Italia - Roma 2007

Italy

(or Tales of Trash and Treasure)

Are you expecting to hear about my unique insights on Italy? My keen cultural observations? Or perhaps you are expecting to hear about how I fell in love with Marco working in the fields of a Tuscan Olive Oil Farm (and how in a crazy twist of fate he ended up being the heir to the farm and its associated fortune of which I now have a half share in).

Or maybe you just want to hear about a new pizza topping?

Well expect to be disappointed. Fresh cultural insights? Acute cultural observations? Probably not. I think Goethe, Dickens, Henry James, Frances Mayes and Elizabeth Gilbert already beat me to that. Marco? Nope. Didn’t happen. I spent most of my time in Italy with a 40 something woman called Leslie from Melbourne. I don’t even know if there are Olive Oil Farms In Tuscany. And I am going to have a wild stab that you have already heard of Quattro Formaggi (Four Cheeses).


Writing about my trip to Italy is something akin to eating the fourth slice of the aforementioned pizza; I probably shouldn’t indulge myself. But also like that fourth (fifth, sixth) slice of pizza, I think I will.

And perhaps unrealistic expectations are a good place to start. As is Rome.


ROME

This was the plan.

I would walk wistfully around Rome, soaking in the culture. I would recline in the summer sun and sip cappuccino, probably wearing white linen pants. Or Armani. I would master a bit of the language. I would love Rome, and Rome would love me. I would be a real traveller and not just another tourist.

Right? Wrong. Well, kind of wrong. It was not so much that Rome didn’t live up to my expectations. It did. It was rather I did not live up to my expectations of what I would be like in Rome.

If you have ever tried to cross a busy street in Rome you will understand this is not a city in which to let your mind wander off. Rome demands your attention. Or a vesper will knock you down. Or a waiter will try and follow you back to your hotel. Rome is stimulating. And for me, still trying to break in my traveling boots and figure out how this travelling thing is really done, a little over-stimulating.

This probably explains why despite my very honourable travelling intentions to get around like the locals how, within hours of being in Rome, I found myself on one of those big red tourist hop-on hop-off buses with a bunch of American tourists. Traveller. No. Tourist. Undeniably yes.

And pretty damn excited.

-There’s the Trevi Fountain that Anita Ekberg splashed around in Fellini’s La Dolce Vita.
-And there’s the Spanish Steps (why are they called the Spanish steps again?)
-There’s the balcony where Mussolini used to give his speeches (much less ostentatious than you would expect).
-There’s the Colussuem – how is that thing still standing? Lots of scaffolding.
-There’s the statue of Remus and Romulus (small).
-There are the juiciest tomatoes I have ever eater (Tomatoes are a FRUIT in Rome).
-There’s Vatican City and St Peters.
-There is the longest frigging line I have ever seen.
-There’s the Sistine Chapel (I see it wedged between another 100 people in an allocated ten minute time period).
-There is a calendar of Hot Priests (not official Vatican City Merchandise).

Oh Rome. You are just too much.

(Apparently one of the reasons there are only two underground lines in Rome (I eventually got off the big red bus) is because there is literally so much in Rome. Even under it. Every time they try to start digging they come across a mass of ancient relics and the archaeologists need to get called in.)

Even in my over-stimulated and over-excited state, I did manage to go to the Pantheon. And stop still in its presence. My good friend Danne had said it is the most perfect building in the world and I muttered in agreement as I walked in. And then I shut up. I stood still for quite some time under its perfect dome.

A perfect pause in a perfect building which has been standing there, gracious and calm, for the last 2000 years.

Perfect.

And then I went to the Gelato Bar opposite to experience yet another form of perfection. Danne had suggested I set myself a goal of trying a different gelato flavour every day. Bacio, limone and Cocco - I was quite the overachiever that day.

I only had a short time in Rome, but I went back and threw one coin in the Trevi Fountain to assure I will return.

And maybe really absorb it.


Me and Marco