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Dave Polesky Visits! Dave has come to visit! From Saturday 4 September til early Friday morning. In his honor, his gets his own journal page! Voce di Dave (Voice of Dave) Enough of this namby-pamby pseudo-poetic Roman Holiday drivel. I'm here to give you the real scoop on Rome. First things first- getting to Rome is not THAT bad. The plane ride was bumpy. I always get served my dinner or drink just as the turbulence hits. The fasten seat belt sign always clicks on when I needed to go to the bathroom. But maybe that's just me. Once you get to the airport in Rome, take the Leonardo Express. The sign on the side of the train claims that the cars are air conditioned, but they're not. Try not to stand by the bathroom and you should be fine.
OK, now to Rome itself. You should realize that I am coming off of one hour of sleep over the past 36 hours or so, so perhaps my perceptions will change after a night's rest. Rome in early September is a good place to be. Wear a hat cause the sun never quits. Wear shorts and sneakers and like, talk like this and nobody will guess you're American. There are a lot of Amerigos here. But there are even more Italians. Yeah, go figure. We hiked around for an hour and a half and I have to report the following: There is a ton of old stuff. Older than your high-school math teacher old. I have spotted numerous statues of naked dead white guys. And then there are the arches. Arches Arches Arches. If you dig arches you'll crap yourself silly in this town. Try the gelato. "Crema" is vanilla. "Il conto" means "the bill" for your dinner. "Dieci" means "ten."
Voce da Laura (Laura Writes Again) Dave has started a new trend. It seems all Roman visitors will now be pledged to contribute to my Roman journal. I am sure that will be a welcome addition as eventually you'll just get totally sick of my inane observations anyway. Dave did indeed arrive and he did indeed take the train and he does indeed seem to be with only one hour sleep to his name. Nevertheless he is being a trooper. He showers now and then I am dragging him to Trastevere for a big Italian dinner and more drinks. Will be much fun but I am sure it will exhaust him. More tomorrow. We have decided to go to Venice, but not tomorrow and not for the Venice Film Festival (as I was not able to procure him a ticket, as I noted earlier.) Instead we are making that trek on Monday, a perfect time for it as all the museums and such in Rome close on Mondays anyway. Time to mangiare (eat!) Voce di Dave Domenica Notte (Sunday night)
The big show today was my first visit to St Pete's Big Funhouse, otherwise known as San Pietro. The place was amazing. I don't think I had a religious experience there (was too well-rested for that), but it was awe-inspiring. On the approach through the Plaza the first thing you think is "big." You could play several simultaneous softball games in that place. You approach the security gate where they check to make sure you're not carrying a nail file, then you walk another five miles to the fashion police. Really. They stand there turning away the scantily-clad. Thankfully, I wore the full-length skirt today. Inside, you get hit with a great one-two punch of the grandness of the place and the famous Pieta on the right. Now, I must say that Laura ruined the Pieta for me. From the way she described it, I was expecting to see the face of God or something. It's a magnificent piece of work (I'm lucky I could tie my shoes at 25, as opposed to carve a delicate, emotionallly charged sculpture out of a single piece of cold marble). But no 3D laser light shows or anything. Actually (unfortunately?) I think I realized how amazing it was after seeing a whole truckload of lesser sculptures. Onward. Perhaps the place was just too overwhelming. Maybe I don't know enough about classic art. There was too much to see. I tried to do the right thing and actually absorb the art rather than just take a bunch of tourist pictures and look at everything when I'm home. I can't even rememberall of the different artists and sculptures and paintings. So its more the overall feel of the place that takes you away. Laura and I then tried to outdo each other with detail-related pictures. She'll tell you more about that. Oh, we saw the burial spot of St Peter. Yeah, thats the sort of thing some of you will write home about.
Laura can fill you in on her side of the story. We hit up the Trevi Fountain. Mucha tourista. Maybe St Peter's did a number on me, maybe it was the swamp of people oogling the fountain, but it paled in comparison to the dome. I'll admit it- I'm a dome-man. Ask Laura about the bus. Voce da Laura Really quickly, as Dave is right and we should be to bed as we are taking a ridiculous Venice day trip tomorrow, let me give the quick rounds of my day's experiences. As Dave alluded, my day included being groped on the bus by multiple Italians. And not accidentally groped. Like full-on take-advantage of the absurdly crowded bus groping. Lesson learned. I will never ride a crowded Italian bus like that again. The second thing I discovered is that my Where's Waldo stalker truly is a stalker. While Dave and I were in awe at the Fontana di Trevi, I spotted Mr. Stalker picking up a new girl! Validation! (of the most bizarre kind.) Here I had started to think I was a bad human being for suspecting my fellow human being of being a complete lecherous freak. Turns out he is a complete lecherous freak! I was right!
Now for all you dire Catholics, I would raise this flag of concern. Can you really confess properly if the confessional is dislocated? Isn't that speaking into a broken telephone? Can you really and truly assume that the person you think is on the other end can hear you? I want you all to think about that the next time you go in to confession. Check your confessional. It could be dislocated - and what's the purpose of confessing in a dislocated confessional? More later, after Venice! The Post-Venice Report
That, however, was not in the cards for us. You see in Italy the train workers like to strike. Often. Frequently. (Annoyingly!) And I guess I just am not yet used to the idea of common regular train strikes. So while Dave and I arrived back at the train station in time for the midnight train, and while we bought tickets, got them validated and stood on the platform waiting, it turned out that yet another strike was on. From 9pm Monday to 9pm Tuesday. Ack!! That is how our 1 day trip become a 2 day trip. Without a change of clothes, without tooth brushes, and without deoderant! Truly an Italian experience! (Dave and I have since decided that while it most certainly enhanced the depth of our adventure, neither of us is truly cut out to live the smelly, stinky, unkept lifestyle of a true European. We are simply clean-living filthy Americans in a most unabashed, but most certainly bathed, way!) Of course, being Americans, Dave and I did what any Americans stuck in our position would do. We pulled out our trusty credit cards and charged ourselves a room at a nearby hotel. No, we didn't sprawl out on the train station benches. No, we didn't curl up on the steps outside. No! Not us! Not Americans! Instead, we crashed out in the comfort of a hotel room with a sanitised bathroom, cable television and complimentary breakfast. Viva la capitalism!
We had high hopes that we would have an early dinner, see a Vivaldi concert in one of the many old churches in Venice and then pop over to Lido for the Venice Film Festival. Then we'd play our hands at the Casino and catch the 3am or 6am train back. But all of this went astray when Dave and I, being Americans as I mentioned before, proceeded to eat for an exceptionally long time and drink more than our fair share of Venice's supply of Chianti. We missed the Vivaldi. We decided to just go straight to Lido. The boat to Lido, however, took about 40 minutes and when one has consumed large quantities of wine, taking a 40 minute break on a cool relaxing boat is not the best idea. By the time we arrived, we'd become lazy and lethargic. Feeling quite silly, we strolled around aimlessly and barely managed to find our way along Lido to the Mostra Film Center.
Since we were tired and lazy and feeling defeated, we figured it'd be smartest for us to return to Venice and try to catch the midnight train back to Rome as we originally planned. So we caught the last boat from Lido to get back to the Stazzione before midnight. Once we figured out that we couldn't catch a train because of the strike, we were twice-over tired and defeated. After securing our hotel room, we finally went out for water and lemon tart cookies before falling asleep.
We rode the elevator to the top of the Venetian tower in San Marco and I got to watch a big cruise ship squeeze it's way through one of the canals between the islands of Venice. Dave attempted, as he likes to do, to take a super panoramic picture of the skyline from the top of the tower too. And the bells at the top decided to start ringing just when we were there, banging the sense out of us. They were so loud that the older tourists were cowering with their hands over their ears. It looked like they were practising for a bomb-strike as they might have done in grade school 50 years ago. I was quite fully amused by the wrath of the bells and the cowering of the tourists. (I know, I'm a little sadistic.) Perhaps my sadistic amusement was simply a side effect of the fact that before riding to high elevations in the tower, Dave and I had Bellinis at Harry's Bar. That is where Cipriani first invented the drink and it's also where Hemingway used to hang. Generally speaking, if there's ever a place that Hemingway liked to sit and drink for hours, I find that more than enough justification for me to go and do the same. I always say that what's good enough for Hemingway, save the hunting, meat-eating and womanizing, is good enough for me. Of course we also wandered all over the tiny streets, rode multiple bus-boats all along the Grand Canal and indulged in much wine, pizza, pasta and gelato. Dave even had cuddlefish, although I don't know how one could go and eat something with such a cute, sweet and harmless name! Now it is Wednesday morning and Dave is off touring the Vatican Museum and seeing the Sistine Chapel. Surely when he returns he will update you all with his observations. Ciao Ciao from me for now! Campo De Fiori Hangover Last evening I took Dave out and we had dinner in Piazza Navona (the large rectangular square with three fountains often shown in movies) and then we went drinking in Campo de Fiori. I will let Dave relay most of his observations, but first here are a few insights from my side.
So, visiting lady friends, I warn you up front. Practice your squats ahead of time!
You know when he's arrived because all the Romans quickly gather 'round and start cheering for him and chanting to help built the excitement and anticipation for his tricks. The best part is that he does the same tricks every night, yet the Romans, every single one of them, always gather around and remain completely mesmerised. Last night they even lifted him up in the air like some sort of sports champion after a game victory. It was brilliant fun and a perfect ending to a night that left Dave smiling and saying "Yeah, I could live here!" You see, Rome charms everyone. It's fantastic! As for the rest, I'll I leave that to Dave! Voce da Dave I'm way behind on my remarks because I was so beat from the return from Venice that I let things here slide a little. Then Laura goes and gets me tanked last night, so here's the lowdown from the last three days... Let's start at Venice. Laura nailed most of the story, so I'll just provide a few of my observations. I got a kick out of the Venice public transportation system. They have a series of water buses that can take you almost anywhere (anywhere of interest, at least). What I found trippy is the fact that they have multiple numbered and colored water buses, kind of like the NYC subway system. They even have local and express routes. You can take a water taxi, of course, but it's way too expensive, and besides, with a map and some good legs you can walk almost anywhere of interest, too. Granted, some of the farther islands like Lido require a boat, but all of the streets around the Grand Canal are accessible by foot. Although I loved trapsing through the rat-maze of narrow streets and alleys (surrounded by medieval architecture), Laura complained that it all looked the same. I suppose you can appreciate it if you're one of those nerds who played Dungeons and Dragons in eighth grade. You almost expect to walk into one of those little shops on a side alley and purchase a +5 double-handed sward against goblins. Almost. A word about walking the streets- do get a map. You can get twisted around all too quickly. Plus there are sudden dead ends where you don't expect them. Laura mentioned that they should have done the real-life Pac-Man simulation on the streets (though that probably makes no sense unless you were in the West Village earlier this year). Finally, the most refreshing aspect of these streets is that there is no motor traffic. So there are no mini-cars and Vespas to get in the way. Yeah, we had to deal with the Italian "rail-union strike at any time" fiasco, but in the end everything worked out for the best. We didn't have to sleep on a train. So we got back to Rome twelve hours later than we planned. The kitties were just fine, and I still had plenty of time to see the rest of Rome's sights before departing. By the way, you could tell that the Europeans knew how to deal with the strike. The only folks sleeping on the steps of the Venice train station were the American back-packers and the local bums who had nowhere to go anyway. Then next day (Wednesday) I accomplished the Vatican Museum tour and a swing at the Palantine. All sources warned me that it's a bitch to get into the Vatican museum. I was told, "You have to go early in the morning or end up waiting in line for hours just to get a ticket. Of course, I dutifully planned to wake up at the butt-crack of dawn to be first in line. In the end, the lack of sleep from the Venice fiasco caught up with me, and I ended up leaving the apartment just before noon. I was a bit surprised to waltz right in. There was no line. There were a lot of people milling around; mainly little tour groups I suppose. But there was only one person in front of me in the ticket line. Maybe you should plan to visit the Vatican museum around noon on Wednesday. It worked for me.
At this point, you can either go to the Sistine Chapel or veer off to see some modern art. If you don't like modern art you can skip it, but it was very refreshing to see Buffet and Dali after being pummeled with so much Rennaisance stuff. So what is there to say about the Sistine Chapel? Basically this: don't try to take a picture of it. There are guards in uniform and even guards in street clothes all there to look at you funny and yell at you if you even hold a camera in a threatening way. It's good that this forces people to sit back and look at everything with their own eyes, but it also forces you to buy the poster if you want a picture of it at all. After sitting there for about twenty minutes, I was just a little bit disappointed. "Dave, how can you be disappointed when viewing the Sistine Chapel in person?" Let me tell you- You've seen so many photos of different panels of the chapel that you've basically seen it already. What bothered me was the fact that everything of interest is on the ceiling, which is basically sixty feet or so above your head. Each of the panels are rather small, so you can't actually see everything too well. The total effect is grand when you first enter, but it's difficult to see the details of the paintings, and has always been the most fun part for me. Yes, it is amazing what lengths the artists went through to accomplish it. Maybe I entered with the wrong perspective. After the Sistine Chapel, you're ushered past one gift shop after another, then finally take the famous spiral staircase to the exit. I know I sound a bit unimpressed, but the whole experience really was a positive one. One last thing: I suggest hitting the Vatican museum before the cathedral. I don't know why, but the Pieta and the paintings in the cathedral seem better after visiting the museum. Don't do it all in one day, though. You'll go Jesus-crazy.
Later that night, Laura got me drunk. I had one beer, then some wine, then some grappa. And that was just with dinner. Then we went to Rome's version of Hoboken, the Campo de Fiori. We sat in the center of the square watching all of the young, drunken, beautiful (and not so beautiful) people go in circles around the square as they hit on each other. I felt so old. I had two more beers. I tried to show Laura "my type" of woman, but as the night wore on, I'm sure my judgement waned. Laura's magician appeared, we had a good laugh, then gave a taxi driver a great tip when he got us home.
That's it for me. I need to go pack right now, since I'm leaving too early to even think about. It's been fun. Try to get here to visit Laura before the opportunity passes. Ciao for now! Voce da Laura So, yeah. That's it for Dave. He's back to New York in the early morning. I want to wrap things up with a few quick comments before I head to bed myself. Tomorrow I meet my landlady for lunch and maybe I'll have a date or something. Seems I have a small slew of Romans in the wings already. Ah, how I'm feeling like I'm at home! As Dave barely mentioned, today our hightlight was a quick stroll to the Pantheon, through a couple churches and then up to the Piazza de Spagna so Dave could see the Spanish Steps. By the time we arrived he was much more interested in the hazelnut ice cream at Babington's Tea Room though. I think he'd finally had enough touring!
I was quite amused by my new theory and wandered around really trying to believe that the church was where all the pirates of the world congregate on certain Sundays for their own pristine private pirate services. I kept most of this to myself since my giggling and foolishness may have been seen as out of line by some more proper visiting types. I couldn't help but take some pictures though, as you can see.
So that's that for now. Gotta go snooze. Surely more to come from me, don't worry! << back to where it all began... Content & Photos © 2004 Laura Laytham, laura@girlsaresmarter.com. |
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