Andiamo a Roma

We go to Rome

Buongiorno lovely people. I’m writing to you from romantic Rome, where Wales have failed to defeat the Italians at Rugby, but where many Welsh-folk are nevertheless enjoying good food, good wine and amazing architecture.

Food and Friends

We’ve been lucky enough to be shown the sights by some Italian and Romanian friends who know all the best places. We ate at a typical restaurant where the waiters are abrupt, the food is delicious and the toilets are questionable. I’ve eaten artichoke in ways I never even knew it could be cooked.

The Sights

We visited the Sistine Chapel, which is part of the Vatican Museum. Finding our way to the Chapel through rooms packed with artefacts felt a bit like trying to find our way to the tills at Ikea: it’s an endless maze of people and distractions, until finally you reach the checkout, I mean the Sistine Chapel. First impressions? I thought The Creation of Adam would be bigger. But once I’d readjusted my perspective, it was easy to marvel at the many, many paintings adorning the ceiling and walls.

I was unprepared for the magnificence of the Trevi Fountain. As our friend put it, you could stare at it for hours and still find some new detail.

Gazing down on the ruins of The Palatine Hill with the Colosseum in the distance, I was filled with a sense of peace. Curious when the history of Rome is filled with bloodshed and brutality, but I suppose it was also filled with beauty and love (not dissimilar from our current civilisation). Either way, the vibe here was definitely expansive and heart-opening.

Villa Borghese was one of the highlights and we never would’ve visited without the insight of our friends. The grounds were expansive and filled with beautiful stone pine trees that I hadn’t encountered before until Rome, complete with parakeets flying around and squawking their joy. Some Romans affectionately call these flying vocalists ‘the green Romans,’ and although they’re not native to Italy, they appear to have adapted very well to life in Rome.

There were areas that were quiet, peaceful and filled with nature at Villa Borghese, then further on along the treelined paths there was a festival vibe; a pipe drummer treating us to some 90’s techno music; roller bladers showing their daring and skill around some very tightly placed cones; many opportunities to get run over by all manner of manually operated wheeled machinations: go-karts, pedal golf carts, actual golf carts.

Speaking of Ways to Get Run Over…

There are many ways to get run over in Rome: bicycles, scooters, segways, cars, all racing down narrow almost-but-not-quite-pedestrianised streets. You take your life into your own hands on the the designated zebra crossings (if you were dressed as a zebra I doubt the drivers would notice you and stop). Our Italian friend (who now lives in Romania) told us that in Romania he has got used to drivers stopping to give right of way to pedestrians at crossings, and so last time he came to Rome he got into an argument with a driver who did not want to stop when he was crossing the road. My friend argued it was his right of way and so the driver should stop to let him cross (true), the driver’s point was that, ‘yes but if I don’t stop then you are dead’ (also, unfortunately, true).

I Don’t Like Tiramisu , I Like Tiramisu

It’s a running joke with my Uncle that I once snubbed a tiramisu he’d got in for pudding when we were visiting him up North (God’s country as he calls it). He bought this particular dessert as he knows we love Italy and Italian food, so it seemed like a safe bet. Naturally he was perplexed when we informed him we didn’t like tiramisu. Uncle Neil, I take it back, I do like tiramisu (in Rome). Bring Aunty Di to Rome and we’ll eat some tiramisu together.

Time to Come Home

It’s very early and I’m very tired as I write this, sitting in the airport and looking forward to getting home to see the children and the dog. The travel is the worse bit about travelling, but I find coming home is the best bit. Filled with the joys of new scenery and new experiences, I can be also be reminded of what I love about my simple life at home, and find I can’t wait to get back to it. I’ll try to bring some Italian sunshine with me.

Every traveller has a home of his own, and he learns to appreciate it the more from his wandering.

-Charles Dickens