NYC is the city that never sleeps. Rome is the city that never shuts up. The noise is crazy. The people are crazy. The drivers are off their freaking nut.
And they are crazy next to two-thousand-year-old structures, which makes me constantly cringe. Why don't they have more respect for the history of this place? Why don't they slow down when they're headed directly for a large building? Why is everyone yelling at everyone else? WHY ARE THEY HONKING AT ME?
It makes sense that they don't bow in reverence to the historical structures. Everything here is a historical structure, some in a hundred different ways. An art gallery that was a palace that was owned by a dude who controlled the papacy...all kinds of history is everywhere. It's fascinating to get lost in it, as my friend Beki suggested, but really there isn't any other option. You get lost whether you want to or not. Don't believe me? Look at a map of Rome. I'm pretty sure you won't find many roads that are at right angles to each other. Or parallel. Or any other geometric relationship that makes sense.
But the buildings, man, the buildings are pure geometric joy. Today we visited the Colosseo, which is just across the street from us. This is where emperors used to allow prisoners/slaves/Hollywood actors such as Russell Crowe and Charlton Heston to battle animals, nature, or each other to gain back their freedom. Most of them were killed in horrific ways, except of course Charlton Heston, who went on to advocate for the NRA and...wait, I'm off topic.
There are some seriously whack bits of history there. For example, there is this crazy set of hallways and other structures on the ground. One of the emperors used to flood the Colosseo floor and have the prisoners re-create naval battles or sea-monster fantasies, or just plain drown. Later, they stopped doing that and built a floor over all those hallways, making a football-field-sized, sub-floor props-and-scenery shop...of the gory kind. Think "Hunger Games" game makers, but with no electricity.
Sure, you think that's barbaric. Ever seen an Ultimate Fighting match? Not much different except the death part.
Right now the only torture taking place in the old building is tourism. It is hotter than the blue blazes of hell in Rome right now, and touring an open bowl at noon is for the morons of the world. We were, however, smarter than the people who stood in line for hours. We bought tickets online and skipped all the lines. I also became very good friends with random tourists when I opened up my umbrella and created instant shade.
Sensibly, we went right back home after that, and waited till the temperature dropped just a little. You could still see the air in front of you, it was so hot and humid, but much more bearable than at noon. We roamed up north and found the Pantheon, which is pure architectural awesomeness. In other words, I thought it was pretty, but let's keep moving.
Unfortunately, Greg and Nicky were completely geeked out, taking panoramic photos of the Pantheon, so I had a few minutes to watch people. Cultural oddity: in the USA, I make faces at babies and get them to grin, and their parents love me for it. It is a compliment to the parents when someone wants to giggle and coo over their baby. In tourist towns, people look at me like I'm turning into a vampire before their eyes.
"Mom, they don't KNOW you," Cassie patiently explained (as if everyone in Atlanta knows me), "I mean, they don't know if you want to eat their baby, or what." I had to defend myself: "I rarely eat babies. But if I did, I would make sure to do it at an altar just like that one over there....mwhahahahaha." Cassie edged away nervously.
We wandered outside and saw the usual piazza madness: vendors, horse-drawn carriage dudes, people trying to get cash any way they could. One group of people had huge, hand-made poster that said, "FREE HUGS." Of course, my first thought was, "Excellent pickpocket strategy," which is what I was cynically pondering when Cassie ran over and threw her arms around one of the guys. Greg and I exchanged drop-jawed looks, and Cassie assured me she had nothing in her pockets to steal. She went over and hugged one of the women with the signs. Cassie has serious hug-needs.
We somehow ended up in front of the Brazilian consulate, where we saw a comedian-juggler-unicycle-magic kind of guy, a musician playing Hava Nagilah followed by La Cucaracha, an "invisible man," and a pigeon exhibiting truly inappropriate, intimate thoughts about a statue in a fountain.
We ambled through the old Jewish ghetto, passing what seems to be the only synagogue in town, stunningly beautiful, where a wedding was being held. I wanted to peep in and listen to the singy-like stuff, but it would be rude. Plus, the guard in the security gate was a little reminder that impulsive acts near synagogues might be frowned upon.
A riverside walk took us down to Circus Maximus, which was disappointingly oval and not circular. It's basically a field of pebbly sandy glop that isn't kept up at all, beyond maybe keeping the weed height down.
Finally, we found some food in the neighborhood that didn't embarrass Italy as a nation. I'm not sure what we ate, except the giant rib-eye steak that I just had to have (Wisconsin is in my DNA after all). It tasted great, though.
And now, if you don't mind, I will be deadish till tomorrow, when we attempt the Vatican (this time with online tickets, sensibly!)
There are some seriously whack bits of history there. For example, there is this crazy set of hallways and other structures on the ground. One of the emperors used to flood the Colosseo floor and have the prisoners re-create naval battles or sea-monster fantasies, or just plain drown. Later, they stopped doing that and built a floor over all those hallways, making a football-field-sized, sub-floor props-and-scenery shop...of the gory kind. Think "Hunger Games" game makers, but with no electricity.
Sure, you think that's barbaric. Ever seen an Ultimate Fighting match? Not much different except the death part.
Right now the only torture taking place in the old building is tourism. It is hotter than the blue blazes of hell in Rome right now, and touring an open bowl at noon is for the morons of the world. We were, however, smarter than the people who stood in line for hours. We bought tickets online and skipped all the lines. I also became very good friends with random tourists when I opened up my umbrella and created instant shade.
Sensibly, we went right back home after that, and waited till the temperature dropped just a little. You could still see the air in front of you, it was so hot and humid, but much more bearable than at noon. We roamed up north and found the Pantheon, which is pure architectural awesomeness. In other words, I thought it was pretty, but let's keep moving.
Unfortunately, Greg and Nicky were completely geeked out, taking panoramic photos of the Pantheon, so I had a few minutes to watch people. Cultural oddity: in the USA, I make faces at babies and get them to grin, and their parents love me for it. It is a compliment to the parents when someone wants to giggle and coo over their baby. In tourist towns, people look at me like I'm turning into a vampire before their eyes.
"Mom, they don't KNOW you," Cassie patiently explained (as if everyone in Atlanta knows me), "I mean, they don't know if you want to eat their baby, or what." I had to defend myself: "I rarely eat babies. But if I did, I would make sure to do it at an altar just like that one over there....mwhahahahaha." Cassie edged away nervously.
We wandered outside and saw the usual piazza madness: vendors, horse-drawn carriage dudes, people trying to get cash any way they could. One group of people had huge, hand-made poster that said, "FREE HUGS." Of course, my first thought was, "Excellent pickpocket strategy," which is what I was cynically pondering when Cassie ran over and threw her arms around one of the guys. Greg and I exchanged drop-jawed looks, and Cassie assured me she had nothing in her pockets to steal. She went over and hugged one of the women with the signs. Cassie has serious hug-needs.
We somehow ended up in front of the Brazilian consulate, where we saw a comedian-juggler-unicycle-magic kind of guy, a musician playing Hava Nagilah followed by La Cucaracha, an "invisible man," and a pigeon exhibiting truly inappropriate, intimate thoughts about a statue in a fountain.
We ambled through the old Jewish ghetto, passing what seems to be the only synagogue in town, stunningly beautiful, where a wedding was being held. I wanted to peep in and listen to the singy-like stuff, but it would be rude. Plus, the guard in the security gate was a little reminder that impulsive acts near synagogues might be frowned upon.
A riverside walk took us down to Circus Maximus, which was disappointingly oval and not circular. It's basically a field of pebbly sandy glop that isn't kept up at all, beyond maybe keeping the weed height down.
Finally, we found some food in the neighborhood that didn't embarrass Italy as a nation. I'm not sure what we ate, except the giant rib-eye steak that I just had to have (Wisconsin is in my DNA after all). It tasted great, though.
And now, if you don't mind, I will be deadish till tomorrow, when we attempt the Vatican (this time with online tickets, sensibly!)
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