Our second day in Rome started off with clear skies and a slight increase in temperature. Little did we know this would be a temporary change at best... We experienced our first Italian hotel breakfast, which would not change for the most part from city to city. It usually consisted of hard (very hard) rolls, some jam, maybe a croissant, juice, and expresso. I only took a sip of their coffee once and quickly decided it was far too strong for me. My father managed to get slightly sick from drinking it; sip at your own risk! After breakfast we walked over to the Spanish Steps, which has nice flowers around it and supposedly has lots of vendors and stuff around the steps, vendors who were mostly absent. We did a little shopping, and I picked up a couple of PJ Harvey and Garbage CD singles that I would have had to pay twice as much for back at home. "Are you sure the CDs are in English?"
We took the subway down to the Colosseum after a quick lunch, and upon arriving discovered that it was raining. It was early enough in our trip that we hadn't brought our umbrellas with us, resulting in us hanging around inside the station until it let up enough to go outside. The Colosseum is really impressive, both from out and inside. It's well worth climbing the incredibly steep steps to the top. I was the only one in my family who made it up them, and was treated with an awesome view of the arena.
Soon after I got home, someone sent me a picture of the Colosseum; written underneath was, "Rome did not create a great empire by having meetings; they did it by killing all those who opposed them." It was a funny sentiment, but it does bring home a good point, that the Colosseum was for people killing each other. If anything, it brings home the sheer power of the structure.
As we left the Colosseum, it started raining again—much harder. My mother wanted us to see Michelangelo's statue of Moses, which is at St. Peter in Chains. (Love that name!) We must have wandered a good 20-25 minutes before we finally found the church. It turned out that if we'd just headed there directly from the Colosseum we would have found it really quickly. Instead we followed the map in our guidebook and ended up taking a long, circuitous trip there. By the time we got to the church, I don't think anyone except for my mother would have been impressed with the interior if Moses himself was greeting people at the door. Instead we saw just a statue (which was all right but really nothing special), where for an additional 500 lira you could have lights turn on so you could get a better picture. Also on display were (supposedly) the chains that St. Peter was tied up with when he was killed. Lovely!
We walked—then ran—back to the subway to head back to the hotel. It was at that point that we encounter... GREG IS ALMOST ROBBED, PART I The subway was packed at the Colosseum, and as we poured onto it my father and I found ourselves at one end of the car, my mother and sisters at the other end. As the train started moving, a little boy sidled up to me, and I didn't think anything of it. Well, for a split second, at any rate. It was at that point that he took a scarf off and held it in front of his hands and started making a move for my "fanny pack". I'd brought it with me to hold my camera and film in—I wasn't so stupid as to put money in such an obvious target as that! This little boy thought otherwise, though, as he tried to use the scarf as a visual shield while his fingers zoomed in on the zipper of the bag. I don't think he was expecting me to slap his hand, but that's what I did. This was only the second day of my trip in Italy, and I wasn't going to let some little brat ruin my trip. The kid jumped back (as best he could in the crowded train) and decided to pick someone who looked like an easier mark. That, apparently, was my father. The kid tried the same trick, but my father simply turned away from him, glaring at him. The kid decided that maybe this train wasn't the best place to steal from and departed at the next stop. After drying off back at the hotel (and relating our "little brat tries to steal from us" story) we made plans to have dinner in Trastevere, a medieval-aged section of Rome across the river. We took the subway down to the Circus Maximus, which was lit up and looked absolutely gorgeous. I wish we'd had time to go there. Instead, we wandered for what seemed like several years (perhaps an hour) until we found the restaurant we (Mom) wanted. The restaurant was La Cisterna, and it wasn't terribly impressive. Our waiter wasn't very attentive and it took multiple requests to get things brought to you. La Cisterna's saving grace was a duo of older men who went from table to table. One played the accordion, the other played the tambourine, and both sang. They'd play requests in addition to launching into tunes they felt appropriate. When they discovered my father is Irish, they promptly sang, "When Irish Eyes Are Smiling" and got Dad to sing with them. We've never seen him sing before, so it was almost worth the bad service at La Cisterna just to see him sing.
When we got up to leave La Cisterna I had a painful discovery waiting for me. My right foot had cramped up. This was partially my own fault for picking bad shoes. I'd brought my sneakers, which had just entered the stage of needing replaced. I should have brought my Doc Martins, which have some arch support (my sneakers did not) and would have also meant dry feet. Oh well! You live and learn. We thankfully took a taxi back to the hotel (another hour walk would have been unbearable with a cramped foot!) and I fell asleep almost instantly. At the end of two days in Rome, I'd come to the same conclusion that so many others had. You have to go to Rome, there's no getting around that. You need to see the sights that are there. Once you've been there for a day or two, seen what you want to see... get out. Get out, and never go back (unless your flight lands there, in which case promptly take transport to your new destination). I didn't dislike Rome, but I'll be perfectly content in life if I never go back. |
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