They may not be kidding about the rain in Ireland, but they certainly aren't about the rainbows. Too bad I didn't find the pot of gold at the end of this one...
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
The End of the Rainbow
Look! A bona fide Irish rainbow!
They may not be kidding about the rain in Ireland, but they certainly aren't about the rainbows. Too bad I didn't find the pot of gold at the end of this one...
They may not be kidding about the rain in Ireland, but they certainly aren't about the rainbows. Too bad I didn't find the pot of gold at the end of this one...
Monday, August 18, 2008
Weekend Update
So clearly, that last post contained some falsehoods. It may be chilly here in Ireland, but it is definitely not cold enough to snow. And if it were, the constant rain would probably wash it all away... That photo was actually taken (by me) in Galway last weekend, where someone had been carrying out... performance art? with some soap bubbles. A lot of soap bubbles. This weekend actually saw a bit of sun yesterday afternoon (just before it went back to raining), just in time for the All-Ireland Hurling Championship Semi-Finals. Now, as a certified Yank and very new visitor to Ireland, I am seriously under qualified to even attempt to explain what "hurling" is. Contrary to what I would initially understand by that word, this is not a sport in which Irish athletes drink to the point of throwing up. That is in fact called "Saturday night." No, hurling is a very manly sport with a stick that looks more like a weapon than anything else, and I have no idea what the rules are.
In any case, yesterday afternoon, the semi-final match between Tipperary and Waterford was held in the patchy sunlight in Croke Park, the stadium in Dublin, which just happens to be visible from my current residence. Now, normally, Croke Park looks like this:
But yesterday, it looked like this:
As you can see, it was a very big win for Waterford... (In all fairness, they haven't made it to the Final in 45 years, as someone told me as I was taking this picture.) I celebrated by meeting Roisin in the pub where she used to work, which was crammed with supporters of both sides, well into their cups by the time I arrived. The pub itself was gorgeous and very old; so old, in fact, that it still had a snug, which is the name for the room where women would be placed if they were ever brave enough to enter a pub. It is a pretty classy place, where the Taoiseach (say: "TEA-shock"), who is the prime minister of Ireland, used to drink as well. With these illustrious recommendations, I decided (with a bit of coaxing) to participate in another Irish cultural tradition: drinking a pint of Guinness. I did my fellow Yanks proud by finishing the thing, and did my wallet a favor as well, since a pint of Guinness is roughly equivalent to a full meal in terms of satiation level and calories. I wouldn't necessarily drink it again, but I would be a very poor visitor if I came to Ireland and didn't have a pint of Guinness...
In any case, yesterday afternoon, the semi-final match between Tipperary and Waterford was held in the patchy sunlight in Croke Park, the stadium in Dublin, which just happens to be visible from my current residence. Now, normally, Croke Park looks like this:
But yesterday, it looked like this:
As you can see, it was a very big win for Waterford... (In all fairness, they haven't made it to the Final in 45 years, as someone told me as I was taking this picture.) I celebrated by meeting Roisin in the pub where she used to work, which was crammed with supporters of both sides, well into their cups by the time I arrived. The pub itself was gorgeous and very old; so old, in fact, that it still had a snug, which is the name for the room where women would be placed if they were ever brave enough to enter a pub. It is a pretty classy place, where the Taoiseach (say: "TEA-shock"), who is the prime minister of Ireland, used to drink as well. With these illustrious recommendations, I decided (with a bit of coaxing) to participate in another Irish cultural tradition: drinking a pint of Guinness. I did my fellow Yanks proud by finishing the thing, and did my wallet a favor as well, since a pint of Guinness is roughly equivalent to a full meal in terms of satiation level and calories. I wouldn't necessarily drink it again, but I would be a very poor visitor if I came to Ireland and didn't have a pint of Guinness...
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Galway, again
Now that it is once again pouring rain, I can return to my description of my weekend in Galway. Of course, it rained there too, but that didn't interrupt the quaint beauty of the place. Case in point:
This is Galway Harbor (or should I write 'Harbour'?), complete with an old man in an Arran sweater and a wooden sailboat. This was taken during one of the moments WITHOUT rain, so the visibility over Galway Bay was pretty good.
It is always this shade of grey and green in Ireland. I found that Wales last summer was actually much greener than Ireland, which surprised me, given this island's reputation. That is not to say that Ireland isn't green, of course; perhaps I am just more struck by the skies here, as I am constantly watching them in case it starts to rain. Again.
Galway is a college town, but it feels very small and close. For example, their main street, where all the shops are, is called: Shop Street. No kidding. This is a picture of Shop Street (or Siopa Sraid, in Irish), after/during a bit of rain. You can see the low overall height of the city, and the way that the buildings are all constructed using stone. Some of these are left with their stone facades, but some are stuccoed and painted, like the yellow one. They even have this:
I don't know what a cheesemonger is, exactly, but it is good to know that someone in Galway can get any kind of cheese they could possibly desire from this shop.
The average temperature for August in Galway, according to the friendly (if mumbling) man at the bus station, is 20 degrees Celsius, which equates to about 68 degrees Fahrenheit. This was something I didn't need to be told, as it was quite chilly, especially when the wind blew. However, these temperatures did not stop the bella figura of Galway (if that term can really be used in this context) from venturing out at night in little skirts and t-shirts. I went out in jeans and two sweaters, and of course, my very handy rain jacket. There was a bar that used to be an Anglican church (only in Ireland) that I visited both nights I was in Galway. It was probably the coolest bar I have ever seen; it was made of a light colored wood, and was complete with Norman arches and stained glass windows on the inside. I still can't bring myself to drink Guinness, so I had Irish cider, which thankfully warms a body right up. The bar was on two levels, and the barmen and women kept traveling between the two of them using the stairs of what must have been the pulpit in the previous incarnation of the building. I tried to take some pictures, but they didn't turn out, so I just sat with my cider listening to the Irish band play everything from the Clash to Irish Rover. They were great craic, as they say here.
This is Galway Harbor (or should I write 'Harbour'?), complete with an old man in an Arran sweater and a wooden sailboat. This was taken during one of the moments WITHOUT rain, so the visibility over Galway Bay was pretty good.
It is always this shade of grey and green in Ireland. I found that Wales last summer was actually much greener than Ireland, which surprised me, given this island's reputation. That is not to say that Ireland isn't green, of course; perhaps I am just more struck by the skies here, as I am constantly watching them in case it starts to rain. Again.
Galway is a college town, but it feels very small and close. For example, their main street, where all the shops are, is called: Shop Street. No kidding. This is a picture of Shop Street (or Siopa Sraid, in Irish), after/during a bit of rain. You can see the low overall height of the city, and the way that the buildings are all constructed using stone. Some of these are left with their stone facades, but some are stuccoed and painted, like the yellow one. They even have this:
I don't know what a cheesemonger is, exactly, but it is good to know that someone in Galway can get any kind of cheese they could possibly desire from this shop.
The average temperature for August in Galway, according to the friendly (if mumbling) man at the bus station, is 20 degrees Celsius, which equates to about 68 degrees Fahrenheit. This was something I didn't need to be told, as it was quite chilly, especially when the wind blew. However, these temperatures did not stop the bella figura of Galway (if that term can really be used in this context) from venturing out at night in little skirts and t-shirts. I went out in jeans and two sweaters, and of course, my very handy rain jacket. There was a bar that used to be an Anglican church (only in Ireland) that I visited both nights I was in Galway. It was probably the coolest bar I have ever seen; it was made of a light colored wood, and was complete with Norman arches and stained glass windows on the inside. I still can't bring myself to drink Guinness, so I had Irish cider, which thankfully warms a body right up. The bar was on two levels, and the barmen and women kept traveling between the two of them using the stairs of what must have been the pulpit in the previous incarnation of the building. I tried to take some pictures, but they didn't turn out, so I just sat with my cider listening to the Irish band play everything from the Clash to Irish Rover. They were great craic, as they say here.
Monday, August 11, 2008
Go West, Young Woman
This past weekend I went to Galway, on the west coast of Ireland, to see what all the fuss was about. Everyone here in Dublin has a very low opinion of Dublin itself ('Ah, it's always raining, and it isn't even beautiful. You might not like it at all.') but these same doom-and-gloomers go into raptures when talking about Galway. I took a teeny-tiny plane (Aer Arran, no less) from Dublin to Galway, since that was actually cheaper than taking the train, and after a half an hour in the air, touched down in the west. Now, if I haven't mentioned it already, Ireland is cold. My Italian wardrobe is sorely insufficient to keep my body at a functioning temperature, so I have been borrowing or buying sweaters (or 'jumpers,' as I am apparently supposed to call them...) left and right. It also rains a whole lot, in fulfillment of all the stereotypes I ever heard about the Emerald Isle. So when I stepped off the plane in Galway, I was unsurprised to find it chilly and pouring. The rain lasted only as long as it took me to walk to the toolshed-sized building that constitutes the airport, and strangely enough, the rest of Friday was beautiful.
After dropping my stuff at the hotel, which was in a village called Oran Mor, I went into Galway city to explore.
Arriving at the bus station, I found that Galway by any other name is difficult to pronounce. This is the sign at the bus station that is supposed to alert newbie travelers like myself that the Irish history of the place is not forgotten. There is still a fair amount of hostility (albeit non-combative, quiet hostility) towards the British, especially the English, for the invasion and occupation and attempted English-ification of Ireland, and by law, all signs much appear in Irish and
in English throughout the country. Here, for example, you can see the Galway McDonalds, which also has signs for food in Irish inside. I chose not to eat there, in the end...
I am trying to learn Irish, and since all my friends here speak it, I have a great resource for it. So far, I can count to 10, say both Dublin (Baile atha Cliath) and Galway Bay, and utter other such important nouns as 'cow,' 'wall,' 'clouds' (actually, that one is very pertinent), and 'house.' I can also say 'welcome' and 'drink up!'
Now I have to go, because the sun is out, and it is likely to disappear soon, so I must go off and chase it. More on Galway later.
After dropping my stuff at the hotel, which was in a village called Oran Mor, I went into Galway city to explore.
Arriving at the bus station, I found that Galway by any other name is difficult to pronounce. This is the sign at the bus station that is supposed to alert newbie travelers like myself that the Irish history of the place is not forgotten. There is still a fair amount of hostility (albeit non-combative, quiet hostility) towards the British, especially the English, for the invasion and occupation and attempted English-ification of Ireland, and by law, all signs much appear in Irish and
in English throughout the country. Here, for example, you can see the Galway McDonalds, which also has signs for food in Irish inside. I chose not to eat there, in the end...I am trying to learn Irish, and since all my friends here speak it, I have a great resource for it. So far, I can count to 10, say both Dublin (Baile atha Cliath) and Galway Bay, and utter other such important nouns as 'cow,' 'wall,' 'clouds' (actually, that one is very pertinent), and 'house.' I can also say 'welcome' and 'drink up!'
Now I have to go, because the sun is out, and it is likely to disappear soon, so I must go off and chase it. More on Galway later.
Thursday, August 7, 2008
Failte Ireland
So, given the sheer amount of time since my last post, it may not surprise some of you to discover that I have departed from the sunny skies of bella Italia. In fact, I have left the scorching sun for the clouds and rain of chilly Ireland!
Yes, believe it or not, I am here in Dublin, where it is about 60 degrees and cloudy. At least it is not lashing rain, as it was yesterday... Actually, I really can't complain, because Dublin is gorgeous, and even the cloudy skies are stunning. I think my skin is also thankful to be out of the sun. I have been here since Sunday night, and am just trying to get accustomed to the city. To do this, of course, I have taken to walking everywhere, much the way I did in Rome. I miss the (inadvertently) free public transportation in Rome, however, as Dublin buses are fairly expensive. Still, they are double decker, which I really enjoy, and the city is much smaller than Rome, so I can walk everywhere.
Even here, in a country as dissimilar as possible from Italy, I find myself surrounded my a sea of familiar faces. Tonight, Roisin, Dara, and I are going out to the pub (I think it will be a solid cultural experience), so my Roma homa never seems far away. This afternoon, I think I will go to see some of the museums in Dublin, as they all have free admission (yay!), and perhaps the Writers Centre, because there seems to be a sea of famous Irish writers.
Yes, believe it or not, I am here in Dublin, where it is about 60 degrees and cloudy. At least it is not lashing rain, as it was yesterday... Actually, I really can't complain, because Dublin is gorgeous, and even the cloudy skies are stunning. I think my skin is also thankful to be out of the sun. I have been here since Sunday night, and am just trying to get accustomed to the city. To do this, of course, I have taken to walking everywhere, much the way I did in Rome. I miss the (inadvertently) free public transportation in Rome, however, as Dublin buses are fairly expensive. Still, they are double decker, which I really enjoy, and the city is much smaller than Rome, so I can walk everywhere.
Even here, in a country as dissimilar as possible from Italy, I find myself surrounded my a sea of familiar faces. Tonight, Roisin, Dara, and I are going out to the pub (I think it will be a solid cultural experience), so my Roma homa never seems far away. This afternoon, I think I will go to see some of the museums in Dublin, as they all have free admission (yay!), and perhaps the Writers Centre, because there seems to be a sea of famous Irish writers.
Monday, July 28, 2008
The Extremely Mannerist Shorts
Today, for the first time in the near-month that we have lived in this apartment, we had a washing machine incident. Now, the washing machine in the Casa Rolex routinely floods the kitchen, but Ro and I have learned how to handle that situation. No, this situation involved a red dress from the market and water that was too warm for it. Unsurprisingly, this situation also involved bleeding red dye. As a result of this bleeding dye, I found myself the owner of: THE EXTREMELY MANNERIST SHORTS!
These short, which I find myself wearing rather often here in toasty Roma Homa, have been a faded slate blue color for the duration of my ownership of them. Now, however, they are prime example of some serious canjanti. Here is a visual:
(I can't for the life of me figure out why the picture is stuck in this rotation... apologies.)
Now, if you can't see the subtle pink shadings on my blue shorts, I submit for your appraisal exhibits B and C:
Again, apologies for the strange rotation, I can't figure out how to change it...
Anyway, as you can see, the lovely blue is complemented by a soft pink, creating an ethereal, hyper-realistic, almost supernatural quality for the shorts. These shorts were clearly influenced by Michaelangelo. I even feel inclined to stand around in complex contrapposto whenever I wear them...
These short, which I find myself wearing rather often here in toasty Roma Homa, have been a faded slate blue color for the duration of my ownership of them. Now, however, they are prime example of some serious canjanti. Here is a visual:
(I can't for the life of me figure out why the picture is stuck in this rotation... apologies.)
Now, if you can't see the subtle pink shadings on my blue shorts, I submit for your appraisal exhibits B and C:
Again, apologies for the strange rotation, I can't figure out how to change it...
Anyway, as you can see, the lovely blue is complemented by a soft pink, creating an ethereal, hyper-realistic, almost supernatural quality for the shorts. These shorts were clearly influenced by Michaelangelo. I even feel inclined to stand around in complex contrapposto whenever I wear them...
Thursday, July 24, 2008
But Papa, I'm a REAL Guide!
I think this phrase, inspired in large part by Pinocchio, every time I get a tour. After a period of very many scheduled private tours, I found myself this week back giving public tours, or at least trying to... Roisin has a gift for getting tourists to follow her places, but I think it has a lot to do with the fact that she spends an hour at each site asking everyone she can find. Deciding to try this approach, I spent a full hour with her in Piazza San Pietro this afternoon, asking anyone who looked like they might speak English if they would like a tour. We had decided to stop at 2pm, because starting much later than that increases the possibility that we will not make it all the way to the Sistine Chapel by the time it closes at 4. At five minutes to 2, I desperately asked a middle aged couple standing near me if they wanted a tour, and though they turned out to be from Holland, they said yes.
Great success! My first real recruited tourists! Those ones at the Pantheon don't count, since I was offering them a free tour. These folks paid me for my time. At the same moment I snagged these two people, Ro got a little Scottish family to come with her, so we headed off to the museums, winking at each other and trying to remain professional. The tour was uneventful, and I spoke carefully, since their first language was Dutch. They still got my jokes about Michaelangelo, however, so they were clearly fine in my book. In fact, they were doing quite well until the end of the tour, when the time came to pay me for my services, and they shortchanged me. I didn't notice until I had walked away, but perhaps it was just a miscommunication, since in all fairness the husband didn't speak English as well as his wife. Still, I can't complain, because it felt great to actually recruit tourists, and making a little bit of money is better than making no money at all, especially when everything in the stores is on sale...
Great success! My first real recruited tourists! Those ones at the Pantheon don't count, since I was offering them a free tour. These folks paid me for my time. At the same moment I snagged these two people, Ro got a little Scottish family to come with her, so we headed off to the museums, winking at each other and trying to remain professional. The tour was uneventful, and I spoke carefully, since their first language was Dutch. They still got my jokes about Michaelangelo, however, so they were clearly fine in my book. In fact, they were doing quite well until the end of the tour, when the time came to pay me for my services, and they shortchanged me. I didn't notice until I had walked away, but perhaps it was just a miscommunication, since in all fairness the husband didn't speak English as well as his wife. Still, I can't complain, because it felt great to actually recruit tourists, and making a little bit of money is better than making no money at all, especially when everything in the stores is on sale...
Monday, July 21, 2008
Vieni a Casa Rolex
I can't believe I have neglected to post anything for the past week! This has been (and most likely will remain) the busiest week of my time in Rome. I had private tours on Monday, Tuesday, Friday, Saturday, and today. I had Wednesday and Thursday off from the private tours, but I did all the public tours on Wednesday (not that anyone actually showed up...) On top of this busy work schedule, we welcomed 3 separate houseguests to the Casa Rolex. Roisin and I bestowed this name upon our appartamento after exploring possible combinations of our name one night at dinner. "Rolex" was the eventual winner, beating out "Alesin," or Roisin's inspired suggestion, "Alexroisin."
The first guest was Ro's brother Kevin, who had a few days off from work and decided to come see his sister and visit Rome for the first time. I still haven't gotten over the ease with which so many Europeans decide to journey to the Eternal City. For me, it involves a full day of travel and a trans-Atlantic flight, but as I have been reminded a number of times, it is only a 3 hour flight from Dublin... If I thought I had a hard time understanding Roisin, it was nothing to the blank stare I was typically forced to use as a response to Kevin's conversation. I think I understood maybe 78% of what he said the entire time. Still, from what I could understand, he seemed like a nice guy, and Ro dragged him all over the city to see the sites.
Our second guest was Dara, who stayed at Casa Rolex free of charge, because he let me live in his apartment for free back in June, and because we love having guests. He was here to check on the company and to train me on some more tours for private tours I will have to give next week. Our third guest was Ro's friend Aoife, who came to see Rome and Roisin, and the two of them went to Florence as well. Add into this mix Daire, who I can't remember if I have mentioned, but who is another Irish girl who is friends with Dara and Ro. She lives out in Ostia in the summers, and we stayed at her place last weekend when we went to the beach. Altogether, on top of the tours, we have been trying to do fun things in and around the city, including exploring Faber Beach, a beach in Ostia where you can go sit around little fire pits when it gets dark and look at the stars, after swimming in the sea all day. We of course didn't get to do much swimming, but we did all sit around a fire pit and wish we had supplies for s'mores.
Now all our guests are gone, so I am left with the exciting task of cleaning the apartment...
The first guest was Ro's brother Kevin, who had a few days off from work and decided to come see his sister and visit Rome for the first time. I still haven't gotten over the ease with which so many Europeans decide to journey to the Eternal City. For me, it involves a full day of travel and a trans-Atlantic flight, but as I have been reminded a number of times, it is only a 3 hour flight from Dublin... If I thought I had a hard time understanding Roisin, it was nothing to the blank stare I was typically forced to use as a response to Kevin's conversation. I think I understood maybe 78% of what he said the entire time. Still, from what I could understand, he seemed like a nice guy, and Ro dragged him all over the city to see the sites.
Our second guest was Dara, who stayed at Casa Rolex free of charge, because he let me live in his apartment for free back in June, and because we love having guests. He was here to check on the company and to train me on some more tours for private tours I will have to give next week. Our third guest was Ro's friend Aoife, who came to see Rome and Roisin, and the two of them went to Florence as well. Add into this mix Daire, who I can't remember if I have mentioned, but who is another Irish girl who is friends with Dara and Ro. She lives out in Ostia in the summers, and we stayed at her place last weekend when we went to the beach. Altogether, on top of the tours, we have been trying to do fun things in and around the city, including exploring Faber Beach, a beach in Ostia where you can go sit around little fire pits when it gets dark and look at the stars, after swimming in the sea all day. We of course didn't get to do much swimming, but we did all sit around a fire pit and wish we had supplies for s'mores.
Now all our guests are gone, so I am left with the exciting task of cleaning the apartment...
Monday, July 14, 2008
Mission: The Ultimate Vatican Tour
Mostly, I have been giving the regular Colosseum/Forum, Vatican, and Pantheon tours, but today, I was called to something greater. The mission: pick up two people at their hotel and get them (in one piece) to Vatican City for the Ultimate Tour of the Vatican. The plan: start in the Piazza San Pietro, then cover the walk to the entrance of the Musei Vaticani, the Pinacoteca (including one reproduction of Michelangelo's Pieta), the regular Museum, the Raphael Rooms, the Sistine Chapel, and St. Peter's Basilica before moving on to a tour of the Castel Sant'Angelo. Bonus points for not killing the tourists along the way. Death from walking through the Vatican for 5 hours, or from listening to me spout information for that long, is a distinct possibility for the unwitting targets of this mission.
Stage one: Picked up the two tourists at their hotel. Targets safely escorted to Metro for crowded train ride to Termini, then successful switch to A Line for ride to Ottaviano. I managed to give some sort of strange history/culture lesson while on the metro (10 points), and sound like a local when suggesting where to buy water bottles for the incredible journey. I mean tour. 5 points.
Stage two: Piazza San Pietro. Thank God there were clouds today. 25 points. Made up the number of saints in the Justice League. -5 points.
Stage three: Escort targets on 10 minute walk from Piazza to Musei entrance. Managed to cover history of Vatican attacks, Swiss Guard, and the last 25 years of Papal history. 15 points. Demonstrated knowledge of more than just Italian history by linking the first two things in that list to Henry VIII and Katherine of Aragon. 5 points.
Stage four: The Pinacoteca. Gave a short introduction to the Pieta copy, describing the symbolism of the piece and mentioning that this was not how it was intended to be displayed. 50 points. Moved very quickly through Medieval and Early Renaissance rooms, almost caught by guard. -20 points, but +5 for not getting caught. Nailed Perugino works, three Raphael altarpieces, and an incomplete Da Vinci drawing of St. Jerome. 25 points. Caravaggio room. 15 points. Found the Mannerism room, used the word "canjanti." 45 points.
Stage five: The regular Museum part. Having done this part before, I do not get as many points for my successful tour of it. 40 points. Impolitely asked to vacate guide boards for Sistine Chapel by vicious Italian woman wearing a tour guide license. -20 points.
Stage six: The Raphael Rooms. Long story short, I managed to navigate the targets/tourists through masses of other tour groups while still talking about Julius II's political agenda as seen in Raphael's frescoes. 30 points.
Stage seven: Borgia Apartments. Talked about the ceilings. 10 points. Completely ignored 15 minutes of horrible modern art. -10 points.
Stage eight: Sistine Chapel. In (under the wire) at 3.45 pm. Done and Done. 25 points.
Stage nine: St. Peter's Basilica. Finally remembered why Pope Innocent XI's body is in the basilica and not in the tombs. 5 points. Successfully described the vast majority of items in the basilica, managed to convey disgust for the barbaric tendencies of Pope Urban VIII. 15 points.
Stage ten: Coffee break. Thank goodness, because I literally talked myself hoarse in the 4.5 hours that completion of Stages one through nine took. No points. Managed to give history of Fascism and short etymology lesson while walking to Castel. 5 points.
Stage eleven: Castel Sant'Angelo. It is closed on Mondays. -20 points. Talked about it anyway, from the outside, 10 points. Gave impromptu tour of Ponte Sant'Angelo (thank you, Tegmeyer), 10 points. Offered to replace tour of Castel with tour of another round building designed by Hadrian (A.K.A. the Pantheon). 5 points.
Stage twelve: Walk to Pantheon. Gave tour of back streets of Rome, and of Piazza Navona. Remembered that the fourth river on Bernini's fountain is the Rio de la Plata, not the Amazon. Targets doubted my veracity, but I was vindicated by didactic on side of construction scaffold. 20 points.
Stage thirteen: Pantheon tour. Targets are impressed that I have now been talking for 6 hours. 5 points. Targets still appear interested in what I am saying. 10 points.
Stage fourteen: Go home. Mission complete. Total points earned: 305.
Stage one: Picked up the two tourists at their hotel. Targets safely escorted to Metro for crowded train ride to Termini, then successful switch to A Line for ride to Ottaviano. I managed to give some sort of strange history/culture lesson while on the metro (10 points), and sound like a local when suggesting where to buy water bottles for the incredible journey. I mean tour. 5 points.
Stage two: Piazza San Pietro. Thank God there were clouds today. 25 points. Made up the number of saints in the Justice League. -5 points.
Stage three: Escort targets on 10 minute walk from Piazza to Musei entrance. Managed to cover history of Vatican attacks, Swiss Guard, and the last 25 years of Papal history. 15 points. Demonstrated knowledge of more than just Italian history by linking the first two things in that list to Henry VIII and Katherine of Aragon. 5 points.
Stage four: The Pinacoteca. Gave a short introduction to the Pieta copy, describing the symbolism of the piece and mentioning that this was not how it was intended to be displayed. 50 points. Moved very quickly through Medieval and Early Renaissance rooms, almost caught by guard. -20 points, but +5 for not getting caught. Nailed Perugino works, three Raphael altarpieces, and an incomplete Da Vinci drawing of St. Jerome. 25 points. Caravaggio room. 15 points. Found the Mannerism room, used the word "canjanti." 45 points.
Stage five: The regular Museum part. Having done this part before, I do not get as many points for my successful tour of it. 40 points. Impolitely asked to vacate guide boards for Sistine Chapel by vicious Italian woman wearing a tour guide license. -20 points.
Stage six: The Raphael Rooms. Long story short, I managed to navigate the targets/tourists through masses of other tour groups while still talking about Julius II's political agenda as seen in Raphael's frescoes. 30 points.
Stage seven: Borgia Apartments. Talked about the ceilings. 10 points. Completely ignored 15 minutes of horrible modern art. -10 points.
Stage eight: Sistine Chapel. In (under the wire) at 3.45 pm. Done and Done. 25 points.
Stage nine: St. Peter's Basilica. Finally remembered why Pope Innocent XI's body is in the basilica and not in the tombs. 5 points. Successfully described the vast majority of items in the basilica, managed to convey disgust for the barbaric tendencies of Pope Urban VIII. 15 points.
Stage ten: Coffee break. Thank goodness, because I literally talked myself hoarse in the 4.5 hours that completion of Stages one through nine took. No points. Managed to give history of Fascism and short etymology lesson while walking to Castel. 5 points.
Stage eleven: Castel Sant'Angelo. It is closed on Mondays. -20 points. Talked about it anyway, from the outside, 10 points. Gave impromptu tour of Ponte Sant'Angelo (thank you, Tegmeyer), 10 points. Offered to replace tour of Castel with tour of another round building designed by Hadrian (A.K.A. the Pantheon). 5 points.
Stage twelve: Walk to Pantheon. Gave tour of back streets of Rome, and of Piazza Navona. Remembered that the fourth river on Bernini's fountain is the Rio de la Plata, not the Amazon. Targets doubted my veracity, but I was vindicated by didactic on side of construction scaffold. 20 points.
Stage thirteen: Pantheon tour. Targets are impressed that I have now been talking for 6 hours. 5 points. Targets still appear interested in what I am saying. 10 points.
Stage fourteen: Go home. Mission complete. Total points earned: 305.
The LOst(ia) Weekend
I just realized how long it has been since I posted something here, and I can only use the excuse that I was busy giving tours at the end of last week and then I spent the past weekend in Ostia. Shame on me for doubting it, but business has really taken a turn for the better now that July has arrived. I have started to feel like a real tour guide! I took a break from my newly busy schedule, however, to go to Ostia with Roisin to lie on the beach and have a bit of sun. One of Ro's friends lives out there in the summers, so we stayed in her cabin/bungalow, and spent all of Sunday laying in the sun and soaking up the vitamin D. Not that I don't really do that every day while giving tours...
It was great to be near the water though, and swimming made it feel like a real holiday. I practically immersed myself in sunscreen throughout the day, and so avoided getting as sunburned as Roisin, who came away from the weekend with skin a lovely shade of salmon pink. My exceedingly latent tanning gene has decided to start working, so I actually have a bit of a bronze hue. It is quite shocking.
Time has no meaning in Ostia, because this past week has gone by far too fast for my taste, but this weekend seemed to last forever. It was my lost weekend in Ostia. I am being fed Irish culture by the group of Irish people I now know, in the form of Ross O'Carroll-Kelly, a fictional author of a series of books on Dublin. I read an entire book of his lying around on Saturday, and got up to find it was only 4 pm. We decided to stay in Ostia again on Saturday night, because it was much cooler out there than it was in the city, and make dinner. Somehow, because we again lost track of the time, we didn't end up having dinner until 11.30 at night.
We did manage to get ourselves back to the city in time to go to the Porta Portese market on Sunday morning. The market stretches for about a mile, and sells everything from shoes to bicycles to corkscrews to antique Indian axes. And none of it costs more than 8 euro (5, if you barter well...). I didn't buy anything, because all the stores are in the middle of the July Saldi (sales), and some of the clothes in the market are... interesting. Still, it was a wonderful and relaxing weekend (not that Rome ever causes me stress), and I feel good about doing something besides wander around the Eternal City with my weekends. I will have to work next weekend, so I won't be able to go anywhere (maybe just a day trip to Tivoli or something...)
It was great to be near the water though, and swimming made it feel like a real holiday. I practically immersed myself in sunscreen throughout the day, and so avoided getting as sunburned as Roisin, who came away from the weekend with skin a lovely shade of salmon pink. My exceedingly latent tanning gene has decided to start working, so I actually have a bit of a bronze hue. It is quite shocking.
Time has no meaning in Ostia, because this past week has gone by far too fast for my taste, but this weekend seemed to last forever. It was my lost weekend in Ostia. I am being fed Irish culture by the group of Irish people I now know, in the form of Ross O'Carroll-Kelly, a fictional author of a series of books on Dublin. I read an entire book of his lying around on Saturday, and got up to find it was only 4 pm. We decided to stay in Ostia again on Saturday night, because it was much cooler out there than it was in the city, and make dinner. Somehow, because we again lost track of the time, we didn't end up having dinner until 11.30 at night.
We did manage to get ourselves back to the city in time to go to the Porta Portese market on Sunday morning. The market stretches for about a mile, and sells everything from shoes to bicycles to corkscrews to antique Indian axes. And none of it costs more than 8 euro (5, if you barter well...). I didn't buy anything, because all the stores are in the middle of the July Saldi (sales), and some of the clothes in the market are... interesting. Still, it was a wonderful and relaxing weekend (not that Rome ever causes me stress), and I feel good about doing something besides wander around the Eternal City with my weekends. I will have to work next weekend, so I won't be able to go anywhere (maybe just a day trip to Tivoli or something...)
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Sgt Pepper's Band
Tonight after attempting to lure tourists into the Pantheon with Roisin (an endeavor that is receiving stranger and stranger responses, such as: "WHY?!" Well, I am actually asking you if you want a free tour because here at the Pantheon, that means, "would you like to buy some drugs for your children?" Sheesh.), we went for a wander in the area, intending to get some gelato. As we were walking past the newly unveiled Temple to Hadrian, I noticed a great fuss happening in the piazza. At first, I thought that the mass of Polizia meant that something big was happening, but then I realized that there were no Carabinieri present, which there certainly would be if there were any sort of real crime (as opposed to chasing the illegal handbag/sunglasses merchants, which seems to be the sole provenance of the Polizia Municipale).
As it turns out, the Polizia milling about were actually members of the Polizia Band, preparing to play a concert.
I have no idea what their theme was, as they covered everything from Offenbach's Can Can to the theme from Austen Powers. The performance itself, however, was fantastic, because the whole piazza was filled with people just standing and watching them play. Even these two guys in the building behind the band stopped to lean out the window and listen:
At the end, they all stood up and put on their fantastic hat/helmets to play the Italian national anthem:
I mouthed nonsense words, since I have no idea what the Italian national anthem is, but it was fun to participate...
As it turns out, the Polizia milling about were actually members of the Polizia Band, preparing to play a concert.
I have no idea what their theme was, as they covered everything from Offenbach's Can Can to the theme from Austen Powers. The performance itself, however, was fantastic, because the whole piazza was filled with people just standing and watching them play. Even these two guys in the building behind the band stopped to lean out the window and listen:
At the end, they all stood up and put on their fantastic hat/helmets to play the Italian national anthem:
I mouthed nonsense words, since I have no idea what the Italian national anthem is, but it was fun to participate...
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
A Strange Occurrence
Today I ventured out from my beloved apartment and looked up to the heavens. Typically, I am greeted by brilliant blue skies and blinding rays of sun. This morning, however, I saw this:
It was this large white fluffy thing, blocking the vicious, burning sun. I don't know what it is. There were in fact a few of them, and I could practically feel myself shivering with cold in the absence of the Italian sunshine. I walked through the city, fearful of this strange omen, and felt comforted when they all disappeared and my skin began to sizzle again...
It was this large white fluffy thing, blocking the vicious, burning sun. I don't know what it is. There were in fact a few of them, and I could practically feel myself shivering with cold in the absence of the Italian sunshine. I walked through the city, fearful of this strange omen, and felt comforted when they all disappeared and my skin began to sizzle again...
Sunday, July 6, 2008
La Casa
I am finally using the internet in my very own appartamento, and feeling very much at home. We were without internet for a few days, because Riccardo, despite being an engineer, is completely computer illiterate. He types with his two index fingers, and when he came to the flat to install the router, I was able to access the wireless within 5 minutes, but it took him 45 to complete the installation. He then offered to take me on a tour of Trastevere on his motorscooter. Strangely, Riccardo seems to like me, but dislike Roisin, since he never offers to show her the neighborhood. Either way, I am now able to upload pictures, allowing me to finally show off the apartment of which I am so enamored!
This to the left is a picture of the hallway that leads to the apartment. It is on the ground floor of the building, and so I don't have to ride in the elevator, which is smaller than the closets in the apartment. The brown, slightly uneven door is the door to my apartment, and there are Christmas lights that run all around it, which can be turned on and off based on how festive we are feeling as residents. They are off in this picture.
This is my bedroom, which is actually the only bedroom in the apartment. It is very adorable, but the bed is too big for the room. It fits within the bound of the room, but completely prevents the door from closing. Also, I banged my knee on the corner of it while trying to walk from the window to the door. The bruise is fantastic.
This picture to the right is the ceiling of the bedroom, which has a very cool 1920s art deco chandelier. This is not the best picture of the chandelier. The ceilings, however, are the coolest part of the apartment. They are all vaulted, which is something you can somewhat see here. The vaults are curved but not pointed, and made out of whitewashed brick. They are quite high, and probably provide the "freshness" that Riccardo goes on and on about...
This is our
bathroom. As you can see, the shower is one and the same with the bathroom, which is a bit of an adventure. On the plus side, the whole bathroom gets rinsed down every time anyone turns on the shower.
These two pictures are of the living room/Roisin's room/the dining room. The red couch folds out into a double bed, with a new mattress, very firm, according to Riccardo. Above it is an antique mirror that is somewhat distorted, and Riccardo spent more time explaining how much he likes this mirror than he did explaining how to use the stove, for instance.
This is an upright picture of the dining room area, which shows the height of the ceilings, as well as the other cool chandelier in the flat. You can also see a zebra/leopard print chair, which is possibly the most comfortable chair I have ever encountered. It looks horrendous, but sitting in it is like heaven.
This is a close up of the chandelier in the kitchen, which I really love.
This is our kitchen, which is actually quite fitted out, for an Italian kitchen. Our stove is gas burning, and although you do have to turn a switch to turn on the gas (which Riccardo neglected to tell us), there is no need to attempt the terrifying endeavor of lighting the stove. It does that on its own. The two cabinets on the bottom right contain the washing machine and the frigorifero, respectively. You may be able to notice that the second cabinet from the right looks a bit off kilter. This is the fridge, and I spent the first three days in which we lived here trying to fix the fact that the fridge was improperly installed. I managed to fix it last week, but the front is still a bit wonky...
Finally, this is a picture of the washing machine in its cabinet. It is the same size as the fridge, so Roisin and I are very creative about what we buy that needs refrigeration. The washing machine also floods the kitchen, so that is another project I will have to work on in the coming week. This picture also shows the tiles of the kitchen, which are hand painted and beautiful.
Clearly, I am rapturous about my apartment. If you have gotten to this part of the post (which must be the longest post ever), I commend you.
This to the left is a picture of the hallway that leads to the apartment. It is on the ground floor of the building, and so I don't have to ride in the elevator, which is smaller than the closets in the apartment. The brown, slightly uneven door is the door to my apartment, and there are Christmas lights that run all around it, which can be turned on and off based on how festive we are feeling as residents. They are off in this picture.
This is my bedroom, which is actually the only bedroom in the apartment. It is very adorable, but the bed is too big for the room. It fits within the bound of the room, but completely prevents the door from closing. Also, I banged my knee on the corner of it while trying to walk from the window to the door. The bruise is fantastic.
This picture to the right is the ceiling of the bedroom, which has a very cool 1920s art deco chandelier. This is not the best picture of the chandelier. The ceilings, however, are the coolest part of the apartment. They are all vaulted, which is something you can somewhat see here. The vaults are curved but not pointed, and made out of whitewashed brick. They are quite high, and probably provide the "freshness" that Riccardo goes on and on about...
This is our
bathroom. As you can see, the shower is one and the same with the bathroom, which is a bit of an adventure. On the plus side, the whole bathroom gets rinsed down every time anyone turns on the shower.
These two pictures are of the living room/Roisin's room/the dining room. The red couch folds out into a double bed, with a new mattress, very firm, according to Riccardo. Above it is an antique mirror that is somewhat distorted, and Riccardo spent more time explaining how much he likes this mirror than he did explaining how to use the stove, for instance.
This is an upright picture of the dining room area, which shows the height of the ceilings, as well as the other cool chandelier in the flat. You can also see a zebra/leopard print chair, which is possibly the most comfortable chair I have ever encountered. It looks horrendous, but sitting in it is like heaven.
This is a close up of the chandelier in the kitchen, which I really love.
This is our kitchen, which is actually quite fitted out, for an Italian kitchen. Our stove is gas burning, and although you do have to turn a switch to turn on the gas (which Riccardo neglected to tell us), there is no need to attempt the terrifying endeavor of lighting the stove. It does that on its own. The two cabinets on the bottom right contain the washing machine and the frigorifero, respectively. You may be able to notice that the second cabinet from the right looks a bit off kilter. This is the fridge, and I spent the first three days in which we lived here trying to fix the fact that the fridge was improperly installed. I managed to fix it last week, but the front is still a bit wonky...
Finally, this is a picture of the washing machine in its cabinet. It is the same size as the fridge, so Roisin and I are very creative about what we buy that needs refrigeration. The washing machine also floods the kitchen, so that is another project I will have to work on in the coming week. This picture also shows the tiles of the kitchen, which are hand painted and beautiful.Clearly, I am rapturous about my apartment. If you have gotten to this part of the post (which must be the longest post ever), I commend you.
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
Finalmente a Casa!
We have an apartment! We, now, refers to me and Roisin, my new Irish roommate. She is fantastic, and we luckily have similar habits, which bodes well for the next month. Our apartment, or flat, or appartamento, depending on who you ask, is amazing. The landlord, Riccardo, is a very strange man of indeterminate age. Roisin thinks he is over 40, and I think that sounds believable. He talks to my neck. I can't complain, however, because I have a very serious crush on our new apartment. It is located in the heart of Trastevere, and the area around it is what the Italians call 'characteristic'. I heard this about a number of neighborhoods when I was searching for apartments, but I believe it about mine, since it is vibrant and bright and full of people. These people, amazingly, are actually Italian, and the tourist count is almost nil. We are surrounded by restaraunts and food shops, which are both delicious and inexpensive, as far as I have been able to determine, because there are very few tourists around.
The apartment itself is adorable, and, as Riccardo says, 'very fresh'. It is on the ground floor of a tall building, and opens on to a central courtyard, which is shady and perpetually full of drying laundry. I love seeing the laundry on the line, and plan to do some laundry in our washing machine just so I can participate in the laundry drying activities. The ceilings are whitewashed brick vaults, and are quite high. It gives the flat an old, authentic feeling (although authentic what I don't know) and the whole thing has real character. I have pictures, but I can't put them here, because I am actually using Riccardo's computer to type this post, since the internet in our apartment is not working yet. Trying to converse with Riccardo about the internet was an adventure, but I eventually managed to determine that the internet modem box 'non funzione', and that a new one will arrive... sometime soon.
After making a grocery list entirely in Italian, we stocked our frigorifero, which I fixed using my brute strength last night. For reference, the fridge is the same size as the washing machine, so we are being creative about what belongs in there. Last night, I cooked a gourmet dinner of pasta and tomato sauce with onions. While this may not sound all that special, cooking it in my own kitchen in my own apartment lent the dish a flavor of satisfaction that made a big difference. This is the first apartment that I have really ever lived in by myself, and I fear that no apartment I will live in subsequently will ever live up to it! The only down side is that I have to pay rent...
The apartment itself is adorable, and, as Riccardo says, 'very fresh'. It is on the ground floor of a tall building, and opens on to a central courtyard, which is shady and perpetually full of drying laundry. I love seeing the laundry on the line, and plan to do some laundry in our washing machine just so I can participate in the laundry drying activities. The ceilings are whitewashed brick vaults, and are quite high. It gives the flat an old, authentic feeling (although authentic what I don't know) and the whole thing has real character. I have pictures, but I can't put them here, because I am actually using Riccardo's computer to type this post, since the internet in our apartment is not working yet. Trying to converse with Riccardo about the internet was an adventure, but I eventually managed to determine that the internet modem box 'non funzione', and that a new one will arrive... sometime soon.
After making a grocery list entirely in Italian, we stocked our frigorifero, which I fixed using my brute strength last night. For reference, the fridge is the same size as the washing machine, so we are being creative about what belongs in there. Last night, I cooked a gourmet dinner of pasta and tomato sauce with onions. While this may not sound all that special, cooking it in my own kitchen in my own apartment lent the dish a flavor of satisfaction that made a big difference. This is the first apartment that I have really ever lived in by myself, and I fear that no apartment I will live in subsequently will ever live up to it! The only down side is that I have to pay rent...
Monday, June 30, 2008
A Three Hour Tour (a Three Hour Tour)
The title of this post, in case that phrase doesn't immediately conjure it, is a reference to the theme song of Gilligan's Island, which has been stuck in my head all day. More on this later.
I woke up bright and early this morning, and headed out to the far northern outskirts of the city to pick up my unsuspecting victims. I mean, tourists. They were a family of Americans who live in Britain, because the father is in the Air Force. Today was their last day in Rome, and I was thrilled that they chose to spend it with me. They wanted to see the Roman Forum and the Colosseum, and I have been salivating at the chance to tell someone about these very things for ages. After paying our entrance fee with euros and one of my kidneys, we entered the Forum, and I launched into my description of the Basilica Fulvia Aemilia. Despite this being my first tour, I wasn't nervous at all. I was served well by all those Centro field trips, and derived great satisfaction from being able to produce that 'oooo' sound at various structures, from the Curia to the Temple of Venus and Roma. However, as it does on most days in Rome, the sun was beating down upon our little group, and the three small children began to suffer from it. Therefore, the central theme of the second half of my tour of the Forum was 'shade', or more specifically, 'see that pile of rubble over there? I will tell you about it from this shade here.' I also gave a 7 minute off the cuff talk on acqueducts, as we all stopped to drink out of (and spray each other from) one of the drinking fountains in the Forum.
After leaving the Forum, the Gilligan's Island theme song began to run in my head, and all I could think as we entered the Colosseum was 'so this is the tale of the castaways, they're here for a long long time, they'll have to make the best of things, its an uphill climb'. At this point, I wisely chose to take the elevator. The Colosseum went well, as it never really fails to impress (I have to do very little, in the face of such a magnificent building), but by the end of the whole thing, I looked at my watch and thought 'a three hour tour, a three hour tour...' We finished the tour significantly ruddier than we had begun it, and unanimously decided that I should be tipped not with money, but with gelato. Strangely enough, I had no qualms with this.
It was wonderful to feel like a real tour guide, and I get to repeat the experience again tomorrow, except in the Vatican. That means that this evening, I have to go over my notes so that I will be able to differentiate between which Pope excommunicated miniskirts, and which one is actually a Danish Lutheran broom cupboard. Should be an exciting evening.
More exciting is the fact that Roisin is here, and somehow, I managed to find us an apartment. More on this later, for now, I have to study.
I woke up bright and early this morning, and headed out to the far northern outskirts of the city to pick up my unsuspecting victims. I mean, tourists. They were a family of Americans who live in Britain, because the father is in the Air Force. Today was their last day in Rome, and I was thrilled that they chose to spend it with me. They wanted to see the Roman Forum and the Colosseum, and I have been salivating at the chance to tell someone about these very things for ages. After paying our entrance fee with euros and one of my kidneys, we entered the Forum, and I launched into my description of the Basilica Fulvia Aemilia. Despite this being my first tour, I wasn't nervous at all. I was served well by all those Centro field trips, and derived great satisfaction from being able to produce that 'oooo' sound at various structures, from the Curia to the Temple of Venus and Roma. However, as it does on most days in Rome, the sun was beating down upon our little group, and the three small children began to suffer from it. Therefore, the central theme of the second half of my tour of the Forum was 'shade', or more specifically, 'see that pile of rubble over there? I will tell you about it from this shade here.' I also gave a 7 minute off the cuff talk on acqueducts, as we all stopped to drink out of (and spray each other from) one of the drinking fountains in the Forum.
After leaving the Forum, the Gilligan's Island theme song began to run in my head, and all I could think as we entered the Colosseum was 'so this is the tale of the castaways, they're here for a long long time, they'll have to make the best of things, its an uphill climb'. At this point, I wisely chose to take the elevator. The Colosseum went well, as it never really fails to impress (I have to do very little, in the face of such a magnificent building), but by the end of the whole thing, I looked at my watch and thought 'a three hour tour, a three hour tour...' We finished the tour significantly ruddier than we had begun it, and unanimously decided that I should be tipped not with money, but with gelato. Strangely enough, I had no qualms with this.
It was wonderful to feel like a real tour guide, and I get to repeat the experience again tomorrow, except in the Vatican. That means that this evening, I have to go over my notes so that I will be able to differentiate between which Pope excommunicated miniskirts, and which one is actually a Danish Lutheran broom cupboard. Should be an exciting evening.
More exciting is the fact that Roisin is here, and somehow, I managed to find us an apartment. More on this later, for now, I have to study.
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Lazy Sunday
Sunday in a convent is not at all lazy, to immediately contradict the title of this post. I woke this morning to the sound of bells (surprise surprise) at quarter to 8, and managed to roll out of bed and make myself presentable for mass within 15 minutes. All guests of the convent are required to go to mass on Sundays, which is held in a small chapel adjacent to the building. It is officiated by the tiniest priest I have ever seen. He is no more than 5'2, and although he has a paunchy belly, he also wears gargantuan glasses, behind which his whole head appears small. His voice, however, doesn't match his frame; it is loud and low. From what I could gather, using my slowly improving Italian, his homily was about Saints Peter and Paul, patron saints of Rome (as both were martyred here) whose feast it is today, and something about courage and forgiveness. That may all sound a little crude, but the priest spoke very quickly, and I really only understand the words that sound like Latin.
After mass, however, my Sunday became very lazy, as I feel it should. No attempting to talk to tourists today! I sat in the garden and listened to someone's piano lesson, occurring in one of the apartments that border the garden. I also finished my book, which returns my mental capacity once more to 'fully aware', and capaple of doing other things. Dara has seen fit to tell me about the private tour I am giving tomorrow morning, which includes the Roman Forum, the Imperial Fora, and the Colosseum. Taking my notes and my oversized Italian sunglasses, I set off for the Forum, to study in the great place itself, and planned to pick up lunch on the way.
I live off the Via Cavour, which is a main road in Rome, with two way traffic and four or five lanes, depending on who is driving. Though it is a straight shot down Via Cavour to the Via Fori Imperiali, sometimes I like to take side streets, especially when I don't have any time constraints. Today, as I was walking along one of these smaller streets, I found a hole in the wall place with some of the best looking tomatoes I have seen all summer. Seduced by their shiny skins, I went in and bought one. Since no Italian store, whether it sells shoes, books, or food, is ever devoid of mozzarella bufala, I bought some of that as well. Arriving at the Forum, I found a place in the shade, and sat down to enjoy my little feast. Having washed my pomodoro in one of the fountains, I realized I didn't have any silverware. No problem: I ate it like an apple, taking big crunchy, juicy bites, and alternating with bites of the mozzarella. I made a mess, but it was delicious.
In the shade, the breeze keeps the temperature comfortable, and I sat for a long time, reading my notes and watching the people walk by. It is impossible not to people-watch in Rome, because there are so many and such diverse people. I am getting the knack of identifying nationalities just by looking at people, although strangely, the Italians are easiest to recognise. Equally easy are the Asians, but that almost doesn't count, it is so easy. The Americans come not far behind, because they are usually wearing fanny packs and staring at maps. American girls are particularly easy, perhaps because as one of them, I hold an unfair advantage in recognising my peers, but they seem to have a summer uniform: a mid-length cotton J Crew dress, which I admittedly tried on back home. The British are paler than the Americans, and usually wear hats, whereas the Americans are all trying to get tan. They also stare intently at maps. After that it gets harder, but the Germans are fairly easy to spot, because they look.... German. That may sound like an insufficient description, but it is hard to put into words.
For now, I am off to put my feet in the fountain again, and practice more for tomorrow.
After mass, however, my Sunday became very lazy, as I feel it should. No attempting to talk to tourists today! I sat in the garden and listened to someone's piano lesson, occurring in one of the apartments that border the garden. I also finished my book, which returns my mental capacity once more to 'fully aware', and capaple of doing other things. Dara has seen fit to tell me about the private tour I am giving tomorrow morning, which includes the Roman Forum, the Imperial Fora, and the Colosseum. Taking my notes and my oversized Italian sunglasses, I set off for the Forum, to study in the great place itself, and planned to pick up lunch on the way.
I live off the Via Cavour, which is a main road in Rome, with two way traffic and four or five lanes, depending on who is driving. Though it is a straight shot down Via Cavour to the Via Fori Imperiali, sometimes I like to take side streets, especially when I don't have any time constraints. Today, as I was walking along one of these smaller streets, I found a hole in the wall place with some of the best looking tomatoes I have seen all summer. Seduced by their shiny skins, I went in and bought one. Since no Italian store, whether it sells shoes, books, or food, is ever devoid of mozzarella bufala, I bought some of that as well. Arriving at the Forum, I found a place in the shade, and sat down to enjoy my little feast. Having washed my pomodoro in one of the fountains, I realized I didn't have any silverware. No problem: I ate it like an apple, taking big crunchy, juicy bites, and alternating with bites of the mozzarella. I made a mess, but it was delicious.
In the shade, the breeze keeps the temperature comfortable, and I sat for a long time, reading my notes and watching the people walk by. It is impossible not to people-watch in Rome, because there are so many and such diverse people. I am getting the knack of identifying nationalities just by looking at people, although strangely, the Italians are easiest to recognise. Equally easy are the Asians, but that almost doesn't count, it is so easy. The Americans come not far behind, because they are usually wearing fanny packs and staring at maps. American girls are particularly easy, perhaps because as one of them, I hold an unfair advantage in recognising my peers, but they seem to have a summer uniform: a mid-length cotton J Crew dress, which I admittedly tried on back home. The British are paler than the Americans, and usually wear hats, whereas the Americans are all trying to get tan. They also stare intently at maps. After that it gets harder, but the Germans are fairly easy to spot, because they look.... German. That may sound like an insufficient description, but it is hard to put into words.
For now, I am off to put my feet in the fountain again, and practice more for tomorrow.
Saturday, June 28, 2008
Side Effects of Being a Tour Guide (Even one who doesn't give tours)
All this week, I have been unable to entice anyone to come on a tour of the Forum, Vatican, or Pantheon. Still, I now have a full week's experience of approaching random strangers and asking them to spend some time and money with me. I am getting very good at handling rejection, which is something I could have probably predicted, but I have discovered another, completely unpredictable, side effect of my job. I find myself completely unable to pass by lost American tourists. Today, for instance, I found some Americans standing behind the Pantheon, all wearing matching scarves. One of them said, "So, where is the Pantheon?" and another said "Well, we just went into THAT building (indicating the Pantheon), and I don't think that was it." At this point, I felt obligated, as a pseudo-guide and a fellow countrywoman, to walk over and inform them that it was, in fact, the Pantheon. It was at this point that I learned they were on some sort of scavenger hunt, so I also translated the inscription on the facade for them. Then I got to tell them how to get to "Piazza Novogona," which I just assumed meant Piazza Navona. This wonderful experience was followed soon after by a similar encounter on the 64 bus, where I found some very clueless tourists looking for "the Fountain of Trivoli." Once I had clarified that they were looking for the Trevi Fountain, I sent them merrily on their way.
Given this penchant for helpful guiding, and a knowledge of the city (which I have gained by walking everywhere), I am somewhat surprised that no one trusts me enough to come on my tours. Perhaps I will make myself a sign that reads: I am American, and I know where you need to go. My other plan is inspired by my gladiator friends. Hanging out all day at major tourist attractions, I end up in a large number of people's photographs or videos as a bystander. I think I will start charging them for the use of my image, say, 5 euro for a picture of my face, and 3 euro for one with me from behind. This, of course, is all fantasy, but I am being very creative until I get to next week...
Given this penchant for helpful guiding, and a knowledge of the city (which I have gained by walking everywhere), I am somewhat surprised that no one trusts me enough to come on my tours. Perhaps I will make myself a sign that reads: I am American, and I know where you need to go. My other plan is inspired by my gladiator friends. Hanging out all day at major tourist attractions, I end up in a large number of people's photographs or videos as a bystander. I think I will start charging them for the use of my image, say, 5 euro for a picture of my face, and 3 euro for one with me from behind. This, of course, is all fantasy, but I am being very creative until I get to next week...
Friday, June 27, 2008
A Difficult Decision
There has been a bit of a lag (I think one whole day!) since my last post, and I must explain it. Yesterday, I was down to my last euro coin, and found myself faced with a very difficult decision: should I spend it on an hour of internet use, or on a gelato? Clearly, I chose the gelato. As much as I enjoy writing this, that was one tasty gelato. I like to experiment with flavors, but when I walked into Miami (the best gelato place in all of Roma), I knew immediately what I wanted: pesca. I have always had a soft spot for peaches in any form, but peach gelato seemed like the pinnacle of peachy goodness. For some reason, I always get a fruit gelato and a cream gelato, so I paired it with straciatella, Italian chocolate chip. It was beyond delicious. The pesca had bits of actual peach in it, but not such large pieces that they froze my teeth or anything.
Having been inspired with this great peach success, I went to the market outside my current residence this morning, and paid attention to it for the first time. It is there every morning, and they start setting up (right outside my window) at about 5 am. Usually, I just hurry through it on my way to the Colosseum every morning, but today I was running early, so I ventured out to explore. They sell everything in this market, from cheese and meat to clothing and shoes, even though the whole thing takes up less than one block. I found the fruit stand and began admiring the peaches in a tactile fashion. The tiny old woman who owned the stand tottered over and thrust a brown paper bag into my hands and gestured majestically at the peaches. I was worried, because they were a bit hard, but when I expressed this to the old woman, she gave me a conspiratorial wink and pulled three gorgeous peaches out from another box. I bought them immediately, and had one on my way to the Forum. It was ripe and soft, and I feel very fortunate that Rome is a city of fountains, because I got peach juice all over my hands.
I met Gladiator Luca's girlfriend today. Her name is Gabriela, and she is the last person I would have ever expected to be dating big, blond, gladiator Luca. She is almost completely round, and dresses like an American tourist. In fact, I thought she WAS an American tourist, until I heard her speak, and then watched her plant one on Luca. She is very sweet, however, and brought Luca and Alessio giant bottles of water. I was a happy spectator for most of this, since there are still no tourists interested in the public tours. Still, I have heard rumors from Dara that there will be a change in the wind come July...
Having been inspired with this great peach success, I went to the market outside my current residence this morning, and paid attention to it for the first time. It is there every morning, and they start setting up (right outside my window) at about 5 am. Usually, I just hurry through it on my way to the Colosseum every morning, but today I was running early, so I ventured out to explore. They sell everything in this market, from cheese and meat to clothing and shoes, even though the whole thing takes up less than one block. I found the fruit stand and began admiring the peaches in a tactile fashion. The tiny old woman who owned the stand tottered over and thrust a brown paper bag into my hands and gestured majestically at the peaches. I was worried, because they were a bit hard, but when I expressed this to the old woman, she gave me a conspiratorial wink and pulled three gorgeous peaches out from another box. I bought them immediately, and had one on my way to the Forum. It was ripe and soft, and I feel very fortunate that Rome is a city of fountains, because I got peach juice all over my hands.
I met Gladiator Luca's girlfriend today. Her name is Gabriela, and she is the last person I would have ever expected to be dating big, blond, gladiator Luca. She is almost completely round, and dresses like an American tourist. In fact, I thought she WAS an American tourist, until I heard her speak, and then watched her plant one on Luca. She is very sweet, however, and brought Luca and Alessio giant bottles of water. I was a happy spectator for most of this, since there are still no tourists interested in the public tours. Still, I have heard rumors from Dara that there will be a change in the wind come July...
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Taking the Veil
This has to be a short post, since I am now required to pay for my internet. I found a place where I could use the internet for free, but in return, I would have to put up with the overly amorous owner of the cafe, so I have decided that I can afford the price of peace and quiet. I have moved into a convent not far from Santa Maria Maggiore, which is what the internet advertisers would probably refer to as a "colorful" neighborhood. I would probably be more likely to use a word such as "sketchy," but hey, I feel pretty safe with all the nuns. They run a very neat ship, although I hear disparaging things about the coffee they make at breakfast. However, all this information comes from my roommate, a thirtysomething Australian woman whose parents were from Sicily. She is a bit of a character, and chose to introduce herself to me by telling a very detailed story about how the Sicilian men were all over her, rather than telling me her name. I have since learned that her name is Celeste, but she seems to regard me as her psychiatrist, as I find myself obligated to smile and nod through her stories about her extravagant Italian boyfriend. It is not that I mind listening, or being friendly to my roommate, but I am in the middle of an Umberto Eco book, and those of you who know me well know how hard it is for me to do anything but read when I am mid- good book. At least I have a semipermanent place to stay now, until I find an apartment with Roisin, which should restore some semblance of regularity to my life. I would say normalcy, but that is the last word I would use to describe this trip! When I prayed for adventure, someone upstairs was listening...
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Musical Beds
Tonight I find myself obligated to mention that I am moving, once again. Changing abodes seems to be a central theme of my summer, from the move out of Summit, to the Home move, to the flight to Rome, to the Centro, to Dara's apartment, to Dara's apartment illegally, to the Centro, and then tomorrow to a convent. Yesterday, my three bags were in three different locations throughout the Eternal City, and I feel a bit like the boatman in that riddle with the wolf, the sheep, and the bag of sheep food. The wolf can't be left with the sheep, nor the sheep with the food, but the boat only holds two passengers... Still, I sincerely hope that this will be the last time that I move until I move into my July apartment.
Finding an apartment has been no easy task, as the people offering the apartments seem apt to grossly misrepresent their properties. For instance, I found the following ad:
Wanted In Rome: GOOD APARTMENT, CENTRE LOCATION
centre Rome metro Cavour, double room, kitchen, private bathroom, internet, quiet, € 50-70/day,€ 680-780/month+exp.
But when I contacted the owner, I discovered that she was only renting out a room in this "good apartment". I have, however, gotten to meet all sorts of exciting people, including a married couple, Dario and Daria S------. I just find it amusing that they have basically the same name. They sign all their emails "D & D". It seems people either willfully underestimate the difference from their apartments to the "centro" of Rome, or just have a very poor understanding of geography, but I have everlasting hope that I will find a good place soon.
Finding an apartment has been no easy task, as the people offering the apartments seem apt to grossly misrepresent their properties. For instance, I found the following ad:
Wanted In Rome: GOOD APARTMENT, CENTRE LOCATION
centre Rome metro Cavour, double room, kitchen, private bathroom, internet, quiet, € 50-70/day,€ 680-780/month+exp.
But when I contacted the owner, I discovered that she was only renting out a room in this "good apartment". I have, however, gotten to meet all sorts of exciting people, including a married couple, Dario and Daria S------. I just find it amusing that they have basically the same name. They sign all their emails "D & D". It seems people either willfully underestimate the difference from their apartments to the "centro" of Rome, or just have a very poor understanding of geography, but I have everlasting hope that I will find a good place soon.
Monday, June 23, 2008
Fa Caldo
I was warned that Rome gets hot in the summertime, but today really proved it to me. Normally, the mornings are somewhat cooler than the rest of the day, but this morning I woke up at 7.30, and it was already sweltering. By the time I got to the Forum at quarter to ten, the sun was beating down with an intensity that I had never experienced before. Even the gladiators and centurions who hang out by the Colosseum hitting on female tourists couldn't take the heat. From the distance of hindsight, it must have been pretty amusing (for any observer impervious to the heat) to see the motley crew all huddled together in the shadow of the Arch of Constantine, all vying for a bit of shade while trying not to get too close to anyone else's body heat. With no hyperbole at all, I can say it is actually about 15-20 degrees cooler in the shade than it is in the direct sunlight. Waiting in this historically-granted shade, I found myself chatting away to the two gladiators who stand near my tour group meeting point. They make a very amusing pair, when they are in action. One of them, Luca, is tall and tan an in very good shape, and he tops off this physique with shoulder-length hair that is streaked with blond in a way that I never would have imagined. Although he holds his strange hair back with a headband, he still manages to look much more convincingly like a gladiator than his buddy, Alessio. Alessio is somewhat shorter and very round, as if his mamma makes some really excellent pasta. He is also going bald, though right now it is just a little bit on the top of his head.
"Ciao, bella," Luca says, "fa caldo! Dobbiamo...." at which point he began to speak too fast for me to understand, but I caught something that sounded like "umbra" (which of course is Latin for "shade") so I put on a serious face and said "Si, si, si" with as much grave agreement as I could muster. Alessio and I then traded "fa caldo"s, and once we were in agreement about the heat, the modern gladiators and I managed to introduce ourselves and explain why we would want to stand in this corner of the Piazza del Colosseo. Actually, I did most of the explaining (in my combination basic Italian/sign language/Latin polyglot), since it was pretty apparent why they were there... We see each other every morning, so now that we have been introduced I think we are proper Italian amici. I would take a picture to post on the blog, but I am pretty sure I would then owe my new friends 10 euro.
The caldo continued as I made my way away from the Forum, planning to catch the 64 bus to San Pietro. With another dearth of tourists, however, I found myself with some extra time on my hands, and chose to spend it in the fountain on the left side of the monument to Vittorio Emanuelle II, or, the Wedding Cake. In all truth, I didn't really go swimming in the fountain (though I do hope that I will get to swim in at least one fountain before the summer is over), I merely removed my shoes and stuck my feet into the blissfully frigid water. People walking by seemed to think this looked like a good idea, and soon a fair number of feet were submerged. I could have stayed there a lot longer, but I had to at least consider the possibility that there might be tourists waiting for me to lead them in the Vatican.
Alas, when I got to Piazza San Pietro, I found myself one of maybe 25 people total who were in the square, and 20 of them were on a group tour already. Resolutely, however, I went and stood at the meeting point, grateful at last to the ubiquitous tour guide umbrella that I carry, which at least provided a bit of shade. No one was interested in the tour, so I returned to my pressing issue of the day: where will I sleep tonight? After spending one final night in the apartment last night, I faced today without a bed destination. After calling every convent in the city, I found that the only way to get a bed in one of them tonight was to join the order. Having decided that I was not quite ready to take the veil, I threw myself on the mercy of Franco, who kindly let me back into my old school. I will try the nuns again tomorrow (after all, I am getting very good at saying, "sono una ragazza povera, ho bisogno una camera da letto"), and hope for clouds and tourists.
"Ciao, bella," Luca says, "fa caldo! Dobbiamo...." at which point he began to speak too fast for me to understand, but I caught something that sounded like "umbra" (which of course is Latin for "shade") so I put on a serious face and said "Si, si, si" with as much grave agreement as I could muster. Alessio and I then traded "fa caldo"s, and once we were in agreement about the heat, the modern gladiators and I managed to introduce ourselves and explain why we would want to stand in this corner of the Piazza del Colosseo. Actually, I did most of the explaining (in my combination basic Italian/sign language/Latin polyglot), since it was pretty apparent why they were there... We see each other every morning, so now that we have been introduced I think we are proper Italian amici. I would take a picture to post on the blog, but I am pretty sure I would then owe my new friends 10 euro.
The caldo continued as I made my way away from the Forum, planning to catch the 64 bus to San Pietro. With another dearth of tourists, however, I found myself with some extra time on my hands, and chose to spend it in the fountain on the left side of the monument to Vittorio Emanuelle II, or, the Wedding Cake. In all truth, I didn't really go swimming in the fountain (though I do hope that I will get to swim in at least one fountain before the summer is over), I merely removed my shoes and stuck my feet into the blissfully frigid water. People walking by seemed to think this looked like a good idea, and soon a fair number of feet were submerged. I could have stayed there a lot longer, but I had to at least consider the possibility that there might be tourists waiting for me to lead them in the Vatican.
Alas, when I got to Piazza San Pietro, I found myself one of maybe 25 people total who were in the square, and 20 of them were on a group tour already. Resolutely, however, I went and stood at the meeting point, grateful at last to the ubiquitous tour guide umbrella that I carry, which at least provided a bit of shade. No one was interested in the tour, so I returned to my pressing issue of the day: where will I sleep tonight? After spending one final night in the apartment last night, I faced today without a bed destination. After calling every convent in the city, I found that the only way to get a bed in one of them tonight was to join the order. Having decided that I was not quite ready to take the veil, I threw myself on the mercy of Franco, who kindly let me back into my old school. I will try the nuns again tomorrow (after all, I am getting very good at saying, "sono una ragazza povera, ho bisogno una camera da letto"), and hope for clouds and tourists.
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Isola Tiberina
The last post, "The Missing Day" was meant to go up yesterday morning, but I lost my internet connection and thus could only just post it now. Ok, so yesterday, on my "day off," I tried once more to take the boat tour of the Tiber, and managed to succeed. The tour was somewhat sub-par, but it was a ton of fun to be floating along the Tiber. It was an audio tour, so I had to plug my headphones into the side of the boat, and listen to a woman with a strong Italian accent tell me about the bridges, over a soundtrack of Spanish music, with an interlude of "Stairway to Heaven." When that song came on, I hoped it would at least have something to do with part of the tour, but it didn't. I learned a bit about the bridges, but learned more from the boat attendant, who was very chatty and eager to tell me about the things we saw. The tour began at the Castel Sant'Angelo, and ended at Tiber Island (Isola Tiberina), one of the more beautiful parts of Rome. I hadn't been back to the Isola since the last time I was in Rome, but in the summertime, it is set up with a restaurant, overlooking the ancient part of the bridge, and the banks of the Tiber are lined with stalls that sell everything from candy to antiques to Balinese clothing. There are a number of bars and clubs, as well.
Having seen this setup, I decided to return there for dinner and to check out the area. The pasta at the restaurant was surprisingly both delicious and inexpensive, and sitting there looking at the lit bridge was one of the coolest things I have done in Rome. Exploring the stalls on the banks of the Tiber was similarly cool (because there is no better adjective to describe it). It was mainly full of Italians, and had the atmosphere of a carnival or a state fair, but with a distinctly Italian flavor. At one end of Isola Tiberina, one bar had set up a bunch of blankets, and people were lying on them, drinking bottles of wine and looking at the stars. Not that the stars are all that easy to see, even in Rome... but that is not the point. It was a perfect night, warm and slightly breezy, and walking along the river seemed almost too perfect. I laughed as I walked by the dance clubs, because they made me think of the movie Roman Holiday. Audrey Hepburn is invited to a dance on a boat on the Tiber, which I had always regarded as a figment of cinematic whimsy. Apparently, however, it was as true then as it is now, and as I was leaving the area, I could hear the strains of dance music pounding out from some of the docked boats.
Having seen this setup, I decided to return there for dinner and to check out the area. The pasta at the restaurant was surprisingly both delicious and inexpensive, and sitting there looking at the lit bridge was one of the coolest things I have done in Rome. Exploring the stalls on the banks of the Tiber was similarly cool (because there is no better adjective to describe it). It was mainly full of Italians, and had the atmosphere of a carnival or a state fair, but with a distinctly Italian flavor. At one end of Isola Tiberina, one bar had set up a bunch of blankets, and people were lying on them, drinking bottles of wine and looking at the stars. Not that the stars are all that easy to see, even in Rome... but that is not the point. It was a perfect night, warm and slightly breezy, and walking along the river seemed almost too perfect. I laughed as I walked by the dance clubs, because they made me think of the movie Roman Holiday. Audrey Hepburn is invited to a dance on a boat on the Tiber, which I had always regarded as a figment of cinematic whimsy. Apparently, however, it was as true then as it is now, and as I was leaving the area, I could hear the strains of dance music pounding out from some of the docked boats.
Saturday, June 21, 2008
The Missing Day
I didn't post anything yesterday, because I've been sick, and by the time I got back from all the daily activities, I was too tired to do anything but sleep. Aside from that, however, yesterday was another lovely gorgeous day, though once again sadly devoid of tourists. Arianna left the tour company as well yesterday, so I am the last remaining guide, until another girl comes from Ireland in July. Instead of shutting the entire thing down, as he had originally intended, Dara is shutting down only the public tours part, which means after next week, I won't be standing forlornly with my umbrella at meeting points waiting for tourists to show up. There have been a few inquiries sent for private tours in July, so I will work out the rest of June, and then be on call for private tours. I am sort of pleased with this arrangement, because being private allows me to offer tours of just about anything, so if you are interested in seeing something in Rome, I would love love love to show it to you....
If everything with the private tours works out, I may not even have to find another job, although I might look for something as a safety net. Right now, I am looking for a new abode, as I have to move out of this apartment tomorrow. I'm sad about that, because this is a really cute place in a really great neighborhood, and I love hearing all the Vatican bells all the time. However, I may have found a place in Trastevere for July, which would be fantastic, and the Irish girl, Roisin (say: RO-sheen) might live with me. Who can say, but for the rest of June, I will probably stay in a convent, because they have great reputations, and I think it could be a great experience.
If everything with the private tours works out, I may not even have to find another job, although I might look for something as a safety net. Right now, I am looking for a new abode, as I have to move out of this apartment tomorrow. I'm sad about that, because this is a really cute place in a really great neighborhood, and I love hearing all the Vatican bells all the time. However, I may have found a place in Trastevere for July, which would be fantastic, and the Irish girl, Roisin (say: RO-sheen) might live with me. Who can say, but for the rest of June, I will probably stay in a convent, because they have great reputations, and I think it could be a great experience.
Thursday, June 19, 2008
The No Good, Very Bad Day (which was not actually all that bad)
Today, Dara made the final decision to shut down the main operation of the tour guide company, after a week of no tours and Enrica quitting this morning. I am not surprised, since it is basically a money drain to operate the company without giving any tours, but I am disappointed. Our advertising doesn't run out until next week, and we have had some indications of interest for tours in July, so I am fully employed for the next week, at least. After that, I can give tours when the website gets attention, but in the meanwhile, I need to find another job! I hope that I can still be a tour guide (since I am now fully trained...), and I am pursuing leads with other companies. Unfortunately, I also have a vicious head cold, which sort of puts a damper on the whole thing.
OK, having gotten the bad stuff out of the way... Today, for all that doom and gloom, was pretty great, because when no one showed up for the tours, we went off and did things in Rome on company money. There is a boat tour on the Tiber, but of course, we got there just as they were closing for the afternoon. Finding ourselves in the shadow of the Castel Sant'Angelo, we decided
to venture in there instead. After some tasty gelato, I found the museum part of the Castel, and we were looking around sort of aimlessly, until I spotted this:
It may not look like much to you, but this is a bona fide bronze ram from the prow of a Roman warship, sent to the bottom of the Mediterranean during the Battle of the Aegates Islands in 241 BC, in the midst of the Second Punic War. In addition to being an important turning point in Roman naval history, the Battle of the Aegates Islands also represents approximately 7 pages of my Classics thesis... I tried to avoid showing that I was in total nerd mode, and took this picture after surreptitiously touching the ancient bronze. Touching artifacts is not taboo in Italian museums, which I find simultaneously appalling and exhilarating, so I took advantage of that a bit here. As I ooh-ed and ahh-ed over the perfect tridentine shape, the cast rosettes, and the nail holes where the ram was attached to the strakes, I wondered why I had never discovered that this ram existed during the last time I was in Rome. It is a perfectly preserved ram, and seeing it bascially made my afternoon...
However, the miracle of the Roman ram was followed up by some excellent acts, including the discovery of a hotel named after Sol Invictus, a Roman deity especially favored by Hadrian. I find it ironic that the hotel only received three stars; I think Mr. Invictus would be pretty bummed to hear how far he's fallen in Roman eyes.
This place very close to the Colosseum, on the Via Cavour, right next to my new favorite coffee shop. The cafe is owned by an Italian man and his Chinese wife, both of whom are unbelievably nice. They have a goofy-looking boy who works for them, as well. I think they are beginning to recognize me now, since today with my cappuccino, I received two pieces of candy. This represents the latest in a string of 100% improvements on my candy consumption; the first time I went there, I had no candy, the second time, I got one piece, and this time, I got two pieces! I will happily continue to frequent the cafe for research purposes, to see how long the candy delivery will continue to boom.
After more attempting to invite tourists to accompany us into the Forum, we walked up to the Spanish Steps and the Piazza del Popolo. Both are beautiful, and served to remind me once again what an amazing city this is. More amazing, however, was what we found in the Piazza del Popolo, which I can only describe as this:
Yes, if you were wondering, that IS a man in a crew shell, rowing in mid air. Something big is always going on in Piazza del Popolo (earlier this week they were filming Angels and Demons with Tom Hanks there), but I am at a loss to explain what this was all about. There were a number of other boats in the Piazza, so perhaps it is some sort of nautical festival, in which case, I hope I am invited.
OK, having gotten the bad stuff out of the way... Today, for all that doom and gloom, was pretty great, because when no one showed up for the tours, we went off and did things in Rome on company money. There is a boat tour on the Tiber, but of course, we got there just as they were closing for the afternoon. Finding ourselves in the shadow of the Castel Sant'Angelo, we decided
to venture in there instead. After some tasty gelato, I found the museum part of the Castel, and we were looking around sort of aimlessly, until I spotted this:It may not look like much to you, but this is a bona fide bronze ram from the prow of a Roman warship, sent to the bottom of the Mediterranean during the Battle of the Aegates Islands in 241 BC, in the midst of the Second Punic War. In addition to being an important turning point in Roman naval history, the Battle of the Aegates Islands also represents approximately 7 pages of my Classics thesis... I tried to avoid showing that I was in total nerd mode, and took this picture after surreptitiously touching the ancient bronze. Touching artifacts is not taboo in Italian museums, which I find simultaneously appalling and exhilarating, so I took advantage of that a bit here. As I ooh-ed and ahh-ed over the perfect tridentine shape, the cast rosettes, and the nail holes where the ram was attached to the strakes, I wondered why I had never discovered that this ram existed during the last time I was in Rome. It is a perfectly preserved ram, and seeing it bascially made my afternoon...
However, the miracle of the Roman ram was followed up by some excellent acts, including the discovery of a hotel named after Sol Invictus, a Roman deity especially favored by Hadrian. I find it ironic that the hotel only received three stars; I think Mr. Invictus would be pretty bummed to hear how far he's fallen in Roman eyes.This place very close to the Colosseum, on the Via Cavour, right next to my new favorite coffee shop. The cafe is owned by an Italian man and his Chinese wife, both of whom are unbelievably nice. They have a goofy-looking boy who works for them, as well. I think they are beginning to recognize me now, since today with my cappuccino, I received two pieces of candy. This represents the latest in a string of 100% improvements on my candy consumption; the first time I went there, I had no candy, the second time, I got one piece, and this time, I got two pieces! I will happily continue to frequent the cafe for research purposes, to see how long the candy delivery will continue to boom.
After more attempting to invite tourists to accompany us into the Forum, we walked up to the Spanish Steps and the Piazza del Popolo. Both are beautiful, and served to remind me once again what an amazing city this is. More amazing, however, was what we found in the Piazza del Popolo, which I can only describe as this:
Yes, if you were wondering, that IS a man in a crew shell, rowing in mid air. Something big is always going on in Piazza del Popolo (earlier this week they were filming Angels and Demons with Tom Hanks there), but I am at a loss to explain what this was all about. There were a number of other boats in the Piazza, so perhaps it is some sort of nautical festival, in which case, I hope I am invited.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Forza Roma!
Last night Italy played France in what appeared to my low level of soccer/football-awareness to be an important match. In the spirit of the evening, I went out to an Irish pub (with people who are really Irish!) to watch it. Game night is game night, the world around, and I had a great time gesticulating and yelling at the television with all the Italians in the pub. Luckily, Italia triumphed over her Gaullic opponents, saving the job of the head coach and one of the Italian players. Outside, people were honking their horns and waving Italian flags, shouting "Forza Italia!" at the top of their lungs. It was a wild night.
This morning began sunny and hot, more so than any day I have experienced in the week I have been here. We attempted more recruiting for the tours today, but again got no bites, not even for the free Pantheon tour. After my resounding success at the Pantheon yesterday, I was disappointed to be again thwarted in my attempts to explain the Forum. I hope that soon we will get some interested tourists, who can see how good we are firsthand, and then pass us on to their friends. I am preparing for the worst, but hoping for the best. Either way, being in Italy is such a treat that I can't complain too much; standing in the shadow of the Colosseum or in St. Peter's Square sure beats standing around anywhere else. I am finding a bit more time to see the rest of the Roma Homa I love, and took Dara to Il Gesu to show him Gaulli's unbelievable ceiling. It is my favorite ceiling in all of Rome, which is a considerable honor, given that the Sistine Chapel and Santa Maria Maggiore are both contenders. Still, the angels and demons escaping the bounds of the ceiling of the Gesu are an artistic feat beyond even Michelangelo's imagination. I wanted to go into the apartments of St. Ignatius, which are next door, but they were closed. As if in return for being denied entrance into the apartments, however, who did I find on the next bus I rode but Father Ignatius, the Ugandan priest I met last Sunday on the way to St. Peter's! It was beyond serendipitous, and Father Ignatius laughed his deep belly laugh when I told him where I had just been.
I never cease to be amazed by Roma and all her citizens and sites.
This morning began sunny and hot, more so than any day I have experienced in the week I have been here. We attempted more recruiting for the tours today, but again got no bites, not even for the free Pantheon tour. After my resounding success at the Pantheon yesterday, I was disappointed to be again thwarted in my attempts to explain the Forum. I hope that soon we will get some interested tourists, who can see how good we are firsthand, and then pass us on to their friends. I am preparing for the worst, but hoping for the best. Either way, being in Italy is such a treat that I can't complain too much; standing in the shadow of the Colosseum or in St. Peter's Square sure beats standing around anywhere else. I am finding a bit more time to see the rest of the Roma Homa I love, and took Dara to Il Gesu to show him Gaulli's unbelievable ceiling. It is my favorite ceiling in all of Rome, which is a considerable honor, given that the Sistine Chapel and Santa Maria Maggiore are both contenders. Still, the angels and demons escaping the bounds of the ceiling of the Gesu are an artistic feat beyond even Michelangelo's imagination. I wanted to go into the apartments of St. Ignatius, which are next door, but they were closed. As if in return for being denied entrance into the apartments, however, who did I find on the next bus I rode but Father Ignatius, the Ugandan priest I met last Sunday on the way to St. Peter's! It was beyond serendipitous, and Father Ignatius laughed his deep belly laugh when I told him where I had just been.
I never cease to be amazed by Roma and all her citizens and sites.
The First Tour
After a day of resounding rejection yesterday, I hoped that the second day of tour-guiding would yield some better results. I also prepared for the weather, putting on lots of sunscreen and a dress. Unfortunately, I found myself thwarted on both fronts: still recruiting tourists who were uninterested in taking my tour of the Forum (or any of our tours, since I recruited for all of them), and the day was marked by intermittent rain. However, at the Pantheon later in the evening, I finally got my first bite! Previously, I hadn't been able to give away the free tour, but this time I found a nice couple from Kansas City who dared to accept the too-good-to-be-true offer of a free tour. I was surprisingly nervous, at the beginning, but once I started going it went very well, and I had a great time. I can only hope that someone will show up for the Forum/Colosseum tour soon. People don't like being recruited off the street, which I understand, because they have the same reaction I would most likely have: instantaneous "NO". I guess there is something slightly sketchy about getting a tour off the street; you can't be guaranteed that it will be good, and most tourists are interested in appearing like they know what they are doing and are aware of the culture. Unfortunately, I think, most of them don't know what they are missing...
Monday, June 16, 2008
Day One (or, The False Start)
Today was meant to be my first day of giving tours, beginning with the Forum and Colosseum at 2pm. However, as Dara expected (though I hadn't really believed) no one showed up, for any of the tours. I managed to recruit two people for Enrica's tour in the morning, but people seem innately wary of being recruited, and the rest of the day was a wash. I went back and forth from the Forum to the Vatican twice, to help with recruiting on those tours, but still no luck. No one even showed up for the Pantheon tour, which is free! Still, there were some problems with the website over the weekend, so it is likely that no one saw it to know they could get such a great tour. Today when we finally returned to the apartment, however, there were some email inquiries, so hopefully tomorrow will bring at least a few more people. We should be up to full capacity by Wednesday (I hope!), although we will continue to do recruiting for the rest of the week.
I don't mind recruiting; it is good practice, and I get to meet tons of people. Given my experience, I can support the stereotype that Americans are really friendly, as most of them would chat with me a bit before refusing to come on the tour... I did meet some very nice Brits, as well. Now I am back in the apartment, searching for a place to live for the rest of the summer, and thinking about the far future as well. Soon I think I will take a break to sit on the tiny terrace and read my Umberto Eco book, because it is a beautiful night, and it doesn't get dark here until after 9pm.
I don't mind recruiting; it is good practice, and I get to meet tons of people. Given my experience, I can support the stereotype that Americans are really friendly, as most of them would chat with me a bit before refusing to come on the tour... I did meet some very nice Brits, as well. Now I am back in the apartment, searching for a place to live for the rest of the summer, and thinking about the far future as well. Soon I think I will take a break to sit on the tiny terrace and read my Umberto Eco book, because it is a beautiful night, and it doesn't get dark here until after 9pm.
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Bells bells bells
Last night I set my alarm to go off fairly early this morning, because I wanted to take a shower and the hot water in the new place lasts for approximately 2.5 minutes before deciding to go on a cigarette break. Kindly wishing for my roommate Dara to have some hot water, I resolved to awaken at 8.00. Now let me indicate how much I hate the sound of my alarm clock. The sound it makes is probably one of the worst ways to wake up, somewhere between a fire alarm and a microwave from the 80's. Imagine my pleasant surprise, then, when this morning I heard no evil beeping, but rather ringing bells, tolling harmonically and very pleasantly. When I had achieved full consciousness a few moments later, I remembered that I am basically living in the Vatican, and bells should not surprise me at all. Rolling over, I saw it was 7.30, so I lay in bed and listened to the bells before getting up to shower. 
The morning light is beautiful, although the day is almost chilly right now. I took a picture from off the 'terrace' of the apartment (it is approximately the size of a closet), to illustrate how close I really am to the Leonine wall. You can see it there, between the peach colored apartment building and the grey apartment building, though it is a bit hidden by some shrubbery. I love living in this area, and there is a chance I might be able to stay here for most of the rest of the summer, which would make me very happy. If I can't live on the Gianicolo, or the city center (which I most certainly cannot), then I think living in the shadow of Vatican City is the place I would like to be.
I'm off to do some tour recruiting now, and then hang out downtown until it is time to give my first tour at 2pm. However, I want to anachronistically tell a story about Saturday, when I did the double training, because I don't seem to have put it in that post.
Saturday afternoon, after touring the Forum, we returned to the Vatican to run through that tour. I am not on the schedule to give those tours yet, but it is good to be trained, in case I have to fill in or something, and seriously, when am I ever going to turn down the chance to walk through the Vatican? As we arrived outside St. Peter's, I saw another huge group of Carabinieri, but this time, their purpose was clear, as President Bush got into a car behind them and drove off, flanked by Carabinieri on motorbikes. It was an exciting little brush with power and fame, but on we marched. Anyway, about half way through the Museums, I realized that I was wearing a tank top that bared my shoulders, definitely a no-no in both the Sistine Chapel and the Basilica. I managed to make it through the Sistine without more than a stern word from one of the guards, but I knew I wasn't going to make it into St. Peter's. Letting Dara and Enrica go on ahead, I sat in the portico, waiting for them to come out. I didn't mind sitting, as my foot had started bleeding somewhere between the Forum and the Vatican, and there was blood in my shoe. It didn't hurt, but I didn't want to ruin my shoes. After about 2 minutes of sitting, however, one of the guards asked me if I had a jacket, and when I said no, went off and returned with what ended up being a very stylish blue and white shirt. He handed it to me and told me to return it when I was finished, so off I scampered into the basilica. In the end I was glad I did, because I was greeted with this:
Pretty spectacular.
The morning light is beautiful, although the day is almost chilly right now. I took a picture from off the 'terrace' of the apartment (it is approximately the size of a closet), to illustrate how close I really am to the Leonine wall. You can see it there, between the peach colored apartment building and the grey apartment building, though it is a bit hidden by some shrubbery. I love living in this area, and there is a chance I might be able to stay here for most of the rest of the summer, which would make me very happy. If I can't live on the Gianicolo, or the city center (which I most certainly cannot), then I think living in the shadow of Vatican City is the place I would like to be.
I'm off to do some tour recruiting now, and then hang out downtown until it is time to give my first tour at 2pm. However, I want to anachronistically tell a story about Saturday, when I did the double training, because I don't seem to have put it in that post.
Saturday afternoon, after touring the Forum, we returned to the Vatican to run through that tour. I am not on the schedule to give those tours yet, but it is good to be trained, in case I have to fill in or something, and seriously, when am I ever going to turn down the chance to walk through the Vatican? As we arrived outside St. Peter's, I saw another huge group of Carabinieri, but this time, their purpose was clear, as President Bush got into a car behind them and drove off, flanked by Carabinieri on motorbikes. It was an exciting little brush with power and fame, but on we marched. Anyway, about half way through the Museums, I realized that I was wearing a tank top that bared my shoulders, definitely a no-no in both the Sistine Chapel and the Basilica. I managed to make it through the Sistine without more than a stern word from one of the guards, but I knew I wasn't going to make it into St. Peter's. Letting Dara and Enrica go on ahead, I sat in the portico, waiting for them to come out. I didn't mind sitting, as my foot had started bleeding somewhere between the Forum and the Vatican, and there was blood in my shoe. It didn't hurt, but I didn't want to ruin my shoes. After about 2 minutes of sitting, however, one of the guards asked me if I had a jacket, and when I said no, went off and returned with what ended up being a very stylish blue and white shirt. He handed it to me and told me to return it when I was finished, so off I scampered into the basilica. In the end I was glad I did, because I was greeted with this:
Pretty spectacular.
The New Place
So my fears about lacking wireless at my new apartment proved to be unfounded. I think the wireless network belongs to the hotel located in the building, but no one seems to mind if I use their internet... Anyway, the new apartment is really cute, and in a wonderful spot on the Viale Vaticani. It is too bad I only have a week to get to know this neighborhood, as it is beautiful and new. I have my own room, which has an excellent view (an improvement over the apartment building into whose windows I looked from my last abode...), and here is what it looks like:
It is difficult to properly convey the charm of the neighborhood through this one image, but I hope I've advanced the understanding with this rough equivalent of 1,000 words...
Today was a day of more walking, and I had a late lunch with Dara in the Campo dei Fiori, which I had strangely never seen by daylight. Living in the Vatican is a treat, as I can hear the sung mass from St. Peter's through my window, and because my easiest point of access to the rest of the city is across the Ponte Sant'Angelo, a bridge that holds a special place in my heart, due to an art history presentation I had to give there in the pouring rain. Tomorrow is a big day (my first as a tour guide), though I don't even know if anyone will show up to take the tour. For my sake, and (if I may be so bold) for theirs, I really hope they do.
It is difficult to properly convey the charm of the neighborhood through this one image, but I hope I've advanced the understanding with this rough equivalent of 1,000 words...
Today was a day of more walking, and I had a late lunch with Dara in the Campo dei Fiori, which I had strangely never seen by daylight. Living in the Vatican is a treat, as I can hear the sung mass from St. Peter's through my window, and because my easiest point of access to the rest of the city is across the Ponte Sant'Angelo, a bridge that holds a special place in my heart, due to an art history presentation I had to give there in the pouring rain. Tomorrow is a big day (my first as a tour guide), though I don't even know if anyone will show up to take the tour. For my sake, and (if I may be so bold) for theirs, I really hope they do.
Saturday, June 14, 2008
Last night at the Centro
Tonight is my last night here at the Centro, and tomorrow I am moving into an apartment in the Vatican. It is a very cute place, literally in the shadow of the Leonine wall, and I will be there for the next week. I have a sneaking suspicion that I will not have internet access there, however, so I probably won't be able to post as often. I will do what I can to find an internet cafe in the vicinity, however, because I really enjoy writing this, and because I find myself strangely addicted to the internet in general. Also, I need to find somewhere to stay beginning a week from tomorrow, which unfortunately requires a computer. So far, I have had no luck at all, which is very disheartening, but I have faith that I will figure something out. So for now, I will head off to bed, with the sounds of "tanti auguri" ("happy birthday") streaming in through my window from the party on the terrace across the street...
Double Trouble
Today I opted to participate in the double training session (that is, running through both the Forum/Colosseum and Vatican tours) mainly for the purpose of meeting Brian, the other owner of the tour company, and Enrico, another Italian guide. Imagine my ironic surprise, then, when Enrico turned out to be Enrica, another girl. First Dara, now Enrica... It seems especially ironic that I, who myself possess a name frequently given to boys, should have such trouble in predicting the gender of people whose names I already know...
I set off for the Forum this morning, assured by the omniscient Franco that despite the threatening clouds, it would be a sunny day. Well, shame on me for doubting, because it was absolutely gorgeous: sunny and pleasantly warm, by the time I got off the bus. Being Saturday, it was a bit more crowded in the centro, but it took me a moment to realize that one of the large masses was actually a congregation of tourists watching a protest. It is not unusual to see protests in the Eternal City; hell, the entire country schedules its frequent strikes. Still, this one struck me as strange, because as far as I could tell, they appeared to be protesting archaeology. I am very unclear as to what exactly is objectionable about the practice of digging and dusting ancient artifacts, but this group seemed to feel strongly that it should stop. Altogether, this is doubly strange when one considers the extent to which archaeology defines the city of Rome, and because the group was standing on the Via dei Fori Imperiali. I can only imagine that they are big fans of the new metro stations being built in the middle of the Piazza Venezia and just underneath the Colosseum.
Leaving that expression of craziness behind, I marched off towards the Colosseum. Arriving, I found one of my favorite Roman traditions taking place in an unexpectedly pugilistic way. It seems customary for Roman couples (after placing flowers on the funeral pyre of Julius Caesar, which they do in all seriousness) to have their picture taken in front of the Arch of Constantine and the Colosseum. While I think it is bit strange to commemorate something like marriage with structures built for bloodsport, slavery, and morbid entertainment, I have to confess that I find it more than a little adorable to see happy couples in their full wedding regalia kissing and smiling in front of some of the world's most spectacular architecture. Today, however, there were two wedding parties who seemed to have drawn on the past use of the Colosseum for a bit of inspiration.
Both of the parties were clearly trying to take pictures in the same location, and neither seemed particularly inclined to go second. One of the brides, attired in a wedding dress clearly modeled off of Barbie's, was viciously puffing away on a cigarette while her husband exchanged strong words with the other couple's photographer. Some of the groomsmen shed their coats, and for a few tense minutes, it looked as if they could really come to blows. The non-smoking bride, however, eventually caved, and she and her party went over to the hill for some "nature" shots. The triumphant Barbie bride proceeded to take a number of photographs, and most of them were very sweet, with the exception of a very questionable series which involved crowd-surfing the happy couple. When the other bride got her turn, she countered with a series of pictures in which ragazzi (and some uninvited Japanese tourists with cameras) chased her and her husband from the arch. Regrettably, I had to leave just as a third bride arrived upon the scene...
I set off for the Forum this morning, assured by the omniscient Franco that despite the threatening clouds, it would be a sunny day. Well, shame on me for doubting, because it was absolutely gorgeous: sunny and pleasantly warm, by the time I got off the bus. Being Saturday, it was a bit more crowded in the centro, but it took me a moment to realize that one of the large masses was actually a congregation of tourists watching a protest. It is not unusual to see protests in the Eternal City; hell, the entire country schedules its frequent strikes. Still, this one struck me as strange, because as far as I could tell, they appeared to be protesting archaeology. I am very unclear as to what exactly is objectionable about the practice of digging and dusting ancient artifacts, but this group seemed to feel strongly that it should stop. Altogether, this is doubly strange when one considers the extent to which archaeology defines the city of Rome, and because the group was standing on the Via dei Fori Imperiali. I can only imagine that they are big fans of the new metro stations being built in the middle of the Piazza Venezia and just underneath the Colosseum.
Leaving that expression of craziness behind, I marched off towards the Colosseum. Arriving, I found one of my favorite Roman traditions taking place in an unexpectedly pugilistic way. It seems customary for Roman couples (after placing flowers on the funeral pyre of Julius Caesar, which they do in all seriousness) to have their picture taken in front of the Arch of Constantine and the Colosseum. While I think it is bit strange to commemorate something like marriage with structures built for bloodsport, slavery, and morbid entertainment, I have to confess that I find it more than a little adorable to see happy couples in their full wedding regalia kissing and smiling in front of some of the world's most spectacular architecture. Today, however, there were two wedding parties who seemed to have drawn on the past use of the Colosseum for a bit of inspiration.
Both of the parties were clearly trying to take pictures in the same location, and neither seemed particularly inclined to go second. One of the brides, attired in a wedding dress clearly modeled off of Barbie's, was viciously puffing away on a cigarette while her husband exchanged strong words with the other couple's photographer. Some of the groomsmen shed their coats, and for a few tense minutes, it looked as if they could really come to blows. The non-smoking bride, however, eventually caved, and she and her party went over to the hill for some "nature" shots. The triumphant Barbie bride proceeded to take a number of photographs, and most of them were very sweet, with the exception of a very questionable series which involved crowd-surfing the happy couple. When the other bride got her turn, she countered with a series of pictures in which ragazzi (and some uninvited Japanese tourists with cameras) chased her and her husband from the arch. Regrettably, I had to leave just as a third bride arrived upon the scene...
Friday, June 13, 2008
Fun with 'Fones
Having fully charged my sleek new telefonino, I am now faced with the challenge of programming it, entirely based on my conversation-level Italian and my sub-par technological skills. So far, I have managed to turn it on, and figured out what my number is (though in all fairness, I got that off the SIM card). Now, I am changing my ringtone, which is very amusing, because right now it is set at something called "Sunshine," which sounds suspiciously like the theme from Sesame Street sped up threefold. My choices run the gamut from "Bits n Bytes" (clearly an American hold over) to "Velvet" (a tone that is making Barry White roll in his grave), to something called "Cio e techno" (which eludes all description). Once I figure out where the language change menu is located, I predict this will become simpler (if I find it at all...) Until then, my phone rings with the dulcet tones of "treno commovente," which if nothing else, will ensure I answer the thing before too many people hear it...
A Carabinieri Holiday
Today was my day off, but it also seems to be the national "Gather to Stand Around in Rome" Day for the Carabinieri. When I arrived in Piazza Venezia around lunchtime, I found myself obligated to walk through a veritable gauntlet of Carabinieri, lined up in a strange sort of human aisle in front of the Palazzo Venezia, and of course, staring. They didn't seem to be doing anything, although I am never exactly clear what the Carabinieri are ever doing. In all fairness, they could have been nonchalantly guarding something inside the building. Just when I thought that upwards of 50 Carabinieri were sufficient to stand on the sidewalk, a tour bus, painted a color that can only be described as "stealth black," arrived on the scene. It was at this moment I began to wonder if this wasn't any kind of guarding, but actually a Carabinieri field trip, perhaps for those Carabinieri who recently joined the force, to show them how it would feel to work in the big leagues (as opposed, for instance, to assisting clumsy students in Tarquinia). Later, riding the 44, I saw one Carabinieri car leading a cadre of 15 (count 'em, 15) Carabinieri on motorbikes, who were arrayed neatly into rows of 3, lights flashing. At first, I thought they might be a security detail/honor guard, since I hear Bush is in town and meeting with that eminent leader Berlusconi. However, I quickly determined that unless Bush rides in a smart car, or in disguise as a ragazzo on a Vespa, this group of Carabinieri was just having a practice run, or something.
Once I left the Carabinieri behind, I set off down the Via del Corso, ready for a day of errands and window shopping. My first item of business was to obtain a mobile phone (a telefonino), which I discovered was significantly more difficult than I had anticipated, requiring not only my money, two forms of ID, and passport, but three documents signed by twelve different Carabinieri, the bones of St. Peter, and a lock of Berlusconi's hair. It took me quite a long time, but I eventually succeeded, and the snazzy looking thing is charging its batteries as we speak.
After that, everything else went very smoothly. I located the English-language bookstore, the Lion Bookshop, on the Via dei Greci, and found that it is oxymoronically staffed by two Italian women. It is a very cute little shop, though, and I strongly feel that I will be visiting it many times this summer, not only because I love books and bookshops, but because the atmosphere there is so inviting. There is an alley (or what in Rome is known as a two-way street) behind the shop, and through the windows that open out to that side I could hear someone in an apartment building practicing the violin. I can't imagine any better accompaniment to book browsing, and stayed for quite a while. Eventually, however, I returned to the Corso for window shopping.
Unfortunately, until I start giving tours on Monday, I have no money at all, so I can really only look longingly at Italian clothing, jewelery, and shoes. However, I did try on some things, just to scope everything out. Italian fashion is sometimes a little avant-garde for me, but Dara's accusation of looking like a tourist hit a bit close to home, so I will make an effort. The "in" fabric for the season seems to be this very lightweight knit, which comes in everything from very sheer to completely opaque, and which is actually gorgeous. I found some stuff I really liked, especially shirts, but again, that has to wait until at least next week. Still, it was fun to look around, and I went in to Murphy and Nye, where I found molto desirable things.
It seems only fitting that my lovely day, having started with the strange horde of Carabinieri, should end with an equally strange sight. This was accomplished in the form of a man dressed very seriously like Superman, standing on the other side of the Palazzo Venezia. I mean it when I say very seriously; he had a full blue unitard (with tights and long sleeves), the red speedo, and a cape, and if all that wasn't enough to clue you in to his identity, he had the big "S" on his chest, and even had his hair slicked back a la Superman 1959. I have no idea why or what he was doing whatever he was doing, but I can only hope that it was somehow related to the earlier Carabinieri incedent. With such fantastic bookends to my shopping, I could do nothing but return to the Gianicolo for dinner and a walk in the park.
Once I left the Carabinieri behind, I set off down the Via del Corso, ready for a day of errands and window shopping. My first item of business was to obtain a mobile phone (a telefonino), which I discovered was significantly more difficult than I had anticipated, requiring not only my money, two forms of ID, and passport, but three documents signed by twelve different Carabinieri, the bones of St. Peter, and a lock of Berlusconi's hair. It took me quite a long time, but I eventually succeeded, and the snazzy looking thing is charging its batteries as we speak.
After that, everything else went very smoothly. I located the English-language bookstore, the Lion Bookshop, on the Via dei Greci, and found that it is oxymoronically staffed by two Italian women. It is a very cute little shop, though, and I strongly feel that I will be visiting it many times this summer, not only because I love books and bookshops, but because the atmosphere there is so inviting. There is an alley (or what in Rome is known as a two-way street) behind the shop, and through the windows that open out to that side I could hear someone in an apartment building practicing the violin. I can't imagine any better accompaniment to book browsing, and stayed for quite a while. Eventually, however, I returned to the Corso for window shopping.
Unfortunately, until I start giving tours on Monday, I have no money at all, so I can really only look longingly at Italian clothing, jewelery, and shoes. However, I did try on some things, just to scope everything out. Italian fashion is sometimes a little avant-garde for me, but Dara's accusation of looking like a tourist hit a bit close to home, so I will make an effort. The "in" fabric for the season seems to be this very lightweight knit, which comes in everything from very sheer to completely opaque, and which is actually gorgeous. I found some stuff I really liked, especially shirts, but again, that has to wait until at least next week. Still, it was fun to look around, and I went in to Murphy and Nye, where I found molto desirable things.
It seems only fitting that my lovely day, having started with the strange horde of Carabinieri, should end with an equally strange sight. This was accomplished in the form of a man dressed very seriously like Superman, standing on the other side of the Palazzo Venezia. I mean it when I say very seriously; he had a full blue unitard (with tights and long sleeves), the red speedo, and a cape, and if all that wasn't enough to clue you in to his identity, he had the big "S" on his chest, and even had his hair slicked back a la Superman 1959. I have no idea why or what he was doing whatever he was doing, but I can only hope that it was somehow related to the earlier Carabinieri incedent. With such fantastic bookends to my shopping, I could do nothing but return to the Gianicolo for dinner and a walk in the park.
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