Vatican't

Okay, so waking up early to visit the Vatican wasn’t a total success, but it wasn’t a complete failure either. Last night, we compromised, and set our alarms for 10AM, which, for all intensive purposes is the crack of dawn when you’ve gone to bed at 5. Last night, Rome’s nightlife won my heart. We went to a club called Babel and danced alongside Go-Go Girls in the VIP section, which we somehow managed to gain access to. I made some friends and some enemies and eventually fought with an Italian man over a taxi. Don’t worry, I won. After some late night (early morning?) gourmet cooking, I headed to bed for what felt like five minutes.

After dragging myself to the shower, I chugged a four-shot cappuccino that filled in for the four hours of sleep I was missing. Since the Vatican is free on the last Sunday of the month, we expected it to be packed. In true paranoid tourist fashion, I slipped “the pouch” around my neck and under my shirt and filled it with a wad of money and lots of other things I’d rather not surrender to gypsies and pickpockets.

We met up with the boys and headed outta town. As the bus approached Vatican City, we saw a mob of protesters, visitors, and Asian tourist groups swarming the streets of The Holy See. I held my hand tightly over the pouch as we set foot in another county.

After a few too many minutes spent shivering in line outside of Saint Peter’s Basilica, we were let inside. My first words: “Holy Shit.” Apparently all those years in Catholic school taught me nothing, and the next thing I said was “Oh my god.” After a few moments of awe directed toward the ornate carvings and sparkling gold leaf, reality set in, and I realized that I wasn’t all to pleased to be there.

It felt strange that the money spent building the Basilica was acquired through Indulgences. People commissioned its creation to get into heaven, people who are long gone and forgotten. The entire place just screamed “organized religion” in a way that sort of made my stomach hurt. Here was a place filled with tourists, beggars, and clergy alike, most of them with a camera in front of their face. People rushed around on a wild goose chase to either cross the experience off their bucket list or achieve some sort of spiritual enlightenment. To me, the Basilica seemed farther from spiritual than anything. To me, it was a staunch display of the Catholic Church’s wealth and symbol for Christianity’s appeal. It’s difficult to walk into Saint Peter’s Basilica and not say some form of “Holy Shit.” I mean, that’s exactly what it is. Catholics visit the Vatican to feel close to God, but really they’re just getting close to a gorgeous room filled with breathtaking art. There felt nothing spiritual about the place to me, only furthered by the masses of people that wandered in search of whatever they were pursuing.

I left Vatican City without feeling the need to go back. It’s not just that I’m not a Catholic nor a Christian. In fact, I have sincere appreciation for many of the values Catholicism promotes. Rome is filled with beautiful art. Saint Peter’s Basilica just seemed like more of the same, with the added punch of hierarchy and a solid representation of how far one book can go.