Benedict, Where Art Thou?

Having been born and raised as a Roman Catholic, Vatican City always had a particular appeal. If for no other reason then to go to the sight of so much history that I had learned and since forgotten since my confirmation/indoctrination. Knowing that Vatican City draws some of the largest tourist crowds in the world, Kyle and I made a point to arrive before the doors opened so we would not have to wait in these exceedingly long lines.

Taking the morning metro to Ottaviano, the stop for the Vatican, I noticed our railcar was, to put it politely, lacking the spring chickens. Instead, it reminded me of a 4pm Sunday trip to Cracker Barrel. I pondered how many people in our railcar were on their way to work. When we pulled into Ottaviano station and the railcar decompressed, my question was quickly answered; no one. The generally mild mannered middle aged and elderly crowd immediately turned hostile when the gates opened, akin to the crowds at Wal-Mart on Black Friday. Frail women were throwing elbows (which I found reckless, seeing as they were far more likely to break their brittle bones than mine) while the throng of retirees briskly set off for St. Peter's Basilica. Perhaps my participation in so many 5ks had me well prepared, but I suspect it was our youth that enabled Kyle and I to casually keep pace with the rosary-carrying crowd.

Within one hour, we were inside the Vatican Museums and looking at some of the most stunning art/booty ever collected, depending on how you see it. With its trove of treasures the Vatican could have easily financed the countless bailout and rescue packages.

The one disappointment from my trip to Vatican City was that I didn't get to see Pope Benedict. I was constantly on the lookout for the papal Swiss Guards dressed in their daffy Renaissance outfits. Knowing that they are only around when the Pope is in town, I assumed that Pope Benedict must have retired to his summer place, which was fine by me, since I would be dropping in the following afternoon. Alas, when we arrived at the Pope's summer place, I still didn't see the guards. Having searched the Vatican and traveled through Italy, I saw no evidence of Pope Benedict, aside from a fifteen story blow up poster of his face that filled the Piazza San Pedro. After my failed Pope siting, I've developed a new theory. Pope Benedict was captured by Lord Voldemort and his appearances at present are simply reconstructed holograms. It's amazing what we can do with technology, or magic, these days.