26/10 – Rome Reflections – finally.

I have a vague memory of writing that there was more Rome to come at some stage. Feels like centuries ago, but here we go. Let’s see if I can remember what Mr Nomad and myself were up to that weekend in May. Finally. 

The start of the city getaway was full on right away. During the first two hours in the Italian capital we managed to tick off one bottle of wine, pasta, cheese, ice cream and the must-see Fontana di Trevi. However, the first restaurant didn’t really live up to the high expectations we arrived with. The staff all seemed like they’d skipped their classes at the local high school for the day and had their first day at work that particular Friday. But the Carbonara went down ok, and so did the elderberry flower like wine – easy drinking and good for soothing the slightly dented culinary expectations. In other words, an ok start of the Italian experience. And the restaurants did get better, luckily. And better, and better, and better. Pasta, pizza, bread, wine, olives, more pasta, more wine, I can’t complain at all.

It was just one thing we didn’t manage to grasp when it came to food. Somehow, we were of the impression that the whole point with restaurants having a menu, was to communicate what they would have available for serving. I’m not sure all Italian restaurants would agree on that. Three out of twenty dishes or so was a common average of available courses when trying to order something. To compensate for this, it wasn’t uncommon that they would throw in an additional dish or two instead, preferably instead of the one you had just ordered and most of the times without telling you. But hey, when in Rome… And what’s the big deal really? Lasagna or spinach cannelloni? Scallops or veal? Red or white wine? You would hardly notice the difference, would you? Oh, ok…it would matter, scusi very much…

Except for eating and drinking, the main aims with the trip were to stay city chic all weekend (no GoreTex shoes or sporty rucksacks allowed) and to see all these things all the fuss is about. The old, big and presumably boring sites which you’re supposed to see when in Rome. And since we had decided to be proper tourists for once, we bought it all – the open bus tour, the boat tour, the guided tour, you name it. Only thing we didn’t fall for was the caricature portrait on Piazza Navona. Next time perhaps.

Normally, I’m very moderately impressed by city culture and anything related to historical sites. The yawning muscles start to twitch and my mind drifts away after a few minutes of attempting to show interest. But after the days in Rome, I’m suspecting that it’s all about size after all. I just need it to be big enough for my interest cells to switch on. Remember, we’re talking history and ruins here, nothing else.

The guided tour of Colosseum, Palatine Hill and Forum Romanum was worth every cent. Not only to skip the lines, but instead of seeing piles of bricks and enormous pillars, suspiciously looking to be made of foam and flown in for a Hollywood setting, we saw the banquet halls with the Romans’ gluttony and the private arena with lions for when Colosseum was too far away for entertainment.

The charismatic and bilingual David gave us about the level of historical details I could handle. With the British cynicism and accent from his mother and self-confidence, gestures and attitude from his Italian father, he took us through the endless ruins without loosing a second of my attention. Impressive. For the Romans 'forever' meant forever, not 'forever' as in 40 years like today. As said, impressive.

Of course, the city chic objective had its price, especially since I happen to be a woman. Some twelve kilometres in high-heels is not top of the pops really. Luckily, it’s not every day my poor feet get that challenge. But a weekend in Rome requires high-heels – no compromises possible. And as long as you stick to the quick stop at the Trastevere flat, to change to another pair of high-heels, before going out for aperitivos and dinner, you’ll be all right. It’s all about distributing the blisters and pain you see.

To finish off the Italian weekend on Monday morning, we stopped by a small deli to pick up some fresh juice and salami sandwiches. Then went across the street to sit on the stairs leading down to the arena of Circus Maximus to enjoy our breakfast. Again, an impressive site that made our minds drift away to imagine what it would have looked like thousands of years ago. When getting back to reality I didn’t see the horse carriages charging past though. The only running around going on at the circus was made by slightly overweight locals and their dogs. Time to go home. And time to put some flat shoes on.

More Rome photos here.