Monday, September 26, 2016
Rome day nine
A 37 day imaginary travelogue of a trip to Rome (with a few scattered other places such as New York). This is written to match the journey I am actually taking, and so each post is concurrent with the more or less actual day my wife and I are experiencing in Rome.
What day number are we on?: I think it's nine.
Level of writer's drunkenness (in real life, scale of 1-10): Three, I'm up to three, which matches the number of shots I've had!
What am I eating (in real life again)?: finished a small bowl of Ratatouille, okay for a bit.
Map or picture?: yeah, yeah, yeah, coming...
Any other notes/Status: While alarmed at my rate, I feel far more forgiving and even proud. I mean, I am managing something close to one post per half hour, and, I hope you will notice how each post includes a very tricky meta post. This is the meta part. So really I'm doing two posts in one, which just goes to show I care. Or I planned badly.
Yesterday I said Rome doesn't exactly close down. Now it's Monday and I'm in charge of what we do. I stand by what I said, but this, Monday, is as close as Rome comes to closing down. I created my own, voluminous, handmade guidebook, and this is the first day it steered me at all wrong. Many things the web said were open today are actually closed. This has caused only the most minor of problems- there is a surfeit of things to do here, but it does make the city seem quieter after the weekend.
This all was more of an advantage if anything. We wandered more, and the barrage of pleasant surprises are on the one hand too much, and the other too small to explain: a little sculpture on the corner of a building, the 400 year old framing of a window just past where we live that's so elegant and lovely, someone hanging their laundry and the deep layered colors of their old apartment walls in the saturating sun. So many marvels everywhere. Then you go to the Doria Pamphilij. That's what we did in the afternoon. It's a bit of a palace, close to our apartment. More Caravaggios, which, well, here: No one, in all the history of Humans, into all the craft of the gods, no one made anything better than he was able to make. Which is a little weird.
Boy, but there is this sinister portrait by Velazquez of Pope Innocent X. Hoy, that one is just as good! And then you just stumble, dazed, out into the night.