Originally, we were supposed to have a fifth day in Budapest—or almost. Our flight from Budapest to Fiumicino (the closest airport to Rome, which lies about 50 minutes outside the city center) was scheduled to leave at 6:30 PM. But after a nationwide travel strike in Italy, our flight was one of the only Alitalia flights not to be cancelled entirely; instead, it was moved to 10:45 AM.
Besides all the stresses that come with a travel strike (e.g., not being able to check into our flight, or even to contact Alitalia about it), we were bummed to lose time in Budapest. We arrived at the airport very early, only to find that not a single Alitalia employee had shown up to the check-in counters. Instead, there were half a dozen contractors who had no clue how to log into the system, find travel itineraries, check luggage, or print boarding passes. (This was obviously not their fault—the airport wasn’t prepared for a strike of this magnitude.) We were second in line to check our bags, which took well over an hour to do (and keep in mind that there were probably a hundred customers behind us), which made the entire flight even more stressful than it had to be.
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As I said a few posts back, Ryan was so well-organized in planning this trip that he had the foresight to buy two three-day all-you-can-boat passes (note: this is not what they're actually called) through Venice's vaporetto network. We took one such vaporetto early on our last day to a few other islands in the Veneto lagoon, including Murano, Burano, and Torcello. We got off at Burano, only a 45-minute boat ride from north Venice.
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Whereas our first day in Venice comprised an overview of the Grand Canal (Venice's main waterway and thoroughfare of goods, vaporetti, and dedicated trash, police, and ambulance boats) and St. Mark's Square, our second day revolved around the square's main constituents: The palace, the Correr museum (and former quarters of Napoleon after he conquered the city), the basilica, and the campanile. The Doge's palace and Correr museum were appropriately fancy, with their velvet walls, gold furnishings, and wall-to-ceiling frescoes. We even saw the largest oil painting in the world, which adorned an entire wall of a 53x26-meter auditorium.
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By the time we arrived in Venice, we were desperately in need of food and air conditioning. We made the long, winding trek through confusing canals, bridges, and dead-end alleyways from Venice's "new" train station (established over a century ago) to our bed and breakfast near St. Mark's Square.
For lunch, we found a "street food" vendor (i.e., a tiny closet of a restaurant without seating, but with excellent WiFi) who tossed pasta dish after pasta dish into small folded takeaway boxes. Even though their pesto was listed as having pine nuts (which I'm fine with) and walnuts (which are a bit of a question mark), I was so in need of good pesto that I dove into the order without a care in the world.
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Because our thighs and calves clearly weren't complaining enough, we kicked off our last day in Florence with a climb up the Palazzo Vecchio's bell tower. The Palazzo, a town hall-turned-Medici palace (one of many), is testament to the ruling family's fear of rebellion: It's filled with trapdoors, prison cells, and other relics of a Game of Thrones-esque time. The top of the bell tower offered beautiful views of the city, and we were lucky to make it to the top by 10 AM to hear a chorus of church bells go off throughout the city on a sunny Sunday morning.
We visited the Piazza of Santa Croce and the Duomo's museum, the latter of which offered an interactive exhibit of some of the earliest examples of written choir books in existence. Ryan stood in the little room for at least 15 minutes (with books the size of my torso), flipping through digital screens and humming along to the boxy notes and nonexistent key signatures.
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If Rome is known for its churches, Milan for its banks, and Venice for its canals, Florence would be best known for its art. The Accademia and Uffizi galleries, both located in Florence, are the metaphorical Louvres of Italy; their selections of Michelangelo, Donatello, Da Vinci, and works by other masters are among the best in the world.
In 2014, Ryan and I "did" the Louvre together: We walked in, found the wing with the Mona Lisa, took photos from the back of a claustrophobically crowded room of a block of canvas much smaller than you'd expect, given its name and reputation. After about a dozen photos each, we nodded to each other, left that wing of the Louvre, took one selfie with a painting of a particularly sassy-looking Jesus, and ended up at the Apple Store beneath the museum because free WiFi.
That was us "doing" the Louvre.
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We woke up at dawn and took my first high-speed train to Florence, averaging 246 km/hr (about 150 mi/hr) straight from Rome to Florence's Santa Maria Novela station. Fun fact: This was our first European train experience (either separately or together, unless you count a quick jaunt from St. Albans just 35 minutes south into London in 2014. I was giddy to find out these trains have trolley carts with newspapers and little snack bags, Hogwarts Express style. (Ryan said I shouldn't shout that comparison too loudly.) For only $25 each, we were delivered--fed, watered, and caffeinated--to northern Florence in only an hour and a half.
Lastly, I should add that Ryan wrote all the notes for these Florence posts, so I'm going off his recollections. He literally wrote:
- Frecciarossa train
- Termini to Santa Maria Novela
- 91 minutes
- So fancy
So...I think I'm supposed to add here that it was a "so fancy" train experience. We had little wooden tables to work off and everything.
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A three-sentence history of Rome: The Roman Empire existed for about 1,000 years. It rose from (approximately) 500 BC to 0, was at its height until 200 AD, and fell until 500 AD. Toward the beginning of its fall, the Aurelian Walls were built around Rome to keep out invaders (not that they managed it well; Attila the Hun still broke through in the early 400s). These walls still encircle downtown and Ancient Rome, as well as Trastevere. Some sections have even been turned into apartments and stores.
We spent our last full day in Rome exploring beyond these walls, primarily to the north of the city. Our first stop was the Catacombe di Priscilla, 13 km (8 mi) of underground catacombs used from 200 to 300 AD. 40,000 bodies were, and many still are, interred there. Our tour through the catacombs covered about half a mile of these low-ceilinged, cell-phone-flashlight-lit underground corridors, where bodies were lain in locker-type cubbies, five or ten high.
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A note on the title: Whereas Paris is the City of Light and New York is the City that Never Sleeps, Rome is nicknamed "The Eternal City"--and aptly so.
This was the day in Rome I'd been looking forward to with the enthusiasm of a child at Disneyland: The day of old stuff. I've always loved anything to do with ancient Egypt, Greece, or Rome, so the thought of seeing the remains of an ancient city (my first since Jerusalem and, arguably, St. Albans; Ryan's first since he was here in 2008) was beyond exciting.
We had breakfast on our hotel's terrace before setting off for the Colosseo on foot, armed with several downloaded audio tours from Rick Steves. We spent an hour wandering around the Colosseum, looking down at the arena from every angle, before heading through the Triumphal Arch and into the Roman Forum on just the other side of the hill. This was the political and economic center of Rome during its heyday, was the site of Julius Caesar's home and assassination, and saw Rome's rise and fall within less than 1,000 years. We wandered between the remnants of Pagan temples and Christian churches, snuck glances at tour guides' revisualizations of what each spot would have looked like 2,000 years ago. After a long, hot trek up Palatine Hill (Monte Palatino), we wandered through remnants of the emperor's homesteads, Roman baths, gardens, and guest houses. The grandeur of everything we saw, even in ruins, was incredible.
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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.
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.
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Gone are the days of being able to sleep on red-eye flights. Whether cross-country or cross-Atlantic, Ryan and I have done several together--and each time involves the same cycle from book to magazine to in-flight movie to Spotify, and back to book again. We'd glance at each other, confirm neither was asleep, and move sluggishly on. While Ryan was revisiting the newest Star Trek, I was powering through the first half of The Time Traveler's Wife. We paused at around 2 AM Italy time to stuff our faces in our new travel pillows (yes, we even invested in pillows for this), poked each other at around 3 AM to see if they were doing their job (they weren't), and kept on reading/watching/bemoaning our promised jet lag.
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