In Need of a Roman Holiday

Life is a little hectic right now. So naturally, in the back of my mind, while I'm working and moving, I'm thinking of living the life of a tourist again... Which entails a lot of wandering and wondering. Rome would suit me fine right about now.

I'd roam in this get-up.

In Case You're Interested...

I have been going through my blog and adding photos, specifically to my European entries. It is very fun to reread those. So if you're interested, there are now visuals to go along with them.

I miss Europe a lot, guys.



"I will tell the world where I've been."

Renaldo...

There is a market next to our Hotel that sells fruits and vegetables. After a cappuchino and pastries served by a man who seems to never stop frowning, a few friends and I peruse through, in search of an apple to serve as a good snack between the Colosseum and Palatine Hill scheduled for today. We meet Renaldo, an older man who speaks fairly good English, and is actually willing to speak to us in English, which we are not used to. He shows me the book he is reading, "Tuttifrutti", an overview of all the fruits of the world-- their origins and characteristics. I can already tell this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship. He teaches us where arancias (oranges) come from... They are grown in southern Italy, where the mafia is also located. "Just remember: Arancias mafia!" He points at the mela (apple) I have selected, and says "Smitty... Americano". I realize I have picked a Granny Smith apple, the only American fruit in the whole fruit stand... I cry out in embarrassment. Next time I will choose a mela that comes from Naples, which Renaldo tells us is the tastiest, with its red skin and white flesh. We all wave goodbye to this friendly man, who walks down the cobblestone street with "Tuttifrutti" in hand.
Friends, there is good history, good gelato, good views, good art, and GOOD wine in the city of Roma. I wish I had hours and hours to tell you about them, but it will have to wait. Hope my run-in with Renaldo will suffice for now.

Rome, the first day.

Lets be totally and completely honest: my senses are out of whack. Starting from the bottom, my feet feel bloated with immobility that 9-12 hours on an airplane tend to bring about. My stomach is running on empty, so those few butterflies are making use of the wing-space in there. My eyes are feeling a little more well-rested after a two hour nap, but they are still very busy taking in all the sites and sounds (including a group of Scots in kilts who just walked in to the Hotel Castelfidardo lobby!). And my head, above all, is very, very bewildered. What have I gotten myself into? Rome, as far as I know it from the sites I have seen today, is a city of cigarette butts, muggy gray skies, and fast-walking people who never smile. First impressions, my friends. At the moment I have become attached at the hip to uncomfortability and unfamiliarity-- and I am not liking it. My consolation is the evening of sleep-- and a hot shower-- that await me. I am praying it will rejuvenate me... Its 8 pm and I just got back from dinner to go at a small anonymous pizzeria with Italian women at small tables drinking Heinekens. I got a rectangular slice of a vegetable pizza-- the first bite made everything I had been feeling awful about dissolve. Welcome to Italy, my friend Roz said when she saw the look of satisfaction on my face. We walked and talked about our fears and hopes for the next two months of traveling, as the Roman moon shone above. After a long day of journeys from Seattle to Amsterdam to Rome I have found comfort in a friendly conversation and a good slice of pizza.
And I almost got hit by a motorcycle.