Well, it was too tempting. Naples, on Sunday: heavy rain. Roma, on Sunday: partly cloudy. Where would you like to be on this day? A no brainer, right?
We decided to take an early train out, to give ourselves more time in the big city. Rome opens page after page of possibilities. And so, some short time after turning out the light last night, but before sunrise, I am up again, Bee is up again, and we meet for a very early breakfast. This time I go easy on food. A few local tomatoes, a buffalo mozzarella and a few tiny pastries. And the ubiquitous melon.
A quick taxi ride to the station (it's Sunday, it's raining, it's early -- no one is out and about), a short wait, and we're on the train to Rome. Punctual, clean, luxuriously comfortable. My jealousy knows no bounds as I watch the screen display the speed right now -- through the Apennine Mountains, at 280 kilometers, or 174 miles per hour).
Do we have a plan for Rome? Bee is a flexible traveler asking only if we can try for the Van Gogh exhibit. I'd love to go back, but there's a problem -- the online tickets are sold out for today. Still, we'll walk over, hope for the possibility of a last minute entry and if it's a no-go, we'll move on.
(the walk)
Notice please (as we do!) that it is partly cloudy. If ever one is grateful to see sunshine it would be us on this day, after spending so many hours underneath umbrellas yesterday. (We don't have total confidence, so tarnished are we by Naples' wetness, and so we did pack our umbrellas, but with the hope that they'll stay hidden all day long.)
Rome. I could spend another week here. (Naples is a great adventure, but you dont necessarily want to repeat a great adventure. Rome is that never-ending story that you just want to pick up and keep reading.)
Okay, we are at the Palazzo Bonaparte -- the place of the Van Gogh exhibit.
And we are lucky! We see right away two lines: one for ticket holders and one for poor waifs like us! That means they are selling extras at the door! We snatch two and now we are inside, walking through the last decade of this artist's life, savoring the detail, loving the story, even if it is such a sad story. A few favorite paintings for you -- ones I didn't post before:
Leaving the museum, we vary our walk a bit: we cross the river Tevere at the Ponte Sisto -- which has been here since the 16th century. Here's a river view while standing on that bridge. It's a view that I totally do not remember from any past visits:
Note the turbulent waters! On summer visits, the Tevere is nearly dry.
You want to look more closely at a really ancient bridge? Here it is, built at 62 B.C.: Ponte Fabricio, the oldest Roman bridge.
I want to walk the narrow streets of Trastevere and Bee is game -- she's a great walker, a fantastic companion, and an unusual in that she allows me to be bone serious, but, too, she can be a source of great merriment. It is one reason why I let us get so lost yesterday. I could not stop laughing at the ridiculousness of slipping twice on wet metal grates. You don't think that's very funny? We beg to differ!
If there is a central point to this neighborhood, it would be on the square of the Basilica Santa Maria. Remember when we thought of this place as a gathering spot for spaced out hippies?
Despite the old architecture, the place has been transforming itself over the decades. Of course it has. Cities change. Neighborhoods adjust to new demands, meeting some, bypassing others.
(What's Roman pastry like? I don't know... it seems to like to borrow from neighbors down south...)
And now we go back to the river, crossing it this time on the Ponte Giuseppe Mazzini (which may look old, but was actually built in the early years of the twentieth century). You can't see it -- I'm standing on it -- but these days it is fully pedestrian. The bridge in the picture is the Ponte Principe Amedeo Savoia Aosta (named after an Italian general who I believe died in Ethiopia in 1941 of malaria, or TB, or both; this bridge, too, is fairly new, built during World War II).
And you have to wonder -- is there ever a famous bridge named after a woman? Yes there is! Ponte Regina Margherita (a queen consort of Italy in the 19th century), further down, by the Borghese Gardens.
From the river, we move on to the Campo de' Fiori (no real market today, just stalls of stuff a Sunday stroller might buy...)...
And onto Piazza Navona.
Now, I could get creative here and propose a lunch in a place other than Maccheroni. But it's Sunday and there are many, many Italians out and about (the weather! sunshine!) and you know that between 1 and 2 every one of them will want to sit down and eat. So I call Maccheroni and yes, they'll save a table for us. It'll have to be downstairs. But, the place is fully booked so we count our blessings.
They ran out of artichokes so we satisfy ourselves with the more universal salads (though with slivers of parmesan), followed by those ravioli with zucchini flowers. I could have at least ordered something new, but I would have been envious watching Bee cut off piece after piece of pasta filled with the yellow flowers and cheese. Besides, when am I next going to have the opportunity of biting into a freshly harvested zucchini flower?!
We've walked a lot already, but we're game for more. Tourist sights, to be sure, and not uncrowded on this lovely January Sunday, but all is forgiven. People, mostly Italian people, are enjoying themselves. We are within that throng of humanity.
(honestly, it's not that cold!)
One more crazily touristy place -- the Spanish Steps. Here, nationalities mix like noodles in a pot of soup.
And for all its nuttiness, it still is a magnificent place...
... with a magnificent view from the top, all the way to St. Peter's across the river.
And with this we end our long day in Rome. Thankfully, my knee mostly held up, the rain stayed away, and no one nabbed our purses, phones or cameras. More importantly, we had a beautiful day. As Bee noted -- two ancient women in an ancient city. Yeah, walking in every direction, at a fast clip. Pretty good!
The train ride to Naples? Quite full, but like everyone, we had reserved seats. And by the time we pulled into Naples, I was almost asleep. Nothing makes you as dozy as a rocking train speeding south as the sun slips further to the west and the lights appear in windows of village houses.
In Naples, we cab over to the hotel and catch up on the details of life back home.
A little later, we confer about dinner. Neither of us is hungry. So, I grab a drink and a bag of cookies, Bee takes out a few oranges and we stay in her room, munching and talking, perhaps a little giddy with the satisfaction of having navigated these days so well, but also knowing that we have one more day in this chaotic city and it's going to be a very wet one!
No problem! We come up with a strategy to face the rains in the morning. Want to know what to do here if it's really pouring all day? Come back tomorrow and I'll tell you about it!
with love...
