Make Your Own List

On my list, this ranks a lot higher than a hot dog stand.
(Photo by Sally Reeder)

There are lots of reasons to make lists, but I’m going to resist the impulse to list them.  Well, maybe I could just mention a couple, OK?

First, jotting down the things one needs to accomplish on a given day or week helps organize the allotted time.  The second reason is that it’s just so darn satisfying to draw a line through each task when it’s completed:  “snake the drains” — check!

As much as I like lists, I’m not enthusiastic about having other people make them for me.  Travel magazines do that regularly, with headlines like “The Fifty Hottest New Destinations” or “Where to Go Next”.  There’s a best-selling book called 1,000 Places to See Before You Die.

As the title grimly states, it’s a bucket list; things to do before you  kick the bucket.  I’ve thumbed through my copy, and it’s pretty clear to me that I’m not going to make it.  I’ve been to a lot of places in the world, but I’ve only seen, oh, maybe a quarter of the places that author Patricia Schultz thinks I need to see to make my life complete.

But I’m OK with that.  I’ll probably never make it to the hot dog joint in Chicago that she raves about, but I have been to Paris.  And by the way, why should a diner and the City of Light each count as one of the thousand on her list?  There are at least a dozen things in Paris that I would personally rank above any ’dawg.

Maybe you wouldn’t, though.  For all I know, you’d much rather have the Everything-On-It than visit the Louvre.  That’s what’s tricky about these “oh, you must” lists.  Everybody has different ideas of what constitutes a satisfying travel experience.

Several of us went to Colonial Williamsburg together (it’s in the book — check!)  Some in our group were fascinated by the demonstrations of life in the 17th century by people in period costume:  “Most of our clothing is made of wool, which is spun on wheels like this one.”  On the other hand, some of us were less enthusiastic.  After about forty minutes of lectures from faux colonists, one friend muttered, “I get it.  Let’s go play golf.”

The truth is, he’d rather play golf than almost anything, so his wish list might be a lot different than yours.  And if your idea of a dream vacation is non-stop shopping, your list would look very different than mine.

My wife has a novel approach to travel lists.  Instead of a bucket list, she has compiled hers after the fact, when she’s had experiences associated with the places she’s been.  For example, she noted that she ate Maine lobster in Maine, drank Scotch in Scotland, had French fries in France.

Many of her entries seem to be food-and-drink related:  ate Black Forest cake in the Black Forest, had a Coors beer at Coors Field (Denver).  Several are more observational:  saw African violets blooming in Africa, was in St. Patrick’s Cathedral (NYC) on St. Patrick’s Day.

The thing I like about Sally’s travel list is that it emphasizes fulfillment, not falling short.  She may not make it to 1,000 “must-sees”, but she’s having fun along the way.  And maybe I should put Hershey, Pennsylvania, on my list so that someday it will make it onto hers.

The Tiled City

A view of Old Lisbon, painted on tile

“This reminds me of Korea.”

That’s what the lieutenant said as I drove him through a rural section of Utah in our military vehicle.  I assumed he meant Korea (the country) and not Chorea (disease characterized by jerky movements).

“It looks like this?” I asked, not having been there.  “Well, not exactly — just those hills over there are sort of… I don’t know, something about it…”  He trailed off and then changed the subject.

That was decades ago, but in the intervening years I’ve had similar experiences:  There’s something about a place that momentarily conjures up memories of another place.  They aren’t identical, but one is somehow evocative of the other.  Maybe I’m the only person who ever thought so, but Lisbon reminded me of San Francisco.

The two cities do have some physical similarities; both are built on hilly terrain.  Narrow, winding streets in Lisbon lead down to a bay — the Portuguese capital is located at the mouth of the Tagus River where it empties into the Atlantic.  Lisbon’s bay isn’t as vast as San Francisco’s, but there is a long, orange suspension bridge that crosses it.

Both cities have fine views (miradouros is what they call them in Portuguese) and expansive parks.  In one of Lisbon’s, we saw a young couple having sex, oblivious to the other park visitors all around them.  One might expect to see that sort of thing in San Francisco, too.

Well, some or all of these factors made the connection in my brain, but there are several ways in which Lisbon is distinctive.  The main one is the tile.

It’s everywhere:  The exterior walls of buildings are covered with it (and interior walls, for that matter).  Sidewalks and fountains and even some of the old streets are made of ceramic tile.  The tiles vary in size, but often are 4″x 4″, or 8″x 8″, like you may have in your bathroom.  However, the tile in your bathroom probably isn’t a mural of battle scenes or saints or landscapes.

Not all of the tile in Lisbon is representational art; much of it is in geometric patterns — interlocking chains and so forth.  Apartments buildings that are six or seven stories high sometimes alternate:  A couple of stories will have what looks like lacework, and then there will be one that depicts a voyage by one of Portugal’s famed explorers.

The tiles are in all colors, but the favorite seems to be a specific shade of blue (see photo).  I’m not an expert on all the degrees of the color wheel, but let’s call it deep azure.  That works as a sort of mnemonic, since in Portuguese, the tiles are called azulejos.

Another distinctive feature of Lisbon is fado music, which is melancholy songs about fate and lost love and regrets.  If you go to one of the fado clubs or restaurants, you may also have regrets about the high cover charge.

Console yourself with Lisbon’s butter, though; I don’t know what their secret is, but it’s the best I’ve had anywhere in the world.  Just don’t expect to put it on sourdough bread — that’s a specialty of San Francisco.

We Are Not Alone

The “Eye On L.A.” crew hovered nearby

Somehow I had found out about Harbour Island, an isolated spot in the Bahamas that sounded like an ideal place to get away from it all.  It required an overnight flight from Los Angeles to Miami, then a connection to Nassau, followed by a flight to Eleuthera, and then a ferry boat to Harbour Island, but it was going to be worth it.

What I didn’t know was that the crew of a TV show called “Eye on L.A.” would be staying in the same hotel I had booked, and that they would be pointing their cameras at us.

Eventually they had enough footage of me in a bathing suit, I guess; after a few days they left.  We wound up having a nice time on Harbour Island’s beautiful Pink Sand Beach.

The point is, though, that no matter where one travels, other travelers will be there, too.  On any given weekend, you can expect to encounter scores of other climbers as you attempt to scale Mount Everest.  And if you’re headed for the Louvre or St. Mark’s Square in Venice, you don’t really think you’re going to have the place to yourself, do you?

Sometimes being in a crowd is part of the fun — bowl games or Bourbon Street come to mind — but most times, it’s preferable to have some elbow room.  Here are things I’ve tried over the years to avoid, or at least reduce, the crush of tourists…

Arrive early — or late.  Find out the hours of attractions.  If the doors open at 8 a.m. and you’re standing there with a ticket in hand, you’ll probably be at least an hour ahead of the throngs, who are still finishing breakfast.

Many museums are open late on certain nights:  The Metropolitan in New York doesn’t close until 9 p.m. on Friday and Saturday nights, for instance.  We have been able to admire artwork without being jostled because at that hour, the midday visitors are now jamming into restaurants for dinner.

Avoid the High Season.  Obviously, if you’re planning a ski trip, you want to go when there’s snow on the ground.  The week between Christmas and New Year’s is a possibility, but you’ll be sharing the mountain with many other people who had the same thought.  If you have the flexibility to schedule your trip in mid-to-late February, lift lines will be shorter and there will still be plenty of snow.

Crowds at some tourist destinations vary on a daily basis.  While in Mexico’s Yucatán Peninsula, we were considering a day trip to Cozumel, an island off the coast.  It occurred to me to go online and check out the cruise ship schedule.  Some days as many as six ships — and their thousands of passengers — were in port, but on Sunday there were zero.  That proved to be a great time to go, since even the trinket vendors seemed to be taking the day off.

Get a guide.  We have tried this a few times and gotten mixed results.  The principal advantage is that a licensed guide is able to lead you past the long lines of people waiting to buy tickets at, say, Topkapi Palace in Istanbul.  The principal disadvantage is that guides tend to assume that you hired them to talk for several hours without taking a breath.

Those are some of my strategies, and you may have your own ways of opening some space around you at tourist attractions.   Hey… you aren’t the guy who faked that sneezing fit in the Smithsonian, are you?

Unscheduled Stop

The gift shop probably had good stuff, but they wouldn’t let us see it.

After airline passengers have boarded the plane and stowed their washing machines in the overhead bins, an interesting phenomenon occurs.  The purser asks for everyone’s attention during the safety instructions, but almost everyone ignores them.  While flight attendants are pointing out the over-wing exits, passengers practically put their fingers in their ears and chant “La-la-la-la”.

Apparently the idea is that if you don’t hear the safety instructions, you won’t need them.  Which, I’ll admit, proves to be true almost every time.  Once in a while, though, something doesn’t quite go according to plan.  That’s how we wound up in Labrador.

The American Airlines flight was conveying us from Rome to Chicago; the first indication that something might be amiss was when a flight attendant made an announcement, in Italian, that included the word medico.  My Italian vocabulary isn’t extensive, but I knew that meant doctor, and inferred that they were hoping one was on board.

It turned out that a passenger was having a miscarriage, and the doctor determined that due to dangerous complications, she needed to be in a hospital as soon as possible.  Not long thereafter, the plane’s captain announced that we had a medical emergency and our flight was being diverted.

Since we were over the Atlantic Ocean,  the closest place that could handle a commercial aircraft was Happy Valley-Goose Bay.  As mentioned earlier, it is located in Newfoundland and Labrador, the easternmost province of Canada.

If the name Happy Valley conjures up images of blue skies and sunflowers and picnics on the grass, well… you’re thinking of a different Happy Valley.  This one was a bleak landscape of ice and snow as far as the eye could see.

It’s possible the Canadian Happy Valley-Goose Bay is lovely during its few weeks of summer, but this was April, when the average high temperature is 38° F.  It did not seem like a place I’d like to live, but then, I’m not in a witness relocation program.

Anyway, moments after the plane touched down, a pickup truck came out to meet us with a sign reading “Follow Me” (see photo).  Eventually we came to a stop while still on the runway, where an ambulance met the plane.

The woman who was having the emergency happened to be traveling with two children.  Without hesitation, a flight attendant grabbed her overnight bag and escorted them off the plane.  Bless her heart, she was going to spend the night taking care of those kids while their mommy was in the hospital.

Meanwhile, the pilot had to get a new flight plan, refuel, and have the wings de-iced.  None of the passengers were allowed to get off the plane due to a health emergency of a different kind:  Crew members who briefly disembarked had to stand on a pad with disinfectant on it.  It seems that Canadian officials were concerned about an outbreak of hoof-and-mouth disease, and they didn’t want the local caribou to catch it.  No, really.

While preparations were being made for our departure, Sally and I chatted for a few minutes with the captain.  He said unscheduled stops like this happen more often than one might think.

Unless it’s your choice, I hope you never have to go to Happy Valley-Goose Bay.  But it’s nice to know that it’s there if you need it.

The Red Castle

Court of the Myrtles, The Alhambra — Granada, Spain

Most people who live in the Americas associate the year 1492 with Christopher Columbus sailing into the Bahamas and proclaiming, “Just like I told ya, fellas — here we are in Japan.”

His voyage of discovery was made possible because of a significant event in European history that also happened in 1492.  In January of that year, Spanish monarchs Ferdinand and Isabella conquered the last Moorish stronghold on the Iberian peninsula, the Alhambra.

The Moors, whose roots were in North Africa (as in Morocco), were Muslims who had ruled what is now southern and central Spain for many centuries.  At the height of their power in the 13th and 14th centuries, the sultans built a complex of castles and gardens on a hill overlooking Granada.  They called it Alhambra, which is Arabic for “Red Castle”; the walls of many of the buildings have a reddish hue.

After the Catholic monarchs took over, the Alhambra fell into gradual disrepair; by the early 19th century it was pretty much forgotten.

An American author named Washington Irving (“The Legend of Sleepy Hollow”, “Rip Van Winkle”) wrote a book about Columbus that was published in 1828.  Irving knew that Columbus had audiences with Ferdinand and Isabella at the Alhambra when the explorer tried to persuade them to let him find new lands in which to establish Disney theme parks.  It was probably at the Alhambra when Isabella said to Columbus, “Yeah, fine, whatever.”

Anyway, Washington Irving was intrigued by the place.  He actually lived in the ruins of the Alhambra in 1829, and subsequently published a book called Tales of the Alhambra.  (I’ve got it on my shelf if you’d like to borrow it sometime.)  That book seems to have had a lot to do with reviving interest in the palace/fortress, and restoration began soon thereafter.

It is now a great place to see magnificent examples of Islamic art and architecture: intricate tile work, ceilings and walls that appear to be carved but are actually molded plaster, elaborate calligraphy.

Perhaps because water was relatively rare in many parts of the Muslim world and therefore precious, there is an abundance of it here.  Pools and fountains and streams are found throughout the complex, particularly in the Generalife (hen-ur-ah-LEAF-eh) Gardens.

What can also be found in abundance at the Alhambra are tourists.  According to some sources, it is the most-visited attraction in Spain.  The number of daily admissions is capped at something like 7,000, so if you’re planning a trip, reserve a ticket (currently €13) as soon as you know when you’ll be in Granada.

An alternative is to hire a guide in a package deal, but that will be considerably more expensive. It’s not really necessary, either, since audio guides are available for €4 at the entrance.  If you want to take a chance on getting in without a reservation, show up early and stand in line at the ticket window; a limited number of tickets are sold each day.

As best you can while you’re at the Alhambra, try to ignore all the other visitors around you so that you can marvel at the beauty of the place.  Oh, and while you’re wandering around, look for the room that has a plaque — in Spanish, of course — that basically says “Washington Irving slept here.”

Open Spaces

Cricket match at Stanley Park
Vancouver, British Columbia

“What?  You were in Cartagena and you didn’t visit the Palace of the Inquisition!?”

Because I don’t want to be tortured with questions like that after I’ve returned from a trip, I do some homework before we go.  You probably do, too.  Of course, we might assign different priorities to the attractions of any given city.  Maybe you’re an enthusiastic shopper, while on my top-10 list, shopping would be 17th.

My preference is to head for museums or sites of historical significance (and yes, we did visit the Palace of the Inquisition).  Recently, though, I realized that some of the most enjoyable times I’ve had while traveling were at places that hadn’t been on my pre-trip wish list.  They were at public parks.

Almost every city has them now, but parks are a relatively recent development.  Oh, there were many acres of elaborate gardens and paths and fountains and trees, but they were owned by kings and nobles and were intended for their own private gratification.  On weekends, the servants weren’t out on the lawn at Versailles tossing around a frisbee.

It wasn’t until the 19th century that cities began to provide open spaces for their citizens to enjoy fresh air and recreation.  New York’s famed Central Park is more centrally located now than it was in 1857 when it was transformed from rock piles and swamps into a good vantage point from which to see the city that has grown up around it.

London and Paris have parks that might qualify as tourist destinations:  Hyde Park and the Tuileries Garden come to mind.  A visit to Boston Common is essential when you visit that city.

When planning a trip to Madrid, though, I hadn’t realized that a highlight would be hours spent in Parque del Buen Retiro.  One Sunday we came up out of the subway near the park and heard live music; we wandered into an outdoor concert being given by Madrid’s symphony orchestra.

After that ended, we walked around a lake in the middle of the park and watched locals trying to maneuver rowboats they had rented.  Elsewhere, a pack of in-line roller skaters were showing off for each other.  Many Madrileños were relaxing and playing in Retiro Park, and unexpectedly, we got to be a part of it.

Before our visit to Beijing, I’m not sure I had even heard of the Summer Palace, which doesn’t sound like a park, does it?  Long ago it had been an imperial garden, and is now a UNESCO World Heritage site.  Its main feature is a good-sized lake where you can ride on a Dragon Boat.  They are ornately-decorated vessels, but have no interior amenities other than rows of banquet-room chairs.  I can’t honestly say the ride was thrilling, but it did get us out of the crush of tourists we encountered elsewhere in the city.

Stanley Park in Vancouver is a beautiful place to spend a day (see photo), and I have fond memories of Parque Eduardo VII in Lisbon.

Maybe the appeal of parks is that they can be appreciated at a more leisurely pace than travel schedules often demand.  They also provide opportunities to blend in with the locals and share with them a sense of community.

I realize that this has been a very short list of great parks and I’m aware that there are many others.  So — what’s the first one that comes to mind for you?

The Attractive Neighbor

Snake River at Oxbow Bend, Grand Teton National Park (photo by Sally Reeder)

If you want to get noticed, don’t stand next to an international superstar.

That thought occurred to me as I considered why Grand Teton National Park doesn’t seem to get as much worldwide buzz as Yellowstone does.  The two scenic U.S. wilderness areas in Wyoming are only ten miles apart, but Yellowstone has a much bigger reputation.

For that matter, Yellowstone is a much bigger park than Grand Teton — something like 7 times as large.  Yellowstone was the world’s first national park and has the world’s largest collection of geysers.  It is on the official list of World Heritage Sites.

Don’t get me wrong — I’m not saying that Yellowstone doesn’t deserve all the attention it gets.  It’s just that Grand Teton National Park can make your jaw go slack, too.  It is a high-altitude plateau (6,000 ft.+) that is surrounded by mountains and glaciers; the Snake River slithers through it.  Everywhere you look seems postcard-worthy, so if you go home from GTNP without at least a few good photographs, you might as well stop taking pictures.

The first non-natives to find this region arrived in the early years of the 19th century.  One of them was John Colter, who had been with the Lewis and Clark expedition, but on the return trip Colter stayed in these parts to try his hand at fur trapping.

By the way, it was French-speaking fur trappers who are apparently responsible for the name.  They called three distinctive mountain peaks les trois tetons, which translates (politely) to “the three breasts”.  This would indicate that these fellows had a flawed understanding of basic female anatomy, or had not seen a woman in a very long time.  Probably both.

At any rate, Grand Teton, Middle Teton and South Teton are dramatic features on the horizon as seen from Jenny Lake, a gorgeous body of water formed by glaciers.  There are a lot of hiking trails in the area around Jenny Lake, and there’s a ferry boat that will take you across the lake to reach the ones on the far side.

One leads to a beautiful cascade called Hidden Falls.  From there, an even steeper trail leads to Inspiration Point, which inspired me to sit down and catch my breath.

The largest body of water in GTNP is Jackson Lake, which is fed by the Snake River.  It’s a good spot to stop hiking and regain your inertia while you admire the view in all directions.

Particularly in the early morning or late afternoon, though, it’s worth grabbing your camera and traveling a couple of miles east from the Jackson Lake Lodge to a spot called Oxbow Bend.  Pull off the road and walk down to the river’s edge to get excellent views of Mount Moran, which sometimes has a shawl of clouds around it (see photo).

There are lots of scenic viewpoints along the highway that winds through Grand Teton National Park.  At one we saw a grizzly bear wade into a group of foolish tourists who barely managed to get out of his way.  At another, a bald eagle circled overhead.

We eventually drove the few miles north to Yellowstone, of course, and it’s as glorious as you’ve probably heard, but its next-door neighbor deserves its share of raves, too.  What I’m saying is, Grand Teton National Park is spectacular.  Pass it on.

Cross That Bridge: Ten Favorites

Golden Gate, San Francisco (photo by Sally Reeder)

Because people need to live near a water supply, we also tend to live near bridges.  Chances are you’re within a few kilometers of a bridge right now, unless you are currently trekking in the Gobi Desert and have paused to surf the Web.

Most bridges go unnoticed because they merely do their job of conveying traffic over water, but there are some that do catch our eye; some are even tourist attractions in their own right.  What follows is a list of ten of my favorites.  These are not chosen for the feats of engineering that brought them into existence, but mainly because I find them aesthetically pleasing.

10.  Nanpu Bridge, Shanghai — The distinctive feature of this bridge is its spiral approach, which corkscrews up to great views along the Huangpu River, especially at night.

9.  Seven Mile Bridge, Florida — This ribbon of concrete and steel connects some of the Florida Keys as part of the so-called Overseas Highway.  As the name suggests, one’s car travels quite a distance over water.

8.  Old Bridge, Heidelberg, Germany — A low stone bridge that spans the Neckar River (a tributary of the Rhine), it affords views of Heidelberg Castle and the picturesque Old Town.  Although there have been bridges on this site since the 13th century, the current Old Bridge isn’t very old; it was restored following World War II.

7.  Brooklyn Bridge, New York — The familiar gothic arches span the East River, connecting lower Manhattan and the borough of Brooklyn.  It is counter to the George Washington Bridge across the Hudson on Manhattan’s Upper West Side.  The GW has its admirers, but I prefer the comfortable-old-boots look of the Brooklyn.

6.  Charles Bridge (Karluv Most), Prague — This pedestrian bridge is adorned with statues of saints, some dating back to the 17th century.  During the day, Charles Bridge is lively with street musicians and artisans selling their stuff; at night lovers stroll the bridge holding hands (and bottles).

5.  Ponte Vecchio, Florence — When it was built in the 1300s, shops and houses were incorporated into the structure.  Once these were butcher shops; the bridge is now basically a mall of jewelry stores.  Personally, I prefer seeing the beautiful Ponte Vecchio from the banks of the Arno River rather than walking on the bridge itself.

4.  Harbor Bridge, Sydney — The entire harbor has great views in every direction; it’s worth a walk out onto the bridge to take in the nearby Opera House and surroundings.

3.  Tower Bridge, London — Some people mistakenly think this distinctive bridge is London Bridge.  It’s called Tower Bridge because of its proximity to the Tower of London.  This bridge is a landmark; London Bridge, just up the Thames, is relatively forgettable.

2.  Pont Alexandre III, Paris – Decorated with bronze lamps and statuary from La Belle Époque, this bridge is a great vantage point from which to marvel at the Eiffel Tower and all of central Paris.

1.  Golden Gate Bridge, San Francisco — It’s painted that distinctive orange color partly to keep ships from slamming into it on foggy days.  When the visibility is good, however, the bridge and the bay and the hilly landscape are components of the most gorgeous urban setting in the United States.

There are lots of other great bridges, of course, like Lion’s Gate in Vancouver and the Rialto in Venice, but these are my favorites (as of today).   What else belongs on the list?  What would be your top pick?

The Good Side of the Badlands

White River Valley Overlook, Badlands N.P., South Dakota

If you were given the responsibility of attracting tourists to the Badlands, you might consider changing the name.  Somehow, Badlands doesn’t sound as inviting as, say, Fountain of Youth, South Dakota.

That area of the U.S. Great Plains has been called some version of “bad lands” since humans first encountered it.  The Lakotas called the region mako sica — you can guess what that means.

When French-Canadian trappers showed up centuries later, they made a similar assessment, calling it (in French) “bad lands to travel through.”  Maybe it was the lack of water and shade, along with the volatile weather conditions, that gave them that impression.  The jagged landscape probably influenced their opinion, too.

It is undeniably rugged — but that is part of its appeal.  The rock formations, the colorful peaks and gullies created over millions of years by erosion and other geological forces, are mysterious.  Some people consider the Badlands a spiritual experience.  It’s definitely unusual.

Badlands National Park is about 80 miles east of Rapid City, South Dakota.  Every few hundred yards along Interstate 90 are billboards for Wall Drug (in the town of Wall), but other than that, it’s wide-open prairie.

The entrance to the park is a few miles off the Interstate and connects with Badlands Loop Road, which meanders through spectacularly stark scenery.  There are numerous overlooks and trails just off the Loop Road; one of them features fossils of some of the beasts who lived here millions of years ago.

Current inhabitants include bighorn sheep, coyotes and prairie dogs.  In hopes of seeing some bison in their natural habitat, we left the main road and went a mile or two along a rutted gravel track called Sage Creek Rim Road. 

At times I had trouble holding the steering wheel because the road was so bad — it felt like it was going to shake the car apart.  Hey, in case you happen to work for the rental car company that supplied our vehicle, just ignore that last part — of course I wouldn’t do anything that would void the rental contract!  (For everyone else, when the car starts shaking, stop and then resume driving at a very low speed.)

The noise our car generated must have scared off the bison, but we did see a lot of prairie dogs in the area.  Obviously, the Badlands themselves are the main attraction; this is wilderness with an emphasis on wild.

On the return to civilization, it’s probably worth stopping at Wall Drug, since it claims to be the world’s largest drug store.  It was once a small establishment in a town of a few hundred people, but now occupies most of a block on Main Street.  Apparently the owners gobbled up neighboring stores over the years.

They probably fill an occasional prescription, but most of Wall Drug’s trade is in things like western wear and arcade games and souvenirs. They even have a traveler’s chapel, in case you’re seeking a spiritual experience in a drug store.  Let’s just say it’s quite a contrast to nature’s vast cathedral down the road in the Badlands.

Let Your Eyes Ascend

Sistine Chapel Ceiling (detail) — Vatican Museums

“Shhhh!”

It had never before occurred to me that the sound that demands silence is understood in all languages.  A guard in the Sistine Chapel was enforcing the No Talking rule and hundreds of tourists instantly complied — for a few seconds.  Then the buzz  began again, as we all stared in amazement at one of history’s monumental artistic achievements.

Michelangelo rightly considered himself more of a sculptor than a painter, which is one reason he was reluctant to accept the commission (demand) of Pope Julius II to come to Rome and paint the ceiling of this building.  It had originally been built in the 1470s at the behest of Pope Sixtus IV.  The involvement of Sixtus is why it’s known as the Sistine Chapel, in case you were wondering.

The building had undergone some renovations due to structural flaws; Michelangelo started in on the new ceiling in 1508.  There were problems:  For one thing, he had relatively little experience with fresco.  That technique involves applying paint to wet plaster, so the artist and his assistants had to estimate how much plaster they thought they could paint before the surface dried.

Another issue was even more basic:  How do you work on a large horizontal surface that is 60 feet above the floor?  The easiest approach would have been to build scaffolding towers, but the pope and cardinals wanted the floor to be clear so they could continue holding their meetings in the chapel.

Michelangelo figured out a way to bolt the scaffolding into the side walls; he and his assistants climbed up to their perch and did that marvelous work while leaning backward.  The first half of the ceiling — the eastern side — was completed in 1510.

When that scaffolding was taken down, Michelangelo was dissatisfied with the result.  There were too many figures in the panels, he felt; from the floor they appeared small.  When you visit the Sistine Chapel, you’ll notice that the figures in the other end, starting with the iconic “Creation of Adam”, are larger.

You’ll also notice that it’s not easy to find a spot from which to view the ceiling; you have to tip your head back to the point of toppling over.  Other tourists around you are pointing up to the ceiling, a gesture that I felt was unnecessary.  Seriously — if you’re in the Sistine Chapel, you really don’t need to be shown that there are paintings on the ceiling.

There are also paintings on the walls, including some by eminent artists like Boticelli and Ghirlandaio, who was Michelangelo’s teacher.  By far the most impressive wall painting, though, is the massive “Last Judgment” behind the altar on the west end, which took Michelangelo several more years to complete.  In total, he did over 12,000 square feet of fresco in the Sistine Chapel.  When you see it you can’t help but exclaim, in spite of the guards’ best efforts to shush you.

If you’re planning a visit, it’s helpful to know that in addition to the prohibition against talking, no photography is permitted in the Sistine Chapel.  And, as the website of the Vatican Museums says, access to the Sistine Chapel “is permitted only to visitors dressed appropriately.”  In other words, they won’t admit people who are exposing shoulders or knees into a room full of paintings of naked saints and sinners.