Soft List

Yesterday I felt a little better so I decided to see one of the sites on my soft list. A soft list contains places that I have never been to.It may expand to include ones I truly want to revisit, but that's somewhere down the line. This past week my sinus' have had me doing things unheard of...naps. Lots of them. My sleep clock is about as totally rewound as it can be. My head is getting through a little bit more of each day and now back to the soft list. Castel San Angelo was yesterday's choice. It has been there for a few centuries but I just had never made the attempt. The first stones were turned with the idea that the Emperor Hadrian would be buried there. That was the first of many ,including prison, arsenal, church and they actually serve pizza there now. The view, both inside and from the ramparts make this one that should be on  a must list. 


This is a city of musts. Catagorizing these musts isn't my task...to each his own.

Today I walked to Trajan's Monument and the markets. Years ago I had taken many photos of pieces (statues) they had laying in their yard and put this one at the top of my soft list. I didn't even get inside before tears arose and stopped me in my tracks. There are a pair of twin-like churches just in front of the column and that is where had one of our first Roman moments. As we sat there the doors of the church opened and out came the wedding party. We watched mesmerized as the photographer ran back and forth to his van and digitally printed pictures for each of the guests. No wedding today, only my tears.

Walking inside the museum and the market fulfilled my wish to get closer, I was in a building that all the people of Caesars period used!  I was walking in the steps of Gods...Emperors...Bakers.
Couldn't let  this get out of hand, but yes I liked it!

Because there are more than 370 "Catholic" churches in Rome, many have made my list. Mostly because there is/are gorgeous things inside, they are "free" museums...but check the hours. Bernini, Borromini, Michelangelo, Rainardi...all here...all free.
Nowhere else! 

Toto, this isn't Kansas...it's heaven.

Shirts

When I was dragging bags through the airport I certainly did not feel that I had underpacked. Yet a week later here I was walking up via Corso looking for shirts. Polo shirts. Ones that you can wash, dry and hang. 

Well I was successful, three new shirts and a lesson or two in humility. Thin cut...not a chance! L...not! XXL or XXXL, how did I get so G-------d big? Oh, just a slight difference in tags you say, like Chico's? Not sure how that makes me feel. But at least there are clean clothes to wear.

Thought for later---how do I get everything into the bag? Three months, maybe they'll fall apart! Don't worryf

Ciao

We walk towards each other right hand extended, not for a "firm", quick, sterile grasp showing acceptance, but to enfold each other in care and comfort. Left cheek, right cheek and hold, it has the steps of a dance and the warmth of humanity that dance requires as well. You do not say "Hi" in Italian. You enfold each other, reach out, perhaps love.

This is better!

A Cast of Characters

Yesterday I walked in the sun with a chemical scientist out of St Louis...via Sri Lanka. His cousin Nilu asked me to show him to the Vatican. The afternoon was coming to an end, but we were able to get there and do a bit of a walk around. Afterwards we ambled over to the Castel San'Angelo before returning to get Nilu. A nice walk, a nice talk and a chance to chat with someone from yet another culture. 

Every visit to Rome introduces me to other cultures. When I arrived I was met by Richard. He was born in New Zealand, married and now this is home. Lucky Bloke!My frequent seatmate is Oyven a professor from Norway. His English is most likely better than mine and our topics range from murder mysteries to politics...a common thread. As the only American liberal I finally get to speak.

Since Capinera has retired, her nephew has taken her spot...tradition.He is a Chilean jew. My single seat diaspora continues. When I was young enough to attend school our land was called a "melting pot" referring to its multi-cultural heritage. In this one block that claim is totally refuted.So,all of my friends this is yet one more reason that I love this place!

Full to the Brim

When the sax player is hot the gypsy quintet is pretty good. The other players are ok, together a nice jazz harmony. They move through the Campo dei Fiori from one place to the next playing a few numbers, collecting some coins and continuing through the evening.There are  mimes, magicians   and other players all evening long. Pay or not pay, every night there something to look forward to. Tonight there is a girl creating huge soap bubbles that the young school boys are busy trying to destroy. At the other end of the Campo is a silversmith busy creating something pretty for your wife, daughter...loved one. The fountain is bubbling and there flowers for all.

Meanwhile Bruno broods. There may be somewhere with as many beautiful women, but I doubt it. Because here, they all know they are beautiful...therefore they are! Nothing beats self-confidence...mean-while I'll just sit back and enjoy.

I won't bother to lie, this is not the only spot in town. The same thing is happening across the street in Piazza Navona, across the river in Trastevere, up the road at the Spanish Steps and Piazza Popolo...Pantheon...Trevi...on and on!The list goes on.

Roma...Full to the Brim with life!

I love it!

The Good Fight

There is an image in America of the Italian Grandmother as short, round with grey hair in a bun with a big pin holding it in place...dressed in black!

Let me assure you that Edda, Lina, Franca and Marina are Roman, Italian. They are Grandmothers, but no other resemblance exists. Each is vibrant, joyous, upbeat and outgoing. They remind me of Grace's aunts; Emma, Queena, Nancy and Mary. Getting their approval was the first test I had to pass to be part of Grace's life.

All of these women continue to bring joy to my life...not to forget Spice! The tests have been given and I think I passed.

These Roman ladies continue to pass tradition to the next generation. From their parents to their children. The sad fact is, because of economics fewer and fewer are able to do this. Money isn't everything, but it seems to be way ahead of whatever is in second place! Besting poor economics is damned hard. They continue the attempt-that is part of why  love Roma...and them!

A Rainy Night

It is 3:30, raining and quiet. After being up late last evening I thought sleep would be long and sound. But, I'm up. The small vase in hand and rain gear in place, it's down to the Campo. like I said, 3:30...a couple of bars are still open with a few "never say die" types holding up the bar. And, the city workers are cleaning the piazza, removing broken bottles and other left-over debris. I'll come back.

An hour later, still drunks and workers, but looking like the end is near. I walk down via Giubbonari, slowly, checking the windows, killing time. Up via Chiavari to the apartment we stayed first. Opening the vase was easy-hard,miserable. Now some of Grace is here eternally. The walk continues and I return to the Campo dei Fiori. Silence, solitude and rain...a perfect time in the proper setting. My indomitable wife has her final say. She will be watching over the Campo  the with all  her heart forever. She slowly vanishes with the rain into the cobblestones. I rinse the vase in the pure water of Rome and allow her final essence to cascade over the lonely statue of Bruno Giordano, as do my tears.