm young and reckless, and I'm allowed an irrational view of the world, right?  Damn fuggin' straight.

After the Vatican tour we had free time, so my parents and I went out to lunch while my sister napped.  While sitting down, my dad said "scusi" to get by someone sitting close by.  He corrected my father.  "Me despiache.  I'm sorry."  My parents and I nodded and let out a short laugh, hoping he wasn't serious.  I turned around to see the man who reprimanded the man who reprimands me.  And sitting right behind me was a large, dark silver haired man with three of his shirts buttons unbuttoned.  Harmless.  Time for the small talk.

"I like your watch," I said.  "How do you say watch in Italian?"
"I don't know, I'm from Holland."

He let out a hearty laugh and we joined in when we realized how badly we had been fooled.

We continued a line of small talk during lunch, and after we finished, I looked at my map.  Today, I was going to geocache.  No matter what.  I told my parents of my desires, and they let me free with three hours to spare.  Sweet.

I had marked two positions I knew I could reach in time and went off solo in Rome.  I was completely confused with the first cache, mostly because my map didn't match up with any of the street signs.  I would find the street I was on on the map, check around for cross streets, and leave completely confused.  It was like the city of Rome decided to randomly change the name of half of their streets.  I spent a good hour circling around the marked area (with some shopping in between), and then I finally gave up.

On to the next one.  I checked my watch.  I only had about an hour to find the next cache.  I put on the jets and got in the area of the cache.  Then I got lost again.  After stopping at a McDonald's for free bathroom use (yes, they charge you to use public restrooms), I found my way to the general area of the cache.  Now it was all searching.  I felt around as nonchalantly as possible until I stumbled upon it.  YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS.  Felt so good.

I didn't feel like posting a picture of the cache because it's not really visually stunning.  Instead, I give you some pretty dope street art I found while looking for the cache.  Yeeeuh.  Enjoy.

I walked back to the hotel and got back minutes before I was supposed to meet my family.  Score.  I was sweating profusely (which has been pretty normal for me these past couple of days), so I changed shirts and put some deodorant on.  It was time to go to Italian mass.

Our longtime family friend, Brian, was delivering mass in a small church in Rome, so we invited a couple of group members and went off to a tiny church in a beaten up alley in the middle of nowhere.  And it was great.  There were about five or six nuns there, one of who played classical guitar, and they graced the entire service with wonderful singing.  To add on, Brian managed to deliver a distinguishable mass in Italian while adding in English commentary for us Americans.  He is a skillful man.

We all took pictures afterwards, and then the group split up.  It was time for the Brandt family to have a legitimate Italian dinner with Brian.  We walked for about thirty minutes and eventually went in to a restaurant in the middle of nowhere.  As soon as we sat down our table was bombarded with twelve different plates of traditional Italian appetizers.  Fresh olives, eggplant cooked to perfection, seafood salad, you name it.  We ate to our stomach's content, and there was still a whole feast of food left over.  Now it was time for the first course.  Brian was a regular there, so he put on the charm and ordered for us in Italian.  I was completely full at that point, but its rude to refuse food in Italy, so I pushed on.

And soon enough, right as my appetizers were settling, an entire plate of spaghetti arrived.  I ate the whole thing.  I was near explosion.  But it didn't stop there.  The waiters flew in, took out plates, and replaced them with dessert trays.  As I was painfully eating my gelato, the post-dinner liquor came on the table, along with fresh coffee.  I couldn't refuse.  I took one of everything.  It was all amazing, and it left us walking out of the restaurant close to purging.

To soothe our stomachs and stimulate our visuals, Brian took us into St. Peter's square.  I had been there earlier on that day, but Brian claimed that it was much more beautiful at night.  And it was.  We chatted as we strolled around for awhile, and then parted ways.  We all thanked Brian profusely (who paid for our entire meal) and hopped on to the Italian train station.  In no time we were back in the hotel.

And now I sit on fresh linens with horrendously pungent feet.  I smell of adventure.  I feel inspired and restless.  Now that I'm nearing the end of my trip, I'm trying to think of some big life truth that I've gained from the whole thing.  I haven't formulated a complete thought yet, but the minute I do, all you blog regulars (the two of you) will hear about it.

Gahh.  I need sleep.  Tomorrow I wake up early to head to Pompeii.  It will be our last full day in both Rome and Italy, so I'm going to relish it.  Don't be surprised if tomorrow's blog sounds like I'm completely wasted, because there's a good chance I will be.  If you're reading this Grandma, I'm sorry.

I realize the last half of my blog was extra wordy, so I'm just going to insert some random images I took from the day to finish it all off.

Au revoir.  Salute.  Bon Appetit.

I love you all.

Lucas