Judith with the Head of Holofernes

Successful final day in the Vatican and streets of Rome. Second time through the Sistine Chapel, and for all its glory it is not really the art on the walls and ceiling that inspire most. There is a respect for certain places, certain spaces. Travel back in time being (currently?) impossible, you can still travel to where great things occurred. Clearly genius present there in the size of the undertaking. One does hope that it is put to other uses than simply serving as a funnel for tourists, with the dull roar of constant murmuring and the guards repetitive shouts of "No Photo!". Does the Pope ever invite some friends in for a few late-night drinks? Better, does some security guard or other low level player who has access ever organize poker games under that roof? I hope so.

The rest of the Vatican museums hold much worth pondering as well, including a very cool old Egyptian form of printing tool and various legal documents and contracts that date back to ancient Babylon (2400-2000 BC). Also, usually in touring art galleries, I fixate on one particular piece that catches my attention. This time, it was Cristofano Allori's "Judith with the Head of Folofernes". The reproduction on the wikipedia page does not do it justice, as up close the woman's face holds such a complex expression it can be pondered for awhile. Hints of sadness, defiance, longing, power, resignation. All the more potent if, as wikipedia suggests, the model for Judith was the painter's mistress Mazzafirra, and the severed head his own.

Appropriate that in a day after touring the Vatican and St. Peter's that we end up taking a pre-dinner drink at the fabulously posh Hotel Art. The bartender provides the story of the bar, which used to serve as the alter to a church and has since been converted. Quality host - he asked whether we have seen the Pope, and I responded by asking if he was currently in Rome. "I hope so, for his sake," came the response. Excellent. Perhaps sad for me that now we are leaving to the coast. But my coin is in the Trevi fountain, and likely in another nine years I will make the return.