“Visit Bangladesh before tourists come.” I saw this poster in Padua about ten years ago. I thought it was the most brilliant piece of tourism board advertising and indeed, it made me want to visit Bangladesh. One reason is that indeed, I know very little about Bangladesh and would be open to learning…but also, it would indeed be nice to experience any place not jammed with as many tourists as you see in most of the world’s selfie stick-saturated locales.
Pandemics are nothing to celebrate. But as I grow older, I’m trying harder to see the positive side in things while still maintaining a critical brain. Right now, I miss my family and would love to go home to the States and see them…..but I am here in Italy. The timing is not yet right. Things do seem to be improving….but I want to stay put until we get through a few more weeks or months. Besides, there are worse places I could be right now. There is plenty that I can still appreciate right here.
As we boldly reopen society while changing the rules for behavior at a fairly fast clip, Rome remains a relative ghost town. Interregional and (some) international travel did resume on 3 June, but it holds true that we can still wander the streets ancient ruins without bumping into so much economy-boosting foot traffic. There is a whole lot of bad that comes with having a place to oneself.
Just a few days ago, St. Peter’s dome opened back up to visitors. While having visited Vatican City many times, never have I made it to the top. It was something that I always planned on doing, and now this short window of time presented an ideal opportunity to go. The added reality is that I have felt so much emotion for my country over the past couple of weeks. This too served to motivate me. Even if you only believe in Batman or the Flying Spaghetti Monster, St. Peter’s Basilica still offers a massive expanse where a person can pray that the world order order trends in a positive direction.
Upon arrival near the basilica, Vatican police will check your temperature (and the modesty of your attire) before allowing entry onto the grounds. As I mentioned before, there are virtually no queues– only a few minutes of wait as we all conform to social distancing rules. The storied cobblestones better known as sampietrini now have yellow tape stretched about, complete with signs in Italian and English to remind everyone to maintain a distance.
It costs 8 euros to climb the steps to the cupola (10 euros if you want to take the lift). Cash only. I took my time as I had the place nearly entirely to myself. It was a sharp contrast to the end of year visit I took a few years back; the Vatican museum at that time was a veritable sea of humanity and we part of it in moving through the many halls and Sistine Chapel. Looking down from the inner dome and into the basilica, I made sure to stop and simply listen to the quiet. It felt as if I was visiting any other underrated yet ornate church in this country. The kind that never sees the Vatican’s onslaught of foot traffic because they just blend in with all the other churches.
And the option to take the stairs. I didn’t choose them because it costed less– rather, my brain needed the winding activity. You know what I am talking about. A physical manifestation of what our interior chamber has been undergoing as of late. But I needed the stairs not to simply blow off some steam and thus forget everything horrific in the world…but instead, add some physical exertion to the process. Take on something with promising a short-term, quantifiable result. Something that would help add positively to my quest for maintaining optimism.
There are over 500 stairs that take you to the top of St. Peter’s, and as you get closer to the actual dome, the world seems to curve sideways. The path ahead starts to look distorted. But you trust in where you are going and follow the path. Confident that the apex is near as the stairs get more and more tiny.
My goal in posting these photos is incredibly simplistic. I want to share some images for anyone who is keen to know what the northward journey in Vatican City is like. Sure it’s nice to feel exclusive and have this place to myself– but ultimately, everyone needs to have experiences like this. And everyone should know what to expect. An old friend of mine, a Lebanese-American officer in the US Army once told me, “Life is better when it’s shared.”
Here are some questions that I might be asking as a visitor plotting my triumphant return to Rome and the cupola: Do I really have to be in shape to get to the top? (Kinda yeah, if you don’t take the elevator). Does the elevator go to the very top? (No I think you get to gaze at the underbelly of the dome only if you can’t do the final 165 stairs). What if I suffer from vertigo or claustrophobia, should I go up? (Hmm…maybe/probably not). Will white people commit to being anti-racist and hold government accountable after Juneteenth? (God I hope so– why do you think I went to a church today?)
The view at the very top of the cupola of course promises an unparalleled, 360 degree view of Rome. Belissimo.
Again, no selfie-sticks or crowds of people– just a pretty good wind picking up from time to time. I could spot many places where I’d already formed some of my life’s sweetest memories. And of course there was the River Tiber, Castel and Pont Sant’Angelo, the Victor Emmanuel II National Monument. Down below, it was still strange to look upon a St. Peter’s Square so sparsely populated.
Back where I am from on Cape Cod, there are a number of touristy things that I have never done. Like a go on a whale watch, or take a trip to the National Seashore. I am sure that there are other things too, but I tend to take my beautiful home for granted and don’t make these exact points of interest a priority. There is just so much beauty everywhere already. But my time in Rome is arguably finite, and the dome was something to experience when given such a strange and unusual opportunity.
After taking in the views, a short descent brings you to a sort of other rooftop where there is a gift shop, a Vatican City post office box, and a bar (the Italian kind). I stopped in for a coffee– if only so I could say that I had one while at the Vatican. It was friendly place and again mostly quiet inside. I took comfort in noting that a coffee costs one euro– about the same as I’d pay in my local bar, and less than what I used to pay on the streets of London.
It’s been hard not to think about the baggage of the world and what it means for us occupying the present space. As I take delight in reading about statues of Leopold II coming down, or I hold out optimism that we are starting to do the right thing in reckoning with America’s past, it is not lost on me that the Vatican has its own problems to deal with. There are too many to link and list here. But like I said at the beginning, I am trying to be an optimist while also remaining challenged as one of many people who will travel these roads through the centuries.
As I made my way back down again, I felt a bit better for having ventured out for some relative normalcy in a world emerging from lockdown. A society still trying to figure out what it wants to be. I have no doubt in my mind that many things– like this tourism jackpot– will go back to normal occupancy and resume its patterns of operation. And it is something worth experiencing; it is just one of the many things that make Italy and Vatican City so special. I’m looking forward to airports opening back up fully– especially Fiumicino and Ciampino– because then I can welcome in friends and family. Share in accessing these places because in doing so, not only do things feel right, but it also makes our overall and combined experience so much richer.