Baths of Caracalla

After partaking once again of the hotel breakfast buffet, we set out up the hill for the Baldo degli Ubaldi metro station. The Rome Metropolitana was very useful to us on the trip. It's a limited system owing (according to our tourguide at the Palatine) to the difficulty of digging in the Eternal City without hitting an important archeological site. I hear they're opening a third line next year so they must have had some success of late. We found the system easy and pleasant to use. The trains have minimal interior divisions between the cars so you can look all the way down the train while on board - it's strange to see the train undulating from the inside as it goes around corners. Often, while riding, there were musicians performing for the passengers - usually accordion, often the them from "The Godfather", once a little girl with her father. The girl looked to be about 9 years old. Difficult.

This morning, our destination was the Baths of Caracalla so we took the metro to the Circo Massimo stop and walked from there along the Viale delle Terme di Caracalla to the ruins. The attendant at the ticket booth was definitely in the "not overly fond of Americans" category (to give the benefit of the doubt she may be chronically grumpy) - we bought our tickets and rented recorded tours which was definitely the way to go as there was very little information on the site actually within the ruins. Click here for a big panorama of the complex walls.

We were practically alone at the ruins (it was fairly early in the day and I gather that the baths are more of a second-tier destination for tourists) and the weather was changeable - cloud shadows raced across the floors and up and down the towering walls of the structure. The site had a wonderfully creepy feel - the jagged tops of the ruined walls were alternately dark and lit up against the dark clouds scudding behind them. Once or twice it started to sprinkle. For a huge panorama of the ruins, click here.

Again, the recorded tour was very helpful. It was fascinating to hear about the Mancala-style game played by families at the edge of the pool while actually looking at the indentations in the marble. The voice on the recording was that of a Britisher - he pronounced the name of the emperor as "Car-RACK-you-lah" which, to me, sounded like "Count Dracula" which only added to the eerie, crumbling appeal of the place.

I'd seen pictures of the ruins but, as with the Colosseum, nothing can really prepare one for actually being there. Many of the walls are still almost at their original height which gives the main structure a huge impact. It must have been an incredible sight to see the entire building complete with its mosaic floors, marble ornament and huge glass windows in place. Surprisingly large stretches of the mosaic floor remain and there are pieces of the mosaics from an upper story placed here and there against the walls.

Paul and I have repeatedly given the Baths in response to the "what was your favourite sight in Rome" question. For my part it has a lot to do with the atmosphere during our visit. The Baths themselves are astounding, but to be there with Paul on a creepy, stormy morning with very few other people there was very special indeed.

Capitoline

Just outside the Baths we bought panini and a couple of cans of "Nasty Blue" from a street vendor and enjoyed them while sitting on the grass near the huge walls of the ruin. After lunch we headed back up to the Colosseum, wanting to have a more leisurely walk around the perimeter of the arena than our mad dash to catch up with the tour had given us two days earlier. Since returning from the trip, we watched "20 Million Miles to Earth" a quaint monster movie from the 50s in which a monster from Venus goes on a rampage in contemporary Rome. Lots of fun.

From the Colosseum we made our way past the Forum to the base of the Capitoline Hill. Threading our way up a street that wound around the side of the hill opposite the Vittorio Emanuele monument, we stopped at an overlook to admire a sweeping view of that end of the Forum. Click here for a large panorama of the Forum taken that day. From there we passed a column topped by a bronze statue of Romulus and Remus being suckled by the She-Wolf and then entered the square at the top of the hill, the Piazza del Campidoglio.

Another regret: I wish we had gone into the Capitoline museums. At the psychological moment we balked, partly because of the price, partly because we were both pretty tired. I'd wanted to see those big statue fragments (head, foot, hand) on display in the museum courtyard but at the moment we just didn't have it in us. Instead, we mooched around the piazza for a few minutes and then went down the stairs to street level.

I don't know - perhaps it was a feeling of missed opportunity, realising that this was our last full day in Rome, or the reaching of some limit of emotional energy but I sort of sleptwalked through the next couple of hours. Paul and I wandered along a few shopping streets, neither of us seeing anything of much interest. Eventually we found ourselves back at the Piazza Navona where we enjoyed cups of gelato near the fountain at the north end of the square. It was while eating our desserts that I put my finger on (or got my finger nearer) what was bothering me: I was feeling too much the tourist, too aware of having no real connection to the places we were exploring, too aware of the resentment by the natives toward the tramping touristic hordes of which we were part, too aware of boorish, noisy foreign prats I feared I resembled. Perhaps it was a touch of Stendahl or (misplaced) Paris Syndrome. "Doctor, I'm worried I might be developing hypochondria!" The gelato helped, anyway.

Largo di Torre Argentina is a fascinating excavation: four little Roman temples in a row, marked A, B, C and D in the pavement of the ancient street. A strange little city lying below the level of the modern streets. We enjoyed watching several kitties basking in the sun and dozing atop various features of the ruins.

Back to the hotel. We were worried about being able to catch a cab - there was a public transit strike and the demand for cabs was likely to be huge. We did have to wait a while, but not too long. I'm not sure if it was that night, but we did avail ourselves of the hotel's dinner buffet which was served in a lovely roof garden. It was delightful to shower off the day's dust, get dressed nicely and enjoy plates of tuck washed down with lashings of Nasty Blue while watching the evening light on the dome of St. Peter's.

We turned in a little early - the morrow promised to be a taxing day what with two trains and a ferry to catch. We had trouble getting to sleep because of the loud music and voices coming from the next room. When we heard the voices move out onto the patio, I stuck my head out our patio door and asked our neighbors to lower the music in their room. One never knows what kind of reaction to expect. In this case, the response was SO apologetic I felt guilty for asking. Our neighbors were two delightful female Londoners who practically fell over themselves apologising and assuring us we wouldn't be bothered again. "We'll be going out soon and we're sure to stagger in at 2 a.m., stinking drunk and go to sleep right away." They were very nearly as good as their word: they indeed left almost immediately and returned much later in the evening sounding in very good spirits. They didn't go to bed immediately, instead talking and laughing noisily for a few minutes. After one burst of laughter there was a sudden silence and then: "Oh my God - Amy Winehouse is dead!".