When in Rome (for a few hours)
Do as the (other hoards of visitors to the) Romans do
While on a trip which ultimately led us to Croatia, we had a chance to spend most of a day in Rome. Here is a bit of my review of the Eternal City!
Ah, Rome.
Nestled near a coastal kneecap ensconced in the Italian (leather) boot, this obscure, quaint European town, known for its religious fervor, its ancient ruins, its role as the inspiration of many a Hans Zimmer soundtrack, and its papal refrigerator magnets, is a welcome respite for the traveler wearied by the relentless crowds in more bustling locales like Charlotte and Terre Haute.
In fact, if it’s peace and tranquility you long for in your European sight-seeing jaunts, Rome may be just what you’re looking for.
Depending of course on your definition of “tranquility” and “jaunt” and “looking”.
But first . . .
A bit about “Leo”
No review of a city should begin without a quick recap of the port of entry, and Rome’s does not disappoint. Rome-Fiumicino Airport (FCO) (The Leonardo Da Vinci Airport, or simply Leo, as its closest friends call it when they’ve had too much Chianti) is somewhat sparse in terms of architectural flair, which is interesting considering its namesake. Did I expect extravagantly-painted ceilings and enigmatic smiles galore? Maybe some mathematical doodads cast upon grand arches?
Perhaps I did.
But the lack was more than made up for by the luxury shopping experiences. Have a few minutes and €2,000 to spare? Grab a pair of leather tennis shoes that are only sold in Italy and which will be out of style as soon as your plane taxis. Go ahead, get a couple of pairs - this is Rome, Amico!
As an added bonus, it is a fairly open secret that the atmosphere in the Leo consists of 77% nitrogen, 20% oxygen, and the balance cologne. Looking for a new fragrance? Simply walk around and you will be helpless to try them all! If anyone asks, tell them you are wearing Eau de Standby by an innovative designer from the old country!
A city to see
As much as we may have liked to remain in the airport trying on expensive shoes, alas we could not - we had a city to see and only a few hours within which to do so!
As can be the case in other foreign-to-you locations, transportation around the city can present challenges. Such as it is with a vast majority of European cities, in Rome, public transportation is king. Unfortunately, the day we visited, we encountered five train ticket kiosks, with only one in a state one might call “functional”. While this was not ideal seeing as the line for the one working machine stretched to Naples, it ultimately didn’t matter as it turned out the train was not running anyway. Something about a fire. Or smoke? Maybe both?
No matter, we had options another option.
€60 taxi ride to the city center, anyone? Sì, per favore! We have a city to see!
Fun travel fact: A portion of a journey is called a “leg” because that’s the part of the body that hurts the most if you sit on an airplane for nine hours.
La dolce vita with La dolce people
Time was burning up like a middle aged man wearing black to a pool party. (Again, not great at all the literary devices.)
In terms of crowds, on any given stroll down the storied, cobbled streets of Rome, it is possible that you will encounter not much more than a church clergy person out on a contemplative stroll, the occasional street busker serenading the birds with a brooding Vivaldi concerto, or a villager hanging their unmentionables out to dry on a line stretched across the kind of narrow alleyways that Jason Bourne and Ethan Hunt frequently building-hop above. (You would think those two might occasionally run into each other mid-air. But I digress.)
Of course, if you are the kind of traveler who defines a “crowd” to include the faceless hoards of eager, sweaty tourists and influencers, jostling hip to hip, fanny pack to fanny pack, en masse, striving to get that perfect selfie in front of Trevi fountain or the Colosseum while eating a gelato with a spoon the size of a Lego shovel, Rome is literally overrun and a bit stifling.
Like all of life, it’s all in what you choose to see! Grazie, optimism!
Still, no matter how you slice this mozza pie, the Roman tourism culture is an energetic one. Ask any tourist you encounter what brought them to Rome and they will all, passionately and with a hint of good-natured annoyance, say the same thing, if in their own language: “Will you move so I can get forty-five selfies in front of this really old fountain. My gelato is melting!”
That’s Amore!
Fun science-marital fact: Walking in crowded areas with my wife is a great demonstration of the principle of filtration: smaller particles, i.e., my wife, largely make it through. Larger particles, such as myself, are left behind with the other larger particles.
For our part, we bustled right along with the crowds and soaked up what we could in the time we had - the sundial was ticking! In quick order, we saw a really old building and really old church and a really large, old theater of death and a really old street and a really old arch and some really old columns and a really old fountain. And a really old nun and a pretty new two story ad for Prada featuring a scowling woman in weirdly short shorts, standing in a row boat, clutching a handbag like someone was trying to steal it.
Oh, and the most expensive jacket I’ve ever seen in person! It was behind a glass pane inside an empty shop wherein stood the most bored-looking-yet-uppity-seeming human man I’ve ever laid eyes on. Rome is nothing if not surreal.
Ah, the romance of it all!
Travel Tip: All the directions in Europe are given in meters. So, when your wife tells you that the restaurant is in 800 meters, feel free to reply with “Just say you don’t know if you don’t know.”
The Power Center of Italy
Of course, Rome has set itself apart as the home of the world’s oldest and most powerful family-oriented organization in history: the mob.
Unfortunately for my wife, who is fascinated by mobster lore, we did not see any mob-related activity, or at least none that we could identify.
There were no stroke-ridden old men in wheelchairs being greeted with a kiss on the hand.
No young men in rolled up khakis sporting semi-automatic weapons slung over one shoulder, eating figs as they strolled through the streets behind a guy wearing an overcoat like a cape.
No corrupt police commissioner eating a mound of spaghetti while assuring rival families that they will be granted his protection, as long as they “remember their place”.
In fact, the only “families” we saw consisted of dads trying to tussle a wife and kids to the railing surrounding a really old fountain so he could take forty-five pictures at slightly different angles.
We saw a ton of those.
Ah, well. Famiglia is famiglia!
A bite or two (and a clown’s coffee)
Mention to anyone that you visited Italy, and of course the first thing they’ll want to know (besides whether you met Andrea Bocelli) is what you ate. Having only a few hours in the city before moving on, we had limited time to partake of local cuisine, but we largely took advantage. Particularly of note from my perspective was the margarita pizza we had on a picturesque narrow street near the famed Spanish Steps. It may be important to note here that by “narrow” I mean “someone could have reached out of their taxi and stolen my wife’s drink” and by “margarita” I mean “cheese”.
You could really taste the Old Country! And the auto exhaust!
Of course, beyond the stereotypical Italian main course fair, we were compelled to try the ubiquitous and aforementioned gelato. Seeing that approximately every third building in Rome houses at least one gelato shop, we had more trouble choosing our vendor that finding one. Finally selecting a purveyor via the time-honored American process of looking for one that also sold Coke Zero, we made our selections. For my part, I had a strawberry version that was delicious.
It may be interesting to note that the size of this frozen treat would fall under the category of “sample” in the United States. If this represents what the Italians consider “dessert”, then I can start to understand how they all fit into their collective skinny leather pants.
One of the potables that I wanted most to try while in Rome was an Italian coffee. Unfortunately, by the time we were in a position to do so, the only practical option was from an American-based restaurant called McDonald’s (pronounced “Mc-Donald’s”). Perhaps you have one of these in your own city, and if so, you’ll know that while the coffee is not “bad”, it could never be confused for “gourmet Italian”. And while I suppose I can say that I did have a coffee on the streets of Rome, it was not exactly what I had in mind.
Mamma Mia!
Taking something with you
No excursion in such a locale would be complete without perusing the keepsakes on sale from the local souvenir vendors. Our Roman shopping experience was a confirmation that when it comes to mementos in Italy, leather is king. Bags, jackets, key fobs, wine koozies. So much leather in Rome, and at such relatively cheap prices, it begs a question that, on second consideration, answers itself:
Why so much leather here? I’ve not seen any cows.
Ah, I see.
In any case, if leather is not your bag, there are plenty of other branded items. And by branded, I mean “plastered with the Pope’s face”. But not the new Pope. Those are apparently still en route from China. For now, we are relegated to honoring the late Pope Francis with papal visage-stamped items such as T-shirts, hats, lighters, and back scratchers.
Sacrilegious? Maybe. Also practical? You betcha.
My two Euros
While we only got a taste of this delightful city (and its Alfa Romeo-infused exhaust), I can wholeheartedly recommend that you consider Rome for your next global getaway. Particularly if you’ve got money to burn, like old buildings, cherish anything pope-centric or pope-related or pope-adjacent, and don’t mind a lot of people trying to become Insta-famous by desecrating historical landmarks.
If this is you, Benvenuto!
Grazia, Roma!
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