A Country Within Half a Square Kilometer

Our journey is slowly drawing to a close. We began with ancient Rome, continued through its classical layers, and even ventured a little beyond the city. But there’s still one place left that simply cannot be missed.

And that, of course, is the Vatican. The smallest country in the world, the seat of the Christian world, shaping the fate of millions for centuries. A place filled with faith and extraordinary architecture, yet also layered with mystery and controversy.

Within less than half a square kilometer lies a state you can walk across in minutes, yet explore for days. It has its own army, its own post office, its own coins, and even its own railway station. In reality, it feels less like a country and more like a city within a city, with an influence that stretches far beyond its walls.

At every step, you come across something that would stand on its own as a major attraction anywhere else. Here, it’s simply part of everyday life.

If you want to actually see all of this, you first have to get out of bed. And we did, early enough not to miss our entry to the Vatican Museums.

Vatican Museums

The Vatican Museums are not just a single attraction, but almost a city of art in their own right. Corridors, halls, galleries… one after another, statue after statue, masterpiece after masterpiece.

They house one of the largest art collections in the world, from ancient sculptures to Renaissance masterpieces that most people know only from books. And of course, you’re not alone there. More than six million people visit each year.

That’s why a visit takes a bit more planning.

The first thing is tickets, which need to be booked well in advance. We got ours back in December, about two months ahead, as the early morning slots sell out quickly.

The second important factor is where you stay. If you’re close to a metro station, you can be on your way in minutes, without unnecessary stress or rushing. It makes a big difference before you even step inside the museums, especially since it’s going to be a long day.

And then there’s the third thing: morning time slots. Wherever we’ve been, whether at Versailles in France, the Alcázar in Seville, the Sagrada Família in Barcelona, or here at the Colosseum, it always proves the same. The earliest entries are the best choice.

Not just because there are fewer people, but because mornings carry a certain atmosphere. The city is only just waking up, and you’re already standing in front of something grand, historic, almost monumental.

Punctuality matters to me, so I always push us to get going on time. It can be a bit annoying, especially early in the morning, but without it, the whole day can start falling apart before it even begins.

You also quickly realize that the entrance to the museums is not on St. Peter’s Square, but a bit further away. If you’re coming from the city center, the most practical option is to get off at Ottaviano station and walk from there.

The Japanese, the queue, and one pigeon to say good morning

From the metro station, you don’t really need navigation anymore. You simply follow the crowd, in our case a group of Japanese tourists, and soon you find yourself standing in front of the massive walls that surround the entire state. Rising about ten meters high, they are impressive in their own right.

The path doesn’t lead you straight in. The wall gently guides you, first to the right, then to the left, and before you know it, you’re already in a queue.

You stand there. You watch. You wander around a bit. And then you realize this isn’t even your line. This one is for those who don’t have tickets yet.

In the new line, we were among the first. But since our tickets were for 08:30 and it was only 08:00, the guard wouldn’t let us through. With a smile, he suggested we go grab a cappuccino in the meantime.

One of those moments when you’re too well organized and still too early. It never quite works out perfectly, does it?

We skipped the coffee and returned to the line. But in the time we weren’t allowed in, it had stretched to about a hundred meters. Organized groups started arriving as well, calmly moving past us without much hesitation.

So we slowly inched along the wall, when suddenly something flew out of a small opening right next to us. Nothing dramatic, just a pigeon.

If anyone standing nearby hadn’t fully woken up by then, they definitely did in that moment.

Egypt, the Pinecone, and a Sphere within a Sphere

First the tickets, then the security check where plastic water bottles are not allowed, followed by passports and the tickets once again. And just like that, you’re inside.

Soon after, you’re outside again, standing on a terrace that opens up to a perfectly symmetrical garden with a fountain at its center. Behind the trees, the dome of St. Peter’s rises into view, while in front of you stand reproductions of the Sistine Chapel.

Maybe because restoration work has been going on for some time, and you don’t get to see it in its entirety. A kind of compensation, perhaps. Or you can take it as an introduction to the greatest thing here.

Just as all roads lead to Rome, in the Vatican Museums all paths lead to the Sistine Chapel.

The museums are vast. Truly. Visitors had already spread out, perhaps most of them heading straight for Michelangelo’s masterpiece. We, on the other hand, had no strict plan, so we simply wandered.

We first found ourselves in the Egyptian section of the museums. Statues of pharaohs, sarcophagi, hieroglyphs, mummies… Those mummies in open sarcophagi are just a little unsettling.

We continue down the corridor, and as I glance out the window, I spot a giant pinecone. Wait… a pinecone? What is that doing here?

Of course, I had to Google it immediately.

It turns out to be a nearly four-meter-tall bronze pinecone from ancient Rome, over 1,800 years old. It symbolizes life, renewal, and something that remains even after everything else fades. It once stood near the Pantheon, and like so many things here, eventually found its way into these museums.

On either side stand two peacocks. They symbolize eternity and immortality which, considering how long this pinecone has been standing there, seems quite fitting.

But there’s something else here as well. Something we had already seen at Trinity College in Dublin, in front of the United Nations in New York, and now again here, in the Pinecone Courtyard in the heart of the Vatican.

It’s one of the cracked bronze spheres by the Italian artist, scattered across different parts of the world. Each one is slightly different, unique, yet the message remains the same. From the outside, the sphere represents perfection, while the cracks reveal its interior. Complex, chaotic, and fragile. Much like the world itself.

So much symbolism in one place, the only thing missing was a coffee machine to sit down and take it all in.

Violent Statues, Marble Animals, and a Bathtub in the Middle of the Room

Then come the statues. Perseus holding Medusa’s severed head, a man struggling with snakes, sarcophagi filled with scenes of battle… You start to get the feeling that everyone here is in some kind of conflict with everyone else.

And then, when you pass a statue that’s simply standing there, not being attacked, not about to be bitten or devoured, it almost catches you off guard.

When you get tired of people, you step into the next room, which belongs to animals. Dogs, deer, snakes, and bulls. Someone even thought it was a good idea to carve a lion attacking a horse in marble.

After unsuccessfully searching for at least one marble cat, we had already wandered into the next room. It’s modeled after the Pantheon, and at its center stands a massive stone basin, carved from a single block.

Around it, in the niches, are statues and heads of Roman emperors, gods, and heroes, all brought together by a masterfully crafted mosaic floor.

This was the first room I truly liked.

Gallery of Tapestries, Gallery of Maps, and the Raphael Rooms

Then you enter a long corridor, with tapestries stretching along both sides. At first, I thought they were paintings, but once you step closer, you quickly realize you were mistaken.

But why were they even made? I read that some took months to create, others even years.

First of all, they helped keep the rooms warm, which was quite practical. At the same time, they told stories and made it very clear to any visitor who had the money, since they were incredibly expensive.

So, in a way, a combination of a radiator, a painting, and a status symbol.

The corridor just keeps going. Then a passage. As you step through, your eyes are immediately drawn upward. The ceiling, covered in gold. Wait… is all of that really gold?

Paintings, frescoes, everything intertwined with gilded details.

The space is called the Gallery of Maps and yes, maps of Italy line both sides. But it’s the ceiling that truly reigns over this corridor. Although the maps themselves hold quite a story too.

Before they were drawn, this land was actually walked and surveyed. No satellites, no technology. Just terrain, time, and a few blisters along the way.

When the galleries come to an end, you step into the rooms created by Raphael, the same artist whose tomb we saw in the Pantheon on our third day. There are four rooms. In each one, painting after painting, fresco after fresco.

Each telling its own story.

The first celebrates thinkers and philosophers, the second miracles, the third the popes, and the fourth the triumph of Christianity.

Beautiful. But the true highlight is still to come.

Sistine Chapel

Suddenly, a crowd gathers at the entrance to the next room. And just like that, everything around you falls quiet.

Of course. You’re stepping into the Sistine Chapel.

Everyone in front of you is looking up.

This is the place where the pope is chosen, the most important figure in the Christian world. The decision made here determines whether the smoke will be white or black.

The ceiling. Michelangelo. It took him four years. And no, he wasn’t lying on his back. He stood on scaffolding, painting above his head for hours, days, months. The colors were applied onto fresh plaster, which meant there was no room for mistakes.

A masterpiece where you can read the Bible from beginning to end. From Creation to the Last Judgment.

It is high, though, that ceiling. You see it, but the details can easily slip away if you’re not paying attention. I even had to search a bit to find that famous scene where the fingers of God and man almost touch.

In a room filled with paintings, photography is not allowed. If someone happened to take a photo, which of course I didn’t… but if a phone shutter just accidentally clicked, it might look something like this.

Vatican Post and the Double Spiral Staircase

Postcards aren’t really sent much anymore. We still send them regularly to just two people, my parents and a friend in Denver, Colorado, with whom I traveled across most of Argentina almost twenty years ago.

I returned to Slovenia afterward, while he kept going… and in the end, traveled the world.

You’re not in the smallest country in the world every day, so this time we sent them from here.

The post office window is right before the exit of the museums, just before you descend down that famous spiral staircase.

Why is it so famous? Because of how it’s designed. The idea dates back more than 500 years. It’s built as a double spiral, one wrapped around the other. One for going up, the other for going down, so that people never cross paths.

St. Peter’s Square

A natural continuation after the museums is, of course, the square. And even more logical than that, a coffee stop.

We hardly came across any Slovenians on this trip. In fact, I don’t remember hearing a single sentence in Slovene anywhere. Well, while we were enjoying a well-deserved coffee in the sun, I suddenly heard familiar words.

I looked over… and there was Boštjan Gorenc – Pižama, passionately explaining something to the group following him. They were heading toward the museums, clearly running a bit late.

How fitting that the first Slovene words you hear come from someone who brings Slovenian literature into a kind of modern 2.0 version, presenting it to today’s younger generation in his own unique way.

It was Wednesday, the day of the Pope’s audience, so the square was closed in the morning. Entry was only possible with tickets, which need to be reserved in advance.

As we approached the square, the crowd was already massive. We joined it, but more and more people kept arriving from behind, so we stepped aside. Within minutes, we would have been completely stuck, with nowhere to move.

Just as we stepped a few meters away, the square suddenly opened. Quickly. Let’s go.

Most people joined the new line for St. Peter’s Basilica, so for a moment, we had almost the entire square to ourselves.

The square is shaped like an ellipse, with a more than 2,000-year-old obelisk standing at its center, brought here from Egypt.

On each side, it is embraced by a colonnade of columns arranged in four rows, 284 in total. They surround the square like two great arms. Above them stand 140 statues of saints.

Another masterpiece by Bernini.

With the girls, we searched the ground for that exact spot where, if you stand on it, all four rows of columns align into a single line. Of course, we found it soon enough. And yes, everything lines up. Incredible.

I had forgotten just how vast this space is. Towering above the square is the dome of St. Peter’s Basilica.

This was already the third of the four papal basilicas, the “VIP churches” of the Catholic world, that we had seen in recent days, after the Basilica of Santa Maria Maggiore and the Basilica of St. Paul Outside the Walls.

That meant only the Lateran Basilica was still missing.

From the Vatican Museums, it’s even possible to make your way up into the dome of this famous church.

Anja remembered that the passage, when we were here years ago, was narrow and quite claustrophobic, so we didn’t even consider it. Especially after our last experience in the tower of the Sagrada Família in Barcelona.

From the square, you can also spot something familiar from television, the balcony from which the Pope addresses the world. Just today, he delivered the Urbi et Orbiblessing from there, the Easter blessing to the city and the world.

The line to enter the basilica was already wrapping around the entire square, so that was no longer an option for us. Fatigue was slowly catching up with us as well, the morning had been full, in every sense.

We decided to walk to the nearest metro station. To avoid taking the same route as in the morning, we turned toward the Tiber.

Castel Sant’Angelo and the Tiber

As you walk away from the square, the outline of a building slowly takes shape in the distance, a structure that has been many things throughout history. A mausoleum. A fortress. A prison. A papal refuge.

You’re standing just in front of Castel Sant’Angelo.

Somewhere beneath your feet runs a secret passage that once connected St. Peter’s Basilica with this castle. When things went wrong, the popes would simply disappear from the Vatican and retreat along this route to the safety of the fortress.

At the top today stands the statue of the Archangel Michael, after whom the castle is named. Legend has it that he appeared there and sheathed his sword as a sign that the plague had come to an end.

It is connected to the other side of the Tiber by a bridge adorned with statues of angels. Beautiful. Bernini again.

From the bridge, we continued along the Tiber toward Piazza del Popolo, where the metro station is.

As the river gently begins to curve, we took one last look back at that iconic dome.

We last stood here looking at this view fourteen years ago.

And now, here we are again.

Will we ever see it again?