My back is a little better today. I slept uneasily on our small bed, getting up in the night a lot to peer out our windows. Most of our views are small streetscapes, or across the way to another building. At night, with my pulsing back, it's all less holiday in Rome and more fifties film noir in postwar Europe. Some disastrous spy meeting is going down there any second now, and it will end in two echoing gunshots.
With the day things improve a little. I can stiffly make it to our local market where we need eggs. We cook up a pan of them on our small stove at home. I realize I feel sad as much for the pain as for a fear that I'm letting my wife down. I breathe, and I talk to her.
In the afternoon I can make it even further, all the way to the Pantheon, which is twice as far as Giolitti was yesterday, which is to say a few hundred meters away. The Pantheon is mysteriously quiet today, and so because we have been by it 20 times and not gone in on this trip, we wander in. It really is a tall, lovely space. One doesn't get buildings very often that are allowed to have gaping holes in the ceiling, and the idea that they would last for a couple thousand years despite that is counter intuitive.
It is drizzling out. We sit in a salumeria for a while, nibbling on a plate of meats and cheeses, but after less than an hour I'm too sore and need to go home to lie down. Just walking improves things a little.
I want you to know that I'm not just showing you the glamorous parts of our trip here to make you jealous of my vacation. It really is as amazing as all this.