The two main things that struck me about Rome on my first visit in 1984 were: how old it was and how badly in need of repair it was. The newer buildings seemed to be almost as bad off as the ancient ruins. Sometimes it was difficult to tell them apart. It was, however, a fascinating city.
There is so much history in Rome that you can practically overdose on it. The Vatican, the museums, the Colosseum, the catacombs, the Circus Maximus, the Spanish Steps, the Vittoriano, the Arch of Titus, the Arch of Constantine, the Pantheon, the Palazzo Venezia (from whose balcony Mussolini gave his speeches), various temple ruins, palace ruins, the Roman Forum — to quote the King of Siam, “Etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.”
Fortunately, I like history. Actually, I hated it in school. For some reason the teachers seemed to try to make it as boring as possible. Most of it was about memorizing dates. I don’t do well with memorizing dates. I can remember who did what but not necessarily when. I figure I’m doing well if I can get the approximate century. I learned to love history on my own, outside of school. Anyway, Rome is loaded with it.
To get to all of this history, one must drive. They had a very rudimentary mass transit system back in 1984 and, because of all of the historic relics under the city, they have had difficulty crating much of an underground system. Every time they dig for any reason, they strike ruins. Then the place gets declared a national monument and they have to find somewhere else to put whatever they had planned to put there.
Driving in Rome is an adventure. If it isn’t designated the accident capital of Europe, then it should be. European cars are, for the most part, much smaller than American cars in the first place. The streets are quite narrow. They can also be steep and/or winding, and there are loads of traffic circuses. A traffic circus is a circular torture device where you drive in, then drive around and around and around until you die — or until someone gives you space to drive out — whichever comes first.
We entered Rome from the south and crossed the Tiber River into the main part of the city to take a quick gander at St. Peter’s, Castel Sant’Angelo, the Coliseum, and a few other landmarks before heading to the hotel (which was on the northeastern fringe of the city). We had just exited one of those traffic circuses (after only three rotations) onto the Via Arenula and were feeling somewhat cocky when we felt a thump and found ourselves sitting on the back bumper of a Lambourghini. They do say, “When in Rome …” Fortunately we had Ricardo with us.
Ricardo could speak French, German and English, but his native language was Italian. He leapt out and proceeded to have a very spirited discussion with the driver of the Lambourghini. He was in his element and a wonder to behold. His eyes flashed, his nostrils flared, his arms waved — I was very impressed. Soon he returned and climbed back in with a shrug of his shoulders.
“Everything okay?” we asked.
“Si, si,” he replied as Louis (who was Belgian and spoke no Italian) threw it into reverse. We backed off of the rear bumper of the Lambourghini and onto the front bumper of an Alpha Romeo. Fortunately that driver was preoccupied with the driver of the vehicle sitting on his rear bumper, so we gunned it and vacated the scene of the crime. We must have immediately reached our quota as we didn’t have any more accidents our entire stay … at least not with cars.
We reached the hotel, checked in, argued with the management about surrendering our passports (most hotels in Italy, at that time at least, expected you to surrender your passport to them for the duration of your stay), and went to our rooms to unpack and freshen up. The hotel was a brand new, modern, round tower, with balconies all the way around. This was important — the balconies, I mean. When it came time to leave the hotel (we were supposed to meet downstairs) we couldn’t get out of the room. The door lock kept turning and turning, but the door stayed locked, so I ran out onto the balcony and hollered down to Ricardo to get help. The calvary promptly arrived and sprang us. The lock worked fine from the outside. It appeared that they just hadn’t quite gotten all of the bugs worked out in their new hotel. They had only been open a couple of days. What is “locksmith” in Italian?
I have always liked Michelangelo’s art, so I was looking forward to seeing the Sistine Chapel. This was before the restoration that took place in the 1990s. What I saw back in 1984 was pretty muddy. But it was still magnificent (unfortunately the camera I had at the time didn’t do interior shots terribly well, so I only have an even muddier photo). I was quite tempted to lie down on the floor to save myself from getting a crick in my neck. But I didn’t want to embarrass my country any more than I already had by this point in the tour. I tried to imagine Michelangelo lying on his back on the scaffolding while he painted this breathtaking ceiling, but I kept picturing him as Charleton Heston (I had seen “The Agony and The Ecstacy” too many times).
After watching the Pope ride around on his “Pope-mobile”, we went into St. Peter’s Basilica. Peter is reportedly buried beneath the altar of the Basilica in an ancient tomb. St. Peter’s is the largest church in the world (St. Paul’s in London is second in size) and is definitely impressive. Actually the entire Vatican compound is impressive. On the way to see the Sistine Chapel, we had gone through the museum with its amazing collection of art.
In the Basilica itself is “The Pieta”, Michelangelo’s sculpture of the Virgin Mary holding the body of her son. It had been attacked and damaged not too long before we were there, so it had been placed in a glass case and was heavily guarded. It was difficult to get too close to it and it was much smaller than I thought it might be. But it was exquisite.
We covered a lot of territory in the couple of days we spent in Rome. The Coliseum gave me a great deal of exercise climbing up and down over what had once been seats and exploring the area which had been under the stage (and is now exposed to the elements). One popular myth is that the Christians were thrown to the lions in the Coliseum. This is untrue. The Coliseum is much older than that and was already a ruin by that time. The lion feeding took place in the Circus Maximus — a much newer stadium that was located near Caligula’s Palace (the remains of both can still be seen today). The Coliseum did have gladiator tournaments, pageants, plays, and even water sports. They used to flood it and bring in boats.
On our last night in Rome, we drove out to Tivoli, which had been a resort town in ancient times. Up on the side of a mountain is a former monastery that originally was a castle and is now a restaurant and hotel. We sat down and found seven plates stacked before each of us. With each course a plate was filled and a different wine was poured. The courses included: 1) melon and proscuito; 2) a salad (antipasto); 3) a pasta dish; 4) another pasta dish; 5) soup; 6) the entree with vegetables, and 7) dessert.
As I said, a different wine was served with each course. The trip down the mountain was rather interesting, what with fairly intoxicated (mostly American) tourists singing songs, the Belgian trying to stay on the road, and the Italian laughing uproariously. I don’t drink usually more than one or two glasses at a time as a rule, so seven glasses …
Next time: The UK During the Gulf War or “Give My Regards to Brompton; Remember Me to Leicester Square”.
