Le Grande Avventura Italiana di Chris e Julie: Rome – Part One

Statement of obvious fact: Rome is overwhelming.

I suppose it’s simply because this mammoth city teeters on centuries of history. Everything about it is larger than life, especially when touring the Vatican and the Coliseum are your main objectives.

Getting there was our first challenge. We GPSed our way to the train station in Florence, but then found Italy’s train system a little confusing. First, the ticket line was quite long, so I decided to see if I could just purchase tickets online, like Amtrak. Chris continued to hold our place in line while I got online and bought them. (Again, I’m not sure how you can travel abroad without an international phone plan in some shape or form.)

Our train from Florence to Rome.

However, we slowly found out that the train tickets I had purchased online were not from the same company that Chris was standing in line for. What?! The tickets I purchased were for a totally different company that used the same train lines. After more questions, we found that company’s ticket office was a couple of lines over from the one Chris had been standing in — and there was no line. Again, why? And the tickets for this train were much cheaper than the other line. Non capisco!

As we talked to the agent, I realized that I had bought tickets for the wrong day (duh!), and she made that change for me. So, we finally had our tickets together on the same train on the same day. Whew!

And then the next morning, after a quick trip to the incredible Duomo and another yummy coffee and croissant, we were flying through the beautiful Italian countryside to Rome. Green fields. Red poppies. Tall, elegant poplars. All good.

The train station in Rome was, again, huge, but we found our way to the cab stand and got in line. Soon we were off to our hotel, weaving through major avenues and tiny warrens of streets. Everything seemed much more worn and dirty than in Florence, and there was a lot of graffiti, but that, too, was expected.

Our hotel, the Hotel Rafaello, on a street called Via Urbana, also looked a little worn and the elevator didn’t work, which meant up and down three flights of stairs for next three days. We later learned that the hotel was slated for a major renovation. We soon found that the hotel staff would not be as helpful as they had been in Florence. In fact, it seemed as if whenever we came near the desk, at least one attendant would pretend he was taking a phone call. (ha!) To their credit, we received the free breakfast buffet every morning because of the downed elevator, which was huge and delicious.

That afternoon, we walked around, found a cute little bistro for a quick bite and soon came upon the Coliseum less than a half mile away. We walked there a bit until the sky opened, and we ran for shelter along with the rest of the crowd. We had fun chatting with other tourists until the rain let up and we headed back to our hotel.

That night we ate at the one “so-so” restaurant on our whole trip. Again, it was suggested by our hotel concierge. And it was the only suggestion they had — for lunch and dinner. Had to wonder if someone was related to someone. Anyway, we stopped asking for suggestions and found our own.

The next day we were up early and taking a cab ride to the Vatican. Once we got there, I wondered how we would ever find our tour company. Lines were wrapped around every corner, even that early, as people waited for their timed ticket entry.

We were lucky enough to have tickets for a small tour of the Vatican, the Sistine Chapel, and St. Peter’s Basilica, which allowed us to skip the line and go in early. Thank the Lord (so appropriate)! Anyway, tour guides all know each other, so all we had to do was show our letter to any tour guide and they directed us to the right spot.

While we waited, we grabbed another great coffee and the most delicious strawberry croissant I had ever had. Actually, we waited quite a while for the croissant, and when we got it, I realized why. It had just been delivered by the bakery and the strawberries were freshly sliced. Yes, a taste of heaven in a little back-street coffee shop across from the high walls of the Vatican.

Vatican’s outer wall.

Our tour guide.

Our tour guide was an amazing young woman, whose name was Ilaria (Hilary in English), with a deep knowledge of art and an understanding of the inner workings of the Vatican. She kept us moving and shared so many stories as we walked through the long galleries and then to St. Peter’s Basilica. We even saw a wedding taking place in the one of the basilica’s side chapels. She told us that when she was engaged, she had planned to get married there, too. But the waitlist for weddings was three years long, and the engagement ended before the call came.

Anyone who has visited the Vatican knows of its immensity, its history, and its shocking cache of art, sculptures and riches. It’s hard not to wonder what my weekly offering of pennies went toward as a kid! And to picture Michelangelo as he lay on the rigging to paint the various scenes on the Sistine Chapel is to imagine a life so wholly different from that of any artist today. In the attempted reverential sort-of quiet of the chapel, the ceiling seems to be a riot of raw emotions. Of course, photos are not allowed here. They would not do this incredible work of art justice anyway.

Enough for now. I’ll come back for the Coliseum and more in the next chapter.

Veni, vidi, vici!

Between land and sky

First posted on April 9, 2014

The title of this blog refers to the land and sky that first shaped me so long ago. For the last 40 years or so, my world has also been shaped by the Atlantic Ocean, Narragansett Bay and Long Island Sound. It’s been almost a year since I’ve written anything for this blog, but tonight I’ve been reading the posts that date back almost 15 years. I remember writing almost every one of them. So, I’ve come back to shake its bones alive again. I found this poem that refers to the blog’s title, and I thought I’d start here. Eight years ago — such a very different life.

Light sparkled off the Atlantic
on a flight to Atlanta.
Attendants smiled. Coffee was hot.
Toddler in next seat watched a video
for two hours. Plane was on time.
On to next gate. Next connection.

Found a vacant chair between
other vacant chairs and read a book.
Then CNN reported twenty teens
stabbed by classmate in Pennsylvania
this morning. All the while,
light sparkled off the Atlantic.

Bright spot

Short story:

It snowed Thursday, and its been icy cold since then, but I was determined to get a few photos of snow despite the drab gray day and being a wimp who detests the cold. I drove over to Mystic on River Road. I parked, planning to jump out, get a photo, and scoot back into my toasty car. As I took the photo of the Mystic River with the red chairs (above), a woman walked by all bundled up.

“You must be an artist,” she said, with a heavy German accent. “Anyone who sees beauty here today must be an artist.”

“This is my favorite place to walk, and I take photos all the time,” said, “I’m not an artist, but I do see beauty here.”

She smiled. “Then, yes, you are an artist.”

She introduced herself, and then said that she and her husband lived down the road and around the corner. As she continued on her way, she invited me to stop by for tea the next time I walked. And that was it. Just a few words, but she had turned a dreary day into a bright spot to be remembered.

Next thing I knew, I was locking up the car and heading down the road to Main Street, where I stopped in for a coffee and a few decadent macaroons at Sift, and then took photos while strolling up and down the street as I munched on a peanut-butter-and-jelly macaroon under my mask. The streets twinkled with holiday lights.

As I sit here, back in my warm condo, my legs are still chilly from the long walk, but her kind words glow. Thank you, Rita.

Anticipating the end of the world

In 1964, I had just turned seven,
hardly old enough to watch
The Huntley-Brinkley Report.

But somehow, somewhere,
I got it in my head that the world
was going to end.
And this doomsday deadline held
my crystal ball gaze for days.

I remember kneeling in the middle
of the double bed I shared with my sister,
pleading with God to delay
the end of the world.

I hadn’t learned to ride a two-wheeler.
Hadn’t made my First Communion.
Hadn’t read all the chapter books in the library.

Every day for a week,
my prayers became more insistent
as I anticipated my final days on Earth.
I told no one out of fear and hope.

Then I remember sitting in class
and it began to snow.  I thought, this is it.
This is the day. Only it wasn’t,
and I went home on the bus.

Tonight, I googled doomsday predictions,
and learned that psychic Jean Dixon
often predicted the end of the world
in the early 1960s.

And so, this is how the world goes on,
somehow, some way.
The children pray for us all.

I used to lift high in the sky

And every night was an adventure.
I didn’t fly, I simply lifted at will,
looking down without fear
at the world below.

No one looked up
while I was suspended overhead,
and I had no concerns
about the people below.
I didn’t see a string,
but something guided me,
softly lifting and lightly touching down.

Tonight, I will more likely
be naked while no one notices
or running late to take a test
that I haven’t studied for.

No wonder I lie awake for hours.

Weekly photo challenge: lines

Want to join this photo challenge? Here’s the link for more info: https://simpledimplesite.blog/2018/04/25/weekly-photo-challenge-lines/

https://simpledimplesite.blog/2018/04/25/weekly-photo-challenge-lines/

 

 

 

Weekly photo challenge: prolific

The word “prolific” describes the feelings and images of a recent trip to Thailand and Cambodia — loads of Buddhas, overloaded trucks, trinkets in the Bangkok markets and the incredible expanse of of Angkor Wat, the largest religious monument in the world.

The URL for this challenge is: https://dailypost.wordpress.com/photo-challenges/prolific/

I used to lift high in the sky

And every night was an adventure.
I didn’t fly, I simply lifted at will,
looking down without fear
at the world below.

No one looked up
while I was suspended overhead,
and I had no concerns
about the people below.

I didn’t see a string,
but something guided me,
softly lifting and lightly touching down.

Tonight, I will more likely
be naked while no one notices
or running late to take a test
that I haven’t studied for.

No wonder I lie awake for hours.

 

Weekly photo challenge: (inner) smile

 

4 versions of the face of the Buddha Mahavairocana, Japanese

Rhode Island School of Design Museum, Providence, RI

According to museum resources, this is the largest wooden Japanese sculpture in the United States. It was constructed from 11 hollowed and carved pieces of wood. Its simple surfaces and serene expression are representative of the late Heian Period.

For more info about the weekly photo challenge, check it out here:  https://dailypost.wordpress.com/photo-challenges/smile/

 

 

Weekly photo challenge: Rise/set

To illustrate rise, the softest pinks and purples of an early morning sunrise from a quiet cove at Lake Winnipesaukee, New Hampshire.

To illustrate set, an ominous sunset after an unforgettable tornado and high winds slammed through Fargo, North Dakota, on an otherwise quiet, mid-summer day.

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/photo-challenges/rise-set/