I’ve obviously been absent from the world of blogging for quite some time, out gallivanting about, I suppose. My more recent jaunts led me to Rome.
It all came about something like this… one early February morning while I was talking on the phone with my friend Debb. She suggested that we meet up in Rome sometime. My immediate reaction was, heck yes, let’s go at the end of the month! I realized she was half wishing and joking, she had just come across a great airfare to Rome and thought it would be fun. I was completely serious about it, and now that a tiny seed was planted, I couldn’t stop thinking about Rome! I was born in Rome and as a child I visited my birth city several times after we had moved to Florence. In my adult life I visited once with my children and parents back in 2008 (I posted about it here and here), but still I don’t “know” Rome as I should, as a Roman. I couldn’t get Rome off my mind. I waited a couple weeks and casually slipped the idea into a conversation with Patrick when he mentioned he needed to take a few days off from work. “You know what would be fun? A week-end in Rome…what do you think about going the end of the month?”. That was the only suggestion needed before we booked tickets and rented a small apartment for the long week-end.
Fast-forward to Saturday morning 11:30 am when we arrived to our week-end apartment in the old Jewish quarter of Rome, via del Portico d’Ottavia. The apartment was all I’d hoped for, in a quaint old building (circa 1600) and happened to be next door to the famous pasticceria ebraica il Boccione (that’s the store view from our apartment window). I don’t think I will forget anytime soon the delicious buttery baking smells that woke me each morning. This little hole in the wall establishment looks like nothing much from the outside, but just so happens to be famous for their pizza ebraica, and I will be going back again, just for that. The neighborhood was just as lovely and quaint and just a hop skip and a jump to Piazza Navona, Pantheon, Colosseum and Forum. We lunched at a small modest restaurant Sora Margerita (so modest the there is no sign on the door), walked around piazza Venezia during a vivid demonstration, ate gelato (it’s a rule I take seriously, when in Italy I have gelato, every day) then prepared for the opera, La Traviata (which was delightful).
Sunday we walked over to the Mercato dei Fiori, which I imagine in warmer weather to be much busier than we found it. We did, however, find what we were looking for, savory properly aged parmigiano reggiano, mission for the day was accomplished. The afternoon we ventured over to Patheon area and Piazza Navona. Pantheon was crowded (observation) and I was a bit amazed by the lack of respect from other visitors. By far the most noisy church I’ve ever set foot in; children running through out, floods of people poking around with their selfie sticks taking absurd pictures of themselves. That experience left me slightly bitter, the truth is at times I cannot tolerate tourists.
One significant detail of this trip has been omitted until now, Patrick came down with full blown chicken pox. Come to find out, chicken pox in adults can be quite dangerous. It did put an interesting twist into our weekend in Rome, but gives us reason to go back, soon.
Tuesday, the last day, I walked to the Colosseum and spent the late morning and early part of the afternoon traipsing through the Roman ruins. I thought of my parents much of the time I was wondering around Rome. I don’t have any early childhood memories of Rome, I was 2 when we moved to Florence, so I like to imagine what life must have been like for my parents while living there. I found myself wondering what was going on in Rome in the late 60’s, what did it smell like, what kind of places did my parents visit, did they get to enjoy quiet slow walks as I did. I found myself thinking about the time I spent in Rome with my children and parents back in 2008; the bus trip my dad and I took to our old neighborhood and the story he loves to tell me around my birthday time.
Like any beautiful dream, it was over all too quickly, just as I was starting to get acquainted. Leaving I left reassured, confident I’d soon be back for more, leaving I felt Rome flowing into me.