Marcus's Trip to Rome: May 2009

After that we took a cab to the ancient Roman baths (Terme di Caracalla). This was a great site, with lots to see and lots to wander around in. It was still hot, but at least part of the site is in the shade of various trees and ruined walls, so that helped somewhat.

We met a baby-loving Austrian man just as we were leaving the baths; he seemed so much like an Italian in his exclamations over Marcus that we were at first confused. Eventually we realized that his Italian was a little too textbook—too clear, too distinct and easy to understand—for him to be a native, and when he explained he was Austrian (in a combination of Italian and English now), it made sense. Any sense he made went away, however, when he continued telling us about why he loves Rome: “I am living my life over for a second time,” he said. We nodded, thinking about second families, new children, or perhaps retirement and more spare time. Nope. “I was born here, thousands of years ago,” he said. We dimly started to realize that this man, in his third language, was either trying to tell an elaborate joke, or else was seriously telling us that he was a reincarnated ancient Roman. We nodded and edged away.

From the baths we walked north, up past the Circus Maximus, various other ruins, and the Palatine. We stopped in a small grassy area near the river to relax on our blanket and nurse Marcus (Robert used the backpack as a pillow and smushed half of our strawberries!), and then walked into the Jewish Ghetto, past the Portico d’Ottavia. Here, for once in our trip, we didn’t see priests and nuns by the score (in baseball caps, with pocketbooks, with water bottles, and in various kinds of garb), though we did see at least one rabbi. We ended up eating at Ba Ghetto, just based on the menus each restaurant displays outside; we had a great deep-fried artichoke (the leaves were like crispy potato chips), a nice deep-fried phyllo and beef cigar-shaped roll, couscous with braised beef, tomatoes, and chickpeas, and salt cod with raisins, tomatoes, and pine nuts. Really good, different food—Marcus especially liked the couscous. We had another run-in with the server about tap water; I love how the servers vehemently deny that any such thing as tap water is even possible—until they realize I’m going to hold out longer than them, and I’m not going to splurge on the bottle of water, and then they suddenly, and grudgingly, produce a pitcher of tap water and plunk it on the table.

We walked back toward the hotel but made two stops along the way, first at the Largo di Torre Argentina, which is a partially excavated ruins site that has become a volunteer-run cat sanctuary. We wandered down but declined to wait and take a tour—in part because I could not stand the catty odor. We thought we’d buy something in their gift shop for Aurora and Yasmine, two of our biggest cat-lovers, and while I was trying to do that, Robert was accosted by a volunteer who practically locked him into the inner, cat-filled chamber upon learning that he is “allergic” to cats. She explained that she thinks all cat allergies are just in people’s heads, and if he would only spend half an hour, allergy-free, in the cat room, “what a gift” it would be for himself. Ah yes—what a gift indeed! For the second time today, we nodded and edged away.

A block from the cat sanctuary (and past a random pocketbook store named after my baby!) is the Crypta Balbi, a fabulous museum that showcases the history of Rome over thousands of years in just one building. And no, “crypta” doesn’t mean a crypt as we think of it—it’s apparently a balcony off of a theatre. In any case, this museum broke the mold of Roman museums and actually gave us lots of stuff to read, as well as mildly perceptible air conditioning. It was really fascinating to see how the building was an ancient Roman theatre, then a potter, then a tavern, then a medieval church, etc.

Back at our hotel we rested and stored up some energy, and then went out for dinner, walking over to Antica Birreria Peroni, a German beer garden in a several-hundred-year-old Roman building. Robert had grilled cheese. No, not a sandwich—an individual cast-iron frying pan of grilled. Cheese. With a garnish of speck and arugula. He laughed, and turned it into a sandwich with some of that expensive mediocre bread we always have. I had bucatini again (you never see it at restaurants here!), but it was not as good as the night before. The restaurant wasn’t great—lots of tourists, again, and kind of a vulgar, “Dick’s Last Resort”-type vibe, but it was cheap and something different.

We actually wished we’d gone to one of the several Chinese restaurants we saw, too late, nearby, instead, but as it was we walked over to the Trevi Fountain just a few blocks away. Honestly, it was so crowded here—dwarfing the crowds at the Vatican—that I almost turned back. It was horrible—just filled with hawkers and tourists and jam-packed and noisy and nothing pleasant at all. We squeezed our way down to the fountain (distracting an entire bus-load of Chinese tourists, who each squeezed Marcus’s cheek along the way) and I helped Marcus throw in his coin so he’d return to Rome someday, and then we scooted out of there. We practically ran down the side-street to get to Il Gelato di San Crispino, which is highly acclaimed gelato: we’d heard it was excellent, with varied, unusual flavors and a high price. The place was deserted, but very classy-looking; we had hazelnut meringue gelato and bergamot gelato (so yes, unusual flavors), but the price was still cheaper than for a cup of Toscii’s ice cream. Overall it was good, but except for the fun flavors, not better than the gelato right by our hotel.

Thursday, May 21st, 2009

Today was our last full day in Rome—the pressure was on for us to make the most of the day! Right after breakfast, nice and early, we actually went in to the Pantheon; staying right in front of it, we’d kept saying, “Oh, we can do that later,” but at this point figured out we better do it now. It was lovely in the early morning, light, actually, and it was nice and empty and easy to walk around. After that (and our morning fill-up-the-water-bottle-at-the-fountain stop, of course), we took a cab to the Spanish steps. Below: the view of our hotel (at right) from the Pantheon, and our arrival at the Spanish steps.

Marcus started crawling up the steps as soon as I took him out of the mei tai—they happen to be a good height for babies—and thankfully it was still early, so it wasn’t so crowded we were afraid people would trample him. Robert seemed to think it was too much stress on Marcus’s knees, though, so he helped him do some more steps standing up. Whatever the mode, our baby loves steps. He could’ve kept going—at a pretty decent pace, too—but we eventually scooped him up into the backpack and walked up ourselves.

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