I went on a European vacation back in college that included a few stops in Italy, one of which was Rome. Besides buying the required gold St. Christopher medallions to live in my dark, curly chest hair, being overly aggressive towards attractive women, and riding around on a moped, I also filled out my How to be an Italian card by visiting the Vatican (Or Vatican City, as they rather over-zealously call it). While strolling through the promenade (ie piazza) admiring the fountain and the beautiful curving columns, I was shat upon, rather ignominiously, by an obviously devout pigeon. I think that says something. I’m not sure what, but it’s gotta say something.