Roma - Part Three
The next day, with the assistance of the block out shutters, we got our sleep in. It was eight thirty before the kids were up wandering around the flat asking if they could go and play handball downstairs at the fountain. It was nice to wake up without a headache, nice to not to be wondering how many hours before I could put my head down again.
By this stage we had the whole breakfast, get ready and get going routine down pat, by nine o clock we were on our way. Our bus tickets were valid for another day so we headed straight back to the centre of Rome where we climbed on to our yellow double-decker bus. The guy who’d had his photo taken with Steve Irwin was there, but he wasn’t chatty like he had been the day before, all we got was a smile and ‘G’day Ozzies’ as we got on.
It took the bus about three quarters of an hour to get to the Vatican, we probably could have walked it just as fast but it was nice to be up on top again, looking down at the narrow streets, not having to think if Poppy was with me or if Pete was looking out for her.
Our bus pulled up halfway along the main street of the Vatican City. From where we sat on the top deck the huge domes of the Vatican were framed by a blue sky. The woman talking in our headphones was telling us that The Vatican had taken 120 years to complete. It was hard to imagine such strong focus being maintained over such a long period of time. The woman in our headphones went on to give the statistics of how much gold, marble and other materials had been used to create St Peters Basilica, so much money poured into one building.
We got off the bus and walked down the main street. The increase in police, nuns dressed in habits and priests with collars, was immediately obvious. The crowd out the front of the Vatican was non-existent compared to the swarm of people we’d seen from the bus the day before.
Security at the Vatican was much stricter than at any of the other churches we’d been to. There were security guards with scanning machines like the ones at the airport. I beeped when I went through. The guy looked at me and the four kids following behind then nodded and waved for me to go through, without checking my backpack or pockets. Mothers were obviously incapable of dastardly deeds.
Jack, who’d been anxious all morning, came up and grabbed my elbow after he walked through the scanner.
‘I thought you were a gonner mum.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I thought they were going to lock you away for smuggling.’
‘Smuggling what?’
‘I dunno, guns, bombs or something.’
‘I don’t tend to carry any of them.’
‘Yeah well you never know do you? Someone might have snuck something in to your bag.’
He was half serious, half joking. The whole terrorism thing and police carrying big guns - we’re talking the machine type here - had him frazzled.
There were two queues moving into the Vatican, we chose the one on the right, it was moving faster and was shorter. When we reached the entry, the queue on the left went straight in, our queue went down under the Vatican into a crypt. The crypt was filled with Popes long gone and other important people who I didn’t have a clue about. There was a hushed silence due in part to priests telling anyone they saw talking to be quiet. But the silence also came from the people walking through, a silence of respect and reverence. It was foreign to me, the connection people were experiencing, not only to the church, but to the tombs and the bodies in them. We saw many people kneeling and weeping openly. I held the kids hands, made sure there was no talking and no rollershoeing.
Poppy squeezed my hand that was in hers and whispered up to me, ‘Why are they crying?’
‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘I guess there sad because someone they liked has died.’ It was a lame explanation, I wished I had one of my Catholic friends with me or had at least listened better in scripture.
The kids weren’t impressed with the coldness or the quiet and were quiet relieved to come back up from under the church, back into the sun. We made our way back up the wide steps that ran along the front of the Vatican, joining the back of a small queue that was moving fast. There were no security guards or scanning equipment this time, we’d already received the stamp of approval.
We walked through the Vatican’s front door, a huge archway that must have been at least four stories high. The Vatican opened up before us; high dome ceilings and wide-open interlinking spaces which made the basilica appear to be bigger than any building I’d ever been in. I had the impression of gold, more gold and lots of marble and then there were the frescoes; the frescoes that gave me a sore neck. From where I stood on the floor looking up into the main dome I could see a narrow railed off footpath, way up high. It travelled around the circumference of the main dome. I could see people walking up there, they looked like tiny dolls in a dolls house. Despite my fear of heights I wanted to be up there too, I wanted a close up of the paintings that covered the ceiling.
There were security guards watching the entry of every new section, and security guards standing at the two places where priests were giving services. There were many more security guards with their guns tucked in their holsters, strolling the floor.
I could have stayed for hours exploring, would have loved a guided tour, would have loved to get up high, but the kids were not as keen. Poppy wanted out because she couldn’t rollershoe, Kai and Noah were OK, showing a moderate amount of interest, but surprisingly Jack was keen to get out.
‘Don’t you like it?’ I asked him.
‘No it’s not that.’ He said. ‘It’s probably one of the best places I’ve been in Italy.’
‘So what’s the problem?’
‘I’m worried.’
‘About what?’
‘A terrorist attack.’
‘Oh Jack, honey, you can’t worry about that. Sometimes bad things happen, when your times up, your times up. There’s really not much you can do about it. And besides you’ve got much more chance of being killed in a car accident on Creek Road.’
‘I know all that,’ Jack said sounding angry.
‘But it’s OK,’ I said in a hurry, thinking I’d said completely the wrong thing. ‘It’s Ok to be scared.’
‘I’m not scared about me, I’m scared about all of you; scared something will happen to all of you. I don’t care about me. If it was just me I’d stay in here for ages and have a good look around. I’ll probably come back when I’m older and do just that, but now I want to get out of here.’
We didn’t stay too much longer. Pete was keen to get out as well, said he wasn’t coping with so much money being spent on one building.
After the Vatican we headed off in the direction of the Vatican museum where we would probably be confronted with more jewels, gold and marble. The footpath twisted under stone bridges, ran along the wall of the Vatican City and then turned up a hill. We walked past a long line of beggars who had dotted themselves along the footpath, perhaps with the theory that those who are religious are more likely to give.
Some of the beggars were sitting like the woman we’d seen out the front of our first church, cross-legged with a bowl in front, looking down at the ground. Others, who were sitting also, looked up at the constant stream of people who were passing, put their hands out and said something in Italian. Then there were the beggars with a box of their medication sitting in front of them with a bowl for money next to it.
The beggar which the kids, particularly Kai, talked about for days afterwards was a thin man no older than Pete and me. He was lying on his side across the footpath stretched out along a mat that was spread beneath him. His body was contorted into the shape of an elongated fishhook, his arms were stretched up beside his head, his hands holding a bowl. The most disturbing part was the tumours protruding from his skin, they were the size of a small teacup. The one Kai wanted to know about was the one on the man’s head, the tumour protruding from the top of his skull. It was twice the size of any of the others on his body.
When we’d gone far enough past the man and Kai was happy that he wasn’t going to be heard he asked me in a loud whisper.
‘What’s the matter with that man mum? The one with the thing growing out of his head?’
‘I don’t know,’ I said.
‘Do you think it’s his brain?’
‘No, I don’t think so.’
‘But why’s he lying there like that, how did he get there?’
‘I don’t think he can move, someone probably he carried him there, maybe his family, hoping he’d get some money.’
‘But why does he need money, why doesn’t his family give him money?’
‘His family probably don’t have any money either.’
We kept walking. We passed more beggars and then a line of street sellers. Kai was quiet, looking at the bags, toys and prints of famous paintings that the street sellers were selling. Then he said, ‘Shouldn’t he be in hospital?’
“Who?’
‘The man.’
‘Probably.’
‘Why isn’t he then?’
‘Because he doesn’t have any money.’
‘Can we give him some money?’
‘Yeah we can give him some. We’ll give him some on the way back.’
‘Enough for him to go to hospital?’
‘Not quiet, but it might help.’
The museum was closed when we got there, it was Monday, we’d forgotten the warning in The Lonely Planet, ‘Most museums and art galleries are closed on Mondays.’
The walk wasn’t wasted though. Standing at the top of the hill deciding what we would do instead, we looked back down the street. The footpaths on both sides were covered with street sellers, the occasional tourist was stopping but most were walking by. As we watched an invisible wave seemed to move through the street sellers and all of a sudden they were all grabbing the blankets underneath their goods, humping what they were selling into a large sack. Then they started running, they ran up past us and around a corner. From where we were standing we could see them peeking back into the street.
‘I bet it’s the police,’ I said to Pete, hammering a nail into an on going discussion Pete and I’d been having since we arrived in Rome, if street selling was legal or not.
Sure enough, within thirty seconds the police were driving slowly up the road in a big van. It was as if the van was a wide street sweeper, everyone and everything disappearing in front of it. The police must have seen the street sellers who were still running, scrambling to get around the corner. They must have seen the sellers that were already around the corner and were poking their heads back around to see what was going on, big grins on their faces.
The street sellers stayed around the corner, until the police who had made no attempt to get out of their van, or drive it around the corner, had gone. Then they all came out, laughing as if it had just stopped raining. They set up their stalls again without even glancing up the road to see if the police had gone.
Pete and I decided we’d go to the Pantheon next. It was one of the last things on my list of ‘would like to see in Rome.’ We headed back past the line of street sellers and then the beggars, letting Kai put money into the man’s bowl who had the tumours. We managed to get to our bus stop on time this time.
The Pantheon was at the end of several convoluted back streets. When I first saw it I was disappointed, rough stonewalls in the shape of a dome. It looked like all the other ruins we’d seen around Rome except there was no cyclone fencing. I didn’t realise we’d come in from behind. We wandered around to the front of the building the kids looking down at the deep concrete trench between us and the Pantheon.
Then Kai called out in great excitement. ‘Mum! Mum! Come here quick!’
‘What? What is it?’
“Quick or it’ll go away!’
I walked over to where Kai was standing and looked down at what he was pointing at.
‘What?’ I said, ‘I can’t see anything.’
‘There, it’s there, look!’
And then I saw something move, a flash of brown, then it moved into the sunlight.
‘Kai it’s a rat,’ I said tyring to keep the ick out of my voice.
‘A rat? Is that what it is? Oh mum it’s so beautiful, the best thing I’ve seen since we came to Rome. I wish I could pick it up and give it a cuddle.’
Not that he could reach it but my irrational fear of rodents stepped in all the same, ‘Kai you don’t pick up rats, and you never ever hug them, right?’
‘Yeah I know,’ he said, standing there staring all glassy eyed down at the rat, ‘I just wish I could, that’s all.’
The Pantheon wasn’t a let down, it was one of the most beautiful and simple buildings we’d seen in Rome. It was in the shape of a dome. It looked like a dome from St Peters had been chopped off and placed on the ground. The Pantheon though had been built long before St Peters, way back in 27 BC, seen as one of the most important achievements of Ancient Roman architecture. The church though, like most things in Rome, took over the building, in 608 AD. The kids posed for photos and got their standard gelati and then we headed off back to our flat.
That night, our last night in Rome, sleep came easy to us all. As I was drifting off to sleep I couldn’t help but feel a little sad that we were moving on the next day, just when I’d got used to Rome with its blaring sirens and mopeds that would rather drive on the footpath than the road. But Rome hadn’t finished with me yet.
I woke up at two in the morning. At first I thought I was probably awake because my brain was in over drive, worrying about how we were going to squeeze the nine-seater van we’d hired through the narrow streets of Rome. But then I realised there was a light shining in my face. I didn’t open my eyes straight away. We’d left the light on in the small hall since we arrived. I thought one of the kids must have come in to get some water from the glass I had beside my bed and then not closed the door as they left. I kept my eyes closed, thinking if I didn’t move I’d go back to sleep. Then the nag started up in the back of my head, telling me I should go and check on the kids, make sure they were all OK. I kept telling myself that I was being irrational that of course they were OK, go back to sleep, but sleep wouldn’t come, so in the end I gave up and got up.
As I walked out the bedroom door I realised it wasn’t just the hall light that was on but the kitchen light was on to, and the light in the lounge/dining room where Kai and Noah were sleeping. My first thought was that the kids were awake and partying in the middle of the night again. I was ready to rouse. But when I walked into the room I saw Kai and Noah, both sound asleep, sprawled over the top of the bedclothes arms flung wide.
Then I saw the front door, wide open. My heart stopped, skipped, one, two, three beats then pounded so fast in my chest I thought I was going to vomit. ‘Breathe,’ I kept saying to myself, ‘Breathe.’ I scanned the dining room table for the computer and the phone that were there the night before, they were still there. ‘It’s OK, everything’s OK,’ my brain started chanting as I walked over and closed the front door. And then I was thinking about Madeline in Spain and as much I wanted to move slow and not wake anyone I started to run, knocking into things. I ran into the room where Poppy and Jack were sleeping a cold sweat now prickling on my skin. For the briefest of moments that lasted the longest of time I thought Poppy wasn’t there, I couldn’t see her little body snuggled in under the blankets behind Jack. My numb mind stumbled and groped until my eyes focussed and then I saw her, fast asleep, behind Jack. I had to walk around the bed and touch her to make sure she was real.
After that I woke Pete. I sat down on the bed next to him.
‘Pete I think someone’s been in the flat.’
‘What?’ He said, sitting straight up, his word gurgled with sleep.
‘The front door was open. I’m worried there might be someone in here still.’
‘What?’ He said running his hands across his eyes.
‘Come and help me have a look.’
We looked in every cupboard, under every bed, above the washing machine and behind the shower curtain.
We locked the front door, which locked automatically from the outside, on the inside as well. When we were back in bed I cuddled into Pete’s back.
‘Do you think we looked everywhere?’
‘Yep, we did.’
‘I’m still scared. I’m going to get up and look again, there might be a spot we missed.’
I went through the whole checking behind cupboards and under bed routine again. No one.
Pete was breathing heavy when I climbed back into bed.
‘No one,’ I said. ‘ I think I must have disturbed them when I woke up, must have scared them off.’
‘Yeah maybe,’ Pete said in a voice that was not far off sleep.
I didn’t sleep the rest of the night. The next morning my bags under my eyes were at their dark circle best and my ears were saw from straining all night so they could hear the slightest hint of a soft footstep on the ground. My mood matched my dark circles.
Kai was still lying in bed when I saw him.
‘Come on Kai you need to get up and dressed, we’re leaving here today.’
‘I am dressed.’
I looked at him fully clothed. ‘Kai I’ve told you before that you have to wear pyjamas to bed, not clothes.’
‘I did.’
‘What do you mean you did? You’re wearing clothes.’
‘I know, but I got dressed into my pyjamas last night.’
‘Well why aren’t you in them now?’
‘I don’t know.’
And then it dawned on me, a slow realisation, one of relief and horror as I remembered watching him get dressed into his pyjamas the night before.
‘You don’t remember getting dressed?’
‘No.’
Kai must have been sleeping walking. It wasn’t the first time he’d done it. Back at home once we’d caught him one night opening the front door, he remembered nothing about it the next day. It was obviously what had happened last night. Kai had got up and got himself dressed, then he’d opened two doors, my bedroom door, perhaps looking for me or a glass of water and the front door. My head started to spin, I had to sit down on the edge of the bed.
‘You were sleep walking last night,’ I said, pulling him close, hugging him tight.
‘Was I?’ He said, laughter at the edge of his voice.
‘Yeah, you opened the front door.’
He looked at the door and then back at me again, not laughing anymore.
‘It’s OK,’ I said, ‘you didn’t go anywhere.’ I didn’t say the words thank God out loud.
