Arrival

I think I slept for a couple of hours on the plane - that is, a couple of hours' worth of ten-minute periods of nodding-off. Our flight, while ostensibly on Alitalia, was in an Airbus 330 with some sort of generic, charter livery "One Star"? or something like that. A movie involving Liam Neeson having his identity stolen played on a series of CRT monitors which had lowered from the ceiling of the cabin early in the flight, their varying hues demonstrating which of their electron guns were on the fritz.

During our approach to Fiumicino Airport, I craned my neck in an attempt to see our ultimate destination, the island of Elba, through the window - an attempt made difficult by the fact that our window was over the middle of the wing and there was only a narrow sightline between the trailing edge of the wing and the fuselage. I saw a few islands - marvelous structures, rearing out of the deep blue Mediterranean, their flanks fringed in surf, but not Elba.

While walking through elevated, white habitrail tunnels from the gate we caught our first glimpse of "The Pines of Rome" - those wonderful table-topped pines which we immediately dubbed "Truffula Trees" for their resemblance to the endangered trees from "The Lorax" by Dr. Seuss. In surprisingly little time, we'd recovered our bags and found ourselves out at the curb, boarding the Alitalia Bus for Termini Station in Rome.

I was struck during the drive at how wild some of the areas were so close to the city - one could see a number of abandoned buildings and weed-choked vacant lots rubbing shoulders with modern, glass-walled office buildings. The bus itself was struck by something which bounced off the windshield with a loud 'smack' - I overheard the bus driver say "un uccello". Poor little bird.

As we neared the city I saw (and photographed - thus beginning my endless series of holiday snaps) the Palazzo del Civilta del Lavoro, part of a government building project initiated by Mussolini. Dubbed "The Square Colosseum" by the Romans, it looks down over the airport highway from a tall hill.

As our enormous motor-coach wove its way through busy streets on the way to the station, I couldn't help thinking of the Knight Bus from the Harry Potter books - it was hard to believe that this huge vehicle could navigate among all the narrow streets and tiny, Italian rancormobiles (beep! beep!) without some magical force actively preventing collisions. We (Paul particularly) were amazed at how visible the ancient monuments were from the street. Our route to the station took us within mere yards of the Baths of Caracalla, the Palatine hill ruins and the Colosseum.

At the Termini, we struggled a bit with the Metropolitana ticket machines which stubbornly refused to accept our 20 Euro note. We eventually realised it was because the machines don't give more than 8 in change. Paul managed to get smaller denominations from a bemused exchange bureau staffer.

I'll say little about the next episode except for that it was my fault. I didn't adequately research the street location of our hotel and after we emerged from the Baldo degli Ubaldi station we wandered for an age before finally finding the Cardinal Hotel Saint Peter.

Our hotel was a pleasant, modern terraced affair, built into the side of a hill on a short, dead-end street (Via Leone Dehon) southwest of the Vatican. Every room opened out onto a patio (a section of the terrace that ran the length of the building on each level) - and each had a view of the dome of the basilica.

San Pietro

After a brief pause to decompress, we set out on a walk. Thinking we'd walk through nearby Villa Doria Pamphili park we were thwarted by streets that were, to say the least, not pedestrian-friendly. On the Via Aurelia Antica there was barely a foot between the masonry walls on either side and the side mirrors of the Fiats and Fords that were whizzing by. Instead we went uphill in the general direction of the Vatican. Not long into our walk we came to a place where the street turned 90 degrees above a fantastic overlook. From there we had a panoramic view looking northeast toward the Vatican with the dome of Saint Peter's looming above.

Our next stop was a cafe where we ordered our first meal in broken Italian. We sat outside to eat our panini and drink our aranciati. Not knowing whether it was customary to bus our own tables, we decided to err on the side of non-confrontation and slink away without going back inside.

A rather confused walk down the Gregorio followed - we occasionally took side streets in the hopes of finding a way into the park, but no joy. Eventually we came up alongside Vatican City where we could see the dome of the basilica above the high walls of the enclave. Across the street from said walls we enjoyed a couple of Peronis at a sidewalk cafe.

The Piazza San Pietro became our first 'official' tourist site. We entered the square through the southern colonnade. My first impression of the square was not hugeness but rather a simultaneous feeling of intimacy and hugeness. The space seemed at once both confined and vast. The colonnade at the far side of the square looked nearby and of a manageable proportion until I registered the relative, tiny height of the people near the base of it. Something about the curving walls made the floor of the piazza seem to sink toward the middle. Perhaps it wasn't entirely an illusion, I don't know. On the whole, the effect was a little disorienting. I have to confess to a prior bias against the place - my feelings about the papacy, the wealth of the church and idolatry predisposed me to disapprove. Those feelings were mostly countered by the beauty of the architecture - ultimately I'd say it was a wash.

We were pleasantly surprised to find that there wasn't a fee for entering the structure (not that it's all about the money, but I cynically expected the place to be a moneymaker) - we joined a queue that moved almost as fast as we could walk and passed through a security and propriety checkpoint: attendants determined (with the help of diagrams!) whether visitors were appropriately clothed to enter the building. Paul's shorts were deemed JUST passable (they extending just far enough below his knees).

We entered the basilica - overall impression: gobsmackingly huge. Beyond human scale. Intimidating. Otherworldy. Not entirely in a good way. I quite liked the way the sun streamed in through the windows at the base of the dome and made rays that angled down through the crossing. We spent twenty minutes or so staggering around with our jaws hanging. Weeks after the trip I was reminded that Michelangelo's Pieta and Moses were in the public spaces. Didn't see them. Oops.

Sant’ Angelo

Out we shambled, blinking, into the late afternoon sunlight. Crossing the piazza, we exited onto the wide road leading to the Castello Sant' Angelo. I think it was then that Paul bought a Gatorade from a street vendor - I used the emptied bottle as my water bottle for the rest of the trip. That Gatorade bottle got refilled at the ancient fountains of Rome and at the Fonte Napoleona on Elba. That Gatorade bottle became a vessel of history. We walked across the lovely Sant'Angelo bridge with its angel statues and then back for a view of the fortress. It's amazing to think that the bridge has been in use since Roman times.

Paul, wonderful sport that he is, consented to go to Profondo Rosso, Italian horror director Dario Argento's horror movie boutique on the Via dei Gracchi a few blocks north of the fortress. The store takes it's name from the title of what is considered to be the best of Argento's films - translated as "Deep Red". I'd hoped to see filming locations for the movie in Rome, but I learned shortly before the trip that the giallo was shot mainly in Turin. I'm a big fan of Argento's films (the early ones, anyway) and had been looking forward to visiting the shop for a while. Ultimately, I decided that the coolest thing about the place was the sign above the door. The store itself was okay, but didn't have anything in stock that really grabbed me. There's a little museum in the lower level but it was already closed (and was way too expensive anyway).

After a lovely meal at a sidewalk table we walked over to the Le Panto Metro station and headed back to the hotel.

We used the hotel pool a couple of times during our stay. I can't remember if one of those times was that first night, but it was lovely cooling off in the water after a long day's walk. I was rereading (for the umpteenth time) "Pride and Prejudice" and I remember visiting with the Bennets while poolside.