This and that - random thoughts on Rome

We didn't usually see the police doing anything beyond this and this. Perhaps it simply means there is no crime in Rome, and there's nothing for them to do. Whenever we saw the polizia, there was more than one. And they were always chatting.

Romans are terrible at giving directions. Some don't even try. Others point you in the opposite direction from where you really should be going. Do they do this for fun or with good intention? Even when the restaurant or attraction is around the block, they don't know. We asked the police (naturally, there were two of them) in Piazza Navona, which seemed to be their beat, where a restaurant was and they didn't know. It was right down the street from here. We would ask, "Dove Colosseum?" and get puzzled looks. The Romans call it the Colosseo. Joe said, "You mean they can't tell that Colosseo and Colosseum are the same thing?" He joked, "Colosseum? Never heard of it. Are you sure it's in Rome?"

We had expected to be wowed by the food in Rome and Venice. While it was good and we never had a bad meal, it wasn't any better than the Italian restaurants in the North End of Boston or the seafood available here. I will admit that the atmosphere was wonderful, and it would be nice if more restaurants here would offer alfresco dining. The restaurants were often small and crowded, and the tables close together. At home we are used to more "personal space", but I didn't mind it. It seemed much more friendly and communal dining in the Roman way. The thin crust pizza we ordered at Da Ivo and other places was really, really delicious. We had never tried suppli, the fried rice and mozzarella balls. Yummy!

We were shocked at the amount of graffiti defacing every vertical surface. It was especially bad on the walk along the Tiber River between Testaccio and Trastevere. Even the higher-end streets on Rome were affected. Sometimes we saw graffiti on shop windows. We also noticed it in Venice. It really is a shame.

It was great fun to talk to other tourists and those who were temporarily living in Rome. In the Philadelphia airport, we had a long layover so we ate lunch in one of the restaurants. I was jokingly holding up my Eyewitness Guide to Rome, declaring, "Ha, ha, we're going to Rome," when the couple next to us said, "We recently got back from there. We've been so many times because we love it there. But now we get to take it easy and relax when we go, because we've seen so much of it already." "Relax? In Rome? Did they really say that?" I thought. Joe told them about my index cards with each day's specific, detailed itinerary. They were a retired couple who loved to travel all over the world, citing Turkey as one of their favorite places. After talking with them awhile, I said, "You two must have been married a long time." I turned to the woman and said, "You start off telling us a story, and he interrupts and finishes it for you. And you let him." She replied, "He says I take too long." It just may be their secret to a good marriage, who knows.

The Turkey mention turned out to be fateful, as we found out one night. On Monday evening at the pizzeria Da Francesco, we sat next to two young men who began talking to us. They were both originally from Turkey and befriended each other in Rome several years ago when they were both living here temporarily. The older one was married and still living in Turkey, and as luck would have it, was a lawyer like Joe. The younger man was living in Amsterdam, and they were celebrating a night out before the older man's wife arrived. We had a really enjoyable conversation with them, and it was one of the highlights of the trip for me.

We got a big kick out of the Vespa's, motorbikes and Smart cars. It was hard to believe that the cars were that small, but with the price of gas in Europe, it makes sense. The problem is that the car fits only two people, as there is no backseat and barely any storage in the back. The other problem is when the driver gets into a car accident, since there is virtually no front of the car for protection. I enjoyed seeing the variety of people, from businessmen dressed in suits, to women dressed in skirts, who rode the motorbikes. They looked like great fun to ride.

April 21st, Rome

We arrived back in Rome in the late afternoon, taking the Eurostar to the Metro station. After 17 stops (a bit of an exaggeration), our "express" train arrived on time. Since our hotel wasn't very far away, we (meaning Joe) dragged our two huge suitcases down and across several long blocks until we came to the street our hotel was located on. After looking at the numbers, we figured out pretty quickly that Hotel Aberdeen was at the farthest end of the street.

After checking in and freshening up, we headed out in search of dinner. On the way to the hotel I had noticed a pizzeria called Est Est Est, so we set out in that direction. For our last night in Rome, I definitely wanted pizza. Coming upon the place, we saw a large crowd milling around outside waiting for tables, but it wasn't long before we were seated. It was a typical Roman pizzeria, with lots of tables crowded together in a small space, with waiters hurrying back and forth among tables, and the atmosphere loud and vibrant. We ordered suppli and two kinds of pizza. One was a blanco, on foccaccia bread with just oil and seasoning. The other had a tomato base. In Joe's words, "It isn't pizza without red sauce on it."
After dinner, I definitely did not want to return to the hotel on our last night in Rome. We set off for the Colosseum, as we had not seen it at night. Of course, we walked. And walked. And walked. The Colosseum was so very beautiful in the evening, with the orange lights, looking so differently than in the daylight. This area was very crowded and there were lots of police here too.

We then set off for the Forum, hoping that it too was illuminated at night. It wasn't, so we continued to walk upward until we came to, what else, the Victor Emmanuel monument, a familiar sight to us throughout our trip. We walked up to the Capitoline plaza and savored the atmosphere of nighttime Rome, lingering for awhile before heading down the cordonata for a final look at the Emmanuel monument. Joe wisely made the decision to get a cab for our return to the hotel. Our feet really appreciated it.

And that concludes our trip to Rome and Venice, April 2007.

April 21st, Venice

On our last day, we strolled again through the areas of Venice. We stopped to eat in Campo Santo Stefano for our last meal in Venice. Around the corner from our hotel, we walked through Piazza del Giglio and strolled to the Grand Canal where several gondolas were docked.

We then turned left onto Calle Larga XXII Marzo to do some last minute shopping. Joe bargained with a man selling bags and bought one for his daughter and me.

We saw several living statues here. One man was dressed all in white, including his face and he appeared to be sitting in a trash bin. We enjoyed seeing the reactions of passersby as he would turn his head suddenly and startle them.

A few stores down lay a man on the sidewalk, supposedly drunk, propped against a wall, holding a bottle in his hand. He was covered in black and appeared to be textured like stone. We never saw him move.

Shortly before our water taxi was due to arrive, we walked back to our hotel for the last time and retrieved our bags. The owner was very gracious in helping us to load our bags on the boat as we climbed over the railing to board. It was with sadness that we left Venice after a too short stay.

The side of B&B Al Teatro

The beautiful amber, red and gold bracelet and necklaces I bought in Venice - for me.

April 20th in Venice

The next morning, we were still laughing about the mosquito incident from last night, although I must admit that I found it funnier than Joe did. The thing was, the mosquitoes really, really liked Joe and bit the hell out of him. His hands were covered with bites and he had two on his face, not including all the ones on the rest of his body. He looked like he had the measles. I had two bites on me, on my neck. When we left our room and went down the few steps into the kitchen for breakfast, there were already two couples seated at the table. They were from Australia. When we relayed last night’s incident to them, one of them replied, “Right in the nightstand, beside the bed, is a mosquito zapper device. You just plug it in and put it near the window and no mosquitoes will come in the room.” Well, I’ll be damned.

This morning we had a 9:05 ticket for St. Mark’s basilica. One of the women recommended that we go to the Doge Palace after that, since it was next to the basilica. We waited in a short line for the basilica, and went in, prepared to be overawed with beauty and works of genius. We were a tad disappointed. There was a queue defined by ropes, with little room to pause. It was very dark inside, and we were probably in and out in about 15 minutes. Maybe we were just weary. Maybe we were just underwhelmed after experiencing Roman churches. I sure wouldn’t mind giving the basilica another try in a future trip.

Next, we queued up for a ride in the elevator to the top of the bell tower, where we took many panoramic photos of the city below us and the islands beyond. After descending, we went to the Doge Palace next door. We bought the audioguide and went in. I’m not saying that the palace wasn’t beautiful and the artwork resplendent, but we were just museumed out, so to speak. We had been to so many wonderful churches, museums and galleries in Rome for the past five days that we couldn’t appreciate any more of it. For the rest of the day, we decided, we would stay outside and enjoy the beautiful weather and the water all around us.

Next, we took a water taxi for a 45 minute ride on the canal. I had forgotten to grab a bottle of wine and glasses beforehand, so Joe asked the driver if he had anything. He broke out a small bottle of champagne and handed us two plastic flutes. Now, this was living. Riding along the Grand Canal, sipping champagne, with the man I love – this was a highlight of our trip.

After walking through the basilica, riding the elevator up the bell tower and enjoying the view, touring part of the Doge Palace, and riding a water taxi along the Grand Canal, we went over the Rialto bridge, where we browsed for souvenirs. I finally found a long brown necklace for Kelly that I had been searching for since we arrived in Venice. Here also Joe saw a bag he thought Kelly might like and without much hesitation, we bought it. He also stocked up on lots and lots of T shirts for everyone in the family. We bought the boys pirate caps and since Joe has a cap collection, he just had to buy one for himself.

At some point we stopped to eat lunch at Da Roberto in San Zaccaria. This wasn’t on the list but we were hungry, there were seats outside, and heavenly aromas wafted around us. We ordered a chianti, as Joe said it would be shameful if we came all the way to Italy and didn’t. We shared a tomato, mozzarella, proscuitto, sausage, and onion pizza to start. On this trip, I consumed more proscuitto than I ever have in my entire life, because I could and because it was so good. Next I ordered the tagliatelle with prosciutto and peas in a carbonara sauce.

After lunch, we walked back over the Rialto and took a left to Cannaregio, then a right to the Castello region. We walked until we came to Campo Giovanni e Paolo, where we stopped for a break. We sat at the water’s edge, watching children play, and ambulance boats pulling up in front of us to dock. The church of the same name is located here and is known as the Venetian Pantheon because inside are the tombs of 25 doges. The former monastery next to it is now the city hospital; thus, the ambulances. In the middle of the campo is a bronze equestrian statue of Bartolomeo Colleoni. It is the only such statue of an emperor to survive, as the rest were melted down, either for their precious metal or in order to destroy pagan idols. I had my daily (sometimes twice) craving for gelati, so we walked to the other side of the campo to find some. When Joe passed on having any, I seriously thought he might be delusional.

We noticed the abundance of families and children in various campos throughout Venice. On Saturday, it is market day, and we saw many Venetians shopping at the fish and produce markets. They were often dressed beautifully, hair perfectly coiffed, carefully applied makeup, dresses and skirts with heels. The children rode their bikes through the campo, or just ran around, gathering in groups to play games. Apparently there are no playgrounds in Venice like we are used to at home, with the elaborate plastic set-up of tunnels and slides. Joe chuckled when two young boys passed us, oblivious to all around them as they chatted away in Italian.

For dinner, we ate at Ostaria Antico Dolo in the Ruga Rialto, the area of fish and produce markets. It was a very small place with an Italian only menu, so the waitress patiently translated every single item on the menu for us. Dinner and wine were good, and as Joe likes to say, “The company was even better.” Again we strolled back to our hotel, consulting our handy dandy map every so often, this time a little wistful as it was our last night in Venice. And so ends another wonderful, magical day in the watery city of Venice.

April 19th in Venice

We were looking forward to seeing Venice today, but it was with some reluctance that we packed up our bags in preparation for leaving Rome behind us. While we would be back for our last evening in Italy here, we knew that this part of our trip was pretty much over. Words cannot describe how deeply I loved Rome, and I will always treasure this trip especially, as it was my first time in Europe. I will always be grateful to Joe for treating me to such a spectacularly wonderful trip. The churches, especially the Jesuit churches of San’Ignazio and Il Gesu, St. Peter’s basilica, the piazzas and obelisks, the Capitoline Museum and Borghese Gallery, the marvels of the Pantheon, the crazy Roman drivers, the food – Da Ivo’s pizza, suppli, Caprese salads, gelati, the Colosseum – both standing in it and seeing it lit up with an orange glow in the evening – they will be in my memories for many decades to come.


Early in the morning, we rode to the Metro station to board the Eurostar train to Venice. The station was spacious and clean, with souvenir stores in abundance, and a cafeteria and grocery store offering a variety of food. I mistakenly thought the train was a non-stop one, as it was labeled express. As Joe later explained, “express” in Europe means you don’t have to get off the train and board a different one. After about 17 stops (and I may be exaggerating a bit), we finally arrived in Venice in mid-afternoon. As coincidence would have it, we sat across from two Dad’s from Sudbury, who were traveling with their wives and children sitting in a section behind us.

Upon arrival, we collected our bags and walked through the station in search of a water taxi. When I explained to Joe that the water bus would be considerably cheaper, he looked at me as if I was nuts. “Whatever it costs, it will be worth it,” he replied. Venice and the Grand Canal were something to behold, and we greatly enjoyed our ride along it to our hotel, snapping photos along the way and marveling at the water traffic. We were staying at Al Teatro bed and breakfast, located across the water from the famous La Fenice opera house where Maria Callas had sang. The street it was located on was named for her.

Upon arriving, the driver searched for a place to dock his taxi. We pulled up to the B&B, where we saw a young man, an employee of the B&B, with his head out the window, indicating where the driver should go. He came out to help us unload our bags and hop off. We entered the bottom floor and looked up, as a long, steep staircase welcomed us. Joe asked, “Let me guess, there’s no elevator, right?” After checking in and freshening up, we were eager to explore Venice. The young man and I poured over the map as Joe changed, and as we did, he warned me, “Just beware that the streets are weird here. They change names in the middle and along the way, so it’s easy to get lost.” He gave us a suggested route and wrote down a few places to stop for a snack and to eat dinner later.

As we headed out and began to tour Venice, Joe and I quickly came to appreciate one thing in Venice – the lack of cars and Vespa’s. No more looking over our shoulders while walking down a narrow, cobblestone street, no jumping back from street corners in an effort to keep our toes firmly attached to our feet, no honking or sirens. Water, water everywhere in Venice, which meant water taxis and vaporettos. Streets filled only with pedestrians.

Following the advice of the hotel, the employee, we took a left out of our B&B, then another quick left, down a narrow passageway to Piazza del Giglio. In the piazza is the Hotel del Giglio, a restaurant and souvenir stalls, and dominating the area, a bronze bull. Also located here is the Chiesa Santa Maria Zobenigo, a Venetian Baroque church. Upon entering it, I was immediately struck with how different it was compared to the churches in Rome. It was less ornate, darker, rather dreary. I left before Joe got a chance to duck inside.

We left the San Marco region and crossed the Ponte dell’Accademia, pausing to take a photo of the beautiful gold building of the Institute of Art and Letters. Once across the bridge, we entered the Dorsoduro region and found the famous baccaro, Osteria Do Mori suggested by the man at our B&B. It was busy with tourists and natives alike, queuing at the bar or eating outside by the water. We stood at the bar, drinking a glass of wine and savoring cichetti – croquettes, crostini and little sandwiches.

We continued walking, trying to stay on the main path, indicated in gold on the map. The reality of trying to find this so-called “main path” was difficult, as it meandered here and there, through narrow passageways and then back out to campo’s or piazza’s. Sometimes it is unmarked. More than once we saw hand painted signs on the side of buildings indicating with an arrow where San Marco or Rialto was. Sometimes we just followed others, hoping they were keeping to the same main walkway and not just heading home for dinner. We found a small shopping area lined with jewelry shops and a bakery, and we stopped in one to buy gifts, jewelry for Kelly and Angela, keychains for all, and then stopping in another, higher priced one for jewelry for my mother.

As to be expected, masks were the most popular item sold in Venice, with glass jewelry a close second. Joe popped in and out of shops, trying to find a harlequin one with red and blue. He finally found what he was looking for and bought it after a hard bargain. Right before we came to another bridge, which led us to the San Polo region, we came upon a produce market, the goods arranged in a boat. The tomatoes looked so plump, juicy and red, along with gorgeous green beans and Joe’s favorite, artichokes, that I said to him, “Gee, too bad we didn’t have a kitchen we could use. I could just whip you up a meal instead of eating out.” When he looked at me a bit skeptically, I said, “Yeah, right, like that would ever happen.”

Next, we stopped in a sweets store and bought a golden box of chocolates. I think Joe had one or two. Guess who had the rest. We then surprised ourselves when we looked up and saw the train station in Santa Croce we had arrived at only hours earlier. We strolled the fondamenta along the water, admiring the glass flowers and searching for a better map of Venice. The one we had was very difficult to read. We crossed over the Ponte degli Scalzi, pausing halfway to try and take it all in. It surely was a city on the water. We crossed back over, amazed at how far we had journeyed on our first day.

We then crossed the Rialto bridge for the first time and made our way to San Marco plaza. While we had an early reservation to tour St. Marks’ basilica in the morning, we didn’t want to wait to see it. We walked through the plaza and again I noted the difference between it and those in Rome. This was very large, bordered by the basilica at one end, the clock tower and shops to the right, the bell tower to the left, and another building opposite the basilica. Basically, it was a rectangular area boxed in by the surrounding buildings. It seemed pretty empty of decoration, free of flowing water fountains and obelisks.

We stopped to eat dinner at a place, naturally, on a narrow canal called Al Ponte del Megio on Calle Larga in San Croce. It offered outdoor seating, but with the sun going down, it began to get cold. We crossed our fingers and hoped for the best. Again, because it is Venice, their specialty was pesce. Joe and I had both ordered the sea bass, but his came out first as a first course. When I looked at the whole bass arranged on his plate, with the head and bones still on it, I said, “Mmmm, I’m not going to be able to eat that, with the head on it.” Wanting to avoid any trouble, Joe asked the waitress if the cook would kindly remove as much of the egregious stuff as possible.

After dinner, we enjoyed a leisurely stroll back to our hotel, stopping occasionally to consult the map when we were in doubt. It felt good to finally round the corner and see B&B Al Teatro, beckoning us upward and to bed. Thus concludes a wonderful, magical, first day in Venice.
Sometime during the night, Joe had got out of bed and turned on the light. I saw him swatting at something with a towel, and figured a moth had stolen in the room. When he didn’t go back to bed right away, I asked him what he was doing. “Killing mosquitoes,” he replied, “they’ve been biting me all night. I didn’t want to wake you, but I can’t take it anymore. They’re all over the room,” he said, as he continued to swat at them. Soon I joined in the quest, putting on my eyeglasses and searching the walls and ceilings in both the room and bathroom. After awhile, Joe said, “I think we got them all.” I peered closely at the green curtain hanging from the window and said, “I don’t think so. There’s two more on the curtain.” Each time Joe would swat at the mosquito, he’d say, “Get ready to meet your maker,” or “Be prepared to see St. Peter.” Afraid of waking up the other guests, I tried my best to keep my fits of laughter to a low decibel level.

Finally, we went back to bed and he said, “You know, I feel so stupid. Venice is surrounded by what? Water! Of course there are going to be mosquitoes. Why did we leave the window open while we were out? And why didn’t the owners warn us about it?” Just as we thought it was safe to go back to sleep, I heard a buzzing in my ear and whispered to Joe, “I just heard another one.” Up again and bloody towel in hand, he searched the room until he found it and killed it.

April 18th, last day in Rome

Today was our last full day in Rome. Tomorrow we would be checking out of Hotel Ponte Sisto and departing for Venice. I really desired to magically lengthen the day, wishing that it could be 48 hours or longer, as I wasn’t ready to leave Rome yet. As usual, we did pack in a lot for one day. In retrospect, too much.

We started at the Borghese Gallery with a 9:00 reservation. In order to visit the gallery, one must first secure a reservation, which offers visits for a maximum of 2 hours. This proved to be plenty of time to view both floors of the gallery, with most of the time spent on the first floor. No photos were allowed unfortunately, and bags had to be checked at a desk. The two photos below are from the Guide to the Galleria Borghese that we purchased in the gallery’s store.

The first floor galleries were the ones to see the well known sculptures like Bernini’s David and Rape of Prosperpine, his Apollo and Daphne, and Canova’s Venus. It was also the place to see such Caravaggio’s as Boy with a Basket of Fruit and David with the Head of Goliath. The audio guide was of great help in examining the sculptures and obtaining background information. In the Rape sculpture, one notes Pluto’s fingers grasping firmly onto his victim’s thigh, digging into her flesh. We see the concentrated stare of David, as he gets ready to sling the rock at Goliath. In Caravaggio’s David, one sees the face of the artist depicted in the scary, evil countenance of Goliath. To see these masterpieces in front of you, which so far you’ve only seen copies of or heard about, is astonishing. Breathtaking. Works of pure genius. Like so much of what we’ve seen already, it’s hard to take it all in. You think of how fortunate the Romans are, and other Italians, to have such greatness in their backyard. You can’t imagine that they wouldn’t visit these places.

Before our two hours are up, we head outside to the back of the gallery, for a rest and to view the beautiful garden. It is carefully landscaped in triangles of privet and dark aubergine tulips, interspersed with small yellow flowers, bordered by sculptures on pedestals. Everywhere that you look in Rome, there is beauty to behold.

After a short rest, we made a fatal mistake. Instead of hopping into a taxi, which would whisk us off quickly to the Vatican, we decided to walk there in an effort to see this part of Rome and to enjoy the warm, sunny day. Gee, it looked so close on the map, the area between the Borghese and the Vatican. We walked about two miles and really didn’t see anything of note along the way, except the Hall of Justice at the Ponte Umberto. All this long, arduous journey accomplished was to exhaust us, the time it took preventing us from eating lunch before heading off to a 4 ½ tour of the Vatican and St.Peter’s. Today we asked ourselves, “What the hell were we possibly thinking?” We had been on our feet since 9 am, touring the Borghese for 2 hours, then walked 2 miles, and then had a 4 ½ tour on our feet after that.

We first came to Castel Sant'Angelo and then the Ponte Sant'Angelo, where we paused to admire Bernini's Angels. We were overwhelmed with the sheer number of street vendors lining the bridge, constricting foot traffic. Vendors also lined the way to St. Peter's piazza.

When we drew closer to the basilica, we became aware of the massive crowds in the piazza and suddenly knew why. Wednesday's are the days for pilgrims to come to hear the Pope give mass. We could hear him speaking but didn't see him.

True to their word, Angel Tours guides were under the yellow umbrellas and right outside a popular souvenir shop. Our guide thought we might face an impossibly long line to get into the Vatican, due to the pilgrims. Mercifully, he proved incorrect, as we saw as we made our way across and up several blocks, with no line at all.

He began in San Pietro Piazza, where he gave us background information and showed us the Pope's escape route, called the Vatican Corridor. It leads from the Vatican Palace to Castel Sant'Angelo and was built in 1277 to protect the pope in case of danger. One inside the Vatican Museum, we began in the courtyard at the Belvedere Palace. In front of it is a huge bronze pinecone, known as the Cortile della Pigna, once part of an ancient Roman fountain.

Next, our guide led us to picture boards of the Sistine Chapel, which were reserved for tour groups. We were probably there for at least 30 minutes as he explained in minute detail about the ceiling and artist. Since there was supposed to be no talking in the chapel, it was imperative to give the tour outside and in the courtyard, and there was plenty of room. Our tour was comprised of a group from England travelling together and us. The guide was pretty irreverent when talking about the church, the power it wielded, sometimes unkindly, and Michelangelo's resentment at being forced to take on the design of the Sistine Chapel. The Last Judgment was commissioned by Pope Farnese, and the artist worked on it, alone, for 7 years. Michelangelo painted faces of those he disliked on the figures, and has a self-portrait, showing an unhappy man poised between heaven and hell. Our guide noted that in the artist's interpretation, it is Adam, not Eve, who reaches for the serpent's apple. The talk was entertaining and definitely not the "Vatican line."

We then went inside and walked down a long hallway until we came to the famous Laocoon, which depicts the Trojan priest and his sons struggling with two serpents. It is a beauty, with fine detail made of marble. "Wow," is all I could think as I snapped photos.
We walked down the long hallways of the Gallery of Tapestries and the Gallery of Maps, admiring the beautiful ceiling and the long length of the corridors. The guide explained that most of the statues we were viewing did not have the eyes they had originally. Joe snapped a photo of cherub still with its baby blues.

The Raphael Rooms were being refurbished, so we didn't get a chance to see these important works. At this point, I didn't care what we saw. The misstep of not relaxing beforehand prevented me from really enjoying the tour. It may have been different if it occurred earlier in our stay, but this was the 5th day of nonstop touring. Our guide was very knowledgeable, entertaining and informative. I was just too burnt out to appreciate it. Joe soldiered on much better than I did, paying more attention to our tour guide and thus gaining more knowledge than I did. I often wandered off from the group, taking photos, and trying not to burst into tears every time the tour leader stopped and talked for 20 minutes at a pop.

By the time we got to the Sistine Chapel, I looked up at the ceiling and thought, “Yeah, it’s nice enough, I guess.” The guards were very strict this day in allowing no photographs, so I didn't even try. They also kept reminding visitors to be quiet.

Next up was the basilica, whose enormous size is hard to put in perspective. I had thought a church like Santa Maria Maggiore was huge, until I realized about 6 of those could have handily fit into St. Peter’s basilica. The length of the nave is 715 feet. That's really, really long. There are 11 chapels and 45 altars in the basilica. The dome, designed by Michelangelo (who else?), is a cupola measured 448 ft high. Bernini's baroque baldacchino is richly decorated, but very dark and ornate. At the base is the coat of arms of Pope Urban VIII which features the keys to the kingdom of heaven.

There were lines at both the statue of St. Peter, whose foot the faithful like to touch, and at the tomb of Pope John Paul II. The last stop was to see the Pieta, sculpted by you know who. The man who never slept.

After saying farewell to our tour group and guide, we left the basilica and grabbed a taxi from the nearby stand in the piazza. At the end of a long day, a taxi driver seems heaven sent.

April 17th in Rome

Today, April 17th, was my favorite day in Rome. It began like every other day of our trip, with an early rising and breakfast at the hotel. However, we had grown smarter, very quickly, and so unlike other mornings, we elected to take a taxi to our destination. We had already walked this route on Sunday as we headed for our Ancient City tour, so we reasoned that we didn't need to do it again. I vowed that upon returning from our trip to Italy, I would be kinder to and more appreciative of my feet. They did a lot for me in Rome, and now I owe them.

We began at the Capitoline Museums in Piazza Venezia, a very busy traffic area with a seemingly lawless rotary. The rule seems to hold that whoever is the bravest, is the one who goes. All others (whom I consider to be sane) yield. There are not a lot of cowardly drivers in Rome, based on what I’ve seen as a pedestrian and what we’ve experienced in the back of cabs. Vespa’s and other motorbikes jostle one another to be in the lead. They pass cars with abandon. It is not atypical to see a business man dressed in a suit, or an older woman in a skirt, on a motorbike. Fortunately, there is a helmet law. Joe and I often asked taxi drivers, exchange students, hotel employees, and other Romans how many deaths occurred each day due to vehicular mishaps. None would answer, obviously it's a well kept secret to keep the tourists coming. As they refused to answer, we'd wonder, “That many, huh?” The driving is something difficult to describe, that must be seen directly to be believed.

Drivers routinely ignore signs that indicate “no cars”, as they drive down the narrow streets anyway. Stop signs really mean “just pause.” On the way to the airport on our last day, our taxi driver was going 140 kilometers (or 86 mph), as I pondered whether it was better to close my eyes and not know, or to keep them firmly open so I would. Speed wasn’t the worst of it, however. There were two hazardous waste vehicles driving along side of us, when suddenly they both turned on their alarms. They were in the passing lane but not going overly fast, so the taxi driver turned into the lane and rode between the two emergency vehicles. There seemed to be no law against it.

On this morning, the taxi driver dropped us off across the street from the museum, which meant we had to somehow cross this busy piazza with no traffic lights. We waited until others stepped into the street, then hurried to keep up with them. We tried to always walk alongside others, but on the inner side, so if the crowd was hit by a car or Vespa, we wouldn’t be the first to feel the impact. We walked up the wide cordonata to the Capitoline plaza designed by Michelangelo. Did that guy ever sleep?

Every time we encountered a hill or stairway, Joe would gaze upward and say, “Great, we get to go up again.” He swore that no matter where we went, it was always uphill. We’d walk up a hill to visit a church, and when we came out, we’d walk up again. Or so it seemed.

The plaza itself is beautiful, its trapezoidal shape flanked by the two, identical buildings of the museum on either side, with the Palazzo Senatorio, once the senatorial seat of justice, across from the cordonata. In the center is a bronze statue of Marcus Aurelius on his horse. I loved, loved, loved the Capitoline museums, seeing with my own eyes the sculptures that I had up to now only seen in photos.

We started in the Palazzo dei Conservatori museum, thoughtfully and carefully laid out, with certain rooms dedicated to one famous artwork, like the she-wolf statue. There is a hall of philosophers and one room dedicated solely to the Venus. Trying to take it all in, and appreciate it, while trying to comprehend the history and genius of Rome and Romans, is often overwhelming . It is, at times, simply too much.

First we entered the courtyard, with the fragments from the colossal statue of Constantine from Maxentius' basilica. We walked down the Halls of the Horti Lamiani and saw the bust of of Commodus as Hercules, and down the Halls of the Horti of Maecenas and saw the statue of Marsyas. We made our way to the new exhibition space that houses another equestrian statue of Marcus Aurelius and the colossal bronze statue of Constantine's head.

Next we entered the Conservator's Apartment, and into the Hall of the Horatii and Curiatii, seeing Cesari's frescoes of Rome's history lining the walls of the room. We saw the fresco depicting the finding of the she-wolf and positioned in front of it, a bronze statue of Pope Innocent X.

There is also a fresco of the Rape of the Sabine Women and the doors leading out of this room are magnificently decorated, the wood carved elaborately and paintings adorning the sides. We walk through the Hall of Tapestries, leaning in to them for a closer look at the fine needlework, wondering how many years and how many people it took to complete them. The Hall of the Triumphs has the famous statue of the Spinario, or the boy removing the thorn from his foot, as it seems to be better known.

The Hall of the She-Wolf obviously houses the famous statue and the room's coffered wood ceiling is sumptuously carved and decorated, and hanging from it are two lustrous chandeliers.

The Hall of the Geese housed the famous Medusa bust by Bernini.

Next, we entered the Capitoline Museum where we saw the Faun in rouge antique marble, the Capitoline Gaul in the middle of the Hall of the Galation, the statue of the Hunter in the Great Hall and many busts in the Hall of the Philosophers. In the small octagonal Cabinet of Venus we saw the Capitoline Venus. In the courtyard lay (literally) the colossal statue of Oceanus.


After our visit, we sat outside in a small courtyard in the plaza, happy to be off our feet, even if only for a few minutes, and enjoying the view of Rome below us. We didn't tarry for long, though, as there was so much more to see.

Next to the plaza is a church called Santa Maria in Aracoeli, across from the Capitoline Museum. We mistakenly thought we had to descend the cordonata and then climb up the 122 steps to the church. We found out later we could have just walked into the side entrance from the courtyard we had been resting in. However, I'm sure we had much more fun doing it our way. Those 122 steps are on the right side. If you start on the left side, you will walk up 124 steps. It looks formidable when viewed from below, but we were up to the challenge. Well, not so much that we started on the left, we took the easier, right side upward. The church is noted for its Santo Bambino, a wooden figure of the baby Jesus that is said to be carved from an olive tree taken from the garden of Gethsemene. Other than that, it didn’t seem overly impressive. I may have appreciated this church more if I hadn’t already seen my two favorite, the Jesuit churches of San’Ignazio and Gesu. It’s all relative when in Rome, for there is beauty to marvel at and behold everywhere.

Santa Maria in Aracoeli is still considered the Church of the Senate and Roman People. The Capitoline across from it is the seat of Roman city government. On this hill, side by side, exists the spiritual and temporal powers of Rome. “Perhaps nowhere else in Rome but this most ancient and seemingly highest hill of the Aracoeli does one feel so surely the triumph of Christianity over pagan Rome, and the victory of the spiritual over temporal power in Christianity's capital. Santa Maria in Aracoeli, built on the site of the ancient Roman capital, rises precisely above the ruins of a temple to Juno Moneta (home of the early Roman mint, hence our word "money"). The transformation of this temple for a pagan goddess into a church dedicated to the Madonna was an early (and not infrequent) Christian coup” (www.initaly.com).

We then descended the Aracoeli steps, steep enough that you have to take it slow while making your way down. Thankfully, neither one of us suffers from vertigo. So, what did we do next? We ascended the steps (didn’t count) to the Victor Emmanuel monument. You know the rest of the story: Later on, we found out that we could have accessed the monument from the Capitoline plaza. There were plenty of photo ops here, beginning at the bottom.

The Victor Emmanuel monument begins with a wide, high staircase leading up to the Altar of the Nation, where we see a huge statue of the king on his horse. Here also lies the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, guarded by two sentries. On top of the building on each end are two bronzed wings of victory. Inside are Roman artifacts and artwork, which we breezed through. At the top is a commanding view of the Esquiline and Quirnale areas of Rome. While the monument has some great statues outside of it, and offers many photo opportunties, the inside can be skipped. It was funny in that this monument became a landmark for us throughout our stay in Rome. It seemed that no matter what area of Rome we were in, that we'd look up and there would be the monument in our sight. Thusly, it served as a landmark for us when trying to navigate our way through the city.

At some point, we did wander down the street from Piazza Venezia in search of sustenance. Not counting on finding any food of high quality in this immediate area, nevertheless we were in need of a rest and refreshment. We had a so-so panini and diet sodas. The food sated our hunger and gave us a bit of energy to carry on.

Next, with map firmly in hand, and many frequent stops consulting it (try every block), we headed toward the Trevi Fountain. It wasn't hard to find, as the crowds indicated its direction. It was the most crowded place we had seen so far in Rome, but we were able to take good photos by going down the steps and standing right in front of it. I remember thinking that we should return in the evening to see it in a different light, so to speak, but we never did. So many museums, fountains, churches, galleries to see, so little time. As Joe liked to joke, “We saw 72 churches. And that was only the first two days.”

After this, we really needed more refreshment - this time in the form of gelati. We looked for the famous San Crispino but it wasn't open yet. We found some elsewhere and after getting our fill and savoring every smooth, delicious, creamy bite, we came to a crossroads of sort. We could either bear left to the Spanish Steps and to the del Popolo area, or bear right toward Quirnale and two churches. I must confess that we never did see the Spanish Steps, as we made the decision to go right.

More walking upward, a long walk too, up Via del Quirnale, and past the plaza of the same name, left on Via delle Quattro Fontane, past Palazzo Barberini and to Santa Maria de Concezione. We didn’t know it at the time, but we were very close to the Borghese area. The church itself was small and unremarkable, but it didn’t matter, as we were here to see the bones of the Capuchin monks. There is one crypt where various bones form a frame around a painting. In another are artfully placed and arranged skull bones, along with two monks laid out on each side of the room in a carved niche. Everywhere you look, including the corridor in which you stand to view the crypts, are bones adhered to the walls and ceilings. It is creepy. There is another crypt composed of leg and thigh bones, seen here. In the last crypt the following profound sentence is written: “What you are now we used to be, what we are now you will be.”

We were happy to come out of the dank, musty crypt and into the fresh air and sunlight. After stopping in at the church above, we made our way up (again) via Barberini, past the Galleria Nazionale D’Arte Antica, which was on the itinerary. Joe asked me if I was sure that I wanted to skip it, and with many more churches to go, I assented. There must be a reason to return to Rome, and I have several so far. We first came to Santa Susanna, known as the American church in Rome (http://www.santasusanna.org/). Next up was Santa Maria della Vittoria to see The Ecstasy of Saint Theresa. It was easy to spot where the sculpture was located, as that was the place where everyone was congregating and snapping photos.

Despite Joe’s assertion that “all roads lead to Rome, uphill”, this time we actually began to walk downhill, and for a very long time before arriving at Piazza Navona. We had crossed from the south end of Rome to the north, and then back southeast. This helped to burn the calories from all that gelati! Although they weren’t on the itinerary, while consulting the map for the best route back to our hotel, we saw two churches clustered together, San Carlo alle Quattro Fontane and Sant’Andrea al Quirnale. Joe was such a good sport on this trip, never hinting or suggesting that I might want to skip a church or two, instead gamely venturing wherever I elected us to go.
First we stopped in at San Carlo alle Quattro Fontane, a small, Baroque church designed by Borromini. The oval ceiling is beautiful.

San Carlo is designed by Borromini, who did not live to see its completion. It is a Baroque church and is very small compared to all the other churches we have visited. Sant’Andrea is designed by Bernini and has beautiful mosaics on the floor. You feel almost criminal stepping on them because of the prodigous labor in composing them and their stunning beauty. I was so pleased that we had stopped en route to enter these two places, which despite their lack of space, still offered a stunning grandeur of architecture, design and art.

Thus we concluded our church tour for the day. We made a stop near Piazza Navona to shop for souvenirs. Joe quickly picked out wallets for his kids and Kelly, while I lingered over mini Colosseum’s and Vatican’s, and pondered the pen and ink drawings of the famous sites. As we looked up, we could see that rain was not too far off in the distance. Joe warned, “We better get going, right now, because look what’s coming.” We beat a hasty retreat, but really, who can outwalk a fast approaching rain storm. As we were walking quickly, I noticed that everyone coming towards us was gazing upwards behind us. I turned to look and saw a rainbow in the sky. We didn’t make it much further before it began to rain, and fortunately, we were in the right area as we made our way into a large, partially covered courtyard of a convent, where a few others were waiting out the storm. Suddenly, hail came raining down in the open courtyard, almost the size of golfballs, while we all watched in amazement. Shortly the storm stopped, as quickly as it had arrived, and we made our way – finally – to the hotel.

At the end of every day, I was so exhausted that upon arriving at our hotel doorway, I would bow down to the welcome mat and say, “Oh, I could kiss you right now, I’m so glad to see you.” Then we’d go upstairs, take off our shoes, and plop onto the bed. On this day, because it was such an exhausting one, we slept right through dinner.