Got to St. Peter’s in the early morning, and without waiting, made it into the grandest church in Italy. It was spectacular simply by virtue of its the sheer size. I’ve seen big churches with little chapels off to the side, this had big churches off to the side. After exploring the tombs of countless saints and popes, I got the guidebook out to see if there wasn’t some famous art somewhere in here. Oh yeah! Michaelangelo’s Pietà. Paused for a second in the spot where Charlemagne was crowned, then moved on back into the sunlight.

Stood in line 55 minutes to get into the Vatican museums, whose sole feature of interest to me was the Sistine Chapel. Going through the museum to the chapel, even by the most direct route, is an exercise in human herding, sweat and anticipation. The multicultural crowd jostles cattle-like through majestic corridor upon majestic corridor, each time thinking the Chapel is next, barely noticing the world-class works all around. Only exception to this for me: Raphael’s rooms, where I was excited to see one of my favorite paintings of all time, the huge School of Athens, in which all the great minds of Antiquity are reunited: Plato, Aristotle, Euclid…

At long last the human wave emerged into the Sistine Chapel. Although the sweat-march and its preceding 55-minute wait in the sun had ensured everyone was properly subdued and exhausted, I conjured some awe at the ceiling and at Judgment Day. The latter is a huge fresco wherein the dead are torn from their graves to face the maker, intended to scare you into obedience. I’m sure I would have been humbled if not surrounded by German tours.

Upon emerging I admit I rejoiced at the thought that my to-see list was now completed. I could spend the rest of my Roman stay sitting in the shade nursing my blistered feet.

I’d been warned that the Vatican would make me “vomit in my mouth” a little considering the difference between its opulence and Jesus’ life. I have to say, though, that every time I’ve seen a ridiculous, over-the-top site, be it Versailles, Borobudur, Hagia Sofia or even the Vegas strip, part of me has been happy that someone had the nerve, the vanity, the impracticality, the recklessness (and yeah, sometimes the faith) to build it. I’m glad extreme places like these exist, though yes, I’m glad they’re rare.