My ill-exercised neck, unused to contorting itself in so many directions all at once and certainly not inclined to gazing upwards for an unbroken 60 seconds, already feels displaced from the rest of my body. Michelangelo, I salute you. Not only did the famed sculptor-artist lie on his back for four years, 'brushstroking' a ceiling that would outlive horrific wars and changing winds, but imprinted his genius in a way that no history book can ever recapture. Sure, he fell off his precarious perch a couple of times and cracked a few bones, but that was a minor occupational hazard, shrugged off by the commissioning Pope (Julius II) of the time. My reverie is shaken with terse commands of 'No flash!' and 'Silence please!' as the watchdogs of the Sistine Chapel frown at the forbidden cameras that surreptitiously creep forth from some deviants in the mob, defiantly freezing quick frames of the Biblical frescoes.

Six centuries after Michelangelo's Creation of Man, the crowds continue to swell and we are hustled out with the flow into another crowd-pulling wonder - St Peter's Church, the world's largest Christian church and a magnificent relic of Renaissance architecture. In a quiet nook, sits the tragic Pieta protected from viewers by a measured distance and bulletproof glass. The celebrated sculpture, carved from a single block of marble and the only one ever signed by Michelangelo, was almost destroyed by a demented person in 1972.

Vatican City, the smallest independent state in the world since 1929, housing the above aesthetic marvels, the Pope and several Malayali Catholics who serve God in His kingdom, is as large as an average (European) city park with its distinctive marble columns and high stone walls - the very ones scaled by Tom Cruise in this year's action-packed, breathlessly paced Mission Impossible III.

From the realms of compassion and prayer, we find ourselves at the threshold of a monumental ruin, steeped in the blood of persecuted Christians mauled by lions and gladiators impaling each other till the last breath. Erected between 72 and 80 AD, the imposing Colosseum, witness to the most unholy acts of barbarism, stands strangely forlorn in its skeletal travertine stone, stripped of its marbled splendour. Back in those days, the amphitheatre could be emptied of 60,000 spectators through 80 numbered arches in less than 20 minutes; today, in view of the snaking queues and security checks, it will probably take 20 hours to just gain admittance inside! Then, posing for mementoes against the neighbouring Arch of Constantine, our small group notices a newly-wed couple alongside, getting into photo album mode. While the bride arranges her lacy trail into chic folds, and the groom, straightens his bow, flashbulbs pop, catching their smiles and embraces for the camera. "Very common in Europe," supplies Francois Ganes, to our silent query. "Get married, then take a picture in front of an ancient monument!" Francois, operations manager for luxury brand, Fendi, remembers his promise to the gelato fans in our group, and whisks us away to one of the best gelaterias (Ciampini 2) in the city, where the chocoholics amongst us revel in each frozen bite of the generous scoops.