The Vatican - Monday, June 28

John:  The hushed music in the background... I've got to really whisper... is from the Sistine Chapel.  It's like you're entering heaven.  We're just passing through the doors now.  I must say, the many ceilings in the rooms leading up to the Chapel here are all beautifully painted also.   

There are signs all over asking that no flash pictures be taken but just a second ago, some jerk took one. The guard screamed out, "NO FLASH".  He's still bawling the guy out.  Look, he's even taking the film out of that guy's camera.

Dick:  Serves him right for ruining this priceless art.

John:  Any feelings on the Sistine Chapel, Dick?

Dick:  Well, it's quite crowded.  Wall to wall people.  I really can't appreciate it that much after all the ceiling paintings leading up to it.

John:  Yeah, on the way to the Chapel, every room had magnificently painted ceilings that seemed to be pretty good to me.  Kind of loses it's allure after that.

Leading up to the Chapel... you decend two stairways, with announcements in English, Italian... I guess they have five international languages.  We'll look around and then go see the Pieta.  (SSHHH) ... the guy... just shushed me.  Everyone else was whispering too.   I better not speak any more.  

Location:  AT A RESTAURANT

Dick:  From two different waiters.

John:  ...and still no bread.  Everyone else has bread.  I think these waiters are making a conscious effort to destroy our dinner. They're probably in the back laughing at us stupid Americanos.  Or... do you think it's a case of them just not knowing what the hell we're talking about?

Dick:  Ha, look he almost kicked over that table there.

John:  Now, the first waiter, I specifically... oh, here he comes...

No, he didn't say anything, he just kind of motioned. Do you think that was an obscene gesture of some sort?

Dick:  No, he's telling us the french fries are on their way.

John:  Sure, like we're anxious about them.  Who cares about french fries. We need something to just curb our bikers appetites.  Something with bulk.  Not french fries... we're anxious for the bread.

Dick:  Which we ordered half an hour ago.  We were eyeing these huge plates of breads, with breadsticks and nice big slices of Italian bread sitting at every table except ours.   Everyone's got bread but us.  

John:  And french fries. Wait... those are our french fries.  Here they are. So, this is actually kind of a nice place except the waiter stinks.  But.. wait a minute!  I can't believe this!  There he goes by again with bread for somebody else.  Still none for us.  I'd be really pissed off if I wasn't drinking this wine.  Now, actually, it doesn't really bother me so much anymore.  What did you say was the name of this place?

Dick:  "Casa Linge".

John:  That's a good Italian name. House of... something. We stumbled upon this place.  Actually, I liked the place we ate at yesterday.

Dick:  That was "Casa Cuccina".

John:  Another "Casa" place, must be a chain, ay?

Dick:  I know these places aren't chains, that's for sure.

John:  That place, "Casa Cuccina" was the most... well, the most Italian place we've eaten at thus far. They put the bread right down on the tablecloth, no plates.

Dick:  They threw down the bread.  Plates would be a luxury.

John:  They threw down the forks and the spoons. Threw everything almost in our faces.  Plus, it was a group dining atmosphere. 

Dick:  (LIKE THE WAITER) "One for you and one for you.  You wanta some Minestrone? Here's some soupa for you."

John:  We had to practically grab the waitress every time she came by. "Seniora, Seniora, por favore?"

The menu was so nontraditional and so Italian that we couldn't figure out what had meat in it for poor old vegetarian Dick here.  No spaghetti on this menu.

Dick even got to the point where he went out in front of the restaurant to read the menu posted outside but he still couldn't figure it out.

Well Dick, would you like to comment on this?

Dick:  It's about time. We finally got three measly looking slices of bread.  

John:  Well, we also have the wine, it's a huge liter bottle but it's only the last eighth of the bottle left... maybe the last sixteenth but plenty enough to suit me.  I'm happy.  He finally brought the bread, though, that's the big thing.

I can't believe he brought the bread after all this.  I was about to give up.

* * * *

Milan, Italy - Wednesday, June 30
Location: ON THE TRAIN

John:  Well, our time in "Roma" has ended. Tonight, we are on the night train north.

Dick:  To Switzerland.

John:  Now, it will be intriguing to move on to a different phase and a contrasting feel of Europe.  Really, phase three.  France, Italy and now Switzerland.  We're going to have to learn different numbers. I just picked up the German phrase book this morning.  But, the eastern part of Switzerland is French speaking.  We'll be visiting that first, starting from Geneva.  It's 6:21 in the morning. And we're here paused at the "Milano" train station waiting to take off on the rest of our trip through the Alps.

We caught this, the 9:36PM train last night. The last time we took a train we realized that there are first class seats and second and sometimes even third class seats to sit in.  Last time we sat in the wrong place and got thrown out.

This time, to make sure we were in the right ones, we asked the conductor where we could sit.  He pointed us to a car where we were joined by two young ladies.  And... those girls were quite attractive.  One from Australia and one from Switzerland.  Well, those girls were so friendly.  Plus, we had a bottle of wine on reserve.  We were sitting pretty, then, who should show up but the same damn conductor, who looked at our tickets and said, "segundo classe, segundo classe".

We played ignorant American.  We said, "No parlo Italiani".  But this guy was insistent.  He kept trying to throw us out and alas eventually did.

And here we are in second class where there are no pillows on the seats.  Do you think first class tickets supply young women as a luxury, Dick?

Dick:  I don't know but I'll tell you I'm pretty disappointed.  We'll never see those girls again.