Waiting now for the car and driver to take us to the catacombs. . .in 1984, I took public transportation to get there, but things have changed. Actually, it only cost six Euros to take a cab back from Piazza Navona (we paid five euros to take the Metro. . .but never got on it. . .see below).
Anyhow, after strapping myself in the front seat (and Torie was on Carol's lap in the back), I thought about asking for a second seat belt as we weaved in and out of traffic. All the while our Italian driver muttered to himself about the traffic. (Why? Beats me. Maybe today is the only day in Rome's history that cars weaved in and out of traffic, motorcycles all but went on the sidewalks, and pedestrians wandered whereever they damn well pleased. But probably not.)
Let's go back to the morning though -- I finally woke the jet lagged sleepyheads at 7:40 am (25 minutes later than planned). Despite the grumbling, all felt better after showers for the first time in nearly two days. After breakfast on the roof, we walked across to the Santa Maria di Maggiore church.
The church was built a long time ago (dates run together after a bit) and has some excellent paintings and sculptures. More interestingly, it must have been some special military service day, because there were Italian soldiers, sailors, and other armed forces personnel milling around, both inside and out. There were a bunch of lower ranking folks, but even some older gentlemen with fruit salad pinned to their chest. Carol was convinced they were looking for an excuse to shoot us for trying to walk through their ranks to go to church, but since you didn't get a CNN bulletin about the five Americans shot dead in Rome, she was incorrect.
Afterwards, we had a plan. Paraphrasing some American (or maybe Confederate) general, "plans are everything, and then, when the battle starts, plans are nothing." We walked over to the Termini station (Train station), where two Metro lines also cross. Chaos is a good word to describe things. It's like New York City rush hour, but without the polite, happy people of Manhatten.
There was an announcement about a problem on the subway, but the gentleman manning the subway gates asked where we were going. "Spagna" I replied. He said "working." We bought our tickets and headed on down, working to save the walk. That's were things went awry. After descending many, many levels, we hit a pack of people. The back-up wasn't moving, and it wasn't within sight of the tracks (so know, I have no idea how far we were from even seeing a subway rail. Possibly miles, but at least 30 yards -- which were massed with people.
We turned around and walked over hill and dale to the Spanish Steps. . .(I will add to this post later). (Back from the catacombs. . .but that will be in a separate posting). Unfortunately, pre-spring, the Spanish Steps are not in all their glory. We did a lengthy forced march for a so-so outcome. It's a beautiful view from below, but without the flowers and when the statue at the top is covered in scaffolding, the magic isn't quite there.
Fearing a massive rebellion in the ranks, I did what any great leader would do. . .I bought off the disgruntled masses by taking them to Babington's Tea Room at the base of the Steps. It's a classic British tea room, so they had tea and pastries. British-style, with Roma prices (think Manhatten prices, but at a really lousy exchange rate). It is 111 years old, and was founded by two British spinsters as a haven for English tourists at a time when England ran the world.
Fortunately, the other places we were going to were all much closer -- and more spectacular. We stopped by Saint Andrea delle Fratte, which has two 1669 Bernini angels that are spectacular. From there, it was a short walk along narrow cobblestone streets to the Trevi Fountain -- which remains a stunning sight. All four Bolger women were impressed, and we lingered for a while (despite the crowds).
Then, we wandered down random streets to the Pantheon, which is far grander than I had remembered. The sole surviving Roman building that is still entirely intact, it is far more massive outside and beautiful inside than I can recall from my 1984 trip.
I negotiated a stop at Piazza Navona prior to heading back to the area around the hotel for lunch. On the way, we stopped in at a 1589 church -- San Luigi dei Francesi, which has amazing red marble pillars (the girls jaws collectively dropped. . .which in yet another beautiful church takes a lot). More importantly, there are three large paintings by Caravaggio, with nearby analysis in English (and other languages) provided.
(That's something Italy lacks that Spain had in spades -- info fliers in multiple languages. . .heck, Italy doesn't have in any language. As a travelers aside, I like Lonely Planet for depth of info -- and some off-beaten path stuff to do/see. However, the DK Eyewitness Travel Guides are the one book to carry with to find your way around town and have in-depth info on too many places to see -- and no, that's not a paid ad, although my endorsement can be bought!).
From there we walked past the Italian Senate. The building is far more stable than the government, but Al Gore could build a snowman at his Tennessee mansion that would be more stable than the Italian government. Piazza Navona is reminiscent of Plaza Mayor in Madrid. . .except, of course, the Fontana del Quattro Fiumi is undergoing reconstruction and covered in scaffolding, and Sant Agnese in Agone is closed for renovation.
We easily caught a cab back to the Hotel. It's easy to tell people where the hotel is -- it's on Carlo Alberto, which I remember because of the great Brazilian defender, Carlos Alberto, who played for the NY Cosmos in the glory days of Pele, Franz Beckenbauer, and Giorgio Chinaglia (come on -- who reading this doesn't remember that team? Oh, nearly everyone? Never mind.)
We stopped into a pizzeria down the street, just to be quick and not need another bank loan to buy a meal for five people in Rome.
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