Finito

I didn't want to like Rome.  It is dirty and shabby-looking, especially in the rain.  Of course, it's old.  Hundreds of years old.  Mind-boggling old.  But Rome charmed me with her narrow, winding streets; with her cobblestone streets.  The shops, the people, the restaurants, the churches, the history, and just the environment.

I loved waking up to the sound of hooves on the cobblestones as the men drove their carriages (for the tourists) into the piazza.  I loved hearing the men calling to one another as they set up their cafes and the vendors set up their wares.  I could have lived without the smell of cigarette smoke wafting through the window, but if you're going to be in Rome, you'll have to live with smokers.  Lots of smokers. Everywhere and all the time.  No smoke-free zones in restaurants, which is a good reason to opt for outdoor cafes.

I'm sure Rome isn't quite so engaging if one lives there all the time.  I loved watching people on their way to work, passing by these monuments, these testaments to human capabilities, passion, power, and ego.  I'm sure it's like living in New York or Chicago and walking past the things that bring tourists to the city and simply not noticing them any more.  Except, of course, there is nothing in New York or Chicago quite like the Colosseum (no, Yankee Stadium or Soldier Field isn't quite like the Colosseum).  But people trundle to and from the metro across from the Colosseum every day on their ways to or from work.  And yet, I hope, that every now and then a complacent or jaded Roman sees her city through the eyes of someone who has never been before and feels a flutter of excitement and awe.

It's been less than a week since I was there and yet it seems so distant already.  Suburban Chicago is most definitely worlds away from Rome, and it's not just the pace of our lifestyles.  I'm grateful to have been able to go and know that as the days pass, every now and then, something will flicker through my consciousness and remind me of Rome or I'll recall something I'd forgotten.

I talked to a couple of people who had been to New York and Chicago.  One loved Chicago and then said, "But New York is New York."  He said there are people who prefer to live in Milan, but he smiled when he said, "But Rome," and opened his arms wide, "is Rome!"

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.

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.