I’ve put off writing about Rome.
Each time I try it feels like it’s not enough. Like it isn’t descriptive or vivid enough to be a proper tribute to how I felt among the most feature architecture I have ever had the pleasure of bearing witness to. Had I the time (and perhaps more sleep) I would compose sonnets to encapsulate my admiration of the Statue Apollo that hides in the corner of the Vatican’s many roving halls. Or perhaps a flowing prose dedicated to the delicately carved virgins encaptured in the travertine walls of the Trevi Fountain.
Any yet, time is something that I lack despite my many hours spent as a flying contortionists in the circus of International Travel. It’s a hell of an act. Last showing is the 25th. Buy your tickets now or at the box office.
I’m going to try again, the masochist that I am, to detail my days in Rome. Where did we leave off?
6:30 am. Enter a young anthropology student eager to view some of the world’s most incredible archeological structures and sculptures. That’s right, I’m talking tour group! Laugh all you want but I actually enjoy guided tours. Fun/unusual facts, gaggles to shove pushy tourists out of my way when my intimidating height and resting bitch face aren’t enough and, skipping long ass lines that make me a little homicidal. What’s not to love?
I may have been a little over eager and arrived at the Roman Colosseum via a slightly terrifying taxi (Italian drivers are to be feared) over an hour before my designated time… Due to this I was able to get some pretty fantastic shots of the Colosseum.
(Isn’t it pretty)
And scarf down my first Italian meal, a pastry from the shop inside of the subway entrance across the street. Classy, I know. Say what you will but sitting on the steps of an ancient fountain carved into the wall behind me, pastry in hand, camera poised around my neck, watching as the sun rose in the sky behind above one of the most incredible architectural wonders of the world, it felt pretty amazing to me. And then an Italian man may or may not have spit on me (he was behind me and I was too scared to look) and the spell was broken.
I killed time waiting for my tour taking photos of the nearby ruins, the Colosseum again, and the many small architectural wonders hidden in the nearly streets. Rome is amazing. This is a city built for an archeologist. Instead of destroying the past and building over it, the Romans have coexisted with their past, integrating it and incorporating it into their world each era until every street corner contains a hidden gem of history. I digress.
My tour was surprise, surprise, an unintentional couples tour (where I was the token single person under 35) and consisted of the Colosseum, the Trevi Fountain, the Pantheon, a gelato (read: air conditioning) break, the Piazza Navona, a fantastic lunch (more on that), the Vatican City, the Sistine Chapel, and St. Peter’s Basilica, and an hour wandering back to my hotel without a map because my phone died taking pictures (because my camera died taking pictures). I lived if anyone is curious…
Pictures like these!
You’ll notice there are no photos inside of the Vatican. This is because it is a religious place. While there I was able to attend service in the Sistine Chapel held by one of the Cardinals in both Italian and English. It was pretty cool, not gonna lie. Instead, enjoy this photo of the Pope’s balcony and the altar inside of St. Peter’s Basilica. That’s all.
So lets talk about lunch. I’ll be honest, I don’t know the name of this little cafe of the south side of the Vatican City wall. Drop me at the wall and my rumbling stomach will take you right to it though. Heaven. Sweet sweat fresh mozzarella encased heaven is what awaited me in that little Italian cafe suggested by my tour guide for our lunch break. Anyone who knows me know that I make a mean bruschetta in a less than traditional way. Well when my little heart saw a fresh buffalo mozzarella and tomato on toasted bread I knew I had to have it. So I did, accompanied by a gnocchi pasta with that same buffalo mozzarella in a tomato sauce. The pasta was incredible, tender, and of the highest, freshest quality. But it was the bruschetta that stole the show. The perfection of the bread dish was beyond compare, it was the Trevi Fountain of appetizers. It was the Sistine Chapel of bruschettas. It was perfect. So perfect in fact that I tried to order it again before I left with disastrous results. But that’s for another time.
That’s all for now.