Photo Session

I know I'm going to sound like an absolute cultural philistine by saying this, but it needs to be said. Rome is not the cultural or historical centre of the world. I'm sorry. I know it's got some wonderful old buildings and ruins, the best artwork you're ever likely to see - but you can never really concentrate on it. You're always worrying about having your pocket picked, dealing with a random rude bastard who hates you for not being Italian, trying to drown out the high pitched jabbering and car horns that make up background noise and wondering just what died to make that god awful smell in the air that is assailing your senses.

Whereas London on the other hand...well, there's just such a sense of occasion and grandeur associated with this place. It always seems to muster up a quiet reserve to charm you, even in a place like Victoria St tube station at 5:30 in the afternoon. There's an endless procession of stately old buildings, mixed with new age architecture - in Rome, the ruins struggle to compete with hotels, bars, shops and bus stations.

I've got no doubt I'm going to enjoy my time here immensely. But, I digress. The main purpose of this particular entry is to catch up on photos that I'm yet to post, from Pompeii, Rome and some taken today at the Churchill Museum. Let's get cracking. Starting with the ruins.


This is a fairly standard scene in Pompeii - a Roman road runs between houses and various other domiciles on either side. Pedestrians would walk on the high ground either side of the road, while carts trundled along the lower part in the middle. The large rock in the road near the front of the photo was part of a crossing system for pedestrians, so they didn't have to step in the shit that lay strewn throughout the street. You might also notice in the background the mountain responsible for Pompeii's current fame.


Another shot of Vesuvius, with some more ruins in front of it.


These are a few samples of some of the famous plaster casts that were made of the victims of Pompeii. Although the bodies had long since rotted away, buried under the ash, the space they had occupied remained as a hollow cavity. When archaeologists located a cavity, they would pour plaster into it until it set, then uncover the ash surrounding it. The result would be a perfect cast of the body.


My sister Laura doing her best impression of a statue.


Never let it be said that the Romans were a bunch of prudes. The bloke with the large donger is the Roman god of fertility, resting it on one side of a set of scales, with a bag of gold on the other side. Essentially he is saying that he would rather have his prick than the gold.

Wait till he's 70.

After Pompeii, we went back to Naples, which I have no photos of, since taking my camera out in public there would be tantamount to me draping a sign around my neck saying please steal my camera. Rome on the other hand, well, let's just say it's more civilized than Naples. Which isn't saying much. There would be people who hail from Kingston and Woodridge who'd feel uncomfortable in Naples.

This is the Arch de Tito, within the ruins of old Rome. There is area about a square kilometre in size just near the Colosseum and Constantine's Arch, that was the heart of ancient Rome. Most of the buildings are ruined now, but it's still an amazing repository of ancient Roman history.


Constantine's Arch. This was erected after Constantine won a great victory and converted the Roman Empire to Christianity.


Me at the Colosseum. It's pretty impressive, but it's no Lang Park.


The tomb of the unknown soldier. Quite why a nation with probably the worst war record of any European country would have the most opulent tomb is beyond me, but what the hell. Very impressive nonetheless.

Weir on the River Tiber. Don't do as I did and go down to walk along the river, unless you enjoy the smell of stale urine and homeless people.


Saw this graffiti on a wall the day after Italy dumped France in the final. Sounds like a case of bad sportsmanship. After the game where Italy beat us, the Aussies at the courtfield hotel didn't bother with graffiti - they just started a fight with the Italians on the pedestrian crossing outside. The important thing though is that they never headbutted them.


This is why I don't play a harp. Lugging a bloody great tuba around is bad enough.


Italian nerds playing Magic: The Gathering (it's a card game) outside a hobby store. Being a miniature nerd, I was highly amused at this sight. Off to the side they had an unofficial wheeling and dealing circle, with various Ities flogging cards off the back of their scooters.


St Peter's Basilica. There is video footage of me here, taken by my sister, saying that "I've never believed in Jesus."

I'm surprised old Benedict wasn't on the balcony with a sniper rifle trying to do god's work.


Now, I'm not proud of this photo. They clearly said no photos in the Sistine chapel, and I fully intended to comply. But when I got in there and there were people snapping photos like mad, I couldn't resist taking one. It turned out kinda blurry anyway. Divine retribution no doubt.

But just on the Sistine Chapel - it is amazing. I've never seen any place like it. Just to get to it you travel through corridor after corridor of amazing tapestries, paintings and artwork - the map Room alone is worth coming for. I likened it to a computer game, in that the Sistine Chapel is the last thing you see, and the anticipation builds with every room you go through, waiting and searching for the final chapter. Then, you're there. Standing in the middle of that hallowed hall, neck craned backwards, staring up at that glorious ceiling. Like the statue of David, it's a once in a lifetime event.

The chapel was about the last thing of note we saw in Italy, apart from possibly the most inefficient and crappy airport of all time at Ciampino. Today in England I decided to do some more touristing to give myself time out from job hunting and made my way to the Churchill museum and the Cabinet War Rooms.

To elaborate, this underground complex was purpose built in 1938 and 1939 to allow the War Cabinet to continue to meet and run the British Empire without the risk associated with aerial bombardment if they were working from a normal office. The complex was locked and closed down in 1945 as soon as war ended, and remained top secret and almost unknown until Thatcher ordered it reopened as museum in the 1980's. Today it is a perfectly preserved museum showing what how Britain was run during it's greatest crisis, and a tribute to the greatest Briton who ever lived. To listen to one of Churchill's speeches while standing in the room which he dictated it from is an amazing experience. You can't help but be impressed by his supreme mastery of the written word.


The conference room where Churchill met with the Imperial General Staff. Like Hitler, Churchill frequently disagreed with his Generals, however unlike Hitler he never overruled them. Churchill, while a brilliant politician, was erratic and obsessed with unimportant detail when it came to military operations - a combination that would have been dangerous if left unrestrained.


Churchill's bedroom. Churchill would always spend the first waking hours in bed - he'd have breakfast and give orders sitting up in bed. A constant stream of generals, secretaries, ministers and aides would be coming in and out of the room whenever Churchill had slept the night in the War Room.


The map room - from here the Battle of the Atlantic was fought. The map on the far wall still has all the pinpricks from where cards were pinned to mark convoys. The holes give an excellent visual demonstration of British trade routes.


Finally, the man himself, in Parliament Square. Just goes to show that any old drunk can get bronzed in this city.

That's about it for now - have fun digesting that lot, and no doubt I'll have more to come in the next week or so.

Cheers.