Rome, part the first
Back from Rome, tanned and happy and rather tired. I kept a notebook of things we did each day - I know that travel writing is somewhat passe now, but the moment I saw the notebook in question and paid a foolish sum of money for it, I knew that I wanted to fill it with stories and drawings and beautiful things. Of course, having kept it safe for over three years, I almost managed to lose it an hour before arrival!
We arrived on Sunday, and left on Friday - the pictures were taken with three different cameras, so I shall add them on as I get copies of them!
SUNDAY
Our story begins at 5.30pm, Rome time, on Sunday 23rd July, when Brother and myself disembarked from our plane. We were tired and grouchy, as we had been travelling for eight hours - we had a hellishly complicated stopover at Frankfurt - and had sat next to very annoying people on both planes. We headed for the baggage reclaim area and waityed patiently for an hour. During this hour, we managed to collect our main suitcase - but our small shoulder bag never arrived. Full of amusement and some ire, I made my way to the Lost & Found desk, where I waited for over an hour while screaming Italians got seen before me. Eventually, the woman at the desk found out that our bag had been left in Frankfurt... and wouldn't arrive until after the last train from the airport. No amount of threats or cajoling on my part could change the fact that we'd be without the bag for some time.
The bag contained: library-owned "Rough Guide to Rome", my contact lenses, Brother's contact lens solution, all out toiletries and both our cameras. We were, to put it mildly, spitting mad. I'm not going to belabour the tale of the recovery of the bag - suffice to say, I got in touch with my inner European, lost my temper with the head of the reception desk at the hotel, and, lo and behold, the bag was delivered to our room within a day with many, many apologies from all concerned. I am win. The first first impression I thus gathered was, unfortunately, of Rome's officials. All those travel books talking about the epic levels of "I don't care" witnessed in officials? Are unfortunately right. Luckily, the exact same afflicition can be found in Bulgarian officials, so it turns out that I had the proper training in dealing with them. Putty - hands. Anyway, dealing with officials is the downside of being a tourist - the up side was that the non-official Romans we spoke to were very helpful indeed. As my phrasebook was in the accursed bag, I only had "prego" and "grazie" to get by. It seems that it is enough.
MONDAY
Monday morning was spent recovering from the gruelling 12 hours of travel (this inc. time at the FCO airport yelling at people and then waiting at the wrong bit of the station for the bus) and the saga of the Missing Bag. In the afternoon, Brother and I decided to venture out, MB (tm) be damned. I had my phone, after all, and could take pictures, of a sort. (A whole buncha pictures taken with said phone are below...) We qwent to the Colisseum first, mainly because it was cheap and convenient. Our hotel was reachable by the #508 bus from Ponte Mammolo station (we were not to know that there was a hotel-provided air conditioned coach until the next day...), and the Colisseum stop was on the same line.
We got there at about 3pm local time, clutching Brother's Time Out guide and gulping water and, frankly, a little amazed. The Colisseum does not disappoint. It fills the skyline, and is flanked by green - the Palatine Hill, ruins and palm trees, Tourists swarmed like insects across the plaza in front of the building, and here and there you saw a flash of light and of red - people dressed as gladiators and Roman soldiers, obligingly posing for tourists. On the far right was the Arch of Constantine, which covers four ages of Roman history, more or less indiscriminately: the age of Trajan, of Hadrian, of Marcus Aurelius and of Constantine. It really is rather magnificent, but you couldn't get a good look at it (except form too close up) until you're somewhere high up - such as the top of Il Palatino. One of the pictures I took was from up there.
The line to enter the Colisseum was long and didn't move especially quickly, but we were in the shade and drinking water, so we didn't mind overly much. Inside, we opted to skip the tours, and instead explored. Brother was puzzled why the centre of the arena had walls in it. It took my Gladiator-acquired knowledge to explain that those must be the walls of the underground cells, where gladiators and animals were kept and then brought up by a lift to fight when the time came. Who says Hollywood never gave us anything?! Over the walls, on the end of the arena not open to the public, decking had been put down in front of the Emperor's seat. We came out on to the benches by the large cross directly opposite, and wandered from there. We went to the top level using the glass lift, and I immediately fell for the statues of the muses on display there, especially Polyhymnia and Calliope. Mucho love. Spent a silly amount of money in the gift shop on prints and books and the like.
The ticket to the Colisseum also covers Il Palatino as well, so it's twice the value. The walk from the Colisseum to the Palatine was up a cobblestone route, quite steep, with pines on the left and palm trees on the right. The cicadas were humming, and it was thundering - the whole thing had the feel of a movie set. Havana, or maybe even Port Royal out of PotC - certainly something warm, tropical, colonial. The houses were predominantly painted in warm earthy colours, with white plaster scrollwork, and palm trees everywhere. The atmosphere of the place was, however, decidedly European, but somehow - laid back. I suppose the tourist factor helps as well.
When you reach the end of the lane, you are presented with a view of the Fora and the hill itself. I looked at it and the heat, and the humidity, and the ruins and the palm trees - yeah, in my head it looked unreal. It helped to walk through it, splash myself with water from the fountain, sit out facing the garden, walk through the underground cryptopolis tunnels that were built for summer promenades. Still, I didn't retain a clear idea of what the Palentine hill consists of, just the persistent feeling of unreality.
It started to thunder and spit rain at us as we hurriedly left late on in the evening - the plan was, and we remained consistent to it, to eschew the nightlife in favour of spending the days walking and visiting as many things as we could manage. So, back we went to the hotel, for much-needed room service and sleep.
We arrived on Sunday, and left on Friday - the pictures were taken with three different cameras, so I shall add them on as I get copies of them!
SUNDAY
Our story begins at 5.30pm, Rome time, on Sunday 23rd July, when Brother and myself disembarked from our plane. We were tired and grouchy, as we had been travelling for eight hours - we had a hellishly complicated stopover at Frankfurt - and had sat next to very annoying people on both planes. We headed for the baggage reclaim area and waityed patiently for an hour. During this hour, we managed to collect our main suitcase - but our small shoulder bag never arrived. Full of amusement and some ire, I made my way to the Lost & Found desk, where I waited for over an hour while screaming Italians got seen before me. Eventually, the woman at the desk found out that our bag had been left in Frankfurt... and wouldn't arrive until after the last train from the airport. No amount of threats or cajoling on my part could change the fact that we'd be without the bag for some time.
The bag contained: library-owned "Rough Guide to Rome", my contact lenses, Brother's contact lens solution, all out toiletries and both our cameras. We were, to put it mildly, spitting mad. I'm not going to belabour the tale of the recovery of the bag - suffice to say, I got in touch with my inner European, lost my temper with the head of the reception desk at the hotel, and, lo and behold, the bag was delivered to our room within a day with many, many apologies from all concerned. I am win. The first first impression I thus gathered was, unfortunately, of Rome's officials. All those travel books talking about the epic levels of "I don't care" witnessed in officials? Are unfortunately right. Luckily, the exact same afflicition can be found in Bulgarian officials, so it turns out that I had the proper training in dealing with them. Putty - hands. Anyway, dealing with officials is the downside of being a tourist - the up side was that the non-official Romans we spoke to were very helpful indeed. As my phrasebook was in the accursed bag, I only had "prego" and "grazie" to get by. It seems that it is enough.
MONDAY
Monday morning was spent recovering from the gruelling 12 hours of travel (this inc. time at the FCO airport yelling at people and then waiting at the wrong bit of the station for the bus) and the saga of the Missing Bag. In the afternoon, Brother and I decided to venture out, MB (tm) be damned. I had my phone, after all, and could take pictures, of a sort. (A whole buncha pictures taken with said phone are below...) We qwent to the Colisseum first, mainly because it was cheap and convenient. Our hotel was reachable by the #508 bus from Ponte Mammolo station (we were not to know that there was a hotel-provided air conditioned coach until the next day...), and the Colisseum stop was on the same line.
We got there at about 3pm local time, clutching Brother's Time Out guide and gulping water and, frankly, a little amazed. The Colisseum does not disappoint. It fills the skyline, and is flanked by green - the Palatine Hill, ruins and palm trees, Tourists swarmed like insects across the plaza in front of the building, and here and there you saw a flash of light and of red - people dressed as gladiators and Roman soldiers, obligingly posing for tourists. On the far right was the Arch of Constantine, which covers four ages of Roman history, more or less indiscriminately: the age of Trajan, of Hadrian, of Marcus Aurelius and of Constantine. It really is rather magnificent, but you couldn't get a good look at it (except form too close up) until you're somewhere high up - such as the top of Il Palatino. One of the pictures I took was from up there.
The line to enter the Colisseum was long and didn't move especially quickly, but we were in the shade and drinking water, so we didn't mind overly much. Inside, we opted to skip the tours, and instead explored. Brother was puzzled why the centre of the arena had walls in it. It took my Gladiator-acquired knowledge to explain that those must be the walls of the underground cells, where gladiators and animals were kept and then brought up by a lift to fight when the time came. Who says Hollywood never gave us anything?! Over the walls, on the end of the arena not open to the public, decking had been put down in front of the Emperor's seat. We came out on to the benches by the large cross directly opposite, and wandered from there. We went to the top level using the glass lift, and I immediately fell for the statues of the muses on display there, especially Polyhymnia and Calliope. Mucho love. Spent a silly amount of money in the gift shop on prints and books and the like.
The ticket to the Colisseum also covers Il Palatino as well, so it's twice the value. The walk from the Colisseum to the Palatine was up a cobblestone route, quite steep, with pines on the left and palm trees on the right. The cicadas were humming, and it was thundering - the whole thing had the feel of a movie set. Havana, or maybe even Port Royal out of PotC - certainly something warm, tropical, colonial. The houses were predominantly painted in warm earthy colours, with white plaster scrollwork, and palm trees everywhere. The atmosphere of the place was, however, decidedly European, but somehow - laid back. I suppose the tourist factor helps as well.
When you reach the end of the lane, you are presented with a view of the Fora and the hill itself. I looked at it and the heat, and the humidity, and the ruins and the palm trees - yeah, in my head it looked unreal. It helped to walk through it, splash myself with water from the fountain, sit out facing the garden, walk through the underground cryptopolis tunnels that were built for summer promenades. Still, I didn't retain a clear idea of what the Palentine hill consists of, just the persistent feeling of unreality.
It started to thunder and spit rain at us as we hurriedly left late on in the evening - the plan was, and we remained consistent to it, to eschew the nightlife in favour of spending the days walking and visiting as many things as we could manage. So, back we went to the hotel, for much-needed room service and sleep.