Turning 40 part 2

I was a bit maudlin last night when I wrote part 1. But promptly after posting, Tom brought up the ipod and played "All the Single Ladies" by Beyonce and we danced and danced. And then I fell asleep on the couch. Such is my life!

Tonight is my Aaron Spelling-themed birthday party where the guests are dressing like any character from any A. Spelling show and I will hold court as Alexis Carrington. The best theme ever and I am beyond excited to see how everyone turns out. Photos to come tomorrow!

Turning 40 part 1

How did I get to 40? Honestly. I don't know when it happened and now that it is here, I am not sure I want to let it in. It sounds so old. So final. So finished. This isn't the way I feel at all -- I have the love of my life and the job of my life, yet all I think about is the call that brings me back to Portland for a funeral, Tom's cough and the mole on my arm that seems a bit suspicious. Is this what it means to be 40? I have always been a bit snide when siting the inevitability of time -- the solution to never ending production nightmares, the end of never ending waffling, the final answer because at some point you run out of questions -- but when it comes down to it, it is damn scary. We are going to die someday. Ick.

I plan to write quite a bit this weekend. Join me on my crisis of confidence and reevaluating everything journey of WTF? I don't know when I got so old. At least I look really fantastic and have very few things to ever regret.

A Friday bit of funny

This made me laugh, especially after playing the, "Describe the accessory and guess the neighborhood" game. Tribal tatoo? Williamsburg. Stroller? Park Slope. Scratches from fighting Polish women for meat? Greenpoint.

Enjoy

So I gave up eating meat...

...because I saw my reflection coming down a flight of stairs in a pair of jeans and didn't like what I saw. And because I felt puffy all the time. And because, when I thought about my inner battle between eating lamb and loving bouncy little lambs, I felt dirty. And it was time to take control of my food intake again.

It is going surprisingly well, largely due to this web site:
http://thisiswhyyourefat.com/

Nothing stops the cravings like a heart attack on a plate.

RIP favorite orange vintage shoes

My heels simultaneously snapped off while slipping down a flight of carpeted stairs at work.

I sort of liked how the toes curled up afterwards and managed to shuffle around on them for the rest of the day, as well as ride home.

I loved these shoes, found at Lady Day during my first Amsterdam summer, and was sad to see them go, but even a pack rat like me knows when it is time to say farewell.

Hotel mini soaps are like crack

No matter where my parents lived, there was always a bag of mini toiletries stashed somewhere. And by bag I do not mean a wee gift bag or small piece of hand luggage, I mean a proper shopping bag, probably culled from a duty free shop somewhere. The bag bulged because there was never a soap, shampoo, body lotion, sewing kit, shaving kit, business class amenity, cologne, cracker or mini ketchup, that my parents did not keep. When I would drift through the house, engulfed in ennui of my own pre-teen creation, (which was a lot, in retrospect), I would take the bag down from the shelf in the linen closet and sift through the bounty.

There were paper-wrapped soaps from France that smelled like lime and cloves and white shirts that never stain or wrinkle. There were bottles upon bottles of 4711 cologne from flights to Germany. Zippered welcome pouches with slippers, sleep masks, combs and toothbrushes from flights to Japan (the yukata robes liberated from the Hotel Okura in Tokyo accompanied these nicely), mingled with lotions and potions from hotels throughout Europe - souvenirs of business trips made throughout the 70s - and Asia - souvenirs of business trips made throughout the 80s.

But it wasn't just fancy things in the bag. There were also the brittle pink soaps picked up en route during family vacations at budget hotels that lined the highway. Mini bottles of Scope, though my parents were die-hard Listerine people. Shoe shine sponges and tiny emory boards, all packed in cute boxes with names and locations stamped on the outside.

I love hotels, partly because of these free samples of luxury that filled the bag, and in turn fed my imagination. Like Tiffany's, nothing bad could ever happen in a fancy hotel that gave its guests presents. Travel seemed elegant.

But the reality of travel is quite different, and lack of space combined with the diminishing quality of hotel giveaways have made me less likely to bring anything home with me, though the spirit of mini soap crack still runs strong in my veins. The first thing I do when I get into my room is go into the bathroom and gleefully explore the freebies on the counter, but unless the product is exceptional, it typically stays behind (the Hermes soap, shampoo, bath gel and lotion from a recent stay in Munich was squirrled away in my suitcase within two minutes of checking in, just in case hotel management decided I wasn't worthy and came to take it back).

But of everything found on my recent work trips, this is my very favorite - a very cute toothpaste and mini toothbrush combination liberated from the hotel outside Milan. I have no use for it and shouldn't have even taken it, but absolutely could not resist it. In the classic vein of travel goods of old, it is far too special to use casually, but not nice enough to give away as wampum. It belongs on a shelf somewhere, right? Saved for a rainy day when no toothpaste can be found and I am jonesing particularly hard for a souvenir of free.

Uncomfortable

There is a European thing that I do not enjoy and that is the unisex restroom. Sorry. Toilet.

Not a low lit, stylishly accessorized room with a toilet, sink and ubiquitous almond scented hand soap that either men or women use based on who gets there first, but a truly unisex toilet. A room you enter, minding your own business, and you see a closet for dames and a closet for heren (men) and a urinal hanging out on its own with a little half wall for privacy of sorts. The sink is out in the open and you can totally see the back of the man using the urinal when you exit your closet (and his surprised face when you walk in the room). This set up makes me uncomfortable.

And this is the toilet situation at the new building RIOT moved into on Monday. So the surprised face is a co-worker's face. And even more uncomfortable? When you exit your gender closet the same time as a man exits his gender closet because then you know he was sitting down. I don't need to jostle for position at the hand washing sink with a guy who will later be jostling for position at the coffee machine.

And that is the rant for the day. Peace out.

A very cold Amsterdam

For more than a week the temperatures were well below freezing and the canals actually froze.

The Dutch left work early on Friday to go skating, but the ice wasn't anywhere near thick enough for me to trust. They were amazing to watch though.

Birds #1

Birds #2 and #3, on the ice flow by our apartment.

On the eve of a great day

Tomorrow at 6pm Amsterdam time, I will close my computer and glue myself to the television to watch President Obama take office. Talking to another American today at work, we admitted to the shame spiral that we have been swept up in for most of our lives. Except for a brief respite in the first Clinton term, there has been a constant urge to apologize for or rage against the US leadership. As a post-Watergate kid, I grew up believing that politicians were liars. And when I polled the playground in 1980, I was amazed that kids and adults wanted Reagan to win when Carter was so clearly the nicer person. And look who was right!

The Reagan era, though clearly Nixon-like in its antipathy toward the law, gave me something to fight against. Something to argue and debate about over the dinner table. The world was black and white to me then, as it has never been since. When George the First took office, I was sad that the first vote I cast was wasted, and when the first bombs fell on Iraq, I cried with all my fellow journalism students at University of Oregon. We were a liberal bunch.

When Clinton won the election, I cried again, only this time with joy. I thought everything would change, but instead it got worse, with the rise of Newt and Rush and the further fall of the golden rule. Neighbors began to mistrust neighbors and rule by logic and intelligence dwindled. Clinton was too human. Too much of a punchline to be effective in his second term. And then the dark days began.

Eight years of shame. Eight years of embarrassment. Eight years of apologizing for something that I didn't do. All ending tomorrow. Tomorrow!

I hope Obama will be everything I hope he will be. I hope the United States becomes the country I have always wanted and expected it to be. I am so grateful that this moment has happened and that my nieces and nephews and children I know will know that truth, justice and the American way isn't just a comic book construct. It is possible. God bless.

Do I REALLY have to go back to reality tomorrow?

What a fantastic few weeks it has been. Time off. Time in Portland with family and friends. And Tom and I got engaged. Should I have led with that?


Here is the story:
When we were in Rome, I was drawn into a small jewelry shop off Campo de' Fiori, which, though I love jewelry, was unusual because I tend not to not even window shop for it, much less go inside. As opposed to say, being drawn into shoe stores. Digression.

I went into the shop and saw a beautiful antique ring in the side case and gestured and smiled my way into asking the shop keeper to show it to me. It fit and I fell in love with it right away. I showed Tom and left it at that.

On Christmas Eve, just after finishing my super-sentimental post, Tom told me to open my last present next to the tree because, "the box is fragile and I am afraid it will fall apart if you move it." So I did. He went over to the stereo, put on "Downtown" and came over and got on one knee as I opened the box and saw my Roman ring sitting in a mass of rose petals. He said something about "happy" and "love" and "marry", but I couldn't really hear him through my crying. It was a lovely moment and we both kept looking at each other and saying, "Me? You really want to marry me?" Later that night we went up to the freezing cold roof and threw red rose petals into the air. Tom said he saw them on the street for days afterwards. Apparently there are no gift boxes to be had in Amsterdam, so Tom had to buy a large porcelain bell in order to get the right sized container. So if you come to my house and see the bell, now you know why it is there.

So we are getting married! No plans yet, but it is doubtful that it will be this year. I want to enjoy being engaged to my lovely man and let things come together as they may.

After spending Christmas day lazing on the couch with stockings and presents from family, I took off to a very snowy Portland. We had the Miller Family Christmas on Saturday, which was a riot. Seriously good times with lots of laughter and some impromptu dancing to scenes from "Summer Holiday." My nieces and nephews are getting so grown up and funny, but I was most struck by the moments where my brother, sister and I do whatever it is we do to make each other laugh. We are freaking hysterical.

I didn't get to see as many people as I would have liked, but did manage to check in with some good friends and see their rapidly growing children and some new babies. Portland doesn't change, but the kids do. It is such a great place to be from and I am grateful that I had the opportunity to fly back for a bit.

And now back to work. I expect to be crazy with football content and site production for months and months. So the posts may be short, but I'll try to stay current. Happy New Year everyone!

Holidayrific Catchup

Some photos documenting the crazy weeks leading up to Christmas. Work has been super hectic, and will continue to be well into the new year, but we managed to have lots of fun whenever possible. Saturday we hosted a holiday cocktail party where fancy was the theme and even the dog dressed up.


The morning after the party, Roland and Amy, friends from Portland, arrived for a few nights on their way to France for their holidays. It was such a treat to hang out with them and enjoy their combination of smart and funny.


Rabito received presents from everyone! Ken and Jen, my sister, Tom's mom, and Santa all brought toys of varying squeaks and squishes.

Christmas

I overcooked the roast beef, but the sauce was delicious and the potatoes were mashed and plentiful, so it didn't really matter.

The weather in Portland is bad. Really bad. So a nice man at Orbitz managed to get my plane ticket changed and now I get to spend Christmas day in Amsterdam with Tom instead of in coach. I win!

Last year Rabito was in foster care in the south of the Netherlands, after what we can only imagine was a fairly horrid life in Spain. Tonight he opened presents from friends and has a stocking already filled from Santa. But we are the lucky ones.

There is no present under the tree that can match how much I love Tom, but he has done a fairly fantastic job of coming close, and we are just pausing for desert and champagne. Who knows what treasures are yet to be unwrapped?

I am so grateful. Just that. Grateful.

Thank you.
And happy birthday Jesus.

Beautiful people and social networking

"The most beautiful people are those who have known defeat, suffering, struggle....and have found their way out of the depths. These persons have an appreciation, a sensitivity, and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep loving concern. Beautiful people do not just happen." unknown author

I do loves me some cubbyholes and have willfully put myself and so many others into them throughout my life. Case in point -- high school. I have written before about going to my 1o year high school reunion and how different I felt when my 20 year reunion came around and I couldn't go. I was a wound up 15 year old and a wound up 18 year old and a wound up 21 year old who took herself so seriously. So seriously that she wouldn't even tease up her bangs at the height of fabulous 80s hair excesses! So seriously that she thought her struggles were hers alone and so conceited that she thought her struggles were unique. I figured out in the last few years that none of this is true and somewhere along the way I stopped being so self important and started laughing.

Which brings me to this lovely photo of two stone cold foxes:

Could this be more 80s? Karin, on the left, and I weren't so close during high school, clearly because I envied her way cool hair. I remember that she always seemed super confident and everyone liked her, which undoubtedly made me jealous and spiteful (my insecure MO -- just call me Rizzo). I have such good memories hanging out with Keri, the beauty in the yellow pants on the right. There was a whole group of fantastics, and for a while I was their friend, but then I disappeared. Why? No idea, though at the time I probably had all sorts of good cubbyhole reasons for taking myself out of the fun and putting myself on some sort of soapbox. How boring.

I planned to start over in college, and I did, but then did the exact same thing to the friends I made there. Cutting and running is something I did well, though since I remember envying the people who remained friends through the years, I was clearly not THAT good at it. Same thing happened in California and throughout different phases of life in Portland. So boring.

So leave it to a little thing called Facebook to give me a new chance to know bits about the people I knew before. Whenever I become friends with someone from high school and beyond, I clap my hands with glee. There is no way to go back and redo anything, but this way I can have a little glimpse into the lives of people I wish I still knew. Yes, Facebook has issues, yes we put our best selves forward on it, yes it is a fake reality, but it is also heartening because through it - through photos and words, I have learned that these girls grew into women with very authentic, very different, and very compelling realities. Just like me. How much would I love the chance to sit down over a bottle of wine or two and compare notes on life. The quote on the top of this page was posted by Karin on facebook the other day and it inspired me to write this post.

I had years worth of bitterness and assumptions built up, so many that I could barely hold a conversation with people at the first reunion, but now I see that we are all flawed and fabulous. Undoubtedly we all made choices we regret, learned lessons the hard way and changed for the better. It just never occurred to me that anyone other than me had any reason to change.

Thank you Easter Bunny!

It is Thanksgiving week, so in the spirit of my all time favorite holiday and the tradition that is never quite as moving as it is on television, I bring you:

THE 2008 WHAT I AM THANKFUL FOR LIST

1. A rekindled love affair with typography
2. Time away from work
3. Jumping into the abyss
4. ...,staat and everything that is superdeluxe and wow
5. The eye of the tiger
6. Jewish girls from Brooklyn who teach English to rock stars and wear yellow boots
7. Guitar Hero
8. John coming for a visit and making Tom so happy
9. 80's Trivial Pursuit in the Old Man Bar
10. The shisha collecting dust in the closet
11. Heart-to-heart talks on the roof terrace
12. Eagles of Death Metal
13. "Sound of Music" on Christmas night
14. Rome
15. Obama!
16. "This American Life" explaining the US financial crisis in terms I can understand
17. Everyone I love is still here
18. Nights of good sleep
19. The smell of Tom's hair when he wakes up in the morning
20. A Spanish dog named Rabito
21. Amsterdam Fashion Week
22. Nieces, nephews and the children I love
23. Snow in November, sunshine in May
24. Lowlands
25. Hearing someone call my name while I am riding down the street
26. Art, design, creativity, opportunity, laughter and lessons learned
27. Everyone who reads Travelcheese. Thank you.

28. And more than anything, I am thankful for the man who smiles when he sees me, rides the waves of my emotions and brings me peace.

Sinterklaas arrives!

Sinterklass and many zwart piets arrived in Amsterdam today, so Tom and I dragged ourselves into the center to watch the parade, feeling a bit worse for wear after going out last night with my new coworkers. Tequilla is still be worst boyfriend ever -- sweet and fun at first and pure manipulative evil after a date or two (or five).

Enjoy the photos. I know it is shocking to see blackface, but I have to say, there was so much joy and rare Dutch smiles everywhere today. This tradition may be unPC, but comes from a place of goodness, so don't judge too harshly please.

Zwart piets doing aeriel tricks while hanging off the walls of the V&D department store along the parade route.

Yea! Yea! Yea!

We woke up at 6am, just in time to watch Obama make his acceptance speech. What a happy morning. What a happy day.

I started my new job three days ago and already feel like I have been there a month or so. It is very busy this week, so I'm just swimming and will reflect and write once I have emerged and dried off.

But for now, I am going to go to work a newly proud American.

Green thumb on the Emerald Isle

In the continuing saga of my time between jobs, I went to Ireland to visit my friend Monique while she is spending time there with her boyfriend Colin. They are working on his mother's old house -- fixing it up after she passed last year and there is a lot of work to be done. The garden is huge and was vastly overgrown over years of perennials gone wild, so I called on my long dormant inner weed puller and went to work. For two days Colin, Monique and I tugged blackberry and ivy, cut back hedges, dug up trees and heaved countless piles of debris into one giant, soon to be mulched, hill. It was so fantastic and I suspect that the vestiges of a few demons were left behind in the mud.

Colin and Monique have neighbors named Joan and Wilfrid who we visited for tea on Sunday and cocktails and showers (since the water was out in the area and they have a well) on Monday. Wilfrid is a brilliant story teller in the vein of George Robertson (a shout out to heaven!) and I could have, and probably would have, listened to him for hours and hours.

A mushroomy fungus thing that grew in clumps on an old log. When you pushed them down, they would release a greenish spore-filled powder. Now we know what leprechauns take when they party.

On a morning walk with coffee in hand.

Colin in the back 40 in the midst of pulling. This is what it looked like before...

My fantastic Irish breakfast. Soooo good.

Muddy!

Mushroom house for a mini something.

...after. The back 40 after two days of hard work.

It's Ireland...green grass, bright leaves and old stone walls.

Bella Roma - part 2

Like a rock concert for God, and the man himself (not Charlton Heston)

Day 5 - WEDNESDAY Vatican day. I donned a black dress - very chic, very cool - and Tom asked, "Why are you wearing that?" I said, "I like how it looks and it is really comfortable for walking around in." And then later, when we were surrounded by believers at St. Peter's he asked, "Why are you wearing that?" "I wanted to be respectful," I said. "I KNEW IT!!!" he said. "You are more Catholic than me!" You'd think that, but I suspect he has his own line to God, because when we woke up he said, "We are going to see the Pope today." And we did. But more of that in a moment. We hurried through breakfast and onto the metro because we didn't have tickets to the Vatican Museum, but thought that the crowds shouldn't be too bad since it was early in the day, off season and a Wednesday. So it was surprising to be packed in the metro car with other people, all of whom disembarked at the same stop we did. It was a mad rush up the street, toward St. Peter's, with me elbowing the odd German teenager who cut me off at an intersection. Of course we didn't know exactly where the Vatican Museum was, but figured everyone must be going there, I mean, WHY ELSE would anyone go to the Vatican on a Wednesday?

So we arrive at St. Peters and there is a massive horde lining up. Discouraged, we decide to bag it (there was an issue of Tom not wearing any sunscreen that day because he thought he would be inside all day and it was VERY bright outside) and stood outside the barricades at the top of the square watching people filter in after going through security. We finally asked an American couple what was going on and they replied, "The Pope is going to be here in about 30 minutes!" thinking we were crazy for not knowing that. Humph. Really? I looked at Tom and said, "How did you know?" "I know things," he said. And that is how a lapsed Catholic and a Presbyterian get to see the Pope. By accident. We ended up getting inside the square to better see the giant screens that broadcast the Pope Mobile driving around with the Pope waving to the crowds and then showed the German cardinal reading out the parishes who were visiting that day (in German), so when he said, "The blah blah blah church from Koln," the 20 or so people in the crowd who were from that parish all yelled and waved little flags. It was seriously like a rock concert for God. Or the man who is God on Earth. Or something. When Pope Benedict gave the benediction, we genuflected and left in order to actually find the Vatican Museum. Which we did. And there were no lines.

A fawn in the Vatican. Paganism is bad, but apparently, not as collectibles.

The museum was impressive and the Sistine Chapel was breathtaking. I was prepared to be underwhelmed by it, but just like "David" in Florence, it is absolutely incredible in person. You are not allowed to take photos or speak loudly while you are in the room, so you have to tune out the guards repeating, "NO PHOTOS. SILENCE." in loud monotones to fully appreciate the environment, which is difficult because people keep taking photos and talking loudly. This annoyed me, and I took out my annoyance on an old couple who spoke no English. When she took a flash photo and I turned to glare at her, he smiled a consipratorial smile and put his finger to his lips. Like THAT is going to work. I squinted and spit out, "Have some re-SPECT!" and walked away, taking my high horse with me. Tom, of course, was taking photos from his hip the entire time we were there. Yin, meet yang.

Michelangelo is going to be soooo pissed when he hears you photographed his ceiling!

Tom, whose Papal dispensation lasted all of five minutes.

After the museum, we wandered around Vatican City, had a glass of wine overlooking the dome and went back to go into St. Peters. Massive. Beautiful. Many priests on the dais -- like 30 of them -- which made me nervous. Such perfect architecture and design which was what moved me. After being in so many churches, large and small, crowded and empty, this one left me the coldest in terms of feeling the spirit, but absolutely blew my mind in terms of what man can build and create.

St. Peters

Day 6 - THURSDAY

I had to have "Roman Holiday" moment, and the hand of truth was it.

Not much to report from Thursday. At last we had seen everything that we felt we needed to see and could just wander and enjoy it all. And we really did. We got a late start and wound up having cappuccinos at a cluttered corner bar that we promptly fell in love with. I bought my fancy Italian shoes. Tom checked in on Rabito and the score of the Giants game while I was buying my fancy Italian shoes. We walked around a lot more, met Marco's friend Pricilla for a coffee, went to the most popular Chinese restaurant in Rome, which happened to be up the street from us. In order to get a table, we had to get there early at 7:00. We could have waited until 7:30 or even 7:45, but by 8:00, it was packed. The food was good -- really good. 

Chinese food in Rome is ever so dreamy.

Then we walked back into the center to see what the Trevi Fountain, wedding cake, Pantheon, etc. look like at night. Beautiful, but it was disheartening to be in the middle of tourist mecca at night, when the purse sellers and pan handlers with puppies come out. On the way back to the hotel we took a new route and walked straight through a red carpet event complete with cameras and beautiful people. That was funny.

Old men, a bike and a cart at Campo di' Fiore.

Day 7 - FRIDAY
What an amazing day. We went to Campo di Fiore and Piazza Novona, wandering around the small streets that run behind each area. Vintage shops abounded and I found my perfect Italian purse sitting on a table, minding its own business. I fell in love with it and bargained superbly for it -- my style of bargaining, which is deciding what I am willing to pay, start there and stay there no matter what. And pay in cash. Other highlights: Fresh fig sorbet!!! Saltimbocca, which is a carnivore's delight. Grilled artichoke. Old men by the market who were selling an old bike out of the back of a cart but were more intent on gossiping. Warm sun and white wine. A slow and easy afternoon.

Katie and Constantine.

Day 8 - SATURDAY
What a difference a week made. Our last visit was to the Capitoline Museum so I could see the giant head of Constantine. I remember seeing the slide of the head in art history class, and I really wanted to see it in person. Not enough to make a special trip, but since we had time, and it was the last day, and the she-wolf was there too, we decided to go. And it was so worth it! Big head, big foot, big hand and big arm. But Tom's arm is bigger, albeit on a smaller scale. The museum was a good note to end on and on the way back to the hotel I passed by a souvenier stand and shot the photo of all the stuff that lead off the first Rome posting. One thing I wonder is whether or not Pope Benedict feels a little bit like a lesser pope, considering that Pope JPII is still everywhere, souvenier-speaking. Just a thought. Another weird thing? A man had climbed up a building crane and was standing in the basket-part with his hands held out like Jesus. There were police and firemen standing underneath, but they didn't seem too concerned. Perhaps he is there every Saturday. Wish I was!

Bella Roma - part 1

Your one stop Roman shop - from Popes to emperors with every she-wolf and coliseum in between

I feel like I left part of my heart in a sunny palazzo in Rome. What an amazing place and what an amazing trip we had. Here is a rundown by day for the first half of the trip, accompanied by photos.

DAY 1 - SATURDAY

We had arrived at Marco and Pasquale's apartment around midnight on Friday, so we woke up not knowing where we were or where anything else was either. So we took off walking without a map and promptly came returned to the apartment 20 minutes later to fetch the map after already getting lost. Cut to two hours later when we finally stopped walking in generally the right direction to get pizza (delicious) and caffeine (necessary) and just like that found a metro stop which took us into the center. We decided to go to the most cheesy tourist attraction first, the Trevi Fountain, but turned the wrong direction upon getting off the metro and had to seek shelter in a cafeteria during a brutal thunder and lightning storm (more pizza and my first panini of goodness). When the rain stopped we actually got on the right track and managed to find something! Here I am after tossing my coin, though at this point I wasn't too interested in returning to Rome.

How wrong I was. The rest of the day was fantastic. 

We dodged rainstorms to see the Pantheon -- I loved that we were constantly semi-directionless, so we wound up approaching it from the back, which is very impressive and gives an idea of the scale and age much more than the front does. It is beautiful and bizarre. We got coffee at Tazza d' Oro, one of Rome's best coffee shops, I bought boots because my feet were cold in their ballet flats and no socks, and we wound up having afternoon wine in the cloisters at Santa Maria della Pace completely by accident. The Caravagio paintings at San Luigi dei Francesi were right out of my art history books and stunning. We wound up wandering the fancy fashion streets by the Spanish Steps at nightfall (after Tom had more pizza) and ate dinner at one of Fellini's old haunts. And then we caught the metro back to the nearest station and walked 30 minutes or so to the apartment. I don't think I ever fell asleep faster.

Day 2 - SUNDAY

Exterior and interior of Santa Maria in Trastevere

The morning dawned sunny and cool, and we woke up more mass transit savvy, as we managed to catch a bus directly to the Porta Portese flea market. It. Was. Huge. The best things? Tables filled with used handbags for three euros each and tables of cashmere sweaters for 30 euros each, but really, there was something fairly fabulous at every turn. I left with one used handbag and Tom left with a new backpack, so we let our eyes do the shopping instead of our cash. After the market we wandered through Trastevere and visited one of the coolest churches of the trip, Santa Maria in Trastevere. We lunched al fresco where I discovered that rucola, fresh pear slices, Parmesan and lemon juice is a delicious salad to accompany a nice white wine. And on the pear theme, after lunch I had the most amazing pear gelato -- it had the grit that fresh pears have and all the sweetness too. For an ice cream fanatic, I was in heaven, especially because I had a scoop of pistachio as well. To work off dessert, we walked up the Janiculum hill for the view of Rome below. 

Nuns making me smile on Janiculum hill

Three nuns from my favorite order (I like their habits the most) were up there too, which made me a little giddy. We continued the walk up more hills into a large park, where we wandered amidst the roman statuary and assorted grottoes -- in a way it reminded me of the backyard pool area of our next door neighbor during the 70s, all random stone figures and a strange sense of nothingness (though none of the statues we saw in the park were of a boy peeing, so that was different). There was a cricket match going on at the top of the park, so that was cool too. Back in Travestare, we had pizza (are you getting the theme?) and suppli' (fried rice balls -- the Roman bitterballen but better) before heading back to the neighborhood for more pizza at the place downstairs from the apartment. Fabulous day.

Day 3 - MONDAY

Pompeii head, columns and mini coliseum 

Pompeii mosaic room and storage room

We got up early and caught the train to Naples, en route to Pompeii. I won't bore you with the travel particulars, but know that we were right on form, catching the wrong commuter trains and having to backtrack, getting lost and running late (only after taking advantage of the Sephora in the Rome station). But we got there with time to wander. It was beautiful and strange, but I wish I had gone to Herculeam instead, as I hear it is better preserved and a

bit less crowded. That said, it was very, very cool and a place I had imagined seeing since I was a little girl. After a semi-stressful trip back to Rome, I found us a restaurant serving Neapolitan food in dining room decorated in quintessential seafood restaurant grotto style and a singer. Fabulous. The food - great. The atmosphere - great. The song "Volare" - beyond great. On the way back to the train station we passed a hotel that looked cool so we went in and got a room for Tuesday through Friday nights just to be a little closer in. 

Day 4 - TUESDAY

Evil smile in the Coliseum, Forum column and headless vestal virgin

Roman Ruin Day!!! We hadn't seen the Coliseum at all yet, so there were proper awe-faces made when we exited the metro station and saw it straight ahead of us. We were so struck by awe, in fact, that we had to get coffee and pastry before taking it on. Very cool, but the Forum was cooler. It is so vast and so evocative that you can easily imagine what it must have been like 2,000 + years ago. Yes, that's a two with three zeros after it. And tour groups still flock there. What have we done today that will be worthy of touring in 2,000 years? Hmmm? Dinner that night was seafood risotto followed by pork roasted with pistachios and figs. 

Forum beauty

Gladiator

I will work on the text and images for part 2, but here is a preview: the Pope, scolding old people for breaking rules, wandering, food, wine, sun, coffee, beauty, fabulousness. Where to next???