Really, God?

This has been a day like no other in recent memory. We arrived at Termini right on time and there was my high school friend and one time almost prom date - Cinzia (Chin- See - AH). Has it really been 29 years since we last saw each other? The years, as I knew they would - instantly melted away. As it was with my friend Serge who up until last year, I did not see for ten years, Cinzia and I fell instantly back to where we left off. I've learned over the years, that friends like this are rare, and when you find one, you need to treasure them. There's no blame on who lost touch with whom, or mention of the years in between. It felt as if we had just said good-bye over "B" lunch and ciao in Rome.

Since she lives in Sicily, Cinzia decided to get a hotel room near the station and stay over night. So, after a brief stop at her hotel, we set out to conquer Rome in a day. Can I say what a treat it was to have, not only her company, but her bilingual skills all to ourselves? Throughout the day, in between catching up with our lives, from ordering lunch to buying tickets, Cinzia took care of everything, with a little help, of course, from her substantial assets. This is, after all, Italy.

Before we got to the city, I told my mom that she would notice a marked difference between Florence and Rome, and mainly, how they drive and how difficult it is to cross the street. Romans drive how they want and as fast as they want. Getting across the street is not only an adventure, it's a life threatening thrill that raises your blood pressure and makes you wonder how you'll survive an activity you do every day. The hint? Cross with conviction - you have to have a destination in mind and that place is the other side of the street. Don't hesitate for a second - this is a war of the road between you and the driver and you must be determined to win. Rosemarie held on to either me or Cinzia for dear life. By the end of the day she still was not used to it, but she was determined to make it across. It was fun to hear her moan every time Cinzia would say that we had no choice but to get to the other side.

The sun in the capital was intense - it beat down on us at every turn and we found every bit of shade that was available as in total, we walked over 23 miles before our day ended. The journey began on the bus where Cinzia gave us a quick tutorial on pick pockets and ways to keep things safe. We decided to start with the Sistine Chapel. We are relatively good Catholics, or at least I once was, and no visit to the Holy City would be complete without seeing the seat of power.

The sun was hot and bright

My mom was in awe of the vast square - and with next to no shade, the sun seeped into every available corner it could find. Instead of going into the Basilica, where the line twisted and turned for what seemed miles, we opted to go right to the Sistine Chapel. And to get there -we had to go through the Vatican Museum.

Now the Vatican Museum is vast and seemingly endless with its riches, treasures and artifacts. The only way to get to the chapel is to go through the entire collection of artifacts. It was hot, it was crowded and there was no senior discount. The tour groups were everywhere and as Cinzia, and then I took the lead, it got more packed with every step. The stifling heat was oppressive and at one point, the air conditioning from a distant room was surely what the breath of God must feel like.

I was getting weary, feeling neausus from the temperature and the mass of bodies around me, and still the chapel seemed miles away. I needed to sit down but I couldn't let my mom know I was ready to faint. Finally, we were in the tiny famous room. Although it is a gorgeous sight to see with its vibrant colors and masterpiece of art adorning every wall, the amount of visitors within seemed as if the world was trying to fit on the top of pin. Along with my mom, it was Cinzia's first visit to the chapel and all three of us could not believe that someone could have done all that work and how well it has survived. I guess there are some great things that come from lying on your back. For us, all we could think of now was surviving the chapel and getting out of the Vatican. Winding us through more exhibits and gift shops, the museum's uscita was finally in sight. And it was a winding staircase ramp down to the ground. And there, before us, stopping us dead in our tracks was the most beautiful priest ever to walk the earth.




Really, God?


Really God? Really? You had to make that stunning vision a priest? Does that specimen of mankind need to wear a white collar for the rest of his life? All three of us would have confessed our sins to him right there among the crowd and I quickly moved my camera under the guise of taking my mom and Cinzia's picture to capture all the beauty of this nameless man of the cloth. Rosemarie said we should have asked him for a real and non stealth picture.

"Just say you want to get a shot of a real Roman Priest."

Yes, lovely - let's lie to a priest.

Throughout the day, his visage would keep us even hotter on an already sweltering day.

The afternoon was upon us and the mileage we were walking was quickly adding up on the odometer. Before any of us passed out, we stopped for lunch near the Spanish Steps. Of course, it was pizza. As far as our favorite lunch goes, this was number two of pizzas on our list. Covered in four cheeses, it was chewy goodness, but lacked the river of oil from yesterday.

At lunch, Cinzia gave us the facts about tipping in Europe. Never do it. Ever. When she discovered we left a 20e tip from dinner the previous night, she said the waiter was probably still having a party. Then she heard that I tipped the cab driver 4e and she was aghast. At the very most, if you just can't leave without the extra gift, leave 1e on the table. In addition, the wait staff will never bring you the check, as it's considered rude to push the patrons out the door. You can stay as long as you want until you request the bill. With our Italian etiquette lesson over, we admired the Italian men walking by. The swagger that she said all men try to perfect and the jeans riding low on their waste was in full evidence with every passing Roman. Above all, it was their big Italian noses that stood out for us.

Finally, we paid the bill, but not before we all used the WC, which was down a skinny spiral staircase. Rosemarie hung on for dear life as the call of nature could not be deterred. Sufficiently stuffed, we headed towards The Spanish Steps. It was here that we found one of Rome's many fountains and discovered that this is where you should fill up your water bottles. Buy one in the morning and use it throughout the day. Fresh, clean, and most of all, cool, the hydrating liquid was better than any aqua minerale we've had. In fact, it would not surprise me if all the vendors in Rome sold this very free gift to you without your knowledge.

Wandering the shopping streets, we came upon one of many sunglass establishments and here, my mom purchased for me a pair of Prada glasses. With Cinzia bartering in Italian with the women of the shop, the atmosphere was comical. For all I knew, she was telling them to charge these Americans any price, but with the joy of the language filling the shop, we would have paid any price. As it was, we managed a nice amount and even get the tax back at the airport.

From here, our destination took us to, what is without a doubt, my favorite place in the city. Trevi Fountain. The sheer majesty of the sculptures spewing crystal clear blue water leaves you awestruck. Police patrol the perimeter, ready to instantly arrest anyone who attempts to go into the fountain. We sat and watched the crowds and my mom and I threw a coin into the fountain.

Did we make a wish?

The sun was still strong and we wandered into, what else, a gelateria. Here, we had Italian slush. Cinzia an orange and lime, and me slurpping lime and my mom having  pistachio and straticetella gelato. The treat here is not as creamy as in Florence. Though still delicious, it is a bit more dense. Then Cinzia suggested a Tea Freddo with Granita (lemon italian slush) Oh, my Vatican Priest, this was better than any drink, alcoholic or non that I've ever had. I will search for it again throughout my trip. And here was another Italian lesson: our last name is pronounced with the emphasis on the "l-l-a." It is not a hard T, but instead simply say, "Tay-LA."  

Attempting to flirt with a new Roman (our hearts, though, still belonged in the Vatican.), we got the best route to our next stop: The Colosseum. Boarding a bus and, yet again, walking across the street within an inch of our lives, we boarded the next transport to one of the most majestic buildings ever constructed. My mom was amazed that she was here actually looking at such an arena. I, in the meantime, was quietly camera stalking Italian boys as my friend David taught me and perfected long ago.




Roman Boy


All three of us found a bit of shade and then decided it was time to head back to Termini. We, of course, arrived early and Rosemarie was looking so exhausted that I feared she would fall asleep on the bench and be taken for a homeless Italian woman. We found a train to Firenze leaving in 15 minutes and since I paid for a flexible fair with only a minimal change fee, armed with our interpreter, we booked it to platform 2 with seconds to spare. I promised to never let another 29 years go by between visits and made Cinzia promise to meet me in Ibiza or Mykonos, or wherever my next European vacation takes me. She hugged my mom, we kissed a hasty ciao and ran down the platform to coach 3. I looked behind me to make sure Rosemarie was still behind me, my thoughts consumed with getting to the car to stop the doors from closing. Only when we boarded did she tell me that she was "giving me the high sign to just get on the train and walk to the first class coach. What did I know of "high signs?" Obviously not what they look like. But, my mom was a trouper and she got on board and instantly fell asleep.

It was a short two hour trip back to where we can walk the streets without fear of our lives. Rosemarie is more than exhausted, she is in bed and will be asleep within seconds. I, on the other hand, feel as if I should sin tonight just so I can say again, "Really, God?"