Rome day thirteen

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?: day thirteen. Not to be churlish, but it's in the title.

Level of writer's drunkenness (in real life, scale of 1-10): You guessed it. I made it to four! It is 7:44 in the evening and I am knocking off after I finish this one, so four will be as high as I go.

What am I eating (in real life again)?: Food? I am immune to food.

Map or picture?: A pond in Villa Borghese. It is rowable.

Any other notes/Status: This, my last one for today, is the first one where I can say I am a little drunk. As I take my last, waning sips of lemoncello, I forget to swallow, and just hold it in my mouth for an alarmingly long time until swallowing occurs to me.  I hoped to do the full 36 posts today, but you may have noted that I'm a dreamer. And if you haven't noted that I'm a dreamer I don't know why, as I have been yelling it at the top of my lungs for 1,332 blog posts in a row! The exciting thing will now be not how drunk I am, but from where I am writing these posts and whether I manage to finish them before I leave on this trip. So, so, so, very exciting.

Today's Entry:

I have an astonishing number of things to do in Rome on my list. There is so much art to see. So much food to taste. So much history to contemplate. So much shopping to do!

But something weird happened. I woke up and all I wanted to do was go back to the tiny pond my wife took us to yesterday. I wanted to rent a row boat and just sit in it, gazing upon the fake Temple of Asclepius.

So we did.

And now I am cured.

We popped in at the Popolo Church. I had good informational notes for that one that I did not employ at all. The main attraction is the Caravaggios. But I have perhaps gone on a bit much over the past days regarding the wonder of Caravaggios. Although, that may be like saying: perhaps you have been over concerned with your well-being?

Oh. What was there? 

In Popolo? The Caravaggio?

Peter is being crucified. He looks very concerned. May I direct your attention to his arm? It is not possible to paint that. Four hundred years ago and it makes a comedy of all of photography forever.

Rome day twelve

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?:Twelve (of 36!)

Level of writer's drunkenness (in real life, scale of 1-10): We'll be generous and say three, I'll go get another shot of lemoncello and see if we can break the three barrier, okay?

What am I eating (in real life again)?: Nope. Nothing at the moment

Map or picture?: These are little lamb chops, or perhaps just lamb chops.

Any other notes/Status: I just wanted to say hi, and how nice it would be if you left a comment on my blog, because it suddenly struck me that I will return after five weeks and be like, "Hey, I wonder if anyone left a comment from like, practically a month and a half" and then I'll be like "I wonder if anyone enjoyed my fake travelogue which turned out to be uncannily accurate?" And then I'll see only two comments and I'll feel a little sad, but I'll try not to feel sad and reassure myself how much me and Van Gogh and Kafka have in common, but in a good way.

Today's Entry:

We went boating! Yes, boating. Perhaps my bike riding stimulated my wife's desire to rent a rowboat in what is, really, a pond, in the Villa Borghese (big park at edge of Centro Storico). We rowed in the pond, called, actually I'm not sure it has a name. The sky was blue. We didn't do it for very long, but it was like being in a movie. There was even a fake ruin on the shore. That's kind of hilarious, to have a fake ruin in Rome. You do realize you're Rome? That's like putting up a fake McDonalds in Louisville, Kentucky. You can get the real thing next door.

Later we went to a real live restaurant, which we have not much done due to some specific food needs between the two of us, and we had abbacchio scottaditto. My understanding is that "scottaditto" means "burnt fingers", which is to say the these wee lamb chops are so hot and good that you burn your fingers to eat them. They were that good! Just like the name!

What's that? You want to know where we got them?

Oh, you're going to Rome too?

Okay, good for you! Well done! Did you know that going to Rome is one of the 200 Cardinal Virtues? So, we got them at Osteria Del Sostegno. You don't know it? Very close to our apartment, right over on Via Delle Colonelle, 5. Tell them clerkmanifesto sent you, and they will look at you like you are vaguely deranged.

Bon appetit! 

Rome day eleven

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?:11

Level of writer's drunkenness (in real life, scale of 1-10): back down to two maybe? If you were hoping to see a hilarious escalation of drunkenness, alas, I have paced it all too slowly and find myself more tired than drunk now, even though my bottle of lemoncello is shockingly low. Still, don't give up the fight. I have another full shot glass at hand.

What am I eating (in real life again)?: just fried some tempeh in lime and olive oil and salt. Then I scooped some long cooking Ratatouille over it and fried some more. Then I ate it. Now I'm back downstairs with no food.

Map or picture?:

 

Any other notes/Status: I am resigned to continuing to work on this travelogue later, in disparate places, in the last 12 days before this trip, probably some of that time at work, because there are so many days to this trip and so many post to write. I am also struck by how voluminous these preliminary notes are and wish there was some way to get blog post credit for them.

Today's Entry:

It was a day with me in charge of activities and I was so excited that it was finally something less than warm out that I took us to a bike rental place. I was really excited about getting an electric bike, which I did, we both did. It's biking, but easier! The trafficy city was a bit much to take, and the lovely, personable black cobblestone streets aren't exactly bike friendly, unless you're fanatically fond of the magic fingers feature on motel beds of the seventies (or do they still have those?).

Mostly along the Tiber River, albeit with some awkward detours, we made it over to the Centrale Montemartini, a museum in an old power plant filled with Roman Statues. I was sold. I liked all the Metropolis Power Plant stuff from the twenties as much as the statues, which were the "B" statues from the Capitoline Museums (Which means they were about equal with say, the best of the U.S., like the Getty in L.A.). 

We also made it down to the Il Gelato di Claudio Torce, one of the two or three gelato places I was most interested in. I had the gorgonzola gelato. No, seriously, they do savory gelato. It was all a bit Willy Wonka. Should you have pancetta and mint gelato? You think you're not interested, but you are wrong.

Rome day ten

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?:ten. Ahhhhh! Ten!!!

Level of writer's drunkenness (in real life, scale of 1-10): three would be pushing it. I am more getting weary than drunk.

What am I eating (in real life again)?: Nothing, but a little hungry again. Am so hoping to have something new to report to you for day eleven.

Map or picture?: Cy Twombley lived most of his professional life in Rome. This is a 1966 picture from his studio, I think. Check out that Ingres book! I am an Ingres fan myself.

Any other notes/Status: I find it a confusingly gray day, so I keep thinking it is much later than it is, and that the day is slipping away. It is a little, but it's only 4:40. I've decided if I make a shorter entry I can move forward, get another drink, and some food, and enjoy a feeling of progress. This is now my goal for day ten.

Today's Entry:

My wife took us to see some modern art today, to the modern museum of Rome, located just north of the Villa Borghese. I like modern art. I saw a beautiful Cy Twombley there I might not have enjoyed as much a week ago. Which brings me to a theory: Like anything one can improve with practice, so looking at and appreciating art is something one can get better at. A week in Rome will make one sick of it all, or it will make one a virtuoso of seeing.

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...

okay:
 

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.

Today's Entry:

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.

Rome day eight

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?:eight

Level of writer's drunkenness (in real life, scale of 1-10): two, but, wait here. I'll go upstairs and get another lemoncello.

What am I eating (in real life again)?: Nothing, but am going upstairs.

Map or picture?:

Any other notes/Status: got another lemoncello (third) and scooped a little Ratatouille into a bowl, crumbled some montemart cheese on it, and added a few pine nuts. It's good, but needs to cook even more, though it's been hours already.

Today's Entry:

I would think Rome would shut down more on Sundays, but it doesn't really. Wonderfully, cleverly, Rome is always partially shut down and partially open. Churches close, restaurants throw their door open. Restaurants close and then all the shops open. Shops close and the streets and bars come to life. There's a wonderful sense of the city being ever used in layers. There is no more a dramatic, but typical indication of this right out our front door. Downstairs from us is a popular restaurant that we haven't managed to even eat at yet. When it's open it floods the alley we are on with tables and lights and sound and life. But when it's close it's like we live on an abandoned, barely used back alley. There's a store nearby too, and I swear that all over Rome it's like things appear and disappear with the movement of the sun and the whim of the city.

We went to a huge market today in Testaccio. It was full of junk and wonders. We have an astonishing (to me) amount budgeted for gifts and treasures, but I was just getting my bearings, imagining what I might like to have. There was so much junk at this market, but I saw nice paintings from the 1800's as well. Maybe I should scoop up a 200 year old painting. Of course the market too was a whirlwind, full of life, teeming and fascinating. but as I write in our apartment, at nine in the evening, it's probably like an abandoned parking lot or something.

 

Rome day seven

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?: seven

Level of writer's drunkenness (in real life, scale of 1-10): two and a half, but the half may indicate that it should be three.

What am I eating (in real life again)?: nothing now, but I should soon check on a kind of Ratatouille dish I'm making.

Map or picture?: Messi, without blonde hair.

Any other notes/Status: it is a little after three in the afternoon. If I can keep up my one per half hour posts, and don't sleep, I can finish this all in time to go to work tomorrow!

Today's Entry:

Today, already a week into this trip, is the first day where I am in charge! I hope I don't let everyone down. But I fear that only Marcus, teen librarian (and hopefully GA, ever emerging soccer fan) will be pleased. Because today, although I did wander into several mind bending 400 year old churches, and saw another three Caravaggios, the big event of the day was in the late afternoon. I took us into a bar called The Highlander. We got drinks, and watched on a medium sized screen the Barcelona soccer team play a team called Sporting Gijon.

Should I feel sad for turning my back on Rome for this? Nah. It felt terribly like Rome where we were, and so did watching soccer. Plus we drank wine. Plus we won, six to nothing. Messi scored five goals. And though this all happened a thousand miles from me in Rome, that's 3,500 miles less than usual! Viva Europa!

 

Rome day six

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?:Six

Level of writer's drunkenness (in real life, scale of 1-10): Two, I have a modestly high tolerance for alcohol and have had just two lemoncello shots. Also, sitting writing, it can be hard to measure how drunk one is.

What am I eating (in real life again)?: Gnats, apparently, why are there all these gnats in my basement.

Map or picture?: Seriously, this is just a random street view for us.

Any other notes/Status: Seem to making a bit of progress on this project, even if all my extensive notes slow it down. I hope they don't take you out of the experience (smiley face).

Today's Entry:

So my wife and I have devised, for vacations, something we call King days. On King days one person is in charge of what we do and where we go, though they are still responsible for the well-being of the other person. Today is the first King day, my wife's, and all but our last two days in Rome will now be King days. The weird thing is that one anticipates and longs for one's own King day, but one actually enjoys the other person's King day better.

So what did we do today?

I don't know. Whatever my wife wanted to. I just walked around, spacing out, thinking "God it's pretty here!"

 

Rome day five

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?:five

Level of writer's drunkenness (in real life, scale of 1-10): Pushing two, have poured second elephant shot glass of frozen lemoncello.

What am I eating (in real life again)?: Made extended cooking diversion that I won't go into, but just finished a glass of, well, I'd better describe it: I remove through gentle squeezing the juice and seeds from my home grown tomatoes and put all the juice and seeds in a glass. I add a hearty splash of olive oil, a pinch of salt, and a good squeeze of lime juice. I also slice up a bit of garlic and throw it in. Then I sort of stir it up. That's what I just drank. I love that drink.

Map or picture?: Well, fine, seems to be what I do. Check out those dirty feet!

Any other notes/Status: Still horrified by how behind I am on my timeline for this project. It looks like I'll be working on it not just today, but for the next week and a half to come!

Today's Entry:

We woke up in Rome. The bed will do. We can see a building out our window, but we opted for less glamorous views to push us into the street and give us more spending money. We sort of live here now, but in an especial exalted way. And with living here comes a bit of shopping, which we have allotted the first two days in Rome for. Our trip misadventures have reduced that to one day. You might be surprised to learn that there is a lot to buy here. We got olive oil and toilet paper. Oh, and some soap. Smells like rosemary and is twice as expensive as the soap I buy at home which is also expensive, but smells like pine trees. 

It's strange how people here speak a different language, but, a. I almost never talk to random people, and b. listening in on other's conversations is shockingly uninteresting. So hearing some man yell into his cell phone is a stupid reality of modern life, but hearing some man yell into his cell phone in Italian is all cute and Roman. At least so far. Actually, that phase may have ended.

Several Caravaggios for the ages are mere steps from our apartment, so we popped in to a church where one was for a visit. I don't know how to convey the city's largess in this category, or what it's like. How can we understand this as Americans? It's as if a weed grew in your back yard with twenty dollar bills on it.

 

Rome day four

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?: Four!

Level of writer's drunkenness (in real life, scale of 1-10): One, but after this I'm getting another Lemoncello to assuage my feelings of hopelessness that I well ever get anywhere on this overly ambitious project.

What am I eating (in real life again)?: Starting to feel stirrings of hunger.

Map or picture?: Outside front door, to right. Better in person, but note how much you already enjoy the ivy.

Any other notes/Status: Am freaking out a little. When I finished this I accidentally posted it live, which would have been confusing if you saw it. It is the first of many mistakes I am anticipating.

Today's Entry:

We are in Rome.

And if you will excuse both the blunt language and blunt sentiment: Fuck everywhere else in the world.

Last we left off I was beside myself with exhaustion. But we did sleep. This morning we got a train to Rome (from Milan). The train was a little less fun than I anticipated until they gave me Champagne. Also the seats, which were by no means huge, were 7 times larger than on the airplanes. So there's that. The window was fun, sometimes. It's not like Italy isn't ugly occasionally, but man, not often. And catching glimpses 200, 500, 1000, 2000 years into the past is pretty diverting.

We had more problems getting our apartment, but it's ours now. I had a first gelato at Grom. It was, like, okay. It's possible if one reads too much about things one becomes a bit addled. I look forward to becoming a human here.

Rome day three

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?:Three

Level of writer's drunkenness (in real life, scale of 1-10): One? I should get another drink, but this is all going so slowly I fear topping out too early!

What am I eating (in real life again)?: Still nothing

Map or picture?:

Any other notes/Status: God no.

Today's Entry:

We made it to Europe. However our flight was diverted to Barcelona! I would have been content with that if Messi, the greatest athlete in the world, consented to drop by the airport and say "Hi." I also would have been content if we could have left the airport, or if it turned out Gaudi had done a load of wonderful work on their airport. Oddly he didn't. He squandered his time on residences, parks, and Cathedrals. I learned in the Barcelona Airport that after about 100 years the Church of the Sagraada Familia (or whatever it is called, I have no Internet) is almost done! Exciting! And to think that for a couple hours I was within 40 Kilometers of it!

In case you wondered we weren't diverted to Barcelona because we almost died. There was a fuel problem. Actually, maybe we did almost die! Now we are in Milan. We were supposed to get to Rome today, but we have been unable to find a way. 

I am so tired.

No, seriously, people have the audacity to talk about being tired all the time. I do too. But the real tired is something we have all experienced. Reflect on it now with me, that torture, that incredible longing for a bed that you are not in a position to honor. Ah god.

And so we are in Milan, but I don't care. And I don't know what's going to happen. We are on a train. And what a great trip this is.

Rome day two

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?:Two

Level of writer's drunkenness (in real life, scale of 1-10): Maybe two, if I'm lucky.

What am I eating (in real life again)?: Nope.

Map or picture?:

Any other notes/Status: Experiencing technical problems that are annoying re: pictures, but refuse to burden you by telling you that it's happening. I'm restrained that way.

Today's Entry:

Wow, wasn't it just yesterday that I was regaling you with tales of my equanimity regarding travel? Today is considerably more complex. We found some eggs to eat somewhere that surprisingly were entirely worth the 3,500 percent New York mark up. In almost all cases there are few horrors equal to the life of industrial food animals. However the chickens providing these eggs somehow dodged all that to live exquisite lives. We should live lives like that. And we will, if we are very good and keep working our way up the Karmic chain.

Of course, I'm sure one can do even better in this world than having one's eggs stolen. I'm pretty sure there's always room up that Karmic chain, even from chickens.

The airplane food wasn't as good. And the airplane seats have gotten even smaller. I'm pretty sure the seats are growing smaller even as I write. And that is how we end day 2, over the same Atlantic where the Titanic sunk, amid shrinking seats, racing into Europe and dawn.