Europe Days 7-10: Rome

Tuesday, July 2:  Up and out the door by 7:30 am to make our way to Gatwick for our 9:20 flight to Rome on British Air.  In putting the trip together, I’d assumed we’d take the trains everywhere.  I was surprised to learn however, that we could fly to Rome for the same cost that we could take the train to Paris.  And after we decided to throw the cruise into our trip (we leave this Saturday, July 6, out of Venice), flying from London to Rome made both logistical and economic sense.  The flight on the 737-436 was uneventful – the gate agents didn’t look twice at our carry-on bags (Iceland Air could learn some lessons from BA).  We stopped at the local TI (tourist information office), and bought Roma Passes, which provide free entrance into two major sights, 30% discount into others, and free metro and bus travel for 3 days.  The TI also advised us to take a cab into Rome, since that was cheaper than five people buying tickets for the train. 

I could not figure out how to make my cell phone call the cell numbers of others in the EU, however, so I could not get hold of the renter of our apartment in Rome.  When the taxi finally dropped us off, I borrowed the phone from the girl in the shop next door to call the owner.  He ran right over, let us in, and showed me that I must actually dial the “+” symbol.  That’s a new one for me!  But it worked. 

Our apartment at 41 Via Baccina is in the center of Rome.  Kirsten says it has a lot of character.  It’s in a building that is older than the USA. The ceilings are at least 14 feet high, and there are huge windows with wooden shutters that open up above the narrow cobblestone street.  There is no A/C, but even on a hot day like today, the breeze wafts through the open windows (no screens provided or needed), carrying the distant sound of the diners in the nearby cafes and neighbors socializing in the square a block away.  We have three bedrooms, so Kirsten is delighted to have her own room.  It’s less than 5 minutes walk to the Forum or Colosseum, 15 minutes to the main Termini train station. There is a clothes washer, so we’re finishing up our fourth load.  No clothes dryer, but hanging the clothes out in the apartment makes most dry in a few hours. 

This afternoon we walked by the Roman Forum – we’ll go through it tomorrow – and over to the Pantheon.  That building is amazing, especially considering it has stood for nearly 2000 years while the rest of the Roman buildings have crumbled.  We hung out in several squares, especially the Piazza Navona, before heading over to a restaurant recommended by Rick Steves, whose guides are downloaded on my phone and the iPad.  It was a great way to start our Roman holiday. 

Wednesday, July 3: 

I got up at around 7:30 am, and while everyone else was sleeping in, went out and walked around the neighborhood.  I had a croissant at the corner coffee bar, scoped out local wifi hot spots (no internet in our historic apartment), bought some groceries, and got the feel of the area.  At about 9:00, Jennifer emerged from the bedroom.  At 11 am, I rolled the kids out of bed, otherwise they might have stayed there until the afternoon.  After a lazy breakfast, we finally got on our way just before noon. 

Five minutes late we were at the Colosseum.  We skipped the long line using the Roma Passes, and gazed in wonder at that arena of death.  What a remarkable feat of engineering for such a base purpose.  We read how in the first 100 days of operation in about 80 AD, 2000 people and 9000 animals were killed.  What does it say of the people who were so jaded that the point of sporting events was to kill virtually all the participants? 

We then hiked up Palatine Hill and looked at the ruins of the Emperor’s palace, and shook our heads at the decadence of the Romans.  Behind the palace was Circus Maximus, the chariot track that was the basis for the climactic scene of Ben Hur.  It held an astonishing 250,000 people.  We read how 12 daily races were held on 240 days of the year.  There were 4 primary teams, color-coded, and fans would root for their team and fight with supporters of other teams.  Sounds like English soccer hooligans or Philadelphia Eagles fans. 

By then, it was 3 pm, and we were dusty, footsore, and hot (it was a bright sunny day in the high 80’s).  We looked over the rubble of the Forum, decided we’d had enough ruins for the day, and went back to the apartment for lunch and a nap. 

We emerged at about 6 pm and walked over to the Trevi Fountain, threw coins in over our shoulders while making a wish, and people-watched for a while.  We then made our way to the Spanish Steps, where Garrett fished some roses out of the Sinking Boat fountain.  The first one he got out, he handed to Spencer, and almost immediately the rose vendor came over and snatched it out of Spencer’s hand, then walked away.  Spencer was so surprised, he didn’t know what to say.  I guess the vendor recycled his roses by selling them several times in the evening, and didn’t want anyone else on his turf.  Garrett nevertheless captured four other roses, and offered one to each of us.  Jennifer ended up with two, and Spencer with the other two. 

At about 9 pm we decided we were hungry, so after consulting Mr. Steves, we ate at one of his recommended restaurants.  We emerged at about 10:30, feeling very much like we were on the Roman timetable.  We read that unemployment among Romans under age 30 was above 25%, and even higher for men.  Traditionally, Italian men live with their parents until they get married, often until their 30’s, and are mama’s boys, sleeping until noon, going out with friends, and staying out until 2 am or so.  It’s not going to be that way with my kids.  But to further the “when in Rome” vibe, after dinner we stopped for gelato, and Spencer gave his roses to the girl who scooped our ice cream as we were walking out.  Bella, amour!

Thursday, July 4:

We rolled out of the apartment at the ungodly early hour of 9:15 am, taking the Metro over to St. Peter’s Square.  Our plan was to go through St. Peter’s in the morning, have lunch, then tour the Vatican Museum and Sistine Chapel in the afternoon.  We arrived at about 10 am, and found that the line to enter St. Peter’s stretched ¾ of the way around the colonnade, or more than a half-mile long.  We shuffled along and as dozens of Asian tourists (Chinese, I think) blatantly crowded in line in front of us.  The German tour guide close to us kept shooing them away, but they just moved 10 people away and broke back into line.  It’s all about me, right?

We finally entered that monumental edifice.  I had been reading snippets about St. Peter’s to the kids, such as how the old Circus used to be located there, which was where Nero executed Peter in around 65 AD, how there used to be an old building there but in the 1400’s the Pope decided a grander church was needed, how the cost of building it led the sale of indulgences, which led to Martin Luther getting upset, which led to his 95 Theses and the whole Protestant Reformation.  Talk about unintended consequences. 

Despite the crowds, I was moved as I looked at the Pieta.  Michelangelo was only 24 when he created that remarkable work.  To have the ability to convey such emotion at that age was remarkable.  I shook my head as I saw the notations on the floor of where other major churches would measure if inside, and wondered who it was that came up with that arrogant piece of one-upsmanship, and why it was endorsed.  But then again, I’m not a big fan of cathedrals that have over-the-top gilt and glitz and glam.  For example, the plain ceiling portions of St. Paul’s were so much better than the glittering mosaics that were added in the Victorian age.  And I wonder why so much money is spent on those towering cathedrals that rarely are filled with the penitent.  Anyway, viewed through my jaded lens, I soon had my fill of St. Peter’s.  I’ve been twice, and think that’s enough for one life. 

After a simple lunch with the help of Mr. Steves, we entered the Vatican Museum.  If I thought that St. Peter’s was a testament to excess, then the displays in the Vatican Museum were an embarrassment of riches.  Entire rooms were stacked with hundreds of Greek and Roman sculptures.  Where the tasteful presentation of a half-dozen or so per room might have been stunning, putting hundreds into a room, then another hundred in the next room, and on and on, was overkill to the nth degree.  There is no way that any person can appreciate, or even view, such a deluge of art.  The effect is quickly numbing, contributing to a growing sense of anger at the lack of proportion and selfish hoarding of such remarkable treasures.  What right does the Vatican have to collect and retain the treasures of so many civilizations?  If the Greeks are upset at the English about the Elgin marbles, they should be ten times as furious at the Vatican.  But I digress.

Eventually, we made our way into the Sistine Chapel.  We spent well over an hour gazing at the masterwork of Michelangelo, in both the great ceiling, and the wall of final judgment.  Every face has a story to tell, especially in the last judgment.  No one is smiling – not Jesus, or the angels, or the resurrected, or especially the damned.  I could have spent much longer there (despite the constant yells of “silencio” by the Vatican police), but the kids were growing restless. 

On the way out we passed even more art, including a collection of maps and globes showing the emerging view of the western hemisphere.  I am fond of maps, and liked looking at the now-obvious errors due to the lack of precision in longitude, and lack of exploration.  I find old maps with errors to be a humbling reminder of the limits of our knowledge: there be dragons there. 

On the way back to the Metro, Kirsten and Jennifer wanted to stop at some street vendors and shop, so I sat with the boys at an air-conditioned McDonalds, drank a Coke Light, and rested.  Eventually, we descended into the Metro and found it was rush hour.  People were squeezed tight against each other.  Sometime during the ride, my right front pants pocket was picked, with the thief extracting all of our Roma Passes and about 35 euro in bills.  Thankfully, they didn’t get all of the bills, or my credit card, or my money belt.  I should have put the cash and cards back in my money belt, but was tired and careless.  Lesson learned. 

We made it back to our apartment and rested a bit, then watched as a brief but intense thunderstorm swept the streets.  It quickly passed, and knocked down the temperature by about 10 degrees.  We went to one of the eateries on the local square and had pizza and pasta (again).  There is little variation in the menus, it seems.  All very good, but the monotony is getting old.  I expected better cooking and greater variation in Rome restaurants. 

After dinner, I sat at the local square by the wifi access point and did some research on shore expeditions for next week, sending a dozen emails to possible tour guides.  I have little interest in taking the ship-sponsored tours, as I find them bloated, overpriced, crowded, dull, and insipid.  Ask me later what I really think.  We’ll see what we end up actually doing. 

I just glanced up at the clock and realized it’s 12:15 am on the morning of July 5.  The fireworks have not yet been lit in DC.  Happy birthday America!  Traveling reinforces how very fortunate I am to live in America, have the political, economic, religious, and cultural freedoms and opportunities that I do.  It’s nice to see other places, but it’s nice to come home again.  

My throat has been a little sore for the past couple of days, and I’ve started a post-nasal drip.  I hope I get over the cold quickly, and don’t give it to the rest of my family.

Friday, July 5:

I woke up with full-blown cold symptoms:  headache, congestion, runny nose, sore throat, no appetite, etc.  Today’s plan was to go shopping, but I opted out and instead laid about the apartment, trying and failing to nap, doing some laundry, and updating this blog.  I also walked down to the local pharmacy and got some Italian medicine for cold symptoms.  The pharmacist told me to take one at night, so I dripped and hacked through the rest of the day.  At 7 pm I took the first pill, and if anything my symptoms got worse.  I took another at about 11 pm.  I also broke open a package of Zithromax that I usually carry on trips.  I didn’t know if my cold would respond to it, but I’m willing to do what I can to control the symptoms.  Lots of hand-washing to minimize the risk of spreading germs. 

While I was making phlegm, Jennifer and the kids took a taxi to a market and spent several hours looking at the local offerings.  They came back with shirts for Spencer and Garrett, shoes for Spencer, and pants for Kirsten.  Jennifer said her job was to pass out money.  I know how that feels.

We spent a couple of hours playing family card games, then went up to Gallery Bohrgese, a small museum with an astonishing collection of marble sculptures and paintings by Carravagio and his contemporaries.  The Galley controls crowds by admitting only 350 people every two hours.  It was a very well-presented and impressive collection.  Borhgese was a nephew of the Pope, so was appointed a Cardinal even though he didn’t have a religious bone in his body.  He was the party guy of the church, who entertained visiting nobles and diplomats, as well as commissioned and collected tons of art.  One of the paintings that made me smile was of the Madonna and Child, looking like ordinary people – no halos or angels – and the face of Mary was that of the most prominent prostitutes in Rome.  He was that kind of guy. 

Nearby I saw a Harley Davidson store, so of course I had to get a Rome HD shirt.  Riding a Harley in Rome would be even less practical than a car – nimble scooters rule the roads, and a hog would be cumbersome.  But it’s an image thing, I guess. 

We returned home and I skipped dinner, since I had no appetite.  I’ve been drinking lots of fluids.  Jennifer and the kids went to the nearby square and had pizza.  We began packing up, since we are leaving in the morning for Venice by train.  I thought I would go to sleep, since I had so may drugs in my body, but I could not get to sleep.  I tossed and turned, hacked and dripped, and got up a half-dozen times to get drinks or go potty.  A couple of times I laid down on the couch so I would not disturb Jennifer.  I watched the sun rise over the roofs of Rome, and felt gratitude that I have been able to spend this time with my family.