I'm learning very quickly that we are creatures of caffeine-powered habit. We've traveled together across ten states and, prior to our honeymoon, four countries; and no matter where we go, we have to start each day with the most important decision we'll make for the morning: where to get coffee.
St. Peter's Basilica
So we set off early Tuesday morning toward Country #2 of our honeymoon, and also the smallest country in the world: Vatican City. Our hotel is just down a long but straight drive along the Tiber River from the walls that separate the Vatican gardens from the rest of Rome, so after walking alongside those walls, we found Caffé Braccio. (This is pronounced BRA-cho—Ryan is getting increasingly bemused by my inability to keep the different sounds 'cc,' 'ci/ce,' 'ca/co,' and 'ch' separate...I default to the Spanish 'c'/'s'/'z' and Ryan is rolling his eyes behind me.)
After two (or three?) cappuccinos/espressos each, we moved along to the entrance to the Museo Vaticano alongside our private tour guide, Tommaso. All the shout-outs to David and Libbie, who made that private tour possible—because otherwise, and even with a ticket reservation, we would have been standing in a half-mile-long line the entire morning just to get through the entrance. Tommaso got us to the front of every line, and coupled every new room with historical knowledge and wit. He's an archeologist from Sapienza University (literally, "knowledge") on the other side of the city—the same archeology team now excavating part of the Roman Forum. Throughout the tour, Tommaso pointed out sly additions (or occasionally omissions) to frescoes and sculptures that were, hundreds of years ago, political or social statements against a particular pope, rival artist, or ruling family.
We saw Sistine Chapel (which doesn't allow photography, video, or talking—Tommaso said the guards had permission to do everything but shoot people who break these rules) and moved through St. Peter's Basilica, which was just as striking as Ryan promised it would be.
From the Vatican, we headed across the Bridge of Angels (decorated with, predictably, huge sculptures of angels) to Castel Sant'Angelo, Hadrian's original tomb...like, the Hadrian of Hadrian's Wall in England. It was temporarily the Papal office, so the juxtaposition of ancient ruins and papal luxury was almost funny. The views of Rome, however, were breath-taking—the climb to the top of the Castel was worth the shortness of breath.
We had our first Italian pizza during the trip at La Boccaccia, where each type of pizza was on a thin, dense layer of focaccia, and preceded our last nap of Rome with gelato from ReGusto, just behind our hotel.
That afternoon, we tried out a practice that has since become essential to our time in Italy: We installed Rick Steves's free Audio Tour: Europe iPhone app, downloaded a few walks (each of which comes with a PDF of the tour, in case you miss a turn), and had a personal tour with Rick Steves's chipper voice throughout Rome's Jewish Quarter.
Rome's most renowned synagogue.
The Jewish Quarter was fascinating not only for its (often very tragic, as is typical in Jewish neighborhoods in Europe) history but also for its stark contrast from 1900s architecture to antiquity—like, 100 BC-level antiquity. We passed through a square where the Nazis demanded 110 pounds of gold within 24 hours to prevent them from taking Jewish Roman citizens to concentration camps. The surrounding city chipped in to get to the required amount of payment, but only a few days later, the Nazis rounded up 1,300 individuals, took them to nearby camps, and only 16 survived. Around the corner from that square were the banks of the Tiber River, which—because it bends just at the entrance to the Jewish Quarter—was plagued with unpredictable flooding throughout much of Rome's history. In the 300s, the pope forced all of Rome's Jews into that flooded, muddy, impossible-to-navigate area and made it Rome's Jewish Ghetto, where it remained until the pope lost his political power during Italy's unification in the 1870s.
Just down the street, between relatively new buildings (i.e., built after the ghetto was no longer a mandatory neighborhood), was a fish market from 100 BC; Rome's most important theatre from 13 BC; and columns reminiscent of pagan temples from Rome's prime era. Each was such a casual occurrence that people passed by these ruins without sparing a glance—a common theme in Rome. Lastly, we visited Rome's most renowned synagogue, which welcomed Pope Francis within the past year, and which was the target of bombings and shootings in the early 1980s.
We stopped by a sanctuary and convent from 400 BC that has since been turned into the Torre Argentina cat sanctuary (yes: it is literally a square of ruins and cats...I was in heaven), then popped into the Church of the Gesú and St. Paul's Within the Walls. The latter is Rome's first Protestant church and only Episcopal church, and is just down the street from our next destination: Black Market Mixology Bar, which had the winding, crooked feel of an old English pub that was filled with poufs, rickety tables, and shabby bookcases. It was there that we killed an hour (with mezcal and—praise all that's holy—free Wi-Fi) before we enjoyed a fancy dinner sponsored by Mary and Kevin in Mater Matuta. We had oysters, cod fish tempura, purple gnocchi with clams and black truffles, monk fish with puréed smoked potatoes, and braised beef with red wine—mostly foods that I otherwise wouldn't have spent more than three seconds looking at, let alone eating.
And finally, we headed back to the Spanish Steps and Trevi Fountain—both too heavily trafficked during the day—with limoncello and Peroni in hand. We tossed our coins into Trevi Fountain, found a spot to sit toward the top of the Spanish Steps, and watched the nightlife unfold below.