After a good night’s sleep we awake, get dressed and head to Topsider’s for breakfast at 7:15am. It seems like the full passenger list of 2700 is here as well. Finishing, we head down to Animator’s Palate on Deck 4 for our excursion departure to Rome. There are five busses for our group alone, and about 40 busses in total for DCL passengers heading to the Eternal City.
After a short bus ride from the port we catch the Roma Express train for the hour-long trip into Rome. On the train, the girls fall asleep (again), only to be awaken by a loud “cocadoodledoo” from a DCL-costumed Peter Pan that bounds into the car. He chats it up with the kids on board and then moves on.
Arriving in the outskirts of Rome we transfer to another bus for a short hop into the bustling downtown area and the first leg of our excursion to the ancient Colosseum. During the ride our local guide, Margerite, gives us a history lesson. Everywhere you turn there is another building or ruin that is hundreds, nay, thousands of years old. It’s so much to take in that your mind cannot fathom it all. We arrive at the Colosseum and deboard. Standing at the gates it’s hard to imagine that we’re actually here. It’s somewhat surreal. As in other picturesque stops, a DCL photographer is at the standby to snap a photo. We join a dressed Roman gladiator for a pic. Our excursion allows us to bypass the long queue waiting to go through security and we go to the head of the line. Along the way, visitors are sitting on large chunks of columns from the ruins that have been placed in the outer hallway for just this purpose. In the U.S. such treasures would be encased in glass or put behind other barriers to preserve them. But there seems to be so much antiquity here that it’s just not that big of a deal. Like I said, surreal.
I take note of the big holes in the marble columns—a result of Romans in the middle ages who salvaged the iron clamps holding the pieces of the Colosseum together to melt and make weapons. Margerite gives us a walking tour, pointing out interesting tidbits along the way—like the fact that animals awaiting slaughter in the ring were kept at a special zoo just a few kilometers away. She debunks the myth that naval battles were held in the ring. “There is only small evidence that we find to tell us they did this very early,” she says. Continuing, she tells us that after the decline of the gladiator battles that that Romans tried to embrace more civil Olympic competition. “But there was not enough violence for Romans to like it much,” she says, in her thick Roman accent. Leaving the Colosseum we head back to the busses and a short drive for our long walking tour of Eternal Rome. A local artisan hired by DCL makes paper silhouettes of the ladies in the group. He is very good. A cut here, a cut there and, bam, a masterpiece.
All done in seconds. On the bus, we see that every corner reveals another thousand-year-old structure. There is too much to take in, but the highlights on our walking tour include a visit to the acclaimed Trevi Fountain, where the girls throw coins over their left shoulder, ensuring a return visit here.
Three local teenage boys are straining over the edge of the fountain with magnetic wands, illegally collecting the fresh coins. The nearby policeman blows his whistle and they retreat into the crowd, only to return moments later. Pickpockets and gypsies also abound, but we were forewarned. All of our possessions are tucked away in the bags and secured with travel locks. If they get anything it won’t be special. Leaving the fountain, we move on to the well-preserved Pantheon. This is our first visit to a church. I didn’t have time to zip on the pantlegs to my convertible short/pants and I’m a little worried that I won’t be allowed access (while in churches your knees and shoulders must be covered), but there are many people not adhering to dress code here. I pull down my shorts to cover my knees as best possible and enter. It’s a beautiful, high-arching structure. A wide, open hole in the roof rains down a flood of sunlight on the walls of murals and goldleaf and solid marble floors.
Wow! But the best is yet to come. We move on to a sprawling courtyard that now houses one of the many foreign embassies in Rome. Two working fountains of perfectly chiseled marble spew water and us tourists snap, snap away with our cameras. A third fountain is under renovation. Hawkers with more fake watches, purses and sunglasses set up shop on the ground wherever they can spread a blanket and their wares. Meg spots a pair of sunglasses that she wants. She haggles the Indian man down from 25 Euros to 10 Euros. She’s a good negotiator. Another teen from the cruise follows suit, insisting that she get the same good deal. It’s now about 1pm and the group is famished. We head back to the bus and speed off down the narrow streets of Rome for our catered lunch at a local restaurant, da Alfredo a S. Pietro, just outside the walls of Vatican City.
Margerite, obviously a devote Catholic, stresses again that Vatican City is the smallest independent country in Europe. It’s full-time inhabitants only number about 900, she says. Our local lunch consists of bottle water, white wine, an antipasto plate, velvety-smooth lasagne, a chocolate mousse dessert and fresh espresso. The server continually tries to give Maddie the child’s offering of a plain hamburger patty and limpless fries. But our little adventurer likes the big-kids meal much better. Our bellies full, we walk the short distance up the street to St. Peter’s square, the outdoor gathering place for Romans to hear from the Pope. The square is massive and I envision thousands of people gathering here to hear from the high church official on important occasions. Margerite points out a tiny window stories above and tells us this is the Pope’s room where he addresses the crowd on Sundays. Moving on, we queue up for a security check.
Official Vatican personnel size up each visitor. Here, you must dress appropriately. Angie and I note the giant big screen televisions rising up from the marble floors just outside the building. It’s a case of new vs. old and allow the throngs of people to better see the proceedings inside. Inside, the beauty is beyond words. Sparkling gold, pristine marble floors and masterpiece frescos are everywhere, What a beautiful tribute to God. I am quickly approached and asked (told) to remove my hat. Sorry, I say. But the security man is gone. To my surprise flash photography is allowed here and I snap a bazillion photos. My new camera yields impressive results as I capture the sun’s beaming rays cascading down from the perfectly positioned and engineered high windows. I’m impressed with my own work.
All too quickly we are ushered up and out. It’s time to go. Outside we take a few more pics for Angie’s dad, a strong Catholic man himself, and head for the busses. We reverse our route back from bus, to train, to bus, and back to the ship. It’s been a long, hot (like Big 12 football in August hot) day. Before the trip we invested in a small Camelbak that holds 2 liters of water. And it was a good thing, too. It kept us refreshed throughout the long day. Back on board it’s evident that the day’s trek has taken its toll on most of the passengers. Undaunted, Meg quickly sheds her sweaty excursion gear and heads for the teen club. The rest of us decide we’re too tired for dinner service. Instead, we head to Topsider’s for a quick bite. Tonight they are showing the new Disney animated film, Ratatouille, on the big screen in the Walt Disney Theater. Maddie and myself take in the 9:30 show. We spot our table mates a few rows up and Maddie abandons dad to sit with her new girlfriend, Ronnie, from Belgium. We both enjoy the movie very much. Afterwards, I take Maddie back to the cabin to get ready for bed. I leave again for Deck 3 to catch up on blogging, returning about 2am. Meg and family are asleep. I quietly brush my teeth and slip into bed for much-needed shuteye. Thank goodness tomorrow is a day at sea.
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