I saw the Pope this morning! We were a part of the papal audience he has every Wednesday and since Lee and I stood on the edge of the lanes that the Pope parades around, we were right up in his proverbial grill. He’s so tiny and cute. The tour of the Vatican was amazing. The art was breathtaking and our guide was very witty and informative. The crowds got to be a tad bit bothersome and the concept of personal space was thrown out of the window, but the 3-hour tour (*singing*3-hour-tour) was worth it.
Then came the big one…
After a few walks up and down stairways, hallways and random art galleries, which all seemed to be a teaser as they boasted arrows and signs reading: Sistine Chapel, we finally made it. There were announcements and signs all over asking people not to take pictures of the paintings and to be silent. But of course, as we entered, we were greeted by a mass of people steadily holding their cameras in the air and emitting a low hum in the room. And I was no different. But do the security guards really expect people who travel thousands of miles to marvel at such artwork not to take a piece back with them?
As I stood toward the back of the room to get a longer shot, a frowning woman (also a tourist) approached me and said, “You’re not supposed to take pictures. It ruins it.”
I was confused by her statement, not because of her bad grammar. But because I had no clue why she felt the need to tell me, in such a stern voice, that I shouldn’t disobey the rules. Especially since I was standing among dozens of others who were doing the exact same thing, including the man she was with who had his Canon in hand. I didn’t know if she thought I couldn’t understand the English announcement or if she thought I was illiterate. I just knew that I was annoyed. I was so bewildered, I could only respond with “Yeah, I know, thanks.”
As I watched her walk toward the exit without saying a word to any of my melanin-deficient counterparts, (smiling at them, even) I became even more annoyed. There were very few people in the room who looked like me. And that wasn’t even an issue in my mind until that moment. Maybe I misjudged. Maybe she was a staunch Catholic with a high respect for the Chapel and its guidelines…but I doubt it.
I love all people and I try to avoid playing “that” card by having faith in people’s intentions. But I’m from the South, so I’d be naive to think it was irrelevant, even today. I’ve seen it. I’ve experienced it. And it’s saddening to know that even thousands of miles across the Atlantic, I still can’t escape it.
Ciao,
Ang.
(Gotta give EnVogue credit for the title, a lyric from their hit “Free Your Mind”…and Lee credit for crankin’ it on his iPod as I was writing this 
)
I absolutely love EnVogue. I remember dancing to the cassette when I was little.
I think you handled that well. That’s what was apparently surprising to her.