"Veni, Vidi, Vici!": Day 4

I know what you're thinking, "conquered"?  So far it's not sounding like I conquered a damned thing.  Well, I did and I'll get to that but in the meantime, does this really look like the face of a sex symbol?  A roarer, a rogerer, a gorger, and a puker?  He was you know even if I just quoted Prince George.  Maybe not a gorger and a puker although there is some evidence that he was perhaps epileptic but mostly there's a lot of evidence, rumor, and innuendo that he slept with a lot of people.  He just doesn't do it for me.  Certainly not in the way that Harold Godwinson's mustaches do it for me.  Moving on....

Day 4 starts as usual on the roof top with caffeine and much sun.  It is already "scorchio!" out there.  Just click on the link if you've never seen it.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MuSPdsPWit0

Departing from the Hotel Mercure, we head to Rome's esteemed Metro system.  It's not very extensive but they say that's because of all the Roman ruins underground.  This may very well be the case but after riding it twice, both times packed to the gills, I can say a few more cars would be nice.  This morning's car  has a manual A/C system.  This means that when the train is moving, there is air coming in from the outside.  Air that is generated by the movement of the train through the tunnels so it's not so fresh but it's still better than the no air when the train is not moving.  Luckily we only have to ride it two stops to Pyramide station (there is a strange pyramid nearby that I saw in books and on the cab ride in but that is not visible from the station) where we change to the Lido train.  We have a rather pleasant ride out to the countryside on a spacious train that contains very few seats.  About 5 minutes into the ride, a couple of nonnas board and there is no seat so I give them mine.  They seem a bit shocked and say "grazie".  Standing is much better anyway as I am now window level and can actually enjoy the breeze.

Ostia Antica, the old port of Rome, is about a 5 minute walk from the train station itself.  Along the way we stop at a shop and buy water.  Three bottles cost three Euros out here - not the six or seven in Rome so we make a note to buy more before we leave.  We also pass a cute little restaurant where we plan to have lunch.  We decide to just use Nancy's Rick Steve's guide to get us through the small town and enter.  Although it's hot there is a nice breeze and there is very little traffic noise.  It is such a pleasure to be out of the city and also such a pleasure to walk around the ruins.  Unlike the Forum and other sites in Rome, you can pretty much walk through Ostia unless there are mosaics, frescoes, or a current dig.  Rather than bore you with a detailed account, I'll just post the pictures with some descriptions.

As you walk up to the town proper, you are in the old necropolis.  Romans buried their relatives outside the city walls and as such there are a lot of fragments of sarcophagi.  Upon entering, you pass the warehouses and then the fabulous Baths of Neptune.

From the Baths, we walked to the Theater.  It is in fantastic shape and they still use it for concerts and performances.

The square of the guilds is where business was transacted and each business stall contains mosaics that describe the goods provided or services rendered.  Since we could not read Latin, I have no clue what most of them did but I am pretty sure these guys trafficked in elephants.

In the center of the square, is the remains of a temple.  At the time there was a group of French tourists squatting on the steps.  They were making hissing noises at the most handsome and friendly little cat so John and I walked up, sat down, and called the young man over.  He was a sweetheart.  He allowed us to pet him, scratch his chin, and generally adore him and then he was off to find new non-French blood.  (That's a French person behind him.)

After the square, we wandered through the mill and various side streets and then came upon the fabulous tavern.  The condition is amazing and you can walk all around, even behind the bar.  While John was behind the bar, a couple of German ladies walked by and ordered beer.  The fresco displays some of the goods for sale.

At this point, we needed refreshment so we walked to the cafeteria where we bought water, beer and Italian cheesy poofs (I think they were called Puffi.  They were in a can and they were salty and delicious).  Rehydrated and resalinated (I know, not a word!) we wandered around for a little while longer and then headed to the little restaurant for lunch on the Via de Romagnoli, Allo Sbarco di Enea.

This is a picture of the little flyer they give you with your bill.  It's priceless and I shall save it always.  Sadly, the little sandal wearer was not our waiter (We had a nice female server in tunic, belt, and sandals who, upon looking at my Visa card said, "DeAngelis!  That is an Italian name."  I couldn't tell if she was excited because I was Italian or shocked that I wasn't able to speak Italian very well.)  We sat on the patio that was strewn with faux Roman statuary and covered by grapevines and an awning.  The food was delicious.  Nancy and I had the Melanzane themed special (grilled eggplant, zucchini, peppers, cheese, salami & prosciutto, melon, and then melanzane alla parmigiana) while John had the spaghetti bolognese special.  Sadly for him and happily for me, he was too full to eat his saltimbocca so Nancy and I (read: mostly "I") helped with that.  They also served this with french fries.  I am not sure if this is because we ordered "Tourist Specials" and they think that Americans eat french fries with every meal or what but they were awesome french fries.

After lunch we headed back to the train and rode back with an overworked Italian IT guy who kept falling asleep.  When the train slowed, he'd lurch awake and lurch out of his seat at anyone sitting opposite.  He'd then ask the stop, we'd tell him, and then he'd go back to sleep.  He was still on the train sleeping when we returned.  It was the last stop so we just figured he'd ride it back towards Lido and get off at some point.  If not, at least he was getting some rest.

The Metro was just as crowded going back although the train was newer and had real A/C.  Back at the hotel we rested, wrestled with our imperial elevators, consumed more alcohol on the roof, and went for pizza around the corner.  I actually had foccace with speck (an uncured sort of bacon because I just hadn't had enough pig) and it was juicy and fatty and delicious.

And that's about it.  Early the next morning a surly taxi driver took us to the airport where I waited in a long line to get through passport control, a long line to check in and check my bags, and a long line to get through security.  In the security line I was behind an Italian family who had apparently never flown before as they had to take just about everything off to get through the metal detectors and then walked away and left all their carry on luggage on the belt of the x-ray machine!  I felt like I was in a Roberto Benigni film.  I arrived at the gate as we were boarding.

So I came, I saw, and I actually conquered my fear of being in a city filled with Italians.  I really do wish they'd talk less and a little more slowly and at a lower volume but then it's their nature.  It's kind of like my mom saying she's not screaming when she's screaming.  Italians go to 11 and most of the time they are on 11.  Do I like Rome?  No, not really.  I described it as being like NYC on cocaine.  Unlike London, there is simply no place that is quiet unless you are in a church and then all the pilgrims take the fun out of it.  I wish I could time travel and see it in it's heyday because the Roman parts of Rome are spectacular and it's quite moving to walk among the ruins.  For the most part the architecture is Italian Renaissance and Baroque overload (gods above and demons below but I hate the palazzo style!).  I need more of the medieval to keep me happy.  I will visit again but I think only as a day trip or an overnight from Florence or Sienna or Venice but not for a while.  Amsterdam anyone?

"Motivation is a Lotta Crap.": Day 3

I am inclined to agree with Dean. The man was a funny bloody genius!

Tuesday morning the plan was to get up early and do a tour of the Colosseum that included the lower level so I meet Nancy on the roof for some coffee and pastry. She's not feeling so well so she says she may just stay in and rest up. I say, "Okay, but I have to tell you about this dream I had" because I am nothing if not compassionate. On the one hand I am pleased that I reached deep into REM sleep but on the other hand, I am a tad bit disturbed. I am at my mother's old house on Belvoir and I am heading up the steps with a laundry basket when all of a sudden someone starts to pinch my ass. Hard. Really, really hard. I yelp and turn around to face my attacker only to find that it's Sidney Crosby! I said it was disturbing. He laughs and passes me on the stairs and heads into Larry's old bedroom where he is being really nice to me while at the same time he is changing into a maroon and white polyester tuxedo straight out of the 70s (it does fit the time frame of living at that house). In my dream I am thinking to myself, "I totally hate this guy and he pinched my ass but he is being really nice to me know so I should be nice back..." and that's about it. Dream over. I believe Nancy thinks I am nuts. She decides relaxing at the hotel is for the best and we take either Nero or Agrippina to the lobby to meet John.

John and I depart and are about to cross Via Labicana on our way into the Colosseum when Nancy sneaks up behind us. She decided to do the Colosseum and then go back to the hotel and crash. A wise decision, it is fantastic. As we enter, we head to the ticket counter to ask about the tour of the lower level. Now to me the lower level meant the "lower level". Where the gladiators and animals and filthy Christians were kept. As I enquire about this supposed tour which is only given on Tuesday mornings from 9:00-12:00 (at least that's what it says in one of my tour guides), I get the distinct feeling I've been here before but not as in deja vu, more like a flashback to Pee Wee's Big Adventure when he goes on the tour of the Alamo so he can gain access to the basement to retrieve his stolen bike only the tour guide says, "There's no basement in the Alamo.". Hey, guess what? There is no tour of the "lower level" either and the next tour available is at 12:40 p.m. Motivation is a lot of crap.

Despite this set back, I am in heaven. This may just be one of the most spectacular places on earth and rather than bore you with details, I'll just offer up a few pictures: a mosaic on the way in, the suite seats, and a shot of the gladiators barracks across the street.

We spend a pleasant couple of hours or so at the old barn and then Nancy heads back to the hotel and John and I head for the hop on/hop off bus as that pass is good for 48 hours. On the way we see some American tourist having her picture taken with an Emperor and two Centurions. While this is a not uncommon site around town, we were particularly amused after the photo was taken. Our good Emperor not only has time to rule the known world but make change for the husband and stop for a smoke break! It's all so very classy.

Our first stop is the Ara Pacis, of which I have no photos, but is totally cool and is encased in an air conditioned building. We admire the altar (the size of a small temple), visit il bagno, and head out into the heat in the direction of the Spanish Steps. When we arrive, it's kind of crowded so I take a snap and we keep on moving on.

At this point we are heading toward Santa Maria della Vittoria so I can pop in and see the Cornaro Chapel. The gut is amazing and we find it but of course, it's in the middle of the afternoon when the church is shut and locked up. It kind of figures but as Theresa has been frozen in ecstasy for 350 years, I figure she can wait until my next visit to Rome. Besides, it's lunch time and I need a cold and tasteless beer. As we wander towards the Termini Station area, I see the Baths of Diocletian and think, "What the hay, let's give it a shot" except that you have to enter through Santa Maria degli Angeli (damned Christians). As we walk in we realize there is some talking and some shushing going on. It's a damned mass. We've come in in the middle of a mass. We wander a little and try to find the entrance to the Baths but we both just want out. As I look up the Priest is in the middle of the Transubstantiation phase and I shudder.

Released into the daylight, I see umbrellas along the square. Food! As we near the umbrellas, we see they read "McDonald's". If you're keeping count, it's now a blow out. Rome is up by at least 4 runs. Undeterred we find a nice place and have pizza, calzone, and beer. We then move on down Via Natzionale towards the Vittorio Emmanuel Monument (we did stop briefly at the oldest tower in Rome which does have some Roman roots but they caught us wandering around and wanted money to get in so we quickly lost interest). The VEM is ugly and huge but it does have an elevator (read: clear glass sweatbox) that you can take all the way to the top "if" you have the energy to climb five staircases (it's really ten as each of them are split in two). By the time you get up there, you are hotter than hell and dripping like a pig. The elevator attendant, a 20-something Roman lad who never stops texting, somehow manages not to sweat like the rest of his race (I must have vestigial Norman pores). Once you arrive, the view is priceless and the breeze up there is not too bad either!

You can see the tea cup dome of the St. Peter's to the left and a bit of the Forum down below.

As we head back down, I decide that it's time to do the Palatine Hill. This is technically part of the Forum complex for the paying customer but rather than civic buildings and temples, it contains the houses and palaces of the patrician families, and later, imperial residences. John has done this bit already but I convince him to come along. Typically, a lot of the buildings aren't open (it is afternoon and a Tuesday or whatever) but there is a nice breeze on the hill (it's no wonder it was a choice piece of real estate) and there are some cool things to see.

Some mosaics and if I remember correctly, the remains of Nero's pre-fire residence.

Since it's still mid-afternoon, we decide that maybe we should do the Capitoline Museum on the Campidoglio. If you've been following along you know that this means we have to walk all the back across the Forum. The hot, dusty Forum. It is at this point that all those Lindsey Davis and Steven Saylor books really come to life. In both of their novels, the characters walk back and forth across the Forum to different parts of town and I now have an incredible appreciation for just what a haul this really is. It's not just the heat and dust, it's the hills and steps that get you. Despite all the hard work, John and I have fun reminiscing over the Eastern European bride to be. He dubbing her Katrina while I call her Svetlana. Before we know it, we've climbed the steps and are heading into the museum. As we go through the metal detector, one guard tells John to put his cell phone in his hat and pass it over the machine while the other guard says no, it must go through the machine. Meanwhile I stand there sweating profusely, watching his cell phone fly through the air and break into three pieces.

After clearance, we enter the courtyard where the greatest bastard in all of history awaits my scorn! I heap it upon his foot, his arm, his knee, his hand, and finally, his big stupid head!

Seen above: An ass that's gone to pieces.

After the courtyard, we enter the building and come upon a hallway that is lined on either side with busts of Hadrian wherein I crack the lovely joke, "It's the Wall of Hadrian" and no one laughs but me....because it was funny and historical and topical...oh, never mind.

As I gaze upon one of my favorite pieces, the bust of Commodus as Hercules (now there was an emperor!), John beckons me to another room and it's air conditioned! It's also full of sculpture including the less than proud papa of Commodus, Marcus Aurelius on horseback (Look Hollywood, no stirrups!). Smashing.

As I pan across the room, ignoring yet another huge head of the worst Roman Emperor in history, I spy a member of the gens Balbus! A masterful piece combining the Roman skill of portraiture with their less than adept handling of the idealized male nude (below left). I get a shot off just as a Guard comes along to tell me that I can only take pictures of "the head and the horse"!

The head is of course the colossal head of Constantine and I can only think that it's far too late to shoot that guy in the head! Damage done. So we move past countless Romans, each face unique, past a really bad Caravaggio (as The Cure has Love Song and the Bunnies Lips Like Sugar so Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio had this monstrosity), until we reached the brilliant head of Medusa and then Romulus and Remus in full suckle mode. By this time I was completely confused on the photography rules so I had stowed my camera for the day. Sad because they were amazing.

Pooped and less than enthused, we decided to do the hop on/hop off bus back to the Colosseum even though it meant riding for at least an hour if not more. When we got to Termini Station we were again shuffled onto another bus. John called Nancy to give her our ETA and we learned that she was hungry and ready to go. We made plans to meet on the roof at 6:30. I shower, religiously, and then battle with Nero or Agrippina. Dinner is nearby and includes Gnocchi al Gorgonzola and Scamorza al Miele (grilled sharp cheese drizzled in honey). Tomorrow is Day 4 and Ostia Antica but for now I will leave you with the sun setting over the Colosseum from the rooftop bar. Motivation is a lotta crap.

PS: I apologize for the formatting issues. I beta tested the new Blogger interface. It's way better when it comes to uploading photos but it's got a few issues!

"Inactivity is Death!": Day 2

Or so said Il Duce!

At about 5:30 a.m. Monday morning, traffic returned to Via Labicana with a vengeance. I heard it but it didn't really wake me up until about 9:00 a.m. I called Nancy, confirmed her arrival time (she was switching to my hotel that morning) and went out for a stroll to get my bearings. I walked down past the Colosseum with the Forum on my left and on my right. The bits of the Forum on your right are not accessible but there are some good views from the street.



I had mistakenly thought that it would be pleasant to go for a stroll so early in the day but Rome's climate is odd. It's hottest in the morning and then about 5:30 a breeze begins to blow that makes it almost pleasant. This breeze then disappears around 9:00 or 9:30 and it's once again muggy and still but not as hot as the sun is not beating down on your sad ass. On Monday, at 10:00 a.m., it was already hotter then hell so I turned and headed back up the hill to sit in the A/C until Nancy and John arrived. I was almost at the hotel when I saw that the entrance to the park was labeled "Domus Aurea". I laughed and wandered up yet another hill.

For those who don't know, the Domus Aurea or Golden Palace, was built by Nero after the fire of 64 AD. "History" famously has him fiddling while Rome burned but that was not true, he wasn't even in Rome at the time. In fact some believe that it was a filthy group of rabble-rousers known as the "Christians" who were responsible for the blaze and that this is perhaps why they were very shortly persecuted without much mercy. Since these same "Christians" are responsible for much of this "history", I leave it to you to decide what you believe. I am pretty sure you all know where I stand.

When I reached the top of the hill, I realized that I was covered in a slick and fabulous layer of sweat so despite the shrieks of Italian bambinos, I headed to a dry fountain in the shade. The fountain was decorated with amphorae that had been embedded in that other of most Roman creations, cement. Accompanied by the shrill voices and the sound of jack hammering (they are currently working on stabilizing the structure), it was a pleasant enough spot and I wondered just what Nero would think if he knew that his prized piece of land was now a baby park for the plebs? I also understood exactly why the Romans made bathing a near religious experience.

Once the sweat stopped pouring off my brow, I walked down the steps and turned right into the hotel. I was sleeping with Nero and I didn't even know it! Nancy and John had checked in and we were going to meet in the lobby in 10 minutes. I had this incredible list of things I wanted to do and not doing them was simply out of the question so we headed down to the Colosseum to catch the hop on/hop off Archeobus. For 18 Euros you get a ticket that allows you to ride their double-decker buses in a loop around the major sites. When you see the map and read their pamphlet it all makes perfect, logical sense but then this is Italy and this is a government bus. All is not what it seems.

We took the bus to the Vittorio Emmanuel Monument and stopped by Trajan's Column. Having studied the darned thing, I wanted to at least give it a walk by. While we were there, we saw some enterprising vendors using a most fabulous Corinthian capital upon which to hawk their wares. I tutted and walked by.


They grunt in our direction. Roman vendor speak for "Buy my shit!" and we grunt back, "Um, let me think...NO". John and I will begin communicating in this fashion on a regular basis. It's very effective and confuses the zombies to no end.

Although John prefers to walk to our next stop (maybe the Pantheon), Nancy has a bad cold and would prefer to ride so we get back on the Archeobus and head to the Ara Pacis. To get there we must cross the Tiber and stop at the Vatican. It is my first view of venerable St. Peter's and it is even more forgettable in person than in pictures. Now anyone who's taken any Renaissance architecture course is taught that this is a horrible example of architecture, Renaissance or not. The facade is so big it make the dome look like an upturned tea cup. The only classy thing about St. Peter's is the colonnade designed by Bernini but without the wide-angle lens, you can't even see it. Hadrian's Mausoleum, known to some as Castel Sant'Angelo, is pretty cool as are the walls around Vatican City (You know I've always wanted to re-write Guns N'Roses' Paradise City. Take me down to Vatican City, where the Tiber is green and the priests are pretty...). We recross the Tiber as I day dream about the bodies that were once tossed willy-nilly into this less than grand waterway, we head right smack dab into a traffic jam. Apparently a bendy bus has bent and can't unbend. We take our first route detour on our first Archeobus ride (this is a common thread) and are dropped off near the Ara Pacis, or, as our Archeobus tour guide tells us, "on the other side of the wall" from the Altar of Peace. We walk around and see Augustus' Mausoleum and a modern white building. We are confused, I lament the lost art of signage, but then I look at my notes and realize the damned thing is closed today. How nice it would have been for the "guide" to maybe have mentioned that but this is Italy. They are now up 2-0.

We opt instead to move on to the Trevi Fountain and the Pantheon. We hop on and then hop off at the Trevi stop and make our way to a small piazza and there looming like an 800 pound gorilla in a small room is the Trevi Fountain.


It's lovely but very crowded and since the piazza is so small, there is no where to go. There are too many people to wade through to get to the water and the area smells like the University Circle Rapid stop so we admire and walk towards the Pantheon and lunch. It is very crowded here so we are kind of stuck walking slowly. At one point Nancy thinks she might just brush rudely past these two short dudes who cut her off and are engaged in some intense conversation. For some reason, she waits. It's probably a good idea because they are like SWAT team carabinieri. That said, they were both about 5'8", swarthy and handsome if you go for that sort of thing. What I found most amusing is that they all look like Fendi models. I mean even their kevlar vests more stylish than our cops wear. They have this little leather braid that hangs down from the back of their haughtily cocked berets and their uniform trousers fit like skinny jeans. I really can't take these guys seriously despite the Berettas.

As we enter another little street, we are flagged down by some guy whose job it is to flag people down and convince them to dine at his establishment. He is annoying and a caricature of the Italian male but we sit. The pizza is pretty crappy but they have cold, tasteless beer served in liter sized mugs. Fortified, we move on to the Pantheon. Now at this point I will say that in this particular part of town there is some signage designed to assist the pedestrian tourist. Where this meager signage fails, helpful tourists have scribbled "Pantheon" or "Panteon" and arrows on other signs. Thanks mostly to the gut (thanks John), we make it. Say "Hi, Nancy".

It's still quite impressive but when you go in, it's sad because there is an altar and pews and people praying. It's a downer and it depresses me that everything Roman must be topped with a cross or an angel or something about a pope. We linger. I laugh at the old ladies around Raphael's tomb. He's really not my favorite despite the reproduction portrait hanging in my dining room. I like that because it's an elegant line drawing and it's a portrait. He's just no Caravaggio!

As we exit, we head for the Gelateria. I get pistachio and panne chiocolatto and it is delicious but it is mostly melted by the time we find a place to sit. It's my only gelato of the trip as I spent more time savoring the varieties of pig products (prosciutto, salami, speck...). At this point, it is decided that we should head back to the hotel for a rest as we are going to take the Archeobus all the way around this evening. It is also at this point that I surrender to the chaos! I no longer feel that "Inactivity is death!". I no longer care if I miss the Cornaro Chapel or anything other than the Colosseum or Ostia Antica because it's just too stressful to stay on an itinerary and even if you do, there is a chance that Italy will still win and the place will be closed. From now on, I go with the flow. Italy 2 - US 1.

After a brief rest, we meet on the rooftop bar for drinks. This is easier said than done because either the elevators in Italy are as temperamental as the people or the elevators at our hotel as possessed. If they are possessed, I say one is Nero and one is Agrippina. I am not sure which is which but both thought they were in charge. The view is nice once you finally get there and Perroni actually makes a double (doppo) that is tasty and is served on tap. Now when I say "tasty", I mean that is has "some" taste.

After drinks, we head to the Archeobus where we ride around Rome. First we pass the Circus Maximus which is sadly unkempt. I really think they should restore it and have chariot races. That would be something to see. For now it is a dusty, grassy plain off the Forum and Palatine where people walk their dogs. Lucky dogs.


The ride is nice and the route is once again unique. We pass the Ara Pacis so I now know where it is and make plans to see it tomorrow afternoon. At Termini Station we are told to change buses. This seems to happen every time you ride it to Termini Station. When we arrive back at the Colosseum, we stop for dinner at a very blue trattoria. The food is mediocre but we are sitting next to the Colosseum. Every couple of minutes I have to keep looking over at it. It's marvelous. At about 9:00 p.m., my body hits the wall and we all retire a bit early. I read and fall into a dead sleep fraught with a very strange dream but that I will save until tomorrow!

"Italy is a Shitty Country!": Day 1

He said it not me so calm down! I wouldn't say it's "shitty" as much as chaotic, disorganized, and defiantly unlabeled other than the manhole covers (they're rectangular), fire hydrants, and other banal public instruments which all display the iconic 'SPQR". I am not really sure how this applies but I get ahead of myself....

I flew in via Charlotte on the fabulous US Airways which neglects to give you free booze and headphones on international flights but who are still at least two hundred dollars cheaper than their competitors. My flight is full and is composed of love turds who have to hold hands and watch romantic comedies and old people who have to combat phlebitis for nine straight hours. Despite the $7.00 Becks (awful but laid quality groundwork for the bad biera to come) and the idiots, the flight did go quickly. Before I knew it the flight attendants were coming around with coffee and some sort of cream filled pastry. Upon landing I expected the usual announcement with instructions on passport control and luggage but this is Italy so there was none. We stumble off the plane and follow the signs and eventually make it to Passport Control where there are two booths attended by two Customs Agents who look bored as shit except when they look at your passport photo. Then they smirk, shrug their shoulders, and stamp your book while you nod your head and say, "Sorry, Scavullo was busy that day!" Humiliated I head for Baggage Claim.

Baggage Claim was awesome. You could actually see the guys at the top of the ramp throwing the luggage down slowly, very slowly. After about 50 bags, there is a lull in the action. A couple next to me, late 50s, are still waiting for their bags as am I and about 75% of the flight. The husband is bright eyed and is wearing a polo shirt and slacks that bare no creases. He has not a hair out of place. The wife is a little over weight and looks like she just came off a red eye transoceanic/transcontinental flight. She stands next to me, bored, waiting for the espresso break to end and the resumption of luggage service to begin. He stands next to the belt and says repeatedly, like a 5 year old, "Is that all of the bags? Our bags weren't there. Where are our bags? Did they lose our bags?" She says, "No dear. Yes, dear. No dear." I look at her in sympathy but then bail because I see my bag! I collect it and head to the Taxi line where I am happy to report, there was no line. I hop in, say "Buongiorno" and give the driver the address to the hotel. Before I know it I am sweating and at my stop. The meter says 49.80. I say 40. He shrugs his shoulders and I give him 45. Hey, it's the law!

When I get to the desk, they ask for a name. I say "Sinning" they say "we got a lot a Sinning" but I track down Nancy in the restaurant. I quickly down a double espresso and we head to Nancy's room so I can take a shower, brush the teeth, and change. We decide to spend the day at the Forum and as soon as everyone is ready, head up to the Campidoglio where we hope to find an entrance but first we must climb a hill and a lot of steps. By the time I reach the top, I've lost that freshly showered feeling. The view kind of makes up for it all.

As we enter the Forum, we all buy the Roma Pass for 25 Euros each. When they get to Nancy's friend Jay, they charge him 500 Euros. Since they can't cancel out the charge, he ends up with 450 Euros in change. The score is now Italy 1, US 0.

The old Roman roads are uneven and dusty so I trip a lot. As we wander, we see young Eastern European girls in short dresses posing for what we can only assume are their mail order bride catalogue photos. We also see lots of exhibits about Nero, or Nerone as the Italians call him. I can only assume this is because the Domus Aurea is closed as he really didn't have much of an impact on the Forum. I see lovely statues of Messalina (wife of Claudius) and Agrippina (mother of Nero) so I run over and call them puttana (well, she was very rotten to Clau-Clau and I don't feel at all bad that Nero eventually poisoned his mother).

Among my favorite sites at the Forum is the House of the Vestals or pre-nuns. The picture above is of the atrium. The living quarters would have been behind the row of statuary. The young ladies who entered the priestesshood (yes, I made that word up) were of patrician class and sworn to celibacy. If they got caught with a man, they were buried alive. Nasty.

At the far end from the Campidoglio and outside of the Forum proper is the Arch of Constantine and the Colosseum. I say my first "I hate you! This is all your fault!" to anything Constantine related.

Parched and starving, we head to lunch at Il Gladiatore Pizzeria. The pizza is good and as expected, the beer is pissy but it's cold. After lunch we head all the way back to the Campidoglio and down the hill to the hotel where I get a taxi to the Hotel Mercure which is back by the Colosseum (the back and forth is a recurring theme). My taxi driver is less pleasant than this morning's and after communicating to him that I am not in fact heading back to the airport tomorrow so he can't pick my up, he drives off with my bag in the trunk. I quickly run after him, pound on the trunk, and yell "aspettare"! He does. He apologizes. I grab my bag and check in. Nap for 45 minutes and meet everyone in the lobby for drinks (yes, they all hopped in a taxi and came all the way back as well). Drinks are in fact on the roof but I will save those pictures for Day 2 as they are spectacular.

After drinks, we head to dinner. Jay has a place in mind so we head pass the Colosseum (it's so pretty at night with the lights and no vendors or tourists).

Although we never do make it to the restaurant, we eventually find another. It's classic. The walls are covered with photos of the famous people who have eaten there (I really only recognize Sophia Lauren) and for whom they have cooked (Il Papa PJP II). We get a ton of dishes and split them all. The grilled radicchio is my favorite. Stuffed and a bit drunk, we head back to the hotel. It must be noted that Nancy wanted to cab it from the restaurant but that I had had my fill of cab drivers and did not want to have to ride by myself so we walked. This was okay until Jay looked for a short cut and as Nancy noted, there are no short cuts in Rome. Go back the way you came or prepare to pay the piper. I cut a Bataan Death March joke (yes, if you are Nancy and I you can make them) or two and thanks to some helpful locals, we eventually made it back to my hotel but not before we pass a titty bar and come to realize that John's sense of direction is uncanny. It will save my butt for the next three days.

At the Hotel Mercure, everyone else piles into a cab and heads back across the Forum. About 12:30 (6:30 pm Cleveland time) I finally hit the bed and fall asleep. By my count it's been about 36 hours minus a nap. I did damned well.