Sun and blue skies this morning, however it’s not supposed to last … predictions claim thundershowers by 11:30! It was a lovely walk through our neighbourhood — the streets looked fresh and newly scrubbed … the sun was warm on the shoulders. The Monday morning traffic looked chaotic and throngs of people all appeared to be heading in the same direction — to the Colosseum. It is a magnificent sight and pictures don’t do it justice or adequately reflect its sheer size — even with chunks missing.

Through security without a hitch … demands for ID in addition to tickets barely receive a cursory glance. Inside huge, pock-marked pillars meters thick … did people over the generations chip away bits as souvenirs … to sell?. Up the stairs and out to the viewing gallery, crowds surged forward to look down with awe at the arena below … the under floor structure, like a maze, is fully visible. In the stands only one small section of seating remains, but the towering curved walls are staggering.

Suddenly the sky turned thunderously black and a veritable deluge of rain descended … in biblical proportions … bouncing a full 6 inches off the ground and instantly drenching everything in sight. Umbrellas and rain ponchos were no match as we squelched our way to shelter inside, and joined the steaming masses. The forecasters were bang on with their timing. As the downpour abated a touch we ventured outside and were rewarded by uncrowded views. The inside displays, models and media were impressive … showing how the vast columns were cut and hoisted into place (being a lowly worker back then would have be less than ideal … no health and safety inspections!) … however the detail and precision was remarkable, especially as so much of it is still standing. A quick visit to il bagno before departing . . . and of course the usual looong line up for the ladies. As I emerged and looked around the crowds for Glen, a voice beside me said “he’s over there” … and sure enough, he was. A woman in one of the hundreds of tour groups had noticed our blue rain jackets, put two-and-two together and matched us up. How observant is that? I was very impressed! Quite different from usual tourist encounters where groups wander aimlessly right across your path … stop suddenly to check their phones … or completely block a passage as they discuss where next to invade! <mutter ,mutter>

Sun and rain seemed to alternate every half hour or so as we wended our way through the cobbled lanes – avoiding busy touristy areas as much as possible. Delicious aromas from a local Pizzaria halted us in our tracks, and we followed our noses inside. We were not disappointed. Thin, Roman-style crust, fire roasted with assorted vegetables and mozzarella. I’d like to say it was washed down with cups of coffee, but I’d be lying … these were tiny espresso cups barely half full, with just a skiff of frothed milk (for our health, don’t you know — it was later than 11:30 am after all) This was for sipping only, I guess. Really good coffee, though.

Late afternoon and there were tickets to the Vatican and Sistine Chapel. Various line ups snaked this way and that – no signage or indication whether this was a line up for purchasing tickets, or for those who already had them. But with that sorted, we ventured forth and were carried along on a tide of humanity … there was no turning back and no escape. Talk about an IKEA store on steroids! <grin> Adjectives like incredible, magnificent, and opulent really didn’t do justice to the unbelievable collections … Egyptian artifacts, ancient pottery and statues, invaluable artworks … however it was being swept along by a river of visitors – never having the opportunity to stop and admire – that became overwhelmingly tiring … probably not helped by our lingering jet-lag. At the Sistine Chapel, attendants anxiously packed us inside, with stern admonishments to remain quiet. Although one couldn’t help but marvel at the staggering ceiling artwork – the years of toil and dedication it must have taken -we were secretly quite thankful to rejoin the outside world again and do some brisk walking.

Definitely a tiring day! Perhaps we’re getting old, but I must say it was lovely reaching home, putting our feet up and sipping a cold beer. Neither of us felt like going out again, so we whipped up a large omelet with heaps of peppers, tomatoes, onions, spicy sausage and a sprinkling of cheese. Couldn’t be better.

Not wishing to pack in quite so much stuff the following day there was only one thing on the agenda … the Galleria Borghese. What a treat … not having to cart along umbrellas and rain gear. The sun was out and it was a glorious walk. We’d heard that security was particularly strict about what you could and couldn’t take in, so were prepared to check bags/jackets, etc. But no … the only restricted items were backpacks and water bottles. So we checked our water bottles. The Borghese is a MUST see for anyone visiting Rome. Intimate, accessible, glorious …. and NO overwhelming crowds. One can stroll, stop and admire …. sitting on well-placed benches to appreciate a particular painting. The statues are exquisite with mind-blowing intricacy … a wrinkle, a dimple, a drape of cloth. Unlike most museums, you can actually walk right up to most exhibits for a really close look. In all honesty, I would take this over the Vatican/Sistine Chapel in a heartbeat. Exceptional.

We pack up tonight – it’s an early morning taxi tomorrow. Four days in Rome have flown by. Now for Malta.

But first we have to get there! Glen’s sister was immensely kind in offering us a place to lay our heads overnight and putting up with the car until we got back. A huge peace of mind.

Thursday was one of those gloriously sunny, but cool, early spring days and with ample time before the ferry departed, a stroll along the waterfront was perfect for melting away the stress of all that planning. Shame the 2 hour drive through treacly-slow traffic the other side rather put a damper on it! But it was lovely to catch up with family we hadn’t seen in ages.

Next morning — what a weather change. Clouds and rain as we bundled into Sharon’s car for the trip to the airport. Of all the airports, Vancouver is definitely a favourite … massive windows streaming in natural light …. calming oases of vegetation and running water or rock pools, starfish and the cries of shorebirds to sit beside while waiting for your flight — what could be nicer?

All Kudos to Air France … the plane took off right on time, and the inflight food was exceptionally tasty and plentiful — although I think I made the better choice for dinner entree. The chicken in creamy sauce with rice and quinoa side slightly beat out Glen’s pasta. There was an excellent potato salad, roll and butter and a delightful confection for dessert made from mousse and sponge cake. And unlike most airline coffee, this stuff was most acceptable. Expecting breakfast to be the usual dried pastry or muffin, this was definitely not the case. Everyone received a box filled with a cornucopia of goodies … Yoghurt, fruit salad, warm savoury pastry, bread roll with butter, cream cheese and jam …. and the small but perfect coffee once more. I guess they’re getting us ready for Europe sizing.

We were a little worried about timing at Charles de Gaulle airport — only 1 hr and 35 mins to transfer across the Terminal and go through customs, so were pleased to arrive a few minutes earlier than expected. The brisk walk was appreciated after 9 hours of sitting, but as we rounded the corner a huge disorganized mass of humanity hove into view. EU passengers were processed fairly efficiently through automated customs machines, but the rest of us were shunted into the interminable zig-zag lines where nothing and no-one moved. Pleas from passengers whose boarding times were imminent were ignored or shrugged off with the masterful aplomb that only the French can achieve. With only two customs booths open and hundreds of anxious and increasingly frustrated passengers awaiting processing, it was surprising that things didn’t turn ugly or that more didn’t miss their flights. I’m afraid Charles de Gaulle airport would have trouble organizing a bun fight in the elephant enclosure!

Bags … we have Bags! Almost the first off the carousel. No resorting to emergency packs for us! Hopped aboard the just-arrived shuttle bus into town … a veritable bargain at 16 euros for the two of us as opposed to a taxi at 50. We were downtown in no time, acquired new sim cards for the phones and had phoned Alessandro (owner of the apartment) to let him know of our arrival. Once again our trusty suitcases were subjected to uneven cobble stones and sudden potholes as we jostled our way through the Saturday crowds and noisy street sellers.

Alessandro, distinguished and charming and with impeccable English, soon had us ensconced in our home for 4 days. It’s ideally situated for all the sights, yet away from the busy touristy areas – this is a neighbourhood where locals live, eat and shop. A Carrefour Express grocery is just a couple of streets away . . . perfect for immediate needs … milk, bread, deli meat, cheese, fresh pasta, beer and wine. A crate of bright orange clementines, their leaves still attached, just begged to be bought, as did some locally-grown cherry tomatoes. You could just tell they’d taste like home grown. Dinner was pasta and sauce liberally dusted with Parmesano Reggiano and clementines for dessert. Ohh the flavour — tangy, sweet … delicious.

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.