Ah, Rome. I am writing this from the Piazza Navona, drinking a 6 euro cup of coffee. I will add that it's on the skimpy side, and does not even have the advantage of a small cookie which should always come with a fancy European coffee drink. No matter, I am happy to pay extra for the piazza, and the busker sitting by the fountain playing Pink Floyd's "How I Wish You Were Here," and for the trickling fountain itself, a few feet from my table.
Truth be known, as much as I love every inch of Rome, I am feeling a little bit busted up today. This is not a surprise- one of the things I learned in grad school is that it's not the day after an all-nighter that's the worst- it's the day after that. And today is that day. I arrived yesterday at dawn, knowing that my room wasn't ready; also, it was the best weather day of my Rome visit, so I figured I'd better stay upright and do outdoor things all day. My 5-hour flight from Qatar, leaving at 2:30 am, had the lights off for about 3 hours, so I had dozed a little. And seriously, wouldn't Rome perk anybody up? So it was ok. But still, halfway through the Forum, I was weaving. I sat down a lot. I was worn out enough that by 3 pm, I came in to re-group. I unpacked and surveyed the dismal laundry situation, and decided that I had no choice but a couple of hours at a Roman laundromat.
My first evening in Italy: I put on my dorkiest combination of clothes so I could wash all the good ones at once. It was dark before my laundry and I set off for this mysterious laundromat, a good 20 minute walk away. Once I got there, it was fortunately situated next to both a pizza stand and an exquisite little bakery, so it was all good. At the pizza place they sliced my square into two pieces, heated them till they were crunchy, then served them cheese-sides together in waxed paper. Mmmm. At the bakery I just said, "Per favori- uno...e quattro...et due..." and got an assortment of scrumptious wafers and almond thingies and million-layer bite sized cookies. AND I have a bag full of clean clothes. Not "washed in the sink and dried on a Cairo balcony" clean, but "washed with detergent and dried all the way in a dryer" clean.
I don't remember anything after the buying the cookies- it's all foggy from there. I just woke up in a daze this morning at 9:15, from a dream in which Angelina Jolie, my friend Paula from teaching, and I were all having coffee and commiserating about how hard it is to be famous. Couldn't figure out why it was still so dark...oh. Piove in Roma. Raining in Rome.
Still weary and draggy, I stumbled across my perfect travel destination in a book- Cafe Greco, where Byron, Keats, Dickens, and any other literary figure you could name hung out at some point or other. I decided to get myself there at once, have a giant coffee or three, and soak in some literary air and nourish my inner English major. It's the first time on my trip I have nearly cried from disappointment- closed for remodeling. Tomorrow I'll take myself to the Keats museum on the Spanish Steps to make up for it. But today, hung over from sleep deprivation: heartbreak.
Which is ridiculous- I am in ROME. Yesterday: walked the Spanish Steps, found the twin churches we studied in the Piazza del Popolo, strolled the Via del Corso to the Forum, the Paletine, and the Coloseum. Had 3 spontaneous on-the-street meals, each one to die for. This whole city is like meandering through a watercolor- the palette of creams, peaches, ochres, pinks, misty cloud greys- music trailing out of cafes into the street, clusters of people gathered everywhere practically singing in Italian, since that's how every conversation sounds- it's so, so beautiful.
Added to which, there are a few other blessings: I look like everyone else, more or less, which is boring to people who are used to dealing with hoardes of tourists, so nobody looks twice. Serenity. The weather here is a cool and pleasant 50's to 60's, intermittent sun. Ahh. And I can drink the water. And it's so easy to navigate in Rome that it's almost not sporting. I can read all of the signs. There actually ARE signs. When you're wondering whether you'll spot your turn onto Via Delle Quattro Fontane, no worries, the Quattro Fontane are unmistakeable, one on each corner. Landmarks! Arrows! Maps with road names and pictures! And everything in the city is within walking distance.
The fun of walking with no agenda: now and then I stop, mid-step, one foot in the air, and raise an eyebrow at something. Hmm...I have drawn that window in my class notes....famous...palazzo....I put my foot down and go investigate. It's way more fun to find them accidentally, scattered around the city for me like Easter eggs.
