January 24, 2014

We slept in this morning.  Didn't open the front door until about a quarter till eleven.  We remembered the restaurant we dined in last night (Fattoincasa)  promised to be open at eleven.  So we set off in that direction, only to discover that they were still closed.  Ah, Italians!  So not a slave to the clock like their American counterparts.  We doubled back to a little cafe we'd seen.

It was open, they had free internet, but terrible pastries and coffee.  It was good I chose to have a restorative prosecco instead.

Here are some random observations about Italian restaurants:

• Salt and pepper  shakers are never on the table.
• Although there are many advertisements for Coca-Cola (right out of the 50's) and Cokes are sold everywhere, you'll never see one Pepsi.  Ever. I've made a point to look.
• Never, ever, eat at a restaurant whose menu features photos of the food.  You'll lose every time.

Our little flat is just across the river from the Vatican.  When we were  walking back from breakfast, I observed a helicopter circling overhead.  It was a big, sleek chopper with retractible gear.  It was painted in Italian colors although there were no registration numbers or any sort of insignia visible.  It kept circling and circling.  Well, that's odd.  Those things burn a ton of pricey fuel, so what is that guy doing up there?

We walked across the bridge to Castel S. Angelo, and then over towards the Vatican.

On the bridge

Jack wanted to purchase tickets for the Red Bus tour.  Instead we bought tickets for the Yellow Bus tour.  Same thing, you go on the route and jump-on, jump-off as you please.  He quizzed the ticket agent about the chopper and security agents which seemed to be just about everywhere.

"Oh," he said, "that was because the President of France was here to see the pope; and someone had phoned in a bomb threat."  He shrugged.  "It was the same thing when President Obama was here.”

A wedding was taking place when we happened by.

We boarded the yellow double-decker and took seats on the very front of the top.  This gave us an eagle's eye view of the chaos that is considered normal traffic in Rome.  The plan was to ride the entire route and then come back the next day for stopping off at places we wanted to see.

My butt slowly but surely turned into solid frozen stone sitting on the unfriendly molded-plastic seat.

More observations:

• Don't stop at the Colosseo unless you're ready to deal with about a jillion other tourists.  Even in the dead of winter.  Hard to imagine what it would be like in the summer.
• The Colosseo has scaffolding on about a third of its exterior wall.  They're trying to shore it up because air pollution is eroding the structural foundation.  Good luck with that, pal.
• You can't swing a dead cat in Rome without hitting a huge church featuring marble people hanging around its front and sides.  But in Rome, the marble people are mostly clothed with marble robes and what-not.  More Catholic guilt, I suppose.

We bailed out of the yellow bus at the same spot we boarded and asked the ticket agent about a place to eat.  His recommendations were spotty.  Meh. Heading back toward our flat, we found a nice Fornao. We were seated next to a foursome from Austrailia.  A lively conversation ensued.  Nice folks.  Then on to the little flat for a restorative nap.

Later, we foraged back to Fattoincasa, the neat little college hang-out that plays music from the late 70's-early 80's.   They were open by then.

Then back to the flat.  The clothes are still wet on the drying rack.

Our little flat.