I have the sensation that I am going very, very quickly. My seat buzzes with the speed and I glance outside the window. Outside it’s dark, gloomy, filthy; somewhere I would never choose to be, and I am glad to have some good country music to keep myself occupied. But that’s only because I’m in a tunnel on the high-speed train returning to Rome from Florence, and soon I will re-emerge into the glorious Tuscan sunshine, to look upon a rolling landscape sprinkled with farms and vineyards; a stunning image of green, fields, stone cottages and tractors, framed by Cyprus trees and leaping mountains in the distance. Closer-to, a town is perched upon a small plateau fronted by 50 foot cliffs. I have no complaints, especially given the stark contrast between the Italian countryside and the chaotic, filthy, but equally spectacular cities. It is my fourth day in Italy after as many nights. The first two were spent in Rome, followed by a day and a half in Florence, which is quite different.
So how was it? Well, Rome was incredible. If you have just one city to visit in Europe, I would seriously consider putting it on your short-list. The Renaissance-period architecture and monuments are unbelievable – perhaps the most spectacular edifices of marble I have ever seen. Around corners or through narrow passageways, and you emerge into grand squares, with some historical monument or church (oh look… the pantheon!). Fountains flow from numerous squares, surrounded by locals enjoying their evening gelato. And what delicious gelato they have. I have had no fewer than 6 cups of gelato, and every one was delicious. Perhaps the best was from a place that claims to also be in New York, but I have seen no evidence other than their cups [EDIT: It’s called Della Palma, I discovered on my 7th cup]. Most of the food has, in fact, been delicious. The pasta is tasty - though, I will have to admit, really no better than a good Italian restaurant in New York City - and the toppings on my grab and go pizza slices were so fresh that the simplicity didn’t matter; just some chunks of fresh tomato, basil and unmelted cheese. Mmm. Next time I go into a pizzeria I will definitely consider similar, which I normally pass over for more - let’s say puréed - pizzas. Another slice (loosely used, as they are actually cut from a large rectangle and sold by weight) had some of the most flavorful pesto I have ever tasted, with some cream and whole walnuts. I won’t pretend that any of it was healthy.
As for the sights, the pantheon was incredible, St. Peter’s Basilica was glorious (rivaling or surpassing the Hagia Sofia in Istanbul) and the Coliseum was falling apart… but amazing still. The various squares and famous fountains were all well worth seeing too. Unfortunately we did not have a chance to go to the Vatican museum, which was closed on Sunday, but I intend to return today to see the Sistine Chapel.
Our accommodations, however, really could have used some work. We arrived at the main train station in Rome, and following the directions to our hostel, we walked down some shady, graffiti-covered streets. And then some more. And then some more. And past a cat woman feeding 10 feral cats. And down an empty block with just a few people standing outside of doors, but that was otherwise shut down. We walked up and down this block a few times, as it allegedly contained our hostel, but did not see any signs. Finally, one of the loitering men spoke up: “are you looking for the hostel?” I was reminded of illegal watch sellers in China (“psst, fake Rolex?”) which did not precisely bode well. He took us into the building, which had a dirty, grimy lobby area, and was obviously residential. At this point, if I had been apartment shopping, I would not only have walked away but found a new real estate agent. So it goes. Up a single flight of stairs and we were at our room. Apparently, this “hostel” only had two rooms, and we had the private one. Of course, it only had one bed (my friend and I had requested two). Oh well. Surprisingly though, it had a computer, a decent bathroom with shower, and very high ceilings, so it may perhaps be the nicest illegal hostel in Italy. Nevertheless, it did not feel clean, simply because of the surroundings.
Not a great introduction to Rome, and it was hardly enhanced by our adventure to the San Lorenzo area where the university students go out. Every street was likewise covered by graffiti (as, really, are many streets in Rome), and eventually we arrived in a collection of streets full of euro-chic students in dark attire (how many leather jackets? sooo many). The main attraction appeared to be square full of students cradling beers and smoking (it is Europe) so we grabbed pizza and gelato, walked around, and ended up settling down an people-watching. Certainly different from the normal Rome experience, and I’m glad we did it. Of course, much of the Rome experience involves people-watching, but setting was different :). Strangely, despite the grime of Rome, most streets have a few constantly-flowing water fountains dumping water into the drains. You can either fill a bottle with its spring-fed aqueduct-transported water, or cover the spout and receive an upward squirt to drink. Delicious, and free!
And Florence? Florence is not nearly so grand as Rome is, but has an amazing collection of art, both in churches and in museums. I saw Michelangelo’s David, the tombs of Machiavelli and Galileo, and the Duomo, which is not only a very striking church in green and white stone, but also the first dome built in modern times (as the art was lost after the fall of the Roman Empire). There is also an interesting bridge covered with shopkeepers and their stalls, and a fantastic view of all the red-brick roofs from a hill on the south side of town. Unfortunately, the town is quite touristy, which means that there aren’t many restaurants that aren’t frequented by foreigners. The result was that you simply had to judge which ones the Italians favored and go with them. The best story to illustrate this involves three women from - by the sound of it - New Jersey, who decided that the menu was “too fishy” and “too touristy.” They promptly got up and left the restaurant. I remarked that they were probably looking at the fish menu, and that they were being rather rude. At this point, we heard some fairly familiar voices behind us. Having decided that the restaurant we were at was too touristy, they went the restaurant next door. In the same touristy square. Nice. Like tourists go to one of the restaurants and not the other? My amusement was heightened even further when the people to replace them at the seats next to us were Italian.
Unfortunately, there isn’t a lot to see at night in Florence, but this also presents an opportunity – you can hop on a commuter train to Pisa, to see how not to build a tower. Ari (my travelling companion) and I hopped on a train after our self-tour of Florence to go see the tower, have pizza (because you have to have pizza in Pisa: it alliterates!), and meet some new friends (which we duly did when two Swedes invited us to dine with them).
Update: I am now on the plane to London, and managed to see the Sistine Chapel. The Vatican Museum took me about an hour to get through just walking (there’s really only one way to go, except for detours that loop back upon the main path) with minimal pauses. The artwork in the museum was amazing, particularly, for me, the pristine Roman sculptures. The Sistine Chapel is huge and an obvious masterpiece, but I was a bit underwhelmed. The problem is that the paintings are all so far away, you can only vaguely identify them, and can’t really enjoy the mastery of the paintings. Instead, you get the bigger picture which is, no offence to Michaelangelo, a bit cluttered (consisting, after all, of so many different scenes). I was struck by the same sense that I had at the Louvre when viewing the Mona Lisa, which is not only relatively small, but protected by about a foot of glass, situated 10 feet from the closest viewing point, and surrounded by hordes of tourists taking photos of the painting far worse than what they would find on the Louvre’s website. Faced with this scene, I chose to take, instead, a picture of the tourists. I suppose I should write about my journey to Paris soon!
On another, interesting cultural note, I think I saw a mother breast feeding her 6 year old, standing child (I obviously didn’t look closely out of deference). I wonder how common this is in other cultures? It reminds me of a scene from The Last Emperor.
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