The Vatican and an uphill struggle

To resume, a gaggle of intrepid couchsurfers wander tipsily around Rome in search of

a dance club on a Thursday night...
The dance club was somewhat like the typical SF clubs. Lots of guys trying to get up in girls’ business, but the presence of the guys in our group deterred most of the unwanted attention. We got down like crazy to some very loud electro-pop, and then our Roman friends were nice enough to make sure we all got home safely. Vilius, the aforementioned CSer from Lithuania, ended up crashing with me and Duncan at my host’s house, as I’d been given permission to host whomever I deemed worthy. So the three of us – with very little sleep – stuck to my plan to meet with Marc in the morning. Surprisingly, we were up and on the train to downtown at 8am. We’d heard that the lines for the Vatican Museum were long and early arrival was essential. At 9am there was already a line around the corner, but it was sunny and warm-ish and we were good company. Marc never showed, or was very late and didn’t come looking for us in line. I would have cursed his name but I honestly didn’t think we’d have made it to the museum if it hadn’t been for the plans to meet. So instead I silently thanked him. In line, we worked as a team to ward off the discount-happy tour salespeople, many of which misconstrued the cost of the museum in order to get people to buy their tours. We entertained ourselves with the creative ways we engaged and denied these scheisters as the line slowly crept around the Vatican walls.
Inside the Vatican Museum – lots of amazing old paintings. Gilded halls. Tapestries, symbolism. Grumpy guards, clearly tired of telling people what not to do there. Vilius being one of them, having laid down on the floor of one of the rooms with amazing ceiling frescoes. Really? No one can lie down and look up? I think there should be special areas specifically for doing so. It was overwhelmingly beautiful. It’s funny when, after awhile, you find yourself looking at a masterpiece and thinking, “yeah, yeah, another masterpiece... next!” Highlights of the day? 1. The company: Duncan, being his hilarious and irreverent self, and Vilius, (like me - a recovering Catholic) with his vaguely sarcastic humor and anarchic steak, were the perfect companions for the day. We found ourselves ready to move at the same times, and marveling at the same discoveries in the art. 2. Sending my parents a postcard from the Vatican. I’m not sure why, but I found it amusing. 3. Practically the last thing you see as you leave the museum is a picture of Pope John Paul II holding a koala bear. Awesomeness. (see photo.)

That evening was my hasty getaway to Spoleto, where I’d meet my colleagues, better known as my extended family. We’d been spread to the four winds for the better part of the last 6 months, and this would be our first time together since September. I get picked up at the Spoleto train station around dinnertime by Susy, TTT and Rachel, who was apparently on the same train. A windy drive out into the country and we pull up to a castle-town called Macerino (ma-chair-EE-no) where we are to live for the next three weeks. It’s old home week. Almost everyone I work with is there, some sleeping off their jet lag, most lounging around the fireplaces. I find out that, of the 4 “princesses” who will be staying in the “tower”, I am the first to arrive. The castle is warm and cozy, with heated floors in several rooms, and a big kitchen where Erin, our beloved friend and chef, is already creating magic. We have a weekend ahead of us to adjust and reconnect, and hike and party, maybe a little.
There were some long walks around the countryside, lots of good food, a bit of mist.

Sunday afternoon, a few of us realize that we need to get out further and explore, but we’ve slept past the point of catching a ride in the two cars that left to go to town and adventuring. So I arrange to use the remaining car, having promised Susy, our recruiting head and conference mistress, that we’d have the car back in an hour and a half (by 3 o’clock so she could leave and pick up a crew who’d be waiting for her in town at 3:30). So, Casey Ann, Ben, Dan, Rachel, myself, and Alex set out to get to the small lake that we could see from the hill above the castle. Alex, the tallest of us, packed himself into the trunk, trading the discomfort for the chance to get the heck out of dodge. This little lake seemed about a 20 minute drive away, at most. We head out with a vague map, opting to turn left at a road a few of us had walked down a ways a day before, thinking we could always reverse if it looked as though we couldn’t get all the way down that route. We were so overly optimistic. Though a few occupants of the car voiced some concern, there was a general sense of “we can do it!” that took us further and further down this dirt road. I was thinking that at least we’d be able to get through to the bottom. I mean, who builds a road down hill that doesn’t reach the road at the bottom?
But about 2/3 of the way down this rocky, rutted dirt road, we all began to have serious doubts about being able to back out, and about the condition of the road allowing us to reach the lake. Ben stops the car and he and I run down the road to see if it looks passable. Though we could see the bright blue-green water of the lake walking distance from where we were, the road ahead was rutted beyond what our little Fiat hatchback could manage. Mind you, the width of this road could accommodate the width of our car, but with little room on either side that did not have trees, rocks, or serious shrubbery attached. At this point, everyone was out of the car assessing the situation. We quickly discovered that the car was not going to back up the way we came. Ben’s skills behind the wheel notwithstanding, we were going to have to turn the car around. We were at a spot that seemed like, with the right application of engine power and a bit of luck, we might manage to do it. So Ben proceeded, as we cheered and encouraged from a safe distance, to firmly wedge the car half-turned between the soft dirt and rock of the road and a small stand of trees that were the only thing between the car and a downward-sloping ravine. I must add at this point, that this was not Ben’s fault. We had no other choice but to give it a shot, and he did an amazing job in a near-impossible situation. Fortunately, Ben had found himself in similar situations off-roading in the rural American South, so he quickly assessed what needed to happen (at this point it was still conceivable that we’d make it back to Susy in time, though that time was quickly passing). We had to turn the car the rest of the way ourselves. I will give the whole group a little pat on the back for the can-do attitude. It did not waver at this prospect.
A couple of folks got behind the car, standing on the downhill slope, while the others got ready to lift and push from the rear driver’s side of the car. The first push was scary, as it took one of the wheels off the ground, and put more pressure on the trees that were the only thing keeping the car from plummeting down the hill, and running over our friends. I think it took two more lift/pushes, but we got it turned around.Then the challenge of getting the car back up the hill. There was no 4-wheel drive. It had rained a few days prior, and the sad little car quickly carved some ruts underneath it. Here is where the group started to feel a bit discouraged. I have to say, I started to think about what the next steps were: hiking back up to call a tow truck? Did they get tow trucks out this far? Would a tow truck make it safely to this point in this road? I had my doubts. Thankfully, we had an Alaskan with us. Not only was Ben’s experience and grit keeping us believing we could do it, but Casey Ann’s experience with similarly challenging circumstances in Alaska really lent something to the process. We packed rocks and sticks under the wheels, we pushed, we packed more sticks and rocks. Ben pushed that tiny engine past its limits, and finally, he moved forward, right over the ruts that were keeping us stuck. Then the car stopped in the next set of ruts. We pushed again, still stuck. It took several tries before the wheels finally gripped and took our little (rented) car up and over, and up the hill. WIN! We had agreed that if Ben got the car going uphill, we would all walk and meet him at the top. And it was a lovely walk. Sweaty, smiling, and high-fiving, we joyfully recounted our individual experiences of the past 45 minutes, laughing at our situation and feeling proud of having overcome it together. Ben walked down to meet us, and we took a few post-challenge photos. Though it felt like hours had passed, we were only 30 minutes late getting back with the car. Susy was none too pleased...until we plied her with booze and recounted the story.