When we see Ronaldo's abs, we know we're home. Safe and secure. Lost in the valleys of those abs. If you coated them with butter, they'd look like fresh dinner rolls. Speaking of lunch, we stopped at the Galleria Alberto Sordi, and grabbed a bite.
On our way out we got a look at the Column of Marcus Aurelius in daylight.
When we arrived at the Pantheon we found it teaming with tour groups. They were strewn about, exhausted from the heat, and there was an open sewer aroma in the air. Maybe because there was an open sewer in front of the entrance, just a guess. Getting into the spirit of things, we joined the boiling knot of people waiting to get in. We weren't exactly sure what was going on, or if they would ever allow this sweaty mound of bodies into this architectural marvel, but we waited it out. We need a lemming battle cry; maybe battle whine is more apropos.
Once we were admitted, I hate to admit it, but I was a little underwhelmed. I'm spoiled from working with amazing set designers and set painters, so it took a minute to shake off my initial jaded reaction and let it sink in. The scale of the place and materials used. The precision. It felt like standing in a 3D model, a bit too perfect. The two thousand year old concrete dome, although not as ornate or decorated like so many ceilings and surfaces, was breathtaking.
I can't say I liked the Christian symbols and statues. They felt tacked on and out of place. Then again, the whole enchilada might have been destroyed had it not been converted.And now for some gelato!
Our feet still had some life left in them. Our trusty tour guide, Signore Google, told us the Colosseum was a mere 1.8 km walk away and away we went.