The angel of death and a big bowl of pasta

Is there anything in this world sweeter than a fresh cup of coffee (and a free one at that) on a warm, sunny spring morning? I wager there is not....(this actually has nothing to do with this post, I’m writing retroactively, with a cup of morning espresso so good I had to share) Ahhhhh....

A view of the pebbly shore and the gorgeous water of the Cote d'Azur beyond

Day one in Nice was our day to explore this little coastal city, to hope for a little beach time, and to find some good food. This is France after all. We slept in a bit and went out to the empty terrace to finish off the tomato and mozzarella, brie and baguette that we had prepared for dinner the night before (the wine was gone). The sun was shining between intermittent cloud cover. Large puffy white clouds loomed over the narrow opening above the enclosed terrace. But it was relatively warm. It seemed like a decent day. 

We started out in the old town, walking through the dense alleyways, taking our time and enjoying what was left of the morning. We eventually made our way south through the maze towards the water. It was pretty breezy, not exactly sunbathing weather but the sun that did manage its way though the cloud cover shone down upon the beach and the water, illuminating the colors that make this area famous. The end of the long promenade culminates in a bend in the road that wraps itself around a steep cliff wall that leads straight up to a towering bluff atop which lies a park. On the other side of the bluff is Nice’s port and marina, a deep crevice in the steep mountains. We walked up to the bend in the road along which the promenade led and ended. Below the promenade were some sharp rocks that led down into the crashing waves as the sea, aided by the onshore breeze, plummeted the coast. And a little pathway of cracked cement steps led down below the promenade to the jagged rocks below. The adventurous people we are, we decided to explore a little. The path led down and the forked left and right. Right led to a small, metal walkway (missing some portions in the footing along the metal grating) above the water, nearby and above the beach, and to a platform and an overhang built into the side of the wall that held the promenade and road above. This platform was painted a light blue color and was deserted. Below, the waves were coming in and closing the space below the platform, in and out, as the sea ebbed and flowed to the shore nearby. If the sea water temperature wasn’t as cold as it was, the clear turquoise color of the water and the depth of the clean sand below inviting a jump, we would have done it. But we were fully clothed. And the undertow looked strong. Probably not a good idea. We then turned back and followed the fork left to the jagged rocks that we had seen before. We climbed and clambered a little, staring out at the mesmerizing sea in the distance, watching the brave sailboats hang on to the heavy breeze that blew ashore.

Another view from the top of the bluff, this one even better than the one from the day before

Lissy, Nice in the background

After awhile (it was getting chilly) we turned back and climbed back up to the promenade and looked up at the bluff above. There was a small set of steps built into the side of the cliff wall that led to the top of the bluff and to a panoramic view of Nice and the sea, the same panoramic view I was trying to find the day before, and then decided to save, except that I had approached from the old quarter, a more zigzaggy route up a sloping hill. We made it to the point at which I turned back yesterday, took some photos, and then continued upward. There was a pretty little fountain a little further up, or rather, a waterfall fountain built into the side of the cliff wall. Water dribbled down the side of the wall, flowing into a steady a waterfall, flowers and ferns growing from the top. We climbed a little further, up to the top of the waterfall, and then eventually to the top of the bluff for the panoramic view we had been searching for. It was beautiful. The sea opened up in all its sapphire glory to the south. The mountainous, rocky cliffs, met the sea to the east, and Nice flattened out to the long beach that stretched to the horizon in the west. Nice is a cluster of low buildings, topped with the same red tile roofs as Italy, and sprawl to a larger basin and valley collected by a ring of high green mountains whose peaks broke into the clouds above. It was a remarkable view. On the top of the bluff was a large park, and the sun was still shining. We walked around awhile and to the other side of the park where we could see the yachts of the marina below in the narrow inlet of a port. We made our way a little further inland along the bluff, close to where I had climbed the day before. We found an old French cemetery. I didn’t know this, but French cemeteries, especially older ones, tend to be extraordinarily elaborate. Rather than simple tombstones, each grave site was covered by huge, decorated slabs of marble, some topped with statues or small mausoleums or other structures. We wandered our way through the cemetery, feeling a little sheepish, but the place was so pretty that we couldn’t help ourselves. One ominous grave site was covered with a 15 foot high elaborate statue of angels and other figures, topped by one large angel. If you walked right up to the base of the statue and looked up at the large angel above, she would be looking down, straight at you, one arm pointed to the sky, the other pointed right at you. It was really, really creepy and as if she was saying, “You there, you are next!” Yikes! We walked back out of the cemetery and retraced my path from yesterday down to the old town and away from the bluff.

Our view of the port of Nice though the trees of the park high above the marina

Me, in the park

The waterfall along the cliff wall leading to the top of the bluff

The old French cemetery we walked around in

The angel of death herself, one finger pointing to the sky, one to me. Creepy....

We wandered around a little longer, stopped in at a little pizza place for a quick slice, and then walked back to the hostel to relax on the terrace. By now the sun had hidden behind some clouds, and it was a little chilly, but the terrace was wide open and it was still bright outside, warranting the use of sunglasses. We bought some more wine and chatted for a long while, listening to the musings of Alt-J, a new discovery of mine (a recommendation from Tim, my Dutch friend from Chengdu), an excellent alternative band from Leeds. The scene was perfect. Eventually the French husband and wife owners of the hostel who live on the floor above, joined us for awhile. I can’t emphasize enough how very cool these two people were. We asked them a few questions about the area and we were able to confirm that there was a bus, for one euro, that would take us up and down the coast. With this in mind and the French couple to help us, we devised a plan to spend the next day taking the bus east into the mountains to a small village called Eze Village (pronounced ezz villazhjhjjhhhzhh), famous for its perfumeries and small castle atop a huge bluff over the sea, and then hop the bus in the same direction further to Monaco, famous for its F1 races and casino in Monte Carlo. And the next day we’d take the bus west, along the shoreline towards Cannes, famous for its annual film festival. But the French couple also recommended to us an excellent choice for dinner, a place popular with locals for its generous portions, reasonable prices, and high quality, lines out the door late into the night. 

Our slices of pizza for lunch, they look more appealing in person

So after awhile of lounging and socializing, we went out to find the recommended restaurant on a small side street shooting away from the crowds of Avenue Jean Medecin. They were right, this place was popular. It was evening, around 8 o’clock, and there indeed was a line out the door. There was a covered terrace that spilled into the street, blessed heat lamps within, and two floors with tables inside the building. There was not a single seat free and the place was classy, well dressed waiters and waitresses, bow ties neatly in place, tending to the masses. Since we were just two people, we were seated pretty quickly up on the second floor. The menu was simple, a choice of pizzas, pastas, and seafood, like most restaurants in Nice, but looking around at the other tables and the dishes that lay before the jaded eyes of customers, we could tell they were far from ordinary. We received a basket of bread and some delicious French butter (France has the best butter I’ve ever tasted) and then our meals were placed before us. We had a slice of pizza for lunch so we were thinking more along the lines of pasta. I ordered a large plate of penne, cherry tomatoes, basil, smothered in fresh parmesan cheese (I did that myself) that was provided in a small dish for both of us. Lissy ordered a plate of vegetarian ravioli. And we finished every bite. But we weren’t used to such lavish meals, we were stuffed. After our leisurely meal, we rolled out of the restaurant, making way for two more eager restaurant goers. We went back to the hostel and crashed. A truly excellent day.

My dinner of penne and crushed tomatoes

Tomorrow was our chance to see a bit of the coast, the famous blue coast. We were heading east. And we were excited.

Destination Cote d'Azur

I had an early start. I woke up at 6AM, showered, ate some of my last bag of taralli (man, I love that stuff...), and walked across the street to the train station to catch my 7AM train, France bound. Rome is quite near to Italy’s western coastline and my destination was Nice, a French city, also on the coast, which meant that my path would take me all along the coast for the duration of the ride. I hopped an express train, one of those 300 km per hour Italian lightning bolts, to Genoa. I didn’t have much of a view to be honest on this train, and I was sleeping for much of the ride anyway. Then I had an hour and a half to kill in Genoa so I walked around a bit. The city was pretty, at least where I walked, not far from the coast. I got a quick bite for lunch and then hopped my next train, a local train bound for the border village of Ventimiglia. This train was great because even though it moved like a snail and stopped at every little village between Genoa and Ventimiglia, it hugged the coastline the entire way. And it was a beautiful day. The sun was bright and turned the water around the coastline a bright turquoise color. We passed stretches of beaches full of sunbathers, and rocky coastlines. We periodically had to go through tunnels because at times, the coastline drops off into shear cliff walls and the land rises dramatically into these coastal mountains. After several hours of this we arrived in Ventimiglia where I had ten minutes to hop my last train, another local train to continue down the coast over the border and into France. This time the train was crowded less with locals and more with beach goers in flip flops and sunglasses, their skin burned from a long day at the beach. Most people slept this ride out back to Nice. But I was just arriving. The coastline got even more cliff-lined and mountainous along the French coast. We passed into a deep inner mountain tunnel and stopped briefly at Monaco, the small sovereign city famous for Formula 1 racing and it’s casino in Monte Carlo and cars. Twenty minutes later we arrived to Nice.

The street off Avenue Jean Medecin where my hostel is located

Nice is the biggest city in the Cote d’Azur, the Blue Coast, known in english as the French Riviera, or the southeastern corner of France along the coast. It is called the Cote d’Azur for its sapphire blue waters along the coast. And this place is gorgeous. It was bright, warm, and sunny when I hopped off the train. The people here, well the tourists here anyway, were different then the fashion chic Italians I left in Rome. Nice looked more like southern California to me. Beach hipsters cruising the side walks in their shades, tank tops, and slippahs, and French youth smoking cigarettes on street corners. The train station is located a bit inland from the beach but Nice is small and a quick walk would get you down to the beach in no time. My hostel on the other hand was just a five minute walk from the station, about the same distance as my hostel in Rome was from Roma Termini. I found the hostel without any problems and checked in. The hostel is really nice, clean, and not too big, with a good kitchen and an inner courtyard terrace surrounded by other apartment buildings and other terraces. It is a nice place. I was staying in the big dorm the first night while I waited for Lissy (Lissy, my friend and host from Berlin) to fly in the next day. I settled in and headed out.

I walked down the one main avenue that runs north-south from the train station to the beach, cutting through the city’s old town in the process. This avenue, Avenue Jean Medecin, is the main shopping street, and a bit pricy. I walked around, poking into some side streets. Hidden in the side streets are French bakeries, cafes, shops, and restaurants. Old men sit outside at small cafes reading French newspapers with their caps and pipes, sipping espressos. Every shop has its own cat. This city feels very French.

I followed the avenue down to the beach, just in time for sunset. The beach is made of pebbles and stretches to the left, easterly, towards some high cliff walls and low but sharp, green mountains. And to the right, the beach goes on and on and on towards Antibes and Cannes. And the water, especially on this wonderful day, was bright blue, doing justice to its name. I took a seat on the wall of the long promenade over the beach that follows the coast, and sat in silence, listening to the waves slowly roll onto the shore and watching the last sunbathers catch as much sun as they could before packing up and going home. The sky turned all the colors it should for beautiful sunsets and the sky grew dark. I found a supermarket on Avenue Jean Medecin, went in, bought a cheap bottle of wine, a bowl of lentils, and some tomatoes and balsamic vinegar for supper. I was going to make use of the kitchen at the hostel.

It was dark now, I went back into the hostel and to the kitchen and found it packed to the brim with people, spilling out into the terrace. I immediately gave up on my idea of cutting up tomatoes and making a salad, and went straight out to the terrace to eat my lentils and drink my wine. I sat with some Aussies I met earlier in the day, Sarah and Rick, on a multi month tour through Europe, and an American guy from Maryland who had been living in the UK awhile, starting a six month tour of the world with two of his British friends. They bought a “world pass” plane ticket, continent hopping on a flexible itinerary. A pretty cool idea. The party rolled on out on the terrace but I gave up on socializing after awhile, I was pretty tired. I went back to the room and fell asleep.

I cut up the tomatoes and put them in a bowl with balsamic vinaigrette and salt for my breakfast and ate it out on the sunny terrace, clear of people from the night before. I had most of the day to kill, I was meeting Lissy at the airport around 4 in the afternoon, so I was just going to roll around the city a bit and explore. I walked through the old town for most of the morning. Luckily, most of the tourists to Nice head to the beach which leaves the pretty little old town relatively free to explore. The little alleyways that make up the neighborhood slowly wind uphill towards the mountains in the east that abruptly meet the coast. I found a small church hidden behind some buildings and despite the noise of mopeds and people on the outside, passing through the open doors to the large chapel inside was a transformation of sound, to a peaceful place within. The chapel was beautiful, paintings adorned the tall walls leading up to the intricate, golden altar with small statues of Mary and of Jesus. Old, crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling along the length of the pews. It was refreshing to be away from the noise.

A wine shop in the old town

A typical shop in one of the back alleys of the old town

A view down the gently sloping steps of the old town, the steps rose sharply behind me up the mountain

I popped back out of the chapel and into the old quarter and continued uphill. The alley became steep and eventually turned to steps that zigzagged up the mountain. A few signs appeared that pointed me in the direction of a panoramic view of the city and the shore. I climbed up only partially (because I had planned on coming back to this place the following day with Lissy and didn’t want to spoil all the fun today), snapped a few photos, and climbed back down. I took a spot on the beach for an hour or so and then made my way back to the train station to hop the bus to the airport.

A statue of Christ imbedded into the side of a building in the old town

A panoramic view of Nice and the beach

Nice and beyond from the top of the steps

A cool old French car

Finding Lissy was easy, the airport was small. Lissy had some time off for the long weekend, in between classes and jobs, and I convinced her to come travel a bit with me. She agreed to meet up in Nice. It was great having a travel buddy for awhile. We made it back to the hostel where I checked out of the big dorm and we took a much nicer, hotel-style room above the terrace. This hostel is spectacular. The room was immaculate for a hostel room and the people that work here, a French couple that live on the floor above the dorm, were some of the nicest, most helpful people I’ve come across in hostels.

But unfortunately the weather got a bit sour, a little dark and a little chilly, right after we left the airport. We had planned to picnic on the beach but the weather had other plans. So rather than risking the weather, we went back to the supermarket, bought some more tomatoes, mozzarella, and a baguette and some brie cheese, and more wine of course, and cooked back in the hostel. It was pretty late so the kitchen was relatively available. We would have three full days in Nice. Lissy had been here before so she had a few ideas of what we could do over the few days. There is a bus you can take, a local one, that travels between towns and villages along the Cote d’Azur, all for one euro, so we intended to make use of that. We crashed for the night and hoped for better weather...

Ciao bella!

Time is flying. Let’s do a quick recap. I hit the road and started posting to this blog starting on the 15th of January. That was over three months ago. Three weeks of traipsing about Xinjiang and Gansu Provinces in China’s wild and exotic far west, one month in Russia along the frozen Trans-Siberian railroad, and one month in Europe, cutting south from Scandinavia and working my way west along the Mediterranean coastline. I’ve come a long way. It’s about that time where I need to do a quick budget check to ensure I have enough money to get back home. But offhand I figure I have at least a few more weeks left, both in money and energy. The goal right now is to travel along the French Riviera, along the Cote d’Azur, in southern France to Spain, hit some of the major coastal cities of Spain down to Malaga and Gibraltar, take the ferry to Morocco (Africa!) and then work my way north to Madrid, Paris, and finish in London. But can he do it?!

Italy is one of those storybook countries that you want to preserve forever for humanity’s sake. There economy is on the rocks but I feel like the whole world should do them a favor, pitch them a little money, and invest in a land that serves as a future travel destination, a place you know will always be available to escape to on holiday. Alex (from Milan) put it to me this way. Italians are characterized and identified by their culture and their history. It is the one thing they hold on to so preciously and it is the one thing that they cannot lose, the one thing that will keep the country rolling into the future. It is also the big draw for tourists and what will one day bring me back to this country to continue to travel around. This was my last day in Rome and my last full day in Italy. The next day I took a train along the coast to Nice, in the south of France. Four short days in Rome and one and a half weeks in Italy is not nearly enough to get a sense of the country. I’m missing out on such places as Florence and Bologna, Siena and Pisa, Napoli and the south, and much more obviously. At least now I’m aware of how much I want to go back. And the food! Oh, the food. How I will miss eating pizza and pasta everyday (and there are other things too).

But I still had today and I still wanted to see a few more things that I missed out on over the last couple of days. First up was the Castel Sant’Angelo, a papal fortress and ancient mausoleum. This huge structure was first built in the second century AD to serve as a mausoleum for Roman Emperor Hadrian and his family. The building is a huge cylinder shape that rises high above the banks of the Tiber, and right next door to St. Peter’s Square. Since then, the Vatican has taken over its use and has turned it into an ancient fortress that could be used to protect the Pope in times of war. There is a secret tunnel that leads from the Papal offices of the Vatican, straight into the cellar of the castle. The castle has also been used as a prison (in some quarters) and as a residence for the Pope (in other quarters). An additional fortified wall had been built around the cylinder for added defense and today, each tower in each of the four corners of the wall, each named after the four books of the Gospel, holds cannons and a solid stock of cannonballs. The Pope no longer lives there and since then the Papal quarters have been turned into museum rooms and the Vatican uses the place to rotate through exhibits, showcasing its collection of art that it doesn’t keep in the Vatican museum. 

View of St. Peter's Basilica from the top of Castel Sant'Angelo

The castle itself is really cool. You enter though the fortified wall on the ground floor and then straight through inside to the heart of the cylinder shape. This part looks like an ancient crypt. It’s very dark, everything made of stone. The inner most room is the Hall of Urns, where Hadrian and his family were buried. But here a series of creepy passageways take you around and up the cylinder to the upper portion of the castle where the passageway breaks free to the air above, into plazas and walkways, office rooms and now, exhibit halls and cafes. The whole complex is a confusing arrangement of secret passages and hidden terraces, and even some trap doors. Eventually you wind your way up to the top for excellent views out towards Rome and the Tiber. The castle is named after the Holy Angel because, as legend goes, one day, after a plague had broken out and ravaged the Roman population, an angel appeared over the castle, like an apparition, bursting with fire, and it was witnessed and later recorded by hundreds of people. The day after the angel appeared over the castle, the plague broke and people started getting better until the plague was eventually wiped out. Since then, they renamed the castle (from Hadrian’s tomb, I think) and topped the structure with a statue of the angel.

The angel that appeared over the castle, but this time in statue form

The round, cylindrical structure of the castle

The castle was a pretty cool place. I left after a few hours of wandering. I walked back behind the castle to the neighborhood by the Vatican where I knew there were some restaurants where I could sit outside and eat some pasta. I walked across a lawn where some Italian school boys were playing soccer, still in their school uniforms, and then made my way to the alley where the restaurants were. I took a seat in the sun by one of them, ordered a dish of stuffed rigatoni and a glass of wine, and watched as priests and nuns and tourists walked along the street’s narrow walkways in and around the Vatican. It was another bright, sunny day, a little warm in the direct sunlight. The food was good (if not a little overpriced) and then I walked back to the river and back into the heart of Rome. I was looking for the last big tourist attraction that I figured I should see before leaving, the Pantheon, a massive church dome structure near the Trevi Fountain, built atop Agrippa’s ancient temple. This dome is probably the single best preserved structure still standing from ancient Rome. You approach from a plaza, deep in some neighborhood in central Rome, and walk through the huge pillars of the entrance and up the steps and into the massive structure inside. The Pantheon is an architectural marvel of size in its simplicity. You enter into the single large space, centered around and under the one massive dome. It is hard to see from the outside how big the space is because the church is buried in between buildings and hidden away inside this little back alley plaza. But it becomes quite apparent when you get inside how huge the place is. And best of all, free entry! I walked around the church for a little awhile, admiring some of the artwork hanging on the walls and then walked back out to go sit by the fountain in the sun in the middle of the plaza like everyone else.

School kids playing soccer outside the castle

My simple lunch of stuffed rigatoni

A fountain I stumbled upon, one of many in the city

The entrance to the Pantheon

After another espresso and gelato, I made my way back to the hostel to do some laundry, it was early afternoon. I met up with Alex (cycling around Italy Alex) and we talked awhile while I waited for my laundry to finish washing and he caught up on some emails. Since he was cycling and not always staying in hostels, he brought along some of his camping gear which included a small kitchenette set of pots and pans and a burner with a small propane gas tank which he lit and used on the small balcony out the window to cook up some pasta he had bought at a shop nearby and some pesto sauce. The room smelled pretty good. I sipped a beer and caught up on emails myself. He was going to meet up with a cycling buddy that he had met during his trip through Florence at 8 o’clock that evening and my only plans were to go back to that pizza place in Trastavere to eat one last Italian meal. So we decided to kill a couple of hours until then and walk somewhere for a beer. We took a route walking south from our hostel into a neighborhood we hadn’t explored. It took us to a little park full of local Italian kids and their parents watching on. In this park was an old structure, probably an old Roman one, that had fences around it and some people working in the area, probably restoration work. It seems no matter where you walk in this city you are bound to run into some ancient ruin or other.

We continued on back to the street that leads from the train station and works its way south to the Colosseum area. We didn’t make it quite that far but we did stop at a small place for a beer, the first one we came across after walking for 20 minutes or so. We should have shopped around though. We were approached by a woman asking us to look at a menu, we said we wanted to sit for a beer. Then she told us, in broken English, that it was happy hour. We asked how much it cost for a beer and she said that it was very cheap. We said, great! Of course we’ll go for a beer. So we took a seat outside at one of the tables along the side walk and ordered our beer. She came out a moment later with two, one liter glasses of beer. That is a huge glass of beer. We looked at each other in surprise and with an eye of suspicion, wondered how much these were going to cost. After all, Rome is an expensive city and just a normal size beer goes for 5 euros or more. But we sipped them anyway, kind of laughing it off. Then the waitress arrived a minute later with a plate of cut up sandwiches and chips and said they came with the happy hour deal when we protested the order. Alex started getting very upset about the whole deal and asked the waitress more directly this time how much all this would cost. Instead of telling us, she said she would go get a menu, and upon arrival, we discovered that the deal cost 15 euros. I was pretty annoyed that we had been duped so badly but Alex was livid. He demanded to see the manager or else we would simply walk away. The manager came out and she tried to calm him down, smooth talking as it was, but he refused to pay more than six euros for the beer. When she heard that, she said, “Six euros each? Okay, they’re students. (To the waitress) Give them a discount.” Then she walked away. First of all, Alex was like 35 or something, clearly not a student and I’m not either, although I look much younger than I am. I was shocked she so easily let us bargain down from 15 to six euros for a liter of beer and food. That’s quite a deal. To be fair, we were very clearly taken advantage of and all we wanted was a normal size beer which any honest place would have happily provided for a normal five or six euros. Bringing out a pint of beer is a little absurd. But lots of tourists get duped like this. Anyway, we squeezed out of that situation no worse for wear and then laughing a bit, we parted ways, he to meet his friend and I towards Trastavere and to the best pizza shop on earth.

I was still a little put off. No one likes to be taken advantage of. Especially when your mood was so good to start off with. Even with the minor victory of escaping unharmed, it still affects your mood. Rome thus far had been filled with wonderful places and wonderful people and you hate to come across people like that. I was even more determined to walk all the way over to Trastavere just to find this one pizza place again in order to restore my faith in the people of Rome. But I was a little worried about finding it because when I went there the first night, I only stumbled upon the place by accident, wandering around the dense network of alleyways that is the neighborhood. When I got to Trastavere, I indeed had a difficult time. I spent at least 45 minutes wandering around hoping by some small miracle I would accidentally stumble upon the shop. In the meantime, I got to know Trastavere quite well. After circling around the neighborhood for what felt like three or four times, I was about to give up, it was around 9:30 in the evening, when lo and behold, I found it. I have rarely been this happy. And since it was a little after the dinner time rush hour, I went right up to the guy and ordered my pizza. I ordered a good size helping of pizza, baked with olive oil in place of tomato sauce, covered in blobs of what I think was mozzarella cheese and portabello mushrooms. Ooh la la. What a pizza. And here’s the best part. I went to pay, to the same old lady behind the cash register as last time, and with a coke, the total owed was 6 euros 10 cents. I only had two fives and 10 cents. So when I handed her the two fives and 10 cents, she said, in Italian, something to the effect of, “Here, we’ll make it 5 euros 10 cents. Much easier.” I said, “Grazie” and that was that. I ate my pizza and drank my coke and was relieved that my faith had indeed been restored in the wonderful people of Rome. I walked back through the dark of evening back to my hostel and slept soundly.

The best pizza I've ever had at the best pizza shop in the world

The pizza shop from the outside, called Forno Renatto in Trastavere

I was going to wake early the next day because I had a 7AM departure to Nice, France, with a transfer in Genoa and Ventimiglia. More on that later...

We who are about to die salute you!

Can you guess where I was this fine Roman day (a few days ago)? Today was the other major tourist venture for me. If day one was the Vatican than day two most certainly had to be ancient Rome. Rome is full of these 2,000 year old ruins and buildings and temples and arenas. They are everywhere. The tourists (and I) congregate around the southeastern corner of the city, just south of Roma Termini, because it is in this area where you can find the densest cluster of ancient Roman ruins. Just a twenty minute walk from the hostel brought me to the Colosseum, the Roman Forum, and the Paletine. It would take an entire day to walk around this area. I was prepared for that.

After a long day of walking the day before, I fell asleep pretty quickly and was too exhausted to promptly write this post (I’m in France right now...). But luckily I was so exhausted that I slept easily through the night and woke up early with the sun to begin my day. The room I’m staying in is located on the fifth floor of an old, beautiful apartment building. It is high enough off the street that you can’t hear too much traffic and we have a very tall window that extends to the floor with these old Italian shutters that we keep propped open to let the cool air in during the night. It makes for a wonderful sleep. I woke up, showered, and headed out into the sunny Roman day. I’m so happy to be wearing sunglasses and forcing myself to put on sunscreen. My skin has never been in such a state of shock as it has been for the last week or so since I took the train south from snowy Berlin, and the sun exposure-less three months prior to Berlin, to the warm, cloudless air of southern Europe. I’m talking instant tans (and burning, I have to be careful). I walked to a cafe for a delicious morning cappuccino and croissant. And then made my way to the Roman ruins.

First on my list was the Colosseum. This was the one thing I think I was looking forward the most to see in Rome. And it was worth every penny I paid for entry. I hired an audio guide and spent over an hour just strolling around the behemoth arena. The Colosseum was built roughy 2,000 years ago and was a place used by the Emperor to host the gladiatorial games. Entry was free to the public. They were games, for the people, usually to celebrate a military victory or some other huge public event. Public executions also took place here to amuse the crowds. The most entertaining (for the Roman people, not for me...) were the executions by wild animals. They put the condemned in the middle of the arena, a large sandy field the size of a soccer pitch, and then trap doors would open releasing any number of wild animals that would attack the condemned person. Usually they released lions or other wild cats that the Romans brought back from Africa or the Far East on their many conquests. But the gladiator games were the most popular and in the most demand, where two or more people, usually trained and equipped with weapons, would fight each other to the death to the amusement of the Emperor and the “mob”, or the citizens watching. My favorite movie now and since high school is “Gladiator” starring Russell Crowe. It does a pretty good job showing what the games were like. It’s one killer movie. Most of the gladiators were either people being punished or were captives from foreign wars. And the gladiator business was lucrative apparently. Gladiators were trained in professional camps and were paid large sums of money if they won. I walked around the arena for a long time taking pictures and pretending I was there, in the mob. I felt like a child, from the days I swore I wanted to be nothing other than an archaeologist. The structure is more or less in tact apart from one corner of the building that had been plundered hundreds of years ago for materials. But the Colosseum is still one of the best preserved ancient Roman structures in existence.

A view of the Colosseum from the street

The arena floor had been partially reconstructed to give tourists a sense of what it was like 2,000 years ago

A picture of a picture of what the stands would have looked like full of spectators

After my look around the arena, I strolled over to the Roman Forum, named so because, during ancient Rome’s heyday, the forum was the center of the city for trade, temples, public gathering, eating, shopping, all that. The forum was a dense cluster of activity. And today, the site is now an archaeological playground of ruins. Temple walls are toppled over, ancient columns lay on the ground. The old Senate building, where Julius Caesar was brutally slain, still stands more or less in tact. Old gardens with pretty wild flowers still squeeze themselves between the ancient structures. It was really great just walking around, enjoying the sun and the smell of plants.

A view of the Roman Forum

I spent at least 3 hours walking around the ruins

An exhibit within an old Roman temple in the Roman Forum

I love these trees

A view from the panoramic vantage of the Paletine

I did this for hours and then left, my ancient Roman portion of the day coming to a close. The day before, I had stumbled upon an old barbetiere, an Italian barber shop where I could indeed go for an old Italian haircut and shave by foam and straight edge blade. I really wanted to do this prior to my arrival to Italy. But it was too late yesterday, it had already closed. So after walking around the forum I headed back over to the barber shop to take a look. The door to the tiny shop was open and two Italian barbers were attending to two Italian guys sitting in the old barber chairs. I kind of just stood in the open doorway, watching in bemusement. There was an older Italian man by the door talking to a young Italian woman with a stroller and her baby. This place seemed really authentically Italian. When one of the gentlemen finished and left the barber shop, the older man who had been waiting there before I arrived said to me, “Prego” pointing to the door, indicating that I could go ahead of him. I asked the barber if he could speak english and he said that he could. I asked him how much it would cost for a haircut, and it was expensive, but I said okay and sat down in the chair. I looked at myself in the mirror while the barber swept up the little shop awhile. I’ll admit it, I got cold feet. I decided my hair looked okay and that I kind of liked it a little longer and that I couldn’t afford the shave anyway. I thanked the barber for his time and left, disappointed that I didn’t follow through with this unique experience but happy I saved my hair and money.

I walked back towards the Spanish steps in Spagna and went for a gelato and then worked my way back towards the hostel. I met a really interesting guy in the room, Alex from the UK, who had been taking a bike trip from Innsbruck in Austria and was cycling his way down to Sicily, at the very bottom of the Italian peninsula. He had just arrived to Rome and was unloading some of his gear. He had been camping in the countryside in farmer’s fields and was pretty dirty. After he got the chance to shower and wash up a bit, we chatted awhile about our trips. He was a pretty cool guy. A former musician and music teacher that sort of quit his job about a year ago to do some adventure trips including this cycling trip. He was preparing to lead an expedition around Tanzania in a few months.

I also got the chance to catch up on some emails. I was talking with my friend Tom from NYC about his recent trip to Rome. He came out to the city with his girlfriend to run the marathon they had in March. He stayed in Trastavere, the neighborhood I explored the first night, and recommended to me a restaurant that he ate in several times on his trip. It was called D’Augusto, a small pizzeria, very popular for its authentic food and reasonable prices, and a bit off the tourist circuit. He recommended the rigatoni, cacio e pepe, a dish made of rigatoni pasta and covered with grated cheese, a lot of cheese (goat cheese maybe?) and ground pepper. So on Tom’s recommendation I went there and ordered that and enjoyed every second of that delicious dish. I washed it down with a large Italian beer and enjoyed the moment, sitting at a small table in a small restaurant with its walls open to the outside. The tables and people extended from within the restaurant, out onto the patio and into the small plaza surrounded by old, beautiful Italian buildings in this neighborhood. I think it was the perfect setting. And this place was packed, every seat was taken. And by the time I finished and left, there was a line out the door waiting for a table.

I walked around the neighborhood a little, ducked into a small pastry shop and ordered a large canoli that had a slight orange flavor to it, and ate it by the bridge over the Tiber that connects Trastavere to the rest of the city. It was dark and warm and all the stars were out. It was a stellar end to a stellar day. I made it back to the hostel and crashed pretty early again. I planned to sleep in a little the next morning since the list of things I wanted to do was a bit shorter. But we’ll get to that. I’ve enjoyed Rome immensely so far. It’s a bit expensive but considering what you get for a trip here, it’s well worth the expense.

More tomorrow...

A papal kind of day

I was going to write this post last night but I was preoccupied with the terrible news of the bombings that occurred in Boston during the its annual marathon. I returned to the hostel around 10:30 in the evening, flipped open my laptop, and read a message from Alex in Berlin wondering if everyone I knew was okay and that he had read about some disaster that had only occurred an hour or so before I hopped on the computer. I stayed up pretty late, for the next few hours, frantically writing emails and checking Facebook posts to make sure everyone I knew was alright. Luckily my family lives a little ways away from where the bombing occurred but I have a few friends who live in the Back Bay by Boylston Street where the bombs went off. Luckily they were all okay too. But I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to write. I just went to sleep instead. But it was a terrific day otherwise so I’ll try to sum it up now. Hats off to all those at home though. I hope everyone recovers soon.

So I have decided that I have simply been sleeping too much lately and missing out on some really excellent mornings. Morning, to be perfectly honest, is my favorite time of day but waking up is my least favorite thing to do. And as far as sight seeing goes, you miss a lot of daylight when you sleep in so much. I find that usually I feel about the same whether I get 6 or 8 or 10 hours of sleep so I might as well force myself out of bed with the sun and enjoy myself a little more. With that said, I woke up at 7 yesterday morning, showered, edited my previous blog post from the day before, and prepared a bit for my big day at the Vatican. Since I had wandered around the city a little the night before, I knew the streets a little bit better and felt confident that I could walk through the city to the Vatican City in Rome’s northwestern corner. My route took me through the heart of Rome and across the Tiber. I stopped off at a cafe for a morning cappuccino and pastry for breakfast and then walked through the bright sunlight down Corso Vittorio Emannuelle II, and then within the walls of the Vatican itself. When you cross the bridge and look over the river to the Vatican in the distance, you can see St. Peter’s Basilica rising above the other buildings up on a hill. Everything around is this ancient sand color and all the buildings around this part of the river look like they’ve been here since Charlemagne was crowned Holy Roman Emperor. Bells could be heard in the distance and birds, sea gulls I think, flew high above. The sky was bright blue and there was a slight humidity to the air. So I guess the weather was just about perfect.

My breakfast of espresso and a chocolate pastry

The bridge over the Tiber that took me to the Vatican

The Vatican from above looks a lot like an old key hole. There is a long corridor that leads from the bridge by the river up to St. Peter’s Plaza, a large circular plaza ringed by huge columns and statues of the saints. In the middle of the cobblestoned plaza is a huge obelisk brought here from Egypt by Caligula, a long time ago... And at the other end of the plaza opposite the long corridor of a street are the dramatic steps leading up to St. Peter’s Basilica, the famous Vatican Cathedral. Tourists can’t go further but on the other side of St. Peter’s are the Vatican offices where the Pope works, the new Pope Francis from Argentina whom the city is buzzing about, and some more official residences, schools, and other papal buildings. And the plaza was packed with people. My plan was to first go into and see the Basilica and then climb the dome to get sweeping views of Rome and beyond, and then wind my way over to the Vatican museums where the Sistine Chapel and other notable works of art are located. But this was easier said than done. I’ve never seen so many people in one place wanting to do the same thing. I waited in a line that ringed the plaza, just to enter St. Peter’s.

I hopped in line to see the Basilica at 11:20 and was inside at 12:30, nice!

St. Peter's Plaza

Caligula dragged this obelisk all the way from Egypt

But it was worth it. After about an hour of inching my way along the columns of the plaza (which I was happy to do actually because it was beautiful and sunny), I made it through security and into the cathedral. Entrance was free but I had to pay five euros for an audio guide. Not a bad deal. The cathedral is humongous, the largest Catholic cathedral in the world beating out Notre Dame in Paris, St. Patrick’s in New York, and Westminster Abbey in London by several meters. The cathedral is full of magnificent works of art including a statue of Mary holding the lifeless body of Christ, sculpted by Michelangelo when he was just 24. Paintings and frescoes cover the walls and ceiling. The dome is one of the largest in the world too and sits right above the papal altar, reserved only for the Pope when he holds mass. Below the altar are the remains of St. Peter himself in a catacomb altar below in the crypt.

Inside St. Peter's Basilica

Michelangelo sculpted this for the church when he was just 24 years old

The basilica floors are covered in marble

A look up at the dome

After I spent an hour or so in the cathedral, I again waited in another absurdly long line to climb the hundreds of steps up a twisting staircase in an old tower that leads to the top of the dome. All of the waiting and climbing was worth it here too. The views over Rome were stunning. Rome, as I could now see, is situated in a valley surrounded by lush, green mountains looking inland. The mountains are a bit blurred due to the slight haze left by the afternoon sun. The city slopes down a fertile plain towards the sea on the western side. Like Milan, red roof tiles and sand colored buildings sit on top of each other to make up the heart of the sprawling city. Very, very beautiful.

Rome from atop the dome, hazy mountains in the distance

But I think the highlight of the day was my trip afterward to the Vatican museum. The collection of artwork the Vatican had acquired through the ages is incredible. Old Roman statues line the halls and paintings by Raphael and Da Vinci and others fill gallery rooms. There is a thorough collection of ancient artifacts brought back from Egypt during the Roman days and an excellent courtyard in the middle of all the beautiful buildings where you can relax, smell the flowers from the gardens, and sit in the sun. But of course, the end of the museum takes you to the Sistine Chapel, the project that took much of Michelangelo’s life. The artist worked directly for the Pope to complete the project. He painted the ceiling as well as the famous Last Judgement seen along one of the walls. This, like the Last Supper, is another piece of art you have to see in person to really appreciate. One of my favorite images since college was the portion of the painting where Adam is stretching his hand out to God who is doing the same, their hands moments from touching. It’s an inspiring image. I took a seat in the chapel and just stared at the ceiling. The Vatican employees took turns every few seconds to say things like, “Shhhhhh!” and, “No photo!”. Eventually I left the chapel and left the museum. I walked back to St. Peter’s plaza and saw some of the Swiss guards guarding one of the gates that led to the papal offices. For centuries, the Swiss government has supplied the Vatican with some of its most elite soldiers, dressed in traditional Vatican garb, to guard the Vatican and the Pope. They look like they are dressed in costume for tourists but the guidebook assured me they are all well trained soldiers and are not to be disturbed.

Each statue in the Vatican Museum was inscribed with these wacky Latin phrases

Looks painful, statues in the Vatican collection

A gallery showcasing some works by Rafael

A picture of a picture replicating the actual Sistine Chapel ceiling, photos were not allowed inside

The Swiss papal guards

I was pretty tired from all the walking and sightseeing. And I was starving. I got a quick pizza “sandwich” thing at a cafe (I feel like I only eat pizza and pasta here) which filled me up pretty well and then I started back towards the city center. I walked aimlessly towards the train station, but still a good ways away, near Piazza Venizia and just took in the pretty alleyways and small side roads. Pretty much every corner of every side street has a stunning church. And every corner also has some excellent statue or ancient Roman gate or spectacular fountain or something. I happened upon the Tivoli Fountain, probably the most famous fountain in the world, in some back alley plaza. The Tivoli Fountain is pretty well hidden between buildings, but it is huge. It depicts Neptune trying to tame two sea dragon horse creature things, one tame, one unhinged, supposedly representative of the tame and at times turbulent qualities of the sea. Water spews from everywhere to the pool below and facing the fountain are a slew of steps packed with people lounging and bathing in the sunlight. The fountain is built into the side of a building so that only one end of the fountain is visible. I sat awhile on a curb off to the side and above the fountain awhile. Then I continued on. I walked the length of one of the major shopping streets in the city, Via del Corso, and then turned into some side streets. From Via del Corso and down one of these side streets I could see people gathering on some steps, a lot of people. I went to go see what they were sitting around and stumbled on the famous Spanish Steps at Piazza di Spagna, huge sloping steps leading up a steep hill, swallowed by its surrounding buildings, like all things in Rome, and up to a huge park at the top of the hill. At the bottom of the steps was a small plaza with a small fountain. The steps, like Tivoli, were packed with people just relaxing, drinking, chilling. This is one of my favorite things about Rome. Everywhere there is a plaza where people congregate and relax. Everyone is outside enjoying life.

A side view of the famous Tivoli Fountain

The Spanish Steps leading down to Piazza di Spagna

Sunset over the Spanish Steps

I walked back towards the Tivoli fountain because I had seen some good places to eat around that area. I stepped in at a small trattoria (small, cheaper Italian restaurant) and ordered some bread and olive oil, gnocchi with parmesan cheese, and a half liter of house wine. I had actually never tried gnocchi before. I guess Rome is a good place to try it. It was excellent. Then I walked back to the hostel and the rest is history.

My meal of gnocchi and house wine

The little pizzeria that I ate dinner at

I decided to extend my stay in Rome for a day before I head to Nice. Rome is turning out to be quite a place. Today (I’m writing this the evening after the day after the events took place from this post - confused?) I went to see ancient Rome, basically. I’ll expand on this in the next post. And I have one more day to explore. I’ll hit some of the major spots that I missed and generally take the day easy, drink too many espressos, eat more gelato, and relax.

In the next post, we step back in time. See you there!