Rome 2

April 15, 2006

Trip was long. Butt got sore.

Went to Rome.

Oh my God. OH MY GOD. Culture shock. Jetlag. Numb, a little panicked, a little scared, a little excited.

Rome is crowded, smells like cigarettes, and holy cow. Suicidal, reckless people. It's a terrifying thing, watching the little motorcycles and scooters zipping around, rather like watching birds flock and somehow manage never to hit each other. It's fantastic. Absolutely fantastic.

Of course the Guy was fascinated by the motorcycles. It was practically the first picture he took. It is possible he is a little predictable.

We found our hotel (Hotel Giulia via Agostino Depretis 70) after some idiotic wandering around. I booked the hotel through Expedia or one of those random things, which worried me a bit. I haven't had a whole lot of success with internet booking of hotels in the past. However, it turns out that I did good! It was only three blocks or so away from the main train station, which was hella convenient. Wandering around with the suitcases was just about to get irritating when we realized we were actually standing right there. The hotel itself was a tiny place on the third floor, tucked in a little, out-of-the-way alley that opened out onto a lovely tree-lined avenue across from a large church. After the wild bustle surrounding the train station, it was a relief to find that there was some relative peace and quiet to be had in Rome.

Jetlag turns out to be a bitch and a half. I'm not entirely convinced we were speaking English at the time, but our concierge was kind enough to ignore the wobbling and painstakingly translated our gibbering into coherent English replies. We got ourselves checked in (small rooms! Small! But clean, which is all that really counts) and then we went to visit the Colosseum and the Forum, and the associated museum.

It was within an easy walking distance, though "easy" is, again, relative. It's been a long time since I've done a lot of walking, and I suspect the entire trip is going to involve a lot of it. Good thing I got decent shoes. You're only in Italy once, and this could be good for me. Character building. Like ... you know. Character building. Pain is supposed to forge one's soul, and all that. Plus, it's exercise. Maybe I'll get to eat lots of awesome food and lose weight at the same time!

...but probably not.

There's this point when you're walking down the street, looking at the map and squabbling a little with your husband, who keeps mocking you -- bastard -- and then look up suddenly to realize that the big bulky thing at the end of the street you're on is actually the Colosseum.

And you think, Holy shit. I'm in Rome.

And then you think, Goddammit. Where's my camera?

I'm not entirely sure what I was thinking when I made the itinerary to begin with. There was a frantic sense that we had to be organized to get in the MAXIMUM VIEWING PLEASURE. Go figure. I'm not a natural traveler, like my sister and my mother; I'm the 'object at rest tends to stay in rest' side of Newton's first law of motion. My sister more than makes up for the second half of that law. The Guy eyed my freakish passion for organization and wisely kept his mouth shut; he would, I suspect, have been just as happy following Mom's meandering, "whatever happens!" path through the country. He was smart enough not to say so.

The reality of the location ended up derailing me a little. Here's the thing about Rome that people neglect to tell you about. It's old. I realize this may seem obvious to people who actually bother to give it any thought at all, but they have stuff there that was accumulating dust before I was.

Yes, I have a slightly skewed sense of my own importance. Yes, I have a tenuous grasp on time as a generalized concept. Shut up.

The Forum sort of blew me away a little. Despite the tourists wandering around, there was this immensity of age that I don't think I've experienced in, well, ever.

Rome is crawling with tourists, which somehow surprises me. I can't think why. The entire country seems to run off of tourism, both internal and external. In all the books we read about Italy, they were careful to caution us about not looking like a tourist. "There are pickpockets!" the warnings screamed. "Be safe! Be smart! Don't stand out!"

I think I saw one person during that entire day who wasn't carrying a map and/or a camera. And that was the security guard at the museum.

The little Asian in the first photograph is, in fact, my husband. I realize we are nearly indistinguishable. You can tell us apart because I wear glasses, and also have breasts. The glasses are perhaps a little more obvious.

The Capitoline museum next to the forum is an interesting place, although I'm afraid that we weren't exactly in any state to appreciate it. By which I mean, of course, conscious. There's a lot of history there, and some surprisingly touching glimpses into everyday life of old Rome during the Empire.

The itty bitty guy in blue is my husband. The big decapitated one in marble is Constantine, I think.

We went back to hotel and crashed at 5, then woke up at 8 and dragged ourselves out to eat fantastic food. Even basic pasta here tastes so much better than in the States. Wherefore, this incredible olive oil? They do not ship this good stuff to us. Perhaps we are not worthy!

Crashed again. Woke up at 3 am and skulked around pretending to be asleep until 7.

Went to the Vatican. Note to self and future travelers, Good Friday is not a hot time to visiting the Holy See. Turns out that it's a big Catholic holiday. Turns out that the Vatican is the mother ship for Catholics.

Who knew?

Long, long, long lines. Got into St. Paul's after a surprisingly fast stand of about 30 minutes, then explored and took lots of pictures. Very few of them were worthwhile. In order to get good pictures of stuff, you sort of need lighting. The Vatican is dark. Dark dark dark. After glancing through our pictures at the end, we decided to do the smart thing and buy one of the touristy picture book guides.

Like countless tourists before me, I fell in love with Michaelangelo's Pieta. I have the lowering suspicion that if I'd had the chance, I would've put up Monet posters in my college dorm. I am not original. Sad.

On the way back to the hotel, we hopped off to grab some lunch. Sitting by the window, we watched buses come and go, and noticed that there seemed to be an inordinate number of tourists in the area, given there wasn't anything around. Out of sheer curiosity, we finished our meal, then went to follow one of the little hordes into a side alley.

...oh, look. It's that fountain. Oops. Was I supposed to know that was in Rome?

Went back to hotel after eating more yummy food, and then ... ahem. I fell asleep. Because I suck total ass. Wandered around that evening a little to get used to the neighborhood. Then more sleep.

Saturday went back to the Vatican, hoping to get into the museum there. HAH. Note to self and future travelers, day between Good Friday and Easter NOT OPTIMAL TIME TO TRY AND GET INTO HOLY SEE. Line literally was 2 miles long, and that was at 9 AM. Museum opened at 845. Fat chance. We gave up and wandered around instead, ending up at the Castel Sant'Angelo? (Stupid special characters on Italian keyboard.) Site where Pope saw archangel Michael, as a sign that the plague hitting Rome at the time was at an end. Also known as big-ass castle where Hadrian was buried. Beautiful views of Rome from its heights, and you can see the private passage between the Castel and the Vatican, which the pope used to use in times of turmoil. Way cool.

You can see the dome of the Vatican in the distance there.

Also saw lots of priests and nuns. Rome is good for seeing people in cassocks. A little disturbed that I saw two very good-looking young priests in the full cassock flirting with some young tourist women. A little more disturbed how incredibly hot the cassock makes a man. Somehow suspect the Catholic church designed them that way on purpose. Early generations of the Holy See were probably all, "Dude! We'll be styling! The women will be all over us!" Except the memo didn't make it to later generations, and celibacy ended up screwing that pooch.

Somehow found that ridiculously appropriate, all things considered.

Went back to the hotel area, then walked down to see Michaelangel's Moses. (Yay! Yan found the apostrophe!) Got in 5 minutes before the church closed, then wandered about a little more until time to leave.

Now we are in Florence. The Duomo is closed because it's Easter Sunday, but we have reservations to the Uffizi at 10:45. (Yay! Found the colon!) After that, more wandering about Florence. The hostel has internet access. Yan wants to IT it. Sad.