July 27, p.m, the Vatican

At 2:30 p.m. we interrupted our siesta to catch a #62 bus to take us to the Vatican. Wayne bought tickets at a 'Tabacci', and before long we were on our way. The Tiber was sluggish and low - there is a drought here all right.

St Peter's square was the biggest open space we had yet seen. Because it was mid-afternoon the queues had dwindled, so we made our way past the security checks quite quickly and went into St Peter's Basilica.

It was enormous and effortlessly magnificent. It had natural light, and was not cluttered with columns. It made Wells cathedral look like a village chapel...

Vast arches and marble. Cameo-like white statues against the dark walls. Michaelangelo's 'Pieta'!! I had no idea it was here... Several others I recognised from year 12 art history. And St Peter's tomb. It really does seem he was buried here, under a twisted canopy large enough for two elephants on top of each other to stand under. Wow.

We made our way into an exhibit of the Vatican treasury. Like the Tower of London, the size of the jewels and all the gold ended up just looking too much to be true.

We came out and looked for the Sistine Chapel. We found out it had been closed since 4 p.m. We were tired anyway, so we took a few photos of the square, and headed to the bus stop...

And therein lies a tale! We waited and waited for the #62. Slowly, the group sat one by one on the gutter. One old lady sat on the seat of one of the many motor-scooters parked in the street. Our legs ached and we (adults, anyway) longed for a beer.

Well, we waited an hour. Finally, I said, "We might as well walk." It was 6:20. We had just started, when I saw the rotten #62 coming, down a side street. Back we ran, on unwilling feet, and grimaced with shared relief and pain with our fellow passengers. Would you believe, we travelled about 20 metres before the bus stopped and the driver scuttled out for a conference with another bus driver. Wayne thought there must be some bus-union-trouble brewing...

Back to a welcome beer. Wayne heroically cooked up some chicken in leftover sauce, and fettucini. Wine eases all!

(Here is tired Eleanor, under a picture from the Sistine Chapel which we did not see!)