The sistine chapel didn't look quite right. From the ground of the chapel, it seemed very tiny. Almost insignificant. He tried to appreciate the art hovering above him as the tides of tourists pushed him out of the way, the tour guides spoke loudly about Saint so and so, and the priests shushed the crowds. It was all overwhelming so Jim left with a feeling of disappointment.

When he finally emerged from the museum, he looked around the streets. He could walk around to St. Peters Cathedral but he knew it also would be overrun with loud tourists. He couldn't take another moment of that so he started walking away from the walled city.

He had nothing to do. He had nothing to do for months now and the simple act of wandering put his mind at peace. He avoided the heavy foot traffic and weaved through the side streets of Rome with no destination in mind. He stumbled into the Pantheon and immediately turned away. He wanted an authentic experience. He knew he couldn't find it here.

He was back at the hostel, packing up his meager possessions into a faded rucksack. He could count what he owned on two hands and he liked it that way. He found his way to the train depot and purchased a ticket, hoping to find an authentic experience.