OK, I've not really been in Rome for 20 months, nor did I get so disgusted by Day 5 that I just picked up and left. But you might think either the case since I got so busy having a lovely time that I got distracted by other things and experienced failure to blog. I'm quite certain I'm not the first.
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| Stockyards? No. |
Because I'm just this way, I must somehow come up with something to write about for days 6-9. I must finish the Roman Holiday story, albeit with far less detail that you got with days 1-5. If I didn't what would you think of me? And even more important, would the three of you continue to follow a blog where the blogster might leave you hanging? I think not.
Aren't digital pictures truly wonderful? You can pull them up and they're all still in order (time stamped even!). They've not been messed up by your loving friends who don't realize how anal you are as they carelessly get them all out of order. So I've pulled up my pictures of Rome to stir up the memories of the final days of my trip 20 months ago.
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| So completely wrong |
Day 6
Day 6 began with a walking tour of the Jewish Ghetto neighborhood. Established in the 1500's when Pope Paul IV forced all the Jews in Rome to reside cramped in this flood prone area just across the river from "my" neighborhood, Trastevere. Let me clarify what I mean by "tour". You will very rarely see me walking down the street with 20 strangers, trying in vain to hear what the guide is saying and frustrated that I can't stop and look at something that I find much more interesting than whatever he or she is talking about. As a matter of fact, I can't recall that I've ever been on such a tour, or I've put it out of my memory. Not that I knock those that enjoy that kind of thing. I'm just not at all comfortable appearing like a tourist nor being told where to go. No clue why and yes, I know it's kinda silly. But only sorta. I hate getting a map or pages torn from a Fodor's guide out and appearing, well, I think I just figured it out - stupid... I don't like to appear stupid. I want to appear to be in complete control and totally in my element. So there. I admit it.
Which brings me back to my Jewish Ghetto tour. Some people feel about Rick Steves the same way I feel about organized tours. (Actually, most of the people who don't appreciate Mr. Steves probably wouldn't be caught dead on an organized tour either). I'm of the opinion that while he has no doubt ruined many formerly quiet, tourist-free sites and towns in Europe, he does provide a valuable service to some of us. I'm speaking at the moment about the audio tours via download to your iPhone. This would be my third of the trip, the other two, you may or may not recall, were of Trastevere and the St Peter's Basilica. Rick gives most of the insight that you'd find in your Fodor's guide. And a map? With explicit directions such as "walk ten feet and veer right by the sign with a chicken on it", we don't need no stinkin' maps. And you can do this while strolling along wearing your ear buds and looking like a local. Well, other than the fact that you're stopping every so many yards and looking up or around at the air.
So my Jewish Ghetto tour was very enlightening. It was a side of Rome that I did not know existed. While almost all of the area has been re-built over the years, the more "modern" buildings butt right up against the ancient.What I found very interesting was that when the formal requirement for Jews to live in the area was abolished in 1882 (!) and the ghetto walls were torn down, most the people in the neighborhood remained. Even today, the main street in this now trendy area is lined with kosher restaurants, deli's and bakeries, outside of which sit men in yarmulkes playing cards. |
| Finally on day 6 - Gelato! |
After my Jewish Ghetto tour, I found the Pantheon. Very much full of tourists but by far the best preserved of the ancient Roman sites I saw. Re-built in 126 AD, it looks at though it could have been built just a couple hundred years ago. One of the best things about my visit to the Pantheon? I finally overcame my fear and bought my first gelato. You can see it in the blurry photo. Oh, and that's the Pantheon in the background. Yeah, whatever. I had gelato. That's what important.
I made my way back to the hostel, hoping that my new, young friend from Charlotte remembered our plan made the prior day wherein I would help her get over her fears of public transportation and ordering alcohol and she would help me get over my fears of ordering pizza and gelato. (Little did she know that I was now two steps ahead of her). I found when I got home that not only did Amanda remember, but she had somehow convinced a Brazilian woman (one woman, from Brazil - again, not a whole bunch of women) and her daughter plus a rather blue-blooded gal from Connecticut to go with us on our adventure. We walked across Ponte Mazzini and wandered around for quite a while, us basically being 4 strangers in a foreign country trying to decide where to eat. It's hard enough in Fort Worth with two people who know each other so you can imagine. We did end up someplace, somewhere. The name and location escape me because a) it's been 20 months and b) we got sweet but idealistic Amanda, a 20 year old from North Carolina, over her fear of ordering alcohol in a giant way. After eating, we somehow were allowed to stay at the restaurant so long that we were hungry again by the time we left. We wandered around a bit more and found a take out panini place - another first for me, this one with just tomatoes, mozzarella and basil. Yummo. All that wandering got us incredibly, well, lost. I recall that it took us 30 or 40 minutes to find the hostel which might have been 10 or 15 minutes away. No matter that. What a great experience. I wish I had more times like that in my travels. Another one that comes to mind was in Carlisle, in the north of England. That story involves snooker, milk men, Indian take-a-way which magically appeared about 3:30 am and a cat-of-nine-tails. But that's another story....
Days 7 and 8
I woke up early and made my way to the Borghese Gardens, which is almost 150 acres which has an Englishly kind of feel to it, very green and shady with lots of my new favorite tree, the umbrella pine. Very peaceful in the middle of all that Rome. It's north of the popular ancient sites and the fairly strenuous walk (I'm a weenie when it comes to walking) from Trastevere, uphill the last bit, was worth it.
I'm being verbose as usual, plus I think it may be time for wine, so I'll come to the end of day 7 and day 8 fairly quickly. That's pretty easy to do since the sites seen the rest of the day are pretty famous indeed. That and the fact that I don't remember the details. And please do not laugh at my Photoshop skills. Give me a spreadsheet and I'll wear you out, but this is better than 6 photos one under the other! 
So why am I really catching up on this blog? What was the point of this super-long post? Well, because I'm off again in one week. Back to Italy, but this time with two dear girlfriends. We made our first birthday pilgrimage 10 years ago, visiting France, Belgium and Amsterdam for our 40th. Now that we're 50th, its time to go back.
Ann, how special you are after, what, 20 years? How many fun times! No one, other than me of course, could possibly rock an 80's red perm quite like you did. And all the adventures started with mayonnaise on fries at the Forest Park Bowling Lanes.
And Ann's friend from way back, Sherre, whom I had the pleasure of meeting briefly a few times back in the day but I never really knew her well until she stepped on the Metro, on her first visit to Europe and a couple days shy of 40, and proclaimed loudly to the crowded train of commuters, "Viva La France!" as Ann and I hid beneath, well, I'm sure it was something. Once I was over my embarrassment, I realized I had a new, a very special, friend. And I wonderful story to tell of someone letting go and enjoying life, no matter who's around.
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