A Terrible Thing Happened on the Way to the Colosseum

There is nothing, and I mean NOTHING, worse than getting a "low battery" signal flashing on your camera as you're beginning to take some pictures at the Forum in Rome, except the signal seeming to be more insistent at the Colosseum.  I found myself pining for one of those kitschy souvenir places so I could buy a ridiculously overpriced camera.  Kitschy souvenir places, yes; cameras, no.

Still, I managed to get a few shots of a place that holds such strange and wonderful appeal and fascination, sadness and awe.  What struck me first was my initial ridiculous first impression of the place as I quickly bemoaned how much I have been influenced by Hollywood.  What do you mean the Colosseum doesn't look like the one in The Gladiator?  I smacked myself upside the head and continued with my audiotour, taking deep breaths as people struck cutesy poses and flashed peace signs.  Seriously?

How can one give an impression of the Colosseum?  One doesn't.  It is astonishing.  Not so much the size, though, yes, the size.  Not so much the history, though, yes, the history.  The magnitude is breathtaking.  The way the Italians have managed to preserve it and yet appeal to the need for people to buy absurd souvenirs may be the most amazing thing.  The ridiculousness of men dressed as Roman soldiers with the occasional Roman Caesar was to be expected.  That people got their pictures and left the individual without leaving a tip was also not surprising, though seeing a Roman solider chase after a young Asian couple, hand outstretched, shouting "Tips! Tips!" was a bit unsettling and undecorous.

I explored a lot after I left the Colosseum.  I am surprised by how compact much of Rome seems to be.  Getting my bearings has been difficult because there are no particularly tall buildings and all of the buildings are close together with the twisy maze of streets that often seem to have no distinction.

I happened upon the Teatro di Marcello and was amazed it was just at an intersection of two main streets.  I'm sure the streets were built with respect--and I mean that in the denotative sense of the word--toward the edifice and its history.  This clearly doesn't get nearly as much attention as the Colosseum or other famous buildings in Rome.  Still, it was an impressive place to visit and explore.  And because I was close, I explored the Roman Ghetto.

Now this was a striking experience.  To be in the Colosseum in the morning and the Roman Ghetto in the afternoon.  There isn't much to the Ghetto any more, of course.  It's history is an interesting one, emotionally charged for many; an historical footnote for others.  To me, however, it was more than simply seeing such a marvelous edifice as a temple rather than a church, but have some small sesnse of the remarkable history of Judaism and Christianity, especially as it intersected with such profound historical import in Rome.

A few random observations:

• Romans, perhaps Italians, do not really drink a lot of coffee.  The "American" coffee I've had so far has not been great; not strong enough for me and there are no free refills.
• There is no rush at a restaurant.  In fact, it is possible to be ignored with the utmost politeness for at least an hour as one dawdles over a coffee or a glass of wine or a glass of mineral water.  But the slightest movement that one is interested in something else or leaving could mean prompt attention.  So one learns one is not being ignored so much as left alone.  There are a few servers in the States I'd like to introduce to this Roman style of service.
• I was warned that Romans do not like to give change.  This is absolute truth.  If you do not have exact change, and often you will not, plan to apologize profusely unless you are at a grocery store or ticket office in which case they seem to be slightly more accommodating.  Otherwise there will be much muttering and tsking as the individual makes a grand show of doing you an incomparable service as to make change.  Never mind that you could have taken your business elsewhere.  Matters not.
• The local grocery store/market near the Pantheon is much like the streets of Rome in that the aisles are narrow and twisty.  Some things are in strange little alcoves.  Though it is small, one can get a little lost in this grocery store.  Americans will be amazed and humbled by this grocery store.  It reminds me of independent grocers in small towns in America.
• "Service" is often included, but the wait staff expects to be tipped, though perhaps more so at the holidays, by Americans, and not necessarily in that order.
• There are innumerable small cafes/restaurants.  I cannot imagine how they stay in business.
• Many of the shops on these crazy streets are about 8 x 8, some even smaller.  I've seen a few that are maybe 4' wide--the width of the door and maybe a hand or two--and quite long.
• "Piazza" has nothing to do with size or what's in/on it because there are some really tiny spaces called "Piazza"
• As noted by Matters of Taste, there are several shops with all things sacred, or sacred-looking, including clothing and accoutrements--briefcase, cell phone holder, etc.--for the well-dressed nun or priest.

Tue, 21 Dec: The Adventure Begins

4:30P local time

A safe arrival in Rome with only a few minor incidents.  I nearly left my coat on my seat.  They weren’t able to attach the jet bridge to the front of the plane so we had to deplane from the rear—even the flight attendants had never had that happen before—and take buses over to the terminal.

Getting through customs was easy; finding the hotel driver not quite as easy.  Fortunately I saw some other drivers hanging around and wandered over to find the one holding a sign with my name on it.

The drive from the airport was, hmmm, yes, “interesting.”  While the lines are somewhat respected, the shoulder is really the scooter/motorcycle lane and the “I really am going to get off the road soon” lane.  Scooters and motorcycles dart in and out of the lanes and between cars.  Merging is an act of faith and courage.  The vehicles have mirrors, but they seem to be optional-use accessories.  Finding one’s way around the city, well, I’m just glad I don’t have to take a road test in Rome.

My first hotel was small as I knew it would be, but it gave new definition to "small."  I'm not usually claustrophobic, but. . .   The first thing I did was find a new hotel, which proved to be across the street and one I’d tried to book online.  I don’t remember why I couldn’t, but I'm at the Albergo del Senato.

I’ve wandered around the city a bit.  I am right across the street from the Pantheon (I kept saying “Parthenon” even though I know they’re not in the same city or country; yikes!) in the Piazza della Rotondo.  There seem to be about a zillion cafes and gelato places. Lots of shops on what I’d like to call side streets, but everything in this part of Rome seems to be a side street.  I think people have to know THAT a shop exists or this city is simply non-stop discovery, assuming you can remember how to get to and from your discoveries.  The streets are an absolutely warren of zigs and zags.  Grids were clearly not a part of the ancient Roman city development plan and street signs are rare and inconsistently posted.

And these streets were not built for cars.  Or cars and pedestrians.  I love the alleys—which are really alleys though used as streets—marked for pedestrians only.  Right.  I’m not sure Italians can read street signs.  I’m being facetious; they can, they simply choose not to.  There’s a section in one of the guide books that is so very, very true because being on the streets of Rome takes fortitude not to get killed.  Seriously.  "This city was built before the automobile age, so often there are no sidewalks.  Remember that drivers believe that stopping at a red light is more of an opinion than a requirement.  Cross at the white stripes, even then, be careful because cars don't always slow down at the sight of a pedestrian and scooters almost never do.  But unless death seems a real possibility, try not to be intimidated.  Maintain your pace, make eye contact with the driver (is that like a triple dog dare?), look determined, and head purposefully for the opposite curb."  Praying to St. Jude might not be a bad idea either.

But one of my favorite, favorite things (so far) about the streets is the parking.  Random.  Completely random.  I really loved the street with all of the scooters and Smart cars, some of the cars were parked parallel to the building and others were parked facing the building or backed toward the building.  And because a Smart is nearly as wide as it is long, well, you can see how that might happen.  How people get out of parking places is a mystery given how cars are wedged every which way.  I’ll have to get some pictures.

I found a grocery shop so I could some water to drink while I wandered.  I think I remember where it is so I can stock up.  I came back to the hotel after some wandering to sort out some stuff and take a nap.  The trip and time change caught up with me a bit.  But now I’m about to be out and about again.  I have some time before I need to find a place for dinner and, of course, gelato!

9:20P Local time

A wonderful meal at a little café in Piazza del Rotondo overlooking the Pantheon.  Street musicians playing Cat Stevens and Eric Clapton’s Greatest Hits?  Yes, yes, that is what I heard.  The street musicians rotate.  A guitarist, then a guitarist with a vocalist, then a saxophonist. . . who could use some help.  There are three street cafes close together.  Each musicians has a stint and he plays in front of each café for a period of time, collects his tips, and then steps aside for the next musician.  I don’t think it’s officially organized because the saxophonist waited a while for his turn.  But they all play dated American music as though they think most of their audience is American tourists.

I went in search of gelato, which is easy.  There’s a vendor on nearly every corner.  It’s like Dunkin’ Donuts in Boston.  I tried one tonight and will try another tomorrow night, now that I’ve found the one recommended by my friend Jhennifer.

The Piazza Navona is still quite lively as is the Piazza della Rotondo.  I, on the other hand, not so lively thanks to time changes and little sleep on the flight over.  I’ll catch up a bit tonight.

My window is open so I wonder how many iterations of Eric Clapton, Cat Stevens, and I’m pretty sure I heard a few Beatles’ covers I’ll hear tonight.  The cafes are open until midnight.

Did I mention my window is open?  It’s cool but not cold.  Quite delightful, actually.  I’m hoping the weather holds.

Preparations continue

Well, I have a cold.  A lovely head cold.  Actually, not so lovely, but the intensity of the pain in my head and ears are manageable, even when on a plane.

The weather in Italy seems to be drizzly, even rainy, but everything I've read indicated that winter is a rainy season so I'm not surprised.  The temps should be in the mid to upper 50sF, which is considerably warmer than the teens in northwest Illinois.  But we'll see what it really proves to be once I am there.  And I'll have an umbrella, a rain coat, and boots, so it'll be fine.

Finishing up laundry and packing.  Hope to get to bed at a reasonable hour simply because sleep will certainly help towards healing.  In some ways, a long overnight flight will be a good thing for me.

The preparations begin

Dinner and coaching with Jhennifer.  Review of possible itineraries and absolute must-see excursions.  The inside scoop on the best place to go for gelato in Rome and a vey rationale philosophy for trying gelato (once in the morning to try a new or unfamiliar flavor; once in the afternoo to get something you really like in case the morning experiment was not a pleasant one).

Vatican tour: booked
Galleria Borghese: booked

Double-checked the location of my hotel, Hotel Abruzzi, which is near the Pantheon and its proximity to St. Peter's.  St. Peter's opens fairly early so I now know I can drop off my things at my hotel and head straight to the Basilica to climb the cupola. . . and tour the Basilica while I'm there.

I have my basic Italian .mp3 lessons downloading.  I have Cuttlefish Bones, a book of poetry by Eugenio Montale.  I have my book about Bernini and Borromini and my book with fun facts about Italy. . .plus maps and guidebooks.  All I have to do is pack and go get on a plane.  On Monday.  In mean time, it's off to Floria to celebrate a bit of Christmas.