18 Venerdi: First International Flight & the Terror in (of?) the Air

No one who knows me or has been in my immediate vicinity in the weeks before my departure for Rome will need to be reminded that I fear flying above most things. Having white-knuckled my way from Pittsburgh to LAX a few years ago I began to have anxiety attacks about the flight to Rome weeks prior to leaving. I would never have considered getting on a plane, much less flying across a body of water as large as the Atlantic, except that I'd had an offer I couldn't refuse. My best friend was going to Rome during his sabbatical to do research on architecture in the age of Augustus. "Look at my excellent apartment!" Dan wrote, sending pictures of a quaint apartment with stucco walls and casement windows that opened overlooking winding cobblestone streets. "You should come," Dan said. Just like that.

There was no way I could go to Rome. I'm broke. I'm a terrible flyer. I don't know Italian.

"You should come," he said.

"This is the chance of a lifetime," my friends said.

"You'll hate yourself if you don't take him up on it," warned Mom & my sister Laurie. Of course they were right.

So I did.

And as soon as I'd purchased the tickets I began to panic in earnest. The panic bled into other areas of my life and once led me to pull off the highway in construction on a bridge at night. Somehow a feeling of eerie calm took me over a few weeks before the flight in which I thought "I'll worry about it when I'm on the plane." This worked until Laurie took me to the airport, where I became both dizzy and weepy, convinced that one of several options would occur:

• I'd be unable to set foot on the plane at all and be forced to return home with my tail between my legs, my vacation paid for but unattended, or
• I'd get on the flight and have a panic attack in the air which would cause me to have a stroke and die, or
• I'd get on the flight and have a panic attack in the air which would cause me to freak out, be forced into restraints and eventually hauled off the plane by security, or
• I'd make it through the commuter flight but be too frightened to get on the international flight, thus stranding myself in Philadelphia while my luggage traveled on to my destination without me

I began to take the Ativan in small quantities about an hour before getting on the plane, knowing I could use the calm. By the time we actually boarded I could feel it at work in my system, and while I knew intellectually that I was terrified, somehow my emotional center just didn't give a rat's ass. This is not to say I wasn't wildly nervous, and as I boarded I warned anyone who came within barking distance that I was a bad flyer, including the stewardess who looked at me blankly and then said in her cheeriest voice, "Have some bottled water!", and packed me off to my seat.

My seat mate was a young man who looked to be about 12 years old and who was none too happy to make the acquaintance of the deranged person blocking his access to the aisle. I came to find out that he was headed for his second tour of duty in Iraq and that he was in the military police. Fortunately for him the flight was a short one, although he was treated to a view of me clawing the air wildly upon takeoff and a babbling monologue once we reached elevation and I had sufficient breath in my lungs to talk.

While takeoff makes me crazy I love every bump and lurch of the touch down, and was in a wildly self-congratulatory mood as we hit Philly. I'd like to take this time to give a shout out to the folks who designed the Pittsburgh airport - the best I've seen thus far. Alas, Philly is a huge drag with expensive shops, bad food and little seating outside boarding areas and restaurants. I sat in a sushi bar for as long as I thought was polite, then sat for a while in a post-customs area and finally in a pizza place until it was time to board the overseas flight.

After re-medicating I boarded the larger plane bound for Rome about 6 pm. I was fortunate to be on the end of an aisle, and that only two of the three seats in my section were actually filled. Sadly this doesn't count for much in terms of comfort. Legroom was cramped, even for me, and sleeping was nearly impossible as my seatmate found when he tried to lay on his pillow and fold-down laptray. My vegetarian-option dinner wasn't bad for tofu airline food and contained some microscopic carrots in a bag labeled "carrotinis." After watching hideous in-flight movies, the sun set on my first day of glamorous international travel.

19 Sabato: Life after flying, stray cats and first meal in Rome

As the sun rose over the Atlantic the turbulence began in earnest on my overseas flight to Rome, so of course the attendants began to serve breakfast. I wisely avoided both food and caffeine, and after a few more hours of easy crosswords, deep breathing, in-flight movies and prescription narcotics we touched down. I was beside myself with joy to be in such an illustrious city, and of course to be on terra firma once more. I was so delighted in fact that I snatched my Ameribag and my carry on and left my jacket on the aircraft. Upon arriving in Fiumicino, Rome's largest airport, I began the hunt for my luggage and the jacket. Baggage claim in Fiumicino is a haphazzard process in which the bags are sent down the ramp and removed willy-nilly along the serpentine belt that runs deep into the deep recesses of the airport. Finally, finally, I found my suitcase laying sadly on its side on the middle of the floor, abandoned my jacket and found my friend Dan who had been waiting all the time I chased around the airport. It was now the morning of Sunday the 19th and I was in Rome.

One cramped train ride and one seemingly impossible taxi ride later I was at Vicola de Renzi 2, my home for the next week. Dan estimates the building to have been built in the late 1600's, and our room was of stucco and timber construction, complete with tiny "kitchen," a large, high-ceilinged bath and central room entirely outfitted by IKEA. The noise outside was terrific with the din of people, cars and Vespa scooters all funneling up through the narrow passages between the buildings. I made the mistake of sitting down on my bed and passed out straight away.

A few hours later I woke up refreshed and we set out to explore the neighborhood. Our section of Trastevere was a loud, confusing, charming place consisting of narrow, winding streets made of uneven cobblestones along which the Italian women sped in high-heeled boots. The streets were lined with small shops including the tobacchi, numerous gelato places, groceries, boutiques, cafes, pizzarias and so on, plus the occasional table of black market jewelry, clothing and junk. Today we found a small flea market set up on the open area across the street from Ponte Sisto. Venders were handing out samples of cheeses, flavored honeys, preserves and cured meats. We made our way across the Ponte Sisto and eventually to the cat sanctuary, Torre Argentina, located in the ruins of the Area Sacra.

The Area Sacra is perhaps a city block-sized section of Trastevere closed off from the sidewalk area with plexiglass, except for a couple of stairways down into the area where the cats live. Formerly a temple area dating from around 400-300 BC, it holds the distinction of being the site where Julius Caesar met his end at the hand of Marc Anthony. Excavated in 1929, it is now covered by the temple ruins and a few hundred of Rome's many thousands of stray cats. The first cat we met was an old black bobtail who looked like he had seen better days but who put up with the attentions I paid him with in the classic offhand Italian manner. The administrative part of the shelter was tucked away beneath the sidewalk area and housed mainly the ailing and special needs cats.

After visiting the cats we began to look in earnest for dinner. We found a place right on the main street through Trastevere with outdoor tables and dining umbrellas that brought out some complimentary bruschetta when we sat down. I ordered pizza mangiare e taci (eat and shut up!), a twelve inch, thin crust pizza with artichokes, mushrooms and slightly undercooked sausage. It was a thing of glory. Dan ordered an appetizer of fritti misti vegetale, mixed deep-fried vegetables, and ordered the popular pizza capricciosa. This Roman favorite is made with tomato sauce and covered in mushrooms, artichokes, ham (proscuitto) and hard-cooked egg. We found that natives eat their pizza from a plate with a knife and fork. The prosciutto is cooked on the pizza in one large slice which the diner must cut and redistribute over the pie. Water is purchased with gas or without, and poured out into glasses like wine. Not only did we confirm Italian suspicions that Americans are barbarians by eating before 8 pm, but we also ordered too few courses and in odd order. Bruschetta or some antipasti is usually eaten first, followed by risotto or pasta (primi). A small piece of grilled meat or fish might come next (secundi), followed by a salad refresher. Dessert is not eaten with the meal except by tourists, and gelati is eaten as a snack. When we went to pay for our meal we found that the concept of separate checks is completely foreign idea in Rome and that you will utterly baffle the waiter by asking for a personal total.

We walked back to the Piazza de Trastevere in "our" neighborhood, where we hung out on the steps of the fountain, ate gelato from a place called Blue Ice, and watched the people. Once back in our apartment I tried to prepare for sleep while the reality of my situation swirled in my head and the party crowd gathered outside. Dan had warned me what the only quiet time in Trastevere was between the hours of 3 and 7 am, but this reality was just now coming home to roost. Added to this was Dan's ability to snore, which may be equaled by none except perhaps my cousin David, but I finally fell asleep.

20 Domenica: Flea Market and Pantheon

Trastevere must have the greatest nightlife in Rome, at least judging by the noise beating against the casement windows of the Vicola di Renzi 2. Despite the noise, and because of the jetlag, I managed to sleep fairly well and was ready to shop the flea market in Trastevere. After breakfasting on bread from Forno Renella, the bakery across the street, and strawberries from the produce vender on Viale di Trastevere, we took off to see what we could buy. I needed souvenirs for my folks and goodies for myself, and was curious to see what we'd find.

Turns out you can get most anything at the Porta Portese, from mosaics to hardware to cowboy hats and coffee sets. It's nearly impossible to keep any sense of direction since whoever had been in charge of laying out the streets in Trastevere had clearly also been given the task of arranging the booths. I obsessed over some scarves while Dan melted in the direct sun. We tried haggling, unsuccessfully as it turns out, but wandered off with a few purchases.

A few observations on Rome at this point. No malls. No department stores. Everyone smokes. The women in Rome wear black primarily, layer with jackets and scarves, prefer the cross-body bag and seem to scorn lipstick. While most people wouldn't necessarily be described as "thin," they are certainly not fat, nor do they appear to be obsessed with the gym. My opinion is that they keep fit walking for blocks and blocks in heels balanced on cobblestones. Most Italians are my height or shorter. Many people lacked reservations about mining their nostrils in public. They love American music, but nothing recent. Most people above the age of 20 looked "smart" without being overdone although trends were obvious. The streets, even the large ones, are lined with small shops and sidewalk stalls, of which the later may or may not be legal.

Groceries are small and comprised of several small rooms. The one chain we did see, Di Per Di, had my favorite edible in Rome - blood orange juice. All the food I had in Rome was great (except for the nasty tourist pizza in Pompeii), but the blood orange juice was addictive. It came in quart (liter?) cartons for about 2.50 euros. Other stores selling food tended to be either specialty shops for meat, sweets, wine, produce or gourmet items, or take out shops. Several days later we did find a crepe place close to home that sold either sweet or savory crepes. I had an artichoke cream crepe that was both odd and delicious. A crepe about 12 inches across was made on a small griddle, then covered with artichoke cream about the consistency of yoghurt, drizzled with a red sauce we never identified, folded in quarters and served on a Styrofoam plate.

Anyway, after dropping our purchases we set off for the Pantheon. The Pantheon was surrounded with the usual collection of tourists, hawkers and opportunists hanging out in period clothing (or some interpretation thereof). After the blaze of Italian sun the Pantheon was cool and beautiful, with detail everywhere too complex for the eye to distinguish all at one time. We managed to be quiet enough not to offend too many people and sat on a pew in front of the central altar to catch our breath and take in our surroundings.

The Pantheon dates from before the first century BC and is likely the best preserved building of its age in the world today. It has been in continual use since at least Hadrian's reign. It once housed temples (shrines?) to many of Rome's gods (and possibly others) but has been used as a Christian church since the 7th century, which likely protected it from abandonment and ruin. As with all of Rome's antiquities, much of the building materials and features of the original Pantheon have been pilfered for construction and ornamentation of other later buildings. However, much more remains intact in the Pantheon than with contemporary structures, including its huge bronze doors. The Pantheon has also been used as a tomb, housing kings, artists and musicians alike, including Raphael. More and better information about the history and construction of the Pantheon can be found elsewhere, but it remains one of the best examples of the living history of Rome one can find.

Tired and hungry we ate pasta at a ristorante on the piazza in front of the Pantheon. Dan and I split a pizza and then I had a lemon chicken risotto. For dinner that night I had one of the best dishes I ate in Rome, tortellini with prosciutto and cream, while Dan had bucattini all'Amatriciana (hollow round spaghetti in a tomato sauce).

21 Lunedi: Of Mythical Amphitheaters, Good Food and Bad Restrooms

As historians and journalists will no doubt tell you, it's best to write about events soon after they happen. Time distorts and romanticises our recollections, and distills a complex memory down to its most basic outline. Sadly it was not possible for me to write about being in Rome and have the time to see Rome as well. The rest of my stay must be described from home, thus allowing me to extend my vacation as I recount how I spent it.

After keeping Dan awake much too late Sunday night I actually woke up in a fairly refreshed state on Monday morning and asked to go to the Colosseum. About this time we'd begun to shower, eat a little breakfast and go down to our local Internet cafe "Good" to hit the laptop in the mornings. Without my cell in Italy Dan's laptop was my only link to home, and I was eager to post photos on Flickr and e-mail my family and friends. Good was run by a tiny, good-natured punk barista who routinely wore an enormous belt stamped with the phrase "Fucking Criminal" and (other than the belt) was completely English-free. Good served espresso, rolls and freshly-squeezed blood orange juice in the morning, and a small menu of dinner items in the evening. Dan and I pounded away on the laptop until the battery went low, then we went off and had adventures.

On the way to the Colosseum we stopped for pizza, or rather for a bathroom with pizza as an polite afterthought. In Rome pizza (to go) is baked as a large focaccia with toppings and sold by the price per kilo. This particular shop had what turned out to be my favorite variety of take-out pizza, eggplant! While waiting for our pizza to heat I went into the bathroom where I made a shocking discovery - Roman facilities are rarely graced with seats! This was found to be the case all over Rome, even in decent restaurants. Now I'm not one of those women who won't go into a public restroom without a seat cover and a can of Lysol, but I consider a toilet seat to be among the bare necessities one should expect from a crapper in the Eternal City. They also almost always provide a working sink in the bathroom, but rarely with soap or hand towels. You leave the stall with your hands dripping (or hand prints on your pants) only to find another sink in the outer bath, this time with soap and towels (if you are fortunate). Some of the restrooms are unisex, and many share a common outer chamber. My favorite was in a Trastevere restaurant where the water in the bathroom sink was pumped by foot action on a floor pedal. How could the modern Romans, so chic in dress, so exacting about food quality and so fond of comforts be so cavalier when it came to the bath? My guess is that much can be put up with in regard to when they were able to live in such charming conditions and that sub-standard plumbing and odd arrangements are common features of historic buildings. Dan had warned me to bring antibacterial wipes and this turned out to be a smart way to go.

Other than Pompeii the Colosseum was the thing I had most been looking forward to. Until I actually saw it I thought about it as something that loomed fitfully in some collective mythology but had never really existed (as I suspect much of history is like for us Americans). Like an idiot I thought that visiting the site would make the Colosseum immediate and real and that its history would flood through me, much like the Holy Ghost shook Saint Theresa's bones. Not so much. Being able to see the thing and walk through it never lessened the sense of surrealism I felt throughout much of this trip. Here I was in Italy, something that I would never have believed a few months earlier. Historic sites in Rome are crawling with people in costumes trying to make a buck by getting into the photos of tourists, and other hawkers make a living selling junk, neatly heightening my sense of unreality. The sheer size and complexity of the Colosseum is just mind-boggling. Finally, I was surrounded by Romans who see Rome and its wonders all the time and so view them with a casual acceptance. I think subconsciously I'd expected someone to look up, step back and suddenly shout out, "Jesus Christ! It's the Colosseum!" and everyone would stop dead and their tracks in awe.

Once you enter the site of the Colosseum you travel around the outside ring of base until you take either the steps or the elevator to one of the upper decks. The elevator seemed like a good idea until I saw that it was made of clear glass and was stuffed full of tourists, and then I left Dan and headed for the steps - something I was to do many times in the days to come. At the top of the stairway I stepped out onto the second level from which you could see the entire structure. It took me some time to work up the nerve to stand near the railing, but it was well worth it, especially with the rolling clouds overhead. Since the marble had long since been removed the actual structure is evident in the internal barrel vaulting and exposed brick walls. From this level you also had a good view of the Arch of Constantine below, as well as the costumed centurions and emperors taking a smoke break in their gear. In retrospect I should have spent some time in the lower levels where the tunnels and channels built under the floor of the Colosseum are now exposed, but we also wanted to see the Forum and Palatine. I'll do that when I come back (I have a list).

Leaving the Colosseum, one travels down a ramp into the Forum. Tourists would do well to take a look at reconstructed map of the Forum before visiting, just to get a better idea of the contents and layout. The fate of we unorganized tourists is to view the sites and then hastily buy a guide to the area to figure out what we have just seen. There are so many sites and so much history concentrated in such a small space that any casual traveler really needs to carry at least one decent guide book for reference, if not an archaeological guide as well. Dan pointed out the main features of the Forum - the Temple of Caesar, the Arch of Septimus Severus, the Curia, and countless pieces of broken and overturned marble strewn though a grass field filled with poppies. The pools behind the Temple of Vesta were bright with wild roses and I wondered what the ancient Romans would have thought of the scene before me.

The Palatine is a hill on which the aristocracy of Rome lived dating back to the 2nd c BC was located. Under Augustus it became the area of the imperial palace and extensive construction was undertaken. Today this is a large area comprised mainly of the remnants of walls, gardens and fountain areas. The top of the Palatine is reached by ascending a fairly steep incline, but the resulting view is lovely. The Circus Maximus is visible below, as are the wide expanses of the umbrella pines that grow all over Rome. It's odd to see the mix of pines, cypress and deciduous trees of this region, and the presence of the pines brings to mind etchings one has seen of the Roman ruins. What I assumed to be a stylized representation of a tree is actually how the umbrella pine looks. In addition, the place is lousy with acanthus, and I took several pictures for my friend Kris' benefit. Kris is an artist and often employs the acanthus motif in her work. Her website can be found at http://homepage.mac.com/kris_gilibari/ After seeing the site Dan and visited the Palatine Museum, which is fairly small but contains some excellent examples of the mosaics from the imperial palace.

This is probably the day Dan and I had walked more than any other while I was in Rome. We began in the morning and went until dark, so we were hungry and cranky when we stopped at a sidewalk cake for pizza and sandwiches. Unfortunately the waiter was so awful we actually got up and walked away from the meal, something I have never done before in my life. This ended up being fortuitous as we happened on a nice little restaurant close to Dan's apartment that had a great menu, cool servers and excellent prices. I had the pizza with sardines I'd vowed to have in Rome and Dan had a potato hidden entirely under a slab of proscuitto. My pizza was good but the sardines were intensely salty. The big discovery was that some diners at a nearby table ordered pizza capricciosa, with its customary quarter of hard-boiled egg replaced with a lovely, runny fried egg! On the spot we vowed to return to Cave Canem for a sample.

22 Martedi: Jewish Ghetto, Capitoline Museum and Runny-Egg Pizza

Monday night it rained and Dan & I were treated to the mercy of nearly silent streets. Tuesday we planned to use our second day's worth of free admission and transportation on our Roma cards by seeing the Musei Capitolini. The Roma Archaeologica Card is a smart way for folks with an interest in antiquities and art to see major sites with discounted admissions and transportation. You will pay 11 euros for admission to the Colosseum and 7,80 for the Capitoline Museum, so the Card is well worth its 20 euro price. Unless of course you go to MACRO, but that's another story.

We began with a quick breakfast, followed by downloading and e-mailing at Good. At some point I began to be really interested in the doors in Rome. Most doors, whether they're to residences, shops or restaurants, are double doors that open inward and are often decorated. Some have interesting knockers (!), some have decoration of some kind above or around the door, and many have a grating above the doors themselves. Most of them look quite old, and it's disconcerting to see people in modern dress coming out. They aren't all lovely either, some are dark and look as though their purpose is to close something in or out, something very old.

We found some postcards and stamps at the tobacchi and I began to write cards and mail them out to my folks. So far I'd found souvenirs in Rome to be problematic. Either you can buy expensive designer clothing and accessories, or beautiful, fragile glass that will get crushed on the way home, or you can buy the wildly tacky stuff that is everywhere. Some of my favorites included the Colosseum keychain that resembles a tiny pair of dentures, the boxer shorts or apron featuring the frontage of Michaelangelo's David (some feature David's enhanced frontage), many gladii (Roman short swords), and calendars of stills from Roman Holiday or of cute priests. I even managed to get a postcard of an areal view of the Colosseum filled with spaghetti that I sent to my friend Wulfie who appreciates the tacky and the absurd as much as I do.

We headed off through the Jewish Ghetto, visiting first the remains of the Portico d'Ottavia and the Teatro di of Marcello. Both, like many of Rome's antiquities, are in the process of ongoing excavation, and entrance is fairly restricted. Augustus improved upon an existing structure during the first century BC to create the Portico, and named it in honor of his sister. It was later used for several centuries as a fish market. The nearby Theater of Marcellus is particularly interesting as one of those buildings in which the many layers of reuse and addition are clearly visible. This rounded structure on which the Colosseum is modeled is comprised of registers of arches, many of which have clearly been restored. Atop the ancient part one can see the medieval fortifications added much later.

The Musei Capitolini, the world's oldest public museum, is actually a group of three buildings, the Palazzo Nuovo, the Palazzo dei Conservatori and the center Senatorium. The Musei are set around an open piazza designed by Michaelangelo, bounded by twin statues of Castor and Polux and centered by a bronze statue of Marcus Aurelius. The Palazzo Nuovo is filled with statuary, including the Dying Gaul. The Palazzo Conservatori houses bronzes and Renaissance art and bronzes,in particular the Capitoline She-Wolf. In the courtyard are impressive chunks of the much-photographed Colossus of Constantine, and Dan and I were able to get a photo together in front of his sizable head. We had a chilly lunch of tramezzini atop the Nuovo, where one could see some one of the best views of Rome, including the Forum and the rooftops with San Pietro in the distance. Somewhere between the buildings (?) we found an underground passageway filled with epigraphy and excellent restrooms.

That night we treated ourselves by splitting a pizza capricciosa with runny egg at Cave Canem. In addition I enjoyed the ravioli with butter and sage that I'd been dreaming of for months and Dan had pasta with sausage and mushrooms.

23 Mercoledi: MACRO, Spanish Steps &Trevi Fountain &

Under construction

Wednesday morning meant only three more days in Rome! Dan & I continued our morning tradition at Good and went off in search of modern art. We'd wanted a change to view some Italian contemporary work after seeing so much classical, medieval and Renaissance art, and the MACRO had just opened. After our walk to the Museo d'Arte Contemporanea di Roma we made our way past some installation construction and workmen erecting a large net and tube sculpture, over a see-through lucite walkway and into the exhibit area where we found the museum's single exhibit. One room contained work by Israeli artist Nahum Tevet entitled "Untitled 1995-96", a study in contemporary plywood that Dan & I immediately renamed "IKEA Reject Showrom." I leave the design to your imagination (something Tevet had clearly done without in the creation of this work), which was described in museum handouts as "set apart by the use of wood." Well, at least MACRO did have an excellent bathroom.

After our 10 minutes in MACRO we decided to set out for the Trevi Fountain and the Spanish steps. The closer you get to approaching the Trevi the braver the pickpockets get and the cheesier the souvenirs become. To reach the Trevi you tunnel down Rome's cobblestone streets until you emerge into an open space filled with noise and sparkling water. While I'm certain my experience was that of the besotted tourist, the afternoon Dan and I spent at the Trevi Fountain was one of the best parts of my trip. Everywhere people were laughing and taking pictures and having a blast. This largest of Rome's fountains is just gorgeous and the splashing water fills the air with moisture. It is with the greatest resolve that you manage not to scramble right into the laughing water, but the presence of the nearby polizia who would haul you right out keeps this urge at bay. They spend their days blowing their whistles at the kids and tourists that get too rowdy near the Trevi, and there are plenty. The whole mood near the Trevi is of a good-natured circus, with the entire circumference of the fountain lined with people elbowing each other to throw coins over their shoulders into the water. Dan tells me the money is collected weekly. If you sit still more more than a few moments you can expect someone, in some language, to request that you photograph them. I believe I could spend days sitting at the Trevi, even though it is quite crowded.

From the Trevi we roamed off towards the Spanish Steps where we found an Indian film crew cutting a commercial.

Arch of Janus
Theater of Marcellus
Temple of Hercules Victor
Spanish Steps
McDonald's
Forum Boarium & Mouth of Truth

Sandwiches and McDonald's for lunch, gelato, Indian food for dinner lamb tikka masala and lamb keer kebab, prosecco

24 Giovedi: Baths of Caracalla & St Peter's Basilica

Under construction

Baths of Caracalla
Vatican - St Peter's Basilica

Sandwiches at the baths, salad and pizza at home