One taxi ride, one plane ride, one looooong walk through Frankfurt airport, one more plane ride, and we made it to Rome. We allowed ourselves to be fleeced by a taxi driver in the interests of getting to our hotel sooner, and pitched up at Les Chambres d’Or.
Things got very Fawlty Towers at this point. The room wasn’t ready because it had just been painted, so we were shifted to another hotel for the night. A car would take us there. A friendly fellow was dispatched to assist. Instead of putting us in a taxi he lead us to a small battered Fiat. In a routine that was very Basil Fawlty, but with good humour instead of bad, he tried to put our two large suitcases in the tiny boot. After emptying his belongs and the boot cover onto the streed, he conceeded defeat and put one suitcase in the back seat – our silent passenger, as he referred to it for the journey.
He drove us around the dark Roman streets in his “fast and furious battle car” until we found the second hotel, where we were grateful to find a soft bed. After venturing out for a quick dinner we had our first good sleep since leaving home.
The next morning we decided to go for a walk and see where we ended up. We started with the Spanish steps which were covered in pots of purple spring flowers and looked beautiful. The piazza below is filled with designer shops like Dior, Gucci and Yves St Laurent, and since the prices are displayed in the window along with the clothes, we didn’t need to venture inside to find out just how unaffordable these labels are.
We moved on to the Trevi Fountain, which was astonishing. It is so big, while situated in a piazza which seems strangely small. Maybe it was the huge crowds of people that exaggerated this effect. Of course I thought of Anita Ekberg in La Dolce Vita, and it seems the Italians are keen to discourage any re-creations of the scene. There are many police lurking to pounce on anyone who so much as dipped a finger in the water.
We continued to the Collesseum, which I found magnificent. I was amazed that the reason it is now so incomplete is that parts were taken to be used in constructing other monuments and buildings. Good thing that stopped eventually.
We stopped for lunch beside the Pantheon, where I mistakenly ordered a bottle of wine instead of a single glass. Not the worst mistake. We walked slowly back to the hotel, and it being siesta time on a Sunday, it was very quiet and peaceful. Think I could live here.
The Vatican was every bit as wonderful as I expected. We queued for an hour to get in then joined the hordes, trying to drink in as much as possible of the art works around us. It was a little unbelievable to me that I was seeing frescos painted by Raphael, but the true highlight was standing in the Sistene Chapel, looking up, and finding myself looking straight at God’s hand, touching Adam’s, bringing him to life. It was a long way from Mrs Gould’s aft history class iin 1990, but the wait was worth it.
I even bought a poster of the Chapel ceiling and who knows, I might get round to putting it up one day…
In the afternoon Andrew went and had a rest while I ambled around the streets, window shopping, actually shopping, having tea, looking for a loo, finding McDonalds by the Pantheon (thank you America, you gave us clean toilets), having an icecream, getting totally lost, finding myself again, and dragging Andrew our of slumber to come and have some dinner.
We’ve tried to visit St Peters, but have been scared off by truly gigantic queues. This afternoon is our last chance. Tomorrow, Sorrento! Ciao.
