Rome Day 1

Buongiorno. Sleep is wonderful … but so is a shower and hot coffee. Our building is incredibly quiet … built in the 1500s or 1600s (can’t remember which) the walls are a foot thick so there’s no noise from the neighbours … or the police sirens … the one downside is that phones and mobile data don’t work inside either! We were all prepared to revisit the Vodaphone store to complain about a faulty product when Glen had the brilliant idea to step outside onto the patio … e voila … problem solved. House WiFi works well. Had to laugh — just outside the door on a railing is a window box, complete with mechanical owl (head moves back and forth) – presumably to keep the pigeons away. But on the wall just to the side is a rectangular opening about a foot square – an ideal nesting spot, which of course a couple of pigeons were making full use of … owl or no owl. The stone stairs up to our flat definitely reflect the building’s age … with considerably worn centres, the user tends to sway side to side rather like a drunken sailor, A bit disorientating the first couple of times … especially lugging bags up and down

It’s cloudy this morning, but it does look like rain is imminent, so on with the rain jackets and a couple of ombrelli that Alessandro had in the apartment. The rain-slick cobblestones are glorious, if a little slippery, and reflect the vibrant colours of awnings, walls and raincoats. Our little neighbourhood was a pleasure to walk through, but suddenly there was a stream of sightseers which swelled to a flood as Google channeled everyone along the same routes. Approaching Piazza Navona there was a sudden thundershower and all you could see was a solid canopy of multi-coloured umbrellas, as everyone sought shelter. The street venders — deprived of their portrait paintings and hair braidings — switched to selling disposable rain capes and umbrellas. Even though we were obviously well-equipped, vendors repeatedly asked if we wanted any! Go figure. One good thing about rain jackets (apart from keeping rain off, obviously) – they also curb any light-fingered pilfering.

Being a Sunday, all the restaurants were doing a roaring trade with the customary large family lunch gatherings. Inclement weather was not an issue as all the outside areas had canopies and propane heaters – some even provided clear plastic walls for protection as waiters dashed back and forth from the kitchens carrying precariously balanced trays of food.

There was a rather soggy-looking line-up at the Pantheon alternately opening and closing umbrellas as the showers started and stopped, like some strange bed of exotic flowers. I suspect the battered and bent ones (umbrellas not people) were probably supplied courtesy of various rental accommodations. The Trevi Fountain was several layers deep in visitors elbowing in to take selfies. A bored-looking Carabinieri stood leaning against his car, watching the crowds – presumably for pick-pockets, while a mate of his further down chatted on his cell phone. They must really shake their heads at the never-ending supply of tourists that get conned into buying ‘genuine’ articles by Armani and Louis Vuitton off blankets along the street … or shoveling in ‘authentic’ Italian pizza or pasta dishes chosen from gaudy billboards of pictured food and prices.

Leaving the heaving masses behind we escaped down some side streets and enjoyed the peace and quiet of elegant terracotta and primrose-yellow buildings, their tiled roofs gleaming and wet — some so old, forests of vegetation had sprouted and looked quite at home up there. Eventually we reached the banks of the River Tiber – resplendent with lines of Rome’s prized Umbrella Pines that you can see all over the city — courtesy of Mussolini. Distinctive for their tall, bare trunks and wide cap of dark green foliage looking for all the world like opened umbrellas. Not far from our apartment is the remarkable round Castel Sant’Angelo and bridge across the river, also known as Hadrian’s Mausoleum. It’s probably one of the oldest buildings – started around 134 AD – to house the ashes of Emperor Hadrian and his family. Most of these were destroyed when the castle was taken over by the military in 401, the bronze and stone statuary being hurled from the ramparts at pillaging Visigoths and later assorted Popes turned it variously into a prison, a place of execution and the setting for Puccini’s opera Tosca. It’s now a museum impressively lit at night.

Lagging somewhat from the effects of time difference we returned to the apartment for a reviving cup of tea and a rest. Just as well, because shortly afterwards the skies opened and torrents of rain descended … the sound was thunderous – even inside our fortress. Later, another visit to the local Carrefore shop for some of the Italian sausages we spied yesterday . . . plump and pink. Some veggies to make a quick Ratatouille … things like onions, mushrooms and zucchinis were only available in larger quantities, so I substituted shallots, a huge yellow pepper which was the smallest they had (all the red ones were enormous), a compact dark red striped aubergine and a tray of cherry tomatoes on the vine. No basil, but lots of freshly ground pepper a dash of salt and a sprinkle of hot pepper flakes made for a very passable dish. And I can report that the sausages were mouth-wateringly delicious. Cooked slowly in a frying pan to a golden brown, and only pierced towards the end to release the fat, then drained on paper towel — they were moist, meaty, fragrant and spiced to perfection.