Lots of old stuff...

Off to the Coliseum Sunday morning, literally stumbling our way there (you would think that between the Ph.D. and the law degree, and my proclivities towards control freakdom, that our steps would be fairly well charted before departing from the hotel...alas, not. Lots is twisty turns, false starts, and a few dead ends...but it being Rome, incredible discoveries, large and small, around every corner. The orderly street grid of, say, New York, is entirely foreign here. I lead by my gut, and some of you know what that means.) I talked Leslie into taking the Coliseum tour...at first, after speaking with the tour guide, he turned to me with this disgusted look on his face and said, "Freebird, it is an hour long, and they give you a free tour later of the Palatine Hill, but they make you walk around with one of those ear pieces in your ear." Somehow he thought that would make us look stupider than normal. Because being with the tour group enabled you to skip the serpentine ticket line, we opted in. And it was worth it. Leslie even admitted that he learned things he didn't know, if you can imagine. I found this tour shorter and a lot less bloodier than the one I took several years ago...this guy even chose to omit mention of the bloody history of the Christians and the Coliseum. We asked at the end of the tour and he downplayed it, saying, yes, Christians were slaughtered (usually beheaded, not tossed to the lions), but not because of religion but because of politics (i.e., Christians = rebels = problems). So there. (Incidentally, the problematic ear pieces turned out to be cell phones that you could hold up to your ear if you were out of earshot of the guide...not terribly intrusive or embarrassing).

We found a restaurant across the street that offered a table in a dark, cool corner so we leaped. From our air conditioned table, we could see the Coloseum across the street, so it was nice (and cool). We returned, not expecting much, for the free tour of the Palatine hill. A young Australian guide cracked bad jokes, but led us on a spirited tour of the top of the hill where Domitian built his truly gigantic palace (using tens of thousands of Jewish slaves, don't you know, over 5 years). We learned that the Romans were lazy and cheap and invented veneer (using thin slabs of cover marble instead of building their buildings from solid stone), and that the awful modern structure that now sits on top of the hill in the midst of the ruins was built by Mussolini because, as Roman emperor, so to speak, he thought he deserved a place on top of the hill, too. He never occupied it...the people got to him first, as the tour guide explained in graphic detail (the hanging, the removal of his genitalia, the "soccer playing" with his genitalia, and then the humiliating stuffing of his genitalia, as a final grand gesture, in his mouth. Colorful stuff). The guide pointed us to one of the great views of old Rome, after which we traipsed our way out of the ruins and to the nearest bar.

OK. It wasn't a bar, but back to the Piazza Navona where I made Leslie eat a tartuffo (Tre Scalini specialty of chocolate ice cream covered in a thick slab of chocolate and topped with whipped cream), and we slid gradually into drink mode. The drinking got more intense when a young violinist (of maybe 13 years) set up his Peavy amp directly across the street in the piazza from my head, and proceeded to pelt us with lame virtuoso pieces, accompanied by a drum beat track: think Flight of the Bumblebee...that sort of crap). Leslie told the waiter that he would give the kid 5 Euros (and that's something for Leslie) if he would go away. The waiter laughed and walked away. Eventually we got him to turn the amplifier down so our glasses (and teeth) would stop rattling. We had to keep drinking to survive, so we bravely did. Finally, he left, to be replaced by countless young men selling knockoffs of designer purses, sunglasses, and belts. Their eyes roamed the piazza constantly, even while selling, watching for the carbinieri. The first flash of a police car or hat, and those guys were out of there. What a miserable way to make a living (worse than discovery battles).

Stumbled into a church on the piazza (St. Agnes of the Agony...which could not figure out which agony), into an Irish pub (where, just like McElroy's, the Irish found ways to abuse us), and to a restaurant over by the Coliseum (the only one opened on the street our guide told us was full of great restaurants). It was good, not transcendent (carbonara with smoke salmon!). Walking back to the hotel was great because night had descended, it was cooler, and the ruins were lit beautifully. Back in the hotel, we had a blackout, so I had to finish shaving in the dark (with my little LED torch). And I am sorry to say, R2D4 did little better Sunday night...and I think it was our air conditioner (or Leslie's curling iron) that caused another blackout this morning. The third world experience!

No Vatican today because Leslie woke up too late. Maybe the Villa Borghese, if we can find it. And at some point we have to decide how to get to Naples. Onward.