So, about the Sistine Chapel...

You have to imagine you are slowly walking through room after room of opulence, and then when you think you can't stand a single minute more of the crowd or the waits for the toilet you enter a hall nearly empty of fixture or furniture with a tall ceiling. Suddenly their is no gilt, only paint, but on every square inch of walls and ceiling. A series of high windows let in soft filtered light, but it is subdued, not bright, and the hand of god seems much more tenuous than that brief contact with Adam without a pair of opera glasses. The crowd collects here, not passing through, since THIS is what all that long slog through decorated galleries was about--you feel the difference in this space as people of all languages stand around looking up. The conversations build slowly to a rumble and then a bit more, before the guards shush everyone quiet, and the whole process begins again. Pictures are forbidden, but everyone is taking them, even with flash, so after a few minutes of duty, one's finger makes the inevitable progress to the camera for a quick shot or two, or three, oh well. Even the stern guards don't seem to see the justice in enforcing this rule. It is Michelangelo for goodness sake!