When I was a lad I was told my camera would explode and that I would go blind if I ever took a photo of the inside of a church. Yesterday, Elenka and I went to St. Peter's Basilica in the Vatican where I found that that has all changed. Now priests pose for tourists' photos in front of chapel altars and visiting nuns snap their own shots like my rules never existed.  

After a twenty minute walk we arrived at St. Peter's just after seven in the morning. There isn't a place anywhere in the world where you need to beat the rush like the Vatican. When we left the holiest of holy churches a little better than an hour later, the line-up was at least a hundred metres long. 

We had nine o'clock ticket reservations for the Vatican Museum - Elenka had made the reservations on-line and there were no attached fees or other charges. We were scheduled to enter as soon as the place opened, but when we arrived there must have been a kilometre of people waiting in line - thousands upon thousands of souls, who had stood maybe half the night. We were dejected. How could the Vatican Museum folks pull this on us? We walked past all of the people in line to complain about being misled. When the man at the entry gate asked to see our photo-copied ticket voucher, he scanned it and told us we could go right in. We were shocked. How could the thousands of people, many of them belonging to organized tour groups, not know about on-line ticket reservations? And if they did, wouldn't we all then be in the same boat? Another one of life's little mysteries.

Anyway, while St. Peter's Basilica is one of Rome's must-see locales, the Vatican Museum should only be visited by die-hard Christians and those who enjoy being squashed together until it hurts. Even though Elenka and I were one of the first two in, the grind through the photo taking throng towards the Sistine Chapel was torturous. Once in the chapel I couldn't help but notice those around me. They were told they couldn't take photos and that seemed to have made them nervous. They looked lost, most of them, and just wanted out — to Hell with Michelangelo and his ceiling.   

Later in the afternoon, as we walked along the banks of the Tiber, a couple came by and asked in German, which way it was to the Vatican. Sensing something in their manner, Elenka said that she spoke only English and some Slovak. The next thing you know, she was giving directions in Slovak to two Czechs in Italy, while a Canadian stood by.  

We didn't have the camera with us at the Vatican.