These messages are from a series of e-mails written after our vacation to Paris and Italy, in the summer of 2002. The events recounted in this internet diary occurred on Sunday, June 30.
--Jim McQueen
Sunday morning was when we left Susan's company. We packed and had breakfast at the hotel, then went out to buy sandwiches at a little store we had noticed previously. We wanted to be prepared for lunch on our train ride, but were tripped up when we discovered that most businesses were closed on Sunday, including the little store next door.
It was raining lightly when we said goodbye to Susan in the hotel lobby, and walked the block to the train station. We finally got some use out of the umbrellas I'd bought from the street vendor in Paris. We got to the train station in plenty of time for our reservations on the 10:55 train to Rome. While we waited to see what platform they'd put our train at, I stood guard over the luggage while Nancy bought sandwiches and cokes at the station.
When the train arrived, we found our seats easily, and wedged our bigger pieces of luggage into the rack at one end of the car. The train left on time, and we had a leisurely ride to Rome, arriving at 12:30.
The train terminal was as hectic as LAX, but when we tried a door leading outside we found ourselves right at the head of a taxi rank. I'd written down the name and address of our hotel, and when I showed it to the nearest taxi driver, he nodded and began loading our bags into his trunk. Five minutes after our train arrived, we were riding in a taxi across Rome.
I don't know how he found our hotel, Rome is more of a prehistoric maze than London. We went from large boulevard to tiny back alley, around traffic circle and diagonally across town squares. Finally he put it in reverse and backed onto a pedestrian walkway a few yards, and pointed to the sign above our hotel door. The fare was 12 Euros, a bargain compared to L.A.
We checked into the Hotel Cesari, and it turned out to be perfect. The room was large and nicely decorated, it had powerful air conditioning, the breakfasts were good, and the hotel was very centrally located.
Just outside was a large square with ancient columns on one side. This turned out to be the "Temple of Deified Hadrian", and the original facade had a building constructed behind it that now houses the Italian stock market. In my photo of it, Nancy and the kids are posed at the far end of the square, with our hotel behind them (the building with the blue sign.)
Love,
Jim
Passing in front of our hotel and the Temple of Deified Hadrian was a busy pedestrian path, which turned out to be one of the most prominent roads of ancient Rome. A short walk out our door to the right was Trevi Fountain, to the left was the Pantheon. We set out exploring that way first.
The piazza facing the Pantheon was only a quarter mile walk. We wandered in, and spent some time admiring the free-standing dome (the largest in the world until 1960.) We walked around inside and saw the tombs of martyrs, artists, and kings. I took lots of photos that didn't turn out.
In the middle of the piazza out front, was a small modern fountain. Part of it was an ordinary faucet, which had water running freely into a drain -- the faucet didn't even have a valve. Passers-by would stop for a drink, and tourists would fill water bottles. We tried it, and it was wonderfully sweet and surprisingly cool on a hot day. Over the next couple of days, we found several more public faucets like this. I began carrying a plastic bottle in my backpack.
From the Pantheon, walked back past our hotel and continued another quarter mile to the Trevi Fountain. The fountain dominated it's small piazza, and whatever space wasn't occupied by fountain was filled by tourists. We squirmed our way to the fountains edge for the mandatory ritual of throwing coins over our shoulders.
On our way back to the hotel, we made our way a block north, and found Piazza Colonna, home of the Italian Parliament and the Prime Minister's office. We gawked at Marco Aurelio's Column, which gives the piazza it's name, then trekked back to the hotel for a nap.
Love,
Jim
After our nap on that first day in Rome, Nancy and I were ready to explore some more. The boys weren't -- at two weeks and a day, our vacation was beginning to become work. They had been behaving themselves, and were quietly entertaining themselves with Italian TV, so Nancy and I left them locked in the room and wandered out again.
On our taxi ride from the train station we had seen an enormous white marble structure, the most eye-catching building we'd seen. It was easy to make our way back to it, on the Venzia Piazza (Venice Plaza.) Our tour books didn't give us a clue about what it was -- they simply ignored it. We couldn't find a sign, either. I had to wait for our return home to learn that we had been in front of the monument to Victor Emanuel II. He was the king who had unified Italy in modern times, and the monument was built around the turn of the 20th century. Apparently it's not too well regarded, being too new and too kitschy for some people. Locals call it the "wedding cake."
We walked far around to the right of the hill the monument was built on, and then decided we wanted to be on the other side. We had our choice of several long stairways leading to the interesting looking neighborhood at the top. We took the most promising path, but after a long climb we reached a plain looking church, surrounded by walls preventing access to anything else. There were a very few tourists going inside to see the church, and we had worked too hard to just turn right around, so we went into the dark interior. As our eyes adjusted, we began to look around an interior much more interesting that the facade suggested. Soon we became aware of a wedding that was in progress in he front of the church, even as a random assortment of tourists poked around the corners. We slipped out and trudged back down the steep stairs. Back home, I learned we had visited the church of Santa Maria d'Aracoelia.
We decided not to risk climbing another dead-end, so we walked back around the front of the Victor Emanuel monument. Our goal had been evident from several blacks away -- the Colosseum.
I was a little surprised that it seemed small. I guess it's the size of a modern basketball arena, maybe I had imagined something the size of the Rose Bowl. We walked the perimeter, but knew we had to wait for another day to go inside, with the kids.
We had had a long day, but it still wasn't dinnertime. We walked back in the direction of the hotel, still examining the neighborhood. Just a short distance from our destination, we stumbled into the best find of the day -- an Irish pub named Trinity College.
After a short rest, we again set off for the hotel. Even though we were close, we had one more surprise. Walking out of the pub we heard music, from nearby. Around the corner, we crept into an ordinary-looking open door and stood in a foyer, watching a full symphony orchestra rehearsing. The build was a couple of hundred years old, and the ceiling was painted like a chapel. The musicians ignored the beautiful surroundings as they concentrated on their work, stopping and starting as the conductor corrected them. After a few minutes we crept out. Later, I learned we had been in the Oratorio del Caravita, home of the Fondazione Arts Academy.
We finally reached our hotel, and we pleased to find that the boys hadn't burned it down. The man at the front desk was friendly, and we asked him for a recommendation for dinner. He sent us to Tri Amagi, a small family restaurant tucked in behind the Pantheon.
The food there was fine, but quite memorable for Nancy's dinner order. She found a pasta variety we weren't familiar with, but the tourists menu had an English description that read "square pasta." Even though I warned her that she was probably ordering something like fettuccini, she envisioned stuffed ravioli.
When dinner arrived, I managed not to say "I told you so." Nancy REALLY can't stand stringy pasta, but she knew she'd cooked her own goose, so she gamely tried to eat her dinner. In 30 years, this is the only time I have seen her eat stringy pasta. After torturing her for a couple of minutes, I offered to switch plates. Her pasta was covered with gorgonzola cheese sauce, and really pretty good.
Love,
Jim