End of 7-day cruise

We arrived at the port of Civittavechia in Rome in the early morning. Many of the passengers have disembarked by the time we finished breakfast, but we were in no hurry. As planned, we negotiated for a private tour of the Vatican with one of the many privately-owned vans waiting just outside.

Luck was on our side. The tour guide, Gio, agreed to take our group of 10 though the maximum number of passengers by law was 9. That really saved us a lot of money as we would have broken up into two groups if he was adamant about it. The agreed rate was 400 Euros for a whole day city tour of the Vatican and adjacent areas and back to the ship. Gio, who narrated that he comes from a devout Catholic family, grew up in the US so we had no problem in the language department, though many Italians are conversant in English unlike the French.

St. Peter’s Square was vast, and it was teeming with people nonchalantly milling about. The Basilica was magnificent, and we squinted to count the statues lined atop the church depicting the past popes and some of the more significant saints and imagined the Pope waving from the balcony. We tasted the ice- cold and clean water from the fountain at the square, a favorite place for snapping photos among the tourists before we joined the long queue towards the entrance of the church.

“On this rock I will build my church” was the promise, and it was a monumental piece of architecture, the greatest church ever built in the history of mankind. Built on top of the tomb of St. Peter, the church’s flooring had built-in ventilation, something our modern architects and builders can learn from. Though people flowed in and out incessantly, there was a solemnity in the air as people gawked in awe at the works of art laid out everywhere for public appreciation. The tombs of some of the popes like Alexander the Great, as well as those of some of the saints like St. Rita de Avila, dead over a hundred years but the body still well-preserved, were housed there. Michaelangelo’s famous sculpture of La Pieta was encased in glass as it was vandalized a few years earlier.

Alas the Sistine Chapel was closed that day, so we missed our chance for an even greater visual treat. Another day perhaps we can have another tryst with Michaelangelo.

After a lot of walking, we decided to have a late lunch. Our very efficient tour guide Gio brought us to a tiny restaurant whose resident chef was the owner and we not only got ourselves a bargain, we also had an amazing authentic Italian meal, complete with antipasto of cheese and sausages, wine, assorted pizzas and pastas. While waiting for our food, we were amused to watch the Italians who lived in the old medium-rise condos. Rather than go up and down for something they forgot or needed to get, the residents devised a crude but efficient system, something like a dumb waiter, and every now and then a rope with a package would drop from a higher floor, and be pulled up again after the item has been retrieved on the ground.

Even the souvenir shop he brought us to was very reasonable. My sister-in-law bought the same rosaries for 3.50 Euros-we only got ours for 2 each. Incidentally, the exchange rate of the Euro versus the dollar was still so much better than in Barcelona-we got 71 Euros for every $100 unlike Spain’s 59.75.

Having had the best tour guide yet in the seven days we were out, let me share with you his e-mail address: [email protected]. His address: Mother Tongue Tour Guide, V. Trieste #40 Civitavechia, Roma 00053. Tel. no.+39.331.74666 35. He even rents out his flat for small groups or families.

Other must-visit sites were the coliseums which were really just shells of a by-gone era and Rome’s most famous fountain. The coliseum has been stripped bare and pockmarked-thieves have looted it of all the valuable marble from its exterior walls. 

It was back to the boat at 5 p.m. Early the next day, we were going to dock in Pisa. That night, I tried my hand at Texas Hold’em for the first time in the ship’s casino which was surprisingly big and spacious, and quite full. If you’re still holding your breath, I won enough to buy more souvenirs in our next stop, Pisa.

Pisa did not hold much promise really. After seeing the world-famous leaning tower, which they have somehow rectified, there was nothing much to see. We took a lot of photos which surprisingly showed us holding up the tower. Then we headed off to Lucca because the guide we had promised some good shopping there. It was a dud. Shops didn’t open till 3:30 p.m., and it was very high-end shopping, so we went home empty-handed. Oh well, you can’t win them all. We should have opted for Florence instead for some good leather.

The next day, we were scheduled to dock at Cannes, France. We walked along the French Riviera, and though it was too cold to take a dip, we saw a few families bravely frolicking along the white sand, with small children braving the icy waters in their swim wear. Here we had a difficult time negotiating for a tour as most of the Frenchmen did not have the facility of the English language, or maybe refused to speak it. Rather than take the city tour of Cannes which my brother and his family did, we opted for a trip instead to Monaco which we have never visited. We finally found a suitable ride, though we had to go in three separate cars, at 220 Euros per car, as they refused to cram all 10 of us in just two cars. Very expensive!

Driving through the streets of Cannes, we saw the building where they were going to hold the film festival in about a week’s time. Cannes is nowhere near the charms of Paris. It is not as sophisticated, yet is more modern and urbanized. After about an hour and a half drive, we were approaching the tiny principality of Monaco, carved marvelously out of a mountain. All along, posters screamed of the forthcoming Monaco Grand Prix, which we were surely going to miss.

Monaco reeked of wealth. Its old world charm was very endearing, the modest-sized chalets mostly with balconies, roads lined with flower beds, very clean streets and unhurried street life all pointed to a gracious life in this tiny kingdom. On F1 Grand Prix days, the balconies of some of the houses were rented out to tourists so they can watch the races from up close. There was virtually zero crime rate here, it is famously tax-free, and migration was not allowed, so if you wished to live here, you had to marry a Monegasque. We stopped at the royal palace for some photographs, then went off to the famous Monte Carlo, playground of the rich and famous. It was still closed, and besides, we were not appropriately dressed, so we contented ourselves gawking at the countless Ferraris, Jaguars and Alfa Romeos parked alongside each other, no one competing against anyone really because they were a dime a dozen here. Monaco is wealthy, and the wealthy families love it here.       

Back to the ship. Tomorrow, it’s Barcelona again, and after a day in the city, its back to home sweet home, Manila. After almost two weeks out, it’s great to be back.

Mabuhay!!! Be proud to be a Filipino.

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