He Should Know, He's Been There Enough

A couple weeks ago in southern Italy I ordered a flavor of gelato and the girl behind the counter laughed at me...not with me...at me.

I thought, "that is odd," since I am trying to spend euros and that means a job for her. When I asked how to pronounce it...she continued to laugh.....meaning she spoke no English and clearly I spoke no Italian, not even gelato-Italian.

Still, "streciatello" remains my favorite flavor even if the "Streetside Gelato" store in Brari, Italy is not my favorite purveyor.

But, diligent fan of languages that I am and determined to order gelato "like a native" even if it takes three sabbaticals.  I have continued to order "streciatello" right across the Mediterranean each time, carefully refining by technique.

Today I walked in to a Catalunyan-Spanish-Speaking gelato store and confidently ordered...."Strechiatello!"

"Very Good!" said the young gelato serving waitress.

(I have arrived)

In the Barcelona Airport, All Roads and Flights Lead to....

Trying to get the lay of the land, we stood on the street corner and looked east and then I turned west an saw it....and said to Makaila, "If you'll walk six blocks this way, I'll show you one of the main reasons I came to this city."

Barcelona is a big city and it's blocks and streets are laid in a grid fashion which means six blocks is ... six blocks. In Rome, six blocks meant...maybe six streets in between but there were no blocks or anything in a squared off fashion about Rome's streets. Barcelona appears to be different. Anyway we walked....and after six blocks.....there it was

La Sagrada Familia...the incredible Cathedral of Barcelona by Gaudi. We were forced on this walk after breakfast when the hotel cleaning staff, being fanatical, started cleaning our room while we ate and thus could not get back into it and thus went on a walk without our camera.

Suffice it to say, the cathedral is a stunner. Makaila was not impressed because they have huge cranes all around it and scaffolding and other signs of on-going construction-in-progress....I apologized and said that if I knew she was put off by the construction material I would have phoned them and said we were coming and to "clean it up before we get there." She was not amused. The construction has been ongoing since....since it began and as far as I can tell they have had cranes towering over the steeples since the 1930's. There have been a couple pauses in the progress for things like a Civil War, a World War, the death of the chief architect, but besides that, it's been smooth sailing over the past 70 years or more. It is to be finished in about 30 years, I will set aside a Trust Fund of my grandkids to come back and visit and report in on the progress.

The lines were long. There is no piazza in front or side or behind it like in Rome...the cathedral is hemmed in on all four sides by streets. We will tour the inside on Monday when we get there early. Although the inside of the cathedral can't be nearly as entertaining as the outside. Besides, I have an appointment with Alphonso, my  Parruqueria Masculina, at 1 pm on Lunes. (Closed, Miercoles y Sabado)

Barcelona has a beach. Who knew? We have been around the Mediterranean and other large bodies of water, and it is Winter in this part of the world, so we were not expecting to surf or work on our tan, but other cities have not had attractive beach areas. It is clear that the Barcelona beach scene in the summer is slammin'. We just walked the boardwalk. Most people were in winter coats though Makaila and I were in sweaters and it's clear that their definition of "cold" in this Mediterranean city and ours differ. We found the train station to book our trip south. We found a bano so we could then find dinner.

We walked by this bar/diner/whatever...we still have not figured out intricasies of who serves what at what time of day...anyway some guys were seated near the sidewalk window....what they had looked tastey....we walked in and after ordering a "servesa....por favor" we were eating some sort of rice and seafood skillet dinner. It is Catalunyan...paella,I think, but it was excellent. As usual the waiter disappeared after placing the order on the table, we never saw him near us again exept when we ask the bartender for a bill and then the waiter rushed by like we had the plague and slapped the bill down on the table...this time, truly, never to be seen again. We no longer take this personally, it's obviously some European thing but I don't think it will catch on with the Bob Evans crowd where the waitress returns at least three times after your water glass is set down and asks if "everything is satisfactory."

We leave the beach area and the crowds of parka-wearing Spaniards and head through the edges of Old Town, which is aptly named. But instead of the main drag which is long and stodgy looking we note that there is a parallel street filled with people. This is where the bars, restaurants and little shops are. Keep in mind, this is a huge city and this was but one tiny corner of it. I look a block away and spot a cathedral I had read about. Another find, to be sure.

Santa Maria del Mar. It was hemmed in by buildings on all sides and you would not even notice it unless you were within a half block of it. It was 5:30 and I figured there would be mass and so, no tourists, but tons of people were walking in and taking pictures and we loved the place and walked all around it, even pausing to light a candle (1.5 Euros.....candle inflation in this Med Port City....but blessings on Santa Maria.). Around 6 we were ready to walk out and suddenly there is an announcement over the loud speakers, which I could not hear very well nor understand if I could hear....and like a tsunami, a wave of people came into the cathedral. As they kept coming it was clear that it was time for mass, so good bye to the tourists and make way for the faithful.

I would estimate about 250 worshippers rushed the front door (we ministers are quite good at estimating worshippers). I would also estimate the average age of the worshippers to be at least 75. (We are adept at that estimate too)

I have seen the future of Catholicism in Spain. It is finite. I hope I am wrong. I am but the messenger.

And speaking of age....no one in Spain has gray hair either. I have been in four countries recently and can count on one hand the number of people with gray hair. Obviously my ancestors here in the Old World have developed a heartier strain of DNA for their hair color, though I suspect it has something to do with Alfonso and his professionals.

Peace,  Bob

I Can See the Red Tail Lights

This is travel day...from start to finish. If there is a mode of transportation, we'll use it. We walk down the street to the train station in Florence and wait to board the train to Rome where we will catch a flight to Spain.

Once again, the train is on time...full...and silent.

The other day I mentioned that in a huge cathedral in Florence, someone came on the loud speaker and said, "Silencio, this is a cathedral, please be respectful of the worshippers." There were no worshippers in the church, just a few hundred tourists and history buffs and college students on "Semesters in Italy." But they were all lively and respectful if not a bit noisy, but maybe that old cathedral could use a rousing laugh or cheer or folksong or two. In any case, the "silencio" was broken as soon as the announcement ended and tourists went back to talking in normal voices.

Not so on the trains of Italy. I think there should be an announcement in the middle of the trip...

"Attencione! Passengers are asked to interact with one another for a period of five minutes...kindly talk, laugh and demonstrate that you have a pulse and are not catatonic. We will soon be sending paramedics down the aisles to administer CPR to those who do not appear to be responding to this announcement or fail to register a pulse. Thank you."

I am not kidding, both Makaila and I think the woman beside me may have been on the train for a couple days and may be dead. I appreciate the courtesy of these European travelers...everyone on the train is so civilized....it is all quite nice, but I really think the officials should have checked the core body temperature of the woman next to me. (Actually I would not have minded it so much, but her arm and elbow totally took over the center arm rest.)

The trains in India are a bit different. I traveled mainly second class. I suppose first class had a the silent types and third class had folks packed in like sardines, but second class had a bit of a family atmospher. You had a compartment, without doors where six would sit. You interacted, found out about one another's lives, where they were from and why they wanted to move to the United States. But the trips had a certain flair to them. If you took an overnighter, it was fascinating. You would board at say, 4 pm. For the first two hours you would be all talkative and friendly to your cabin mates showing photos of the grandkids and exhanging emails and telling about your favorite cricket or soccer stars (I just picked some random cricket stars from Mumbai and held forth and for soccer, I would tell of the glories of Manchester United. Everyone in India is familiar with Manchester United and hates them, so the conversations would be great.) About 6 pm the stewards delivered dinner of curry and rice...always quite nice. Lots of chai. Then......bam.....that was it. The Indians set up their beds for the night and they were out. 6:30 pm and they were snoring. There wasn't much to do with lights out and everyone snoring so I would lay on my bunk and listen to Sinatra on the earphones. The next morning the others would be gone because they had left at their cities stop in the middle of the night. But you felt like you were on a trip of significance and got to meet the locals.

European trains are wonderful. Clean. Punctual, they get you from point A to point B with amazing skill. But if someone says, "I think I'll take a trip to Europe and ride the trains and meet the people"...forget it, no one talks. The European Parliments have decreed it....if you want rowdy, noisy, boistrous Europeans and tourists to meet....go to a cathedral. I have been to football games that are quieter.

We arrive at Rome and disembark as the local paramedics administer oxygen to most of the train travelers. We go and buy a ticket for the airport and might I add that Rome got it right....their train to the airport goes RIGHT to the airport. Many big city airport trains deposit you about two miles from the ticket counters. Rome puts you right at the ticket counters. Good job Rome.

We fly to Barcelona. On the flight is a group of say 20 kids who are about 15 years old and they treat the plane flight like an extended pep rally. It is not often that I have flown and had the passengers offer a cheer when the plane takes flight. In a plane, that can be a little disconcerting but I must say, these kids were into the spirit of traveling. I suggest to their chaperones that they could hire them out to enliven the passenger trains of the continent.

Arrival at Barcelona is stunning. The airport is like something out of a Star Wars movie. I think I am going to like this city.

Peace,  Bob

Veni, Vidi, Vici, Ozzy

We are standing in the Duomo and some American lady approaches us.
"I heard your accent, you must be from America. We don't hear many American accents. Where are you from?" she asks.
(I don't bother telling her that at the moment half the tourists in the Duomo are American college students. It seems like any mall in Columbus, except for the Renaissance Art and Architecture.)
"We're from Ohio." we tell her,and judging from her accent it doesn't seem like I should tell her that I used to live in the hometown of William Tecumseh Sherman.
"So few people around here speak English." she responds.
"Maybe it's because we are in Italy." I offer in explanation.
She ponders that.

I have noted that neither of us can do marathon museum hopping, but we have discovered that if we hit a museum first thing in the morning, we are fresh and the places are enjoyable.

Case in point, the Basilica di Santa Croce. We tried to visit it the day before but we were too tired and it did not look so inspiring (no pun intended) but the next day...I felt inspired. And we are glad to have gone. The rule of thumb about Churches in Europe seems to be, if it's a working church, no fee to enter though they may have various exhibits tucked away and charge for that. Fair enough. If they have a huge dome and a thousand stairs to climb for a view over the city, they will charge and we'll pay and be delighted to do so. But the rule of thumb does not seem to apply to Florence. Nearest we can figure out, if it has a door, put an attendant at it and charge the public. Frankly, I don't blame them, the churches are works of art themselves. People seem to come to Florence to see churches and great art treasures and thus think nothing of standing in lines to see this and that....and paying.

Santa Croce has a long and wonderful history, most of which I still do not know since it is mainly explained in Italian (our friend is right....what is with all this Italian language stuff?). But, at first glance we can tell we have entered a gem of a Basilica. Currently they have massive scaffolding up behind and above the altar. Floor to ceiling scaffolding and the ceiling is a long way up. The roof of the basilica is wooden, and appears to have inlaid pieces too. Not sure of the term, but am sure of the effect...stunning.

Upon closer inspection, the area behind the altar (probably 8 stories high) has numerous workers/artists working on the frescoes which are astounding, according to the photos of the project. Hanging on the scaffolding, is the crucifix.

Actually it is a copy of the original from behind the altar but I like that they have included it within the work project and thus stated very clearly that this house of worship is still sacred. But we discovered later that there is much more behind this crucifix.

We wandered the entire sanctuary. Beautiful. The exhibits indicate that in numerous ways this church is tied to the illuminaries of the Renaissance through their work, burial or memorials. Off in one corner is a chapel and then there is a hall and it tells the story of this church, partially in English (I tell Makaila to go and find our friend and that these Italians are finally paying attention to her). This a Franciscan church and am a bit foggy on whether St. Francis actually was here or not, but he is obviously revered. They have a robe he actually wore, that is quite interesting to me. It could use some dry cleaning but that may defeat it's purpose, but I am intrigued.

Of its more recent history, the Arno River, a few blocks away, flooded in 1966 and brought several feet of water into the town and this very church, and left several feet of muck in the basilica. It was a tragedy. But the people of Florence took charge and there are pictures of the sacred crucifix being resecued (and here is where the English version of these events is lost and they keep printing Italian...what are they thinking?!) But it shows men and soldiers carrying the crucifix out of the church, where it evidently has crashed to the floor into the muck. The church and city painstakingly cleaned up (I assume the Army Corp of Engineers built some flood control on the Arno) and Pope Paul VI came and celebrated mass just outside the church doors in the piazza.

We wandered further down the hall of the cloisters and read about the thriving trade in Florence of leather work. This region has been connected with the trade of leather hydes for about a thousand years and the Franciscans, when they built the basilica continued the trade as a means of support. Sometime after WWII they trained war orphans in this art as a means of livlihood. Then about 1950 a distinguished Italian family joined with the Franciscans and now they have a world-class distinguished leather making venture. I am not sure how this capitalism/church thing is put together churchwise but the bags, coats, shoes and desk sets are incredible. Florence has more leather shops per capita than anywhere. Every street has numerous expensive leather shops. Beautiful works of art and design. The Franciscans are right in the midst of it. Good for them.

So, after touring the church, we toured the leather displays, I regretted that they did not go into winemaking like good monks, though I think designer bags is more lucrative. In one room they had pictures of the famous who had stopped in to see their leather designer items....Ted Kennedy, Jack Nicklaus, Prince Charles and Princess Di, a couple Popes and.....Ozzy Osborn. It was surreal. I don't think I ever imagined writing one sentence with those people in it. We decided not to buy anything since we still had to eat on this trip.

Another turn around a corner reveled a museum in the back of the cloisters and we entered it also, it was just off the gardens. The church had assembled various pieces of high art and historical items in their museum. Finding great art and history in the basements of Florence is about as difficult as finding beefy linebackers at Ohio State. So we enjoyed another half hour in the museum and what we discovered is that the sacred crucifix, nearly destroyed by the flood and blessed by Pope Paul VI now resides in the final room of the museum in of the basilica.

 Later as we walked across the Piazza out front, I came across a store selling religious items and one of them was a small copy of the crucifix. I bought it and will hang it on my wall in the office some day. It's an inspiring story. The owner of shop admired my choice and said told me who created the original crucifix which we had just seen, but alas, he said it all in Italian.

Our time in Florence is nearly over. You would be foolish to think that you could even scratch the surface of this great Renaissance City in three days, but you would even be more of a fool if you did not try.

Ciao,     Bob

Trippin' in The Duomo

"Hello Mildred, This is Cynthia, I am in Florence, Italy. I'm standing in the rain on the Ponte Vecchio. What shop was it that you bought your jewelry?"
(I and most of the other tourists in Florence are overhearing this cell phone conversation in front of all the jewelry shops in this shopping district)
"It was in Venice!? Oh, dear!"

Florence is unlike anything I have ever seen. Oh, I have seen European cities with an "old world" feel which has come about by restoration and for commerce. But Florence is endless for its winding streets and wonderful buildings and Renaissance Art and you name it.....

It has style in so many ways.

Yesterday our plan was to visit one of the showplaces of this city....The Duomo....or Cathedral de Santa Maria del Fiore. It is called The Duomo for short. Duomo from the Latin, domus or house. It is the house of the Bishop and I suppose it has more significance than that, but for the moment, since I am now familiar with all-things-Florence and in touch with its depth of culture.....it is just The Duomo.

Florence also has more Japanese and American tourists than I have seen outside of Tokyo and New York. All the Japanese are in huge tour groups and are of various ages. All the Americans are about 20 and I assume are college students on semesters in Florence or Italy. The all have notebooks and they aren't fooling anyone...they are paying more attention to each other than to the tour or university guides. If I were 20, I would be too. But, this is winter, and tourism is a bit slow, even for Florence and in spite of the hoards of Japanese and Americans, the crowds are relatively thin.

So, our plan is the wonderful and famous Duomo. It is but a few blocks from our Hotel Paris (by the way, when in Athens, we stayed at the Hotel Rio. In keeping with the theme of mismatched hotel/city names, we hope to book the Hotel Dublin for Paris.).

I am not sure what hallucinogens the architects for the outside of the Duomo were on but it defies description and so I will try to describe it anyway. Can you picture a huge gray, hulking cathedral in the midst of Europe? If so...take a 180 degree turn and imagine a white, pink marble cathedral which would cause even the Grateful Dead to think they were on a bad trip.

It is incredible. I really love it, but if I were on the architectural committee, this probably would have been the first entry I would have tossed. If I were any of the other buildings or cathedrals or churches in Florence, I would be jealous.

The Duomo is one of a kind. Actually I love it, but I would have thought a Renessance city would not approve of such ..... boldness. I suggest you Google it and see for yourself. You will not soon forget its style.

And yet....enter the Catedral.....and the architectural feeling for me is....."tailored." The inside is just beautiful and.....tailored. So many cathedrals are from the "I think we have room for one or two more memorials or artworks or flying buttresses in this tiny corner of the church" school of design. Most cathedrals look like the architecture has an overall flow but the chapels and paintings and statues are random according to the donor or what side of the bed the designer woke up that morning. Not so with the interieor of the Duomo....in contrast with its riot of color on the outside, the inside is...tailored. Just wonderful. It flows from corner to corner, from wall to ceiling.

And....good luck with this one.....in the midst of all the tourists (Japanese and American college students)....over the loud speaker comes a warning..."Attention, this is a house of worship...silence please." "Silencio!" And they also asked for no flash pictures. That didn't happen either.

The Japansese couldn't understand that and the American kids were too busy flirting with one another to hear anything besides the Ipods in their ears. The silence lasted as long as the announcement lasted and then resumed to a full roar.

But like a couple of kids ourselves, Makaila and I note that you can take the stairs to the top of the cathedral (like at St. Peters in Rome) and see the rotunda and view Florence from the very top of the Duomo. We are on it! Pay 6 Euros each and start walking. It is about 320 stairs.

All due respect to the Vatican, but the Duomo is much easier to climb. The stairs are more symmetrical and there is more room for a body to climb. Granted St. Peters is much more mysterious and causes more off-balance climbing and after all, you ARE in the Vatican and that is very cool, but the Duomo was a bit easier. The Duomo also has tons and tons of grafitti in the passageways, and dozens of signs which say, "Do not write on the walls." Though you could not hardly read the signs since people had written all over them. Also, the "do not write" signs may have been counter-productive. I didn't think much of the grafitti until I noticed signs forbidding it and then that is all I could see in the passageways. By the way....the preferred marking pen color for Japanese tourists for doing the forbidden writing is electric pink. The American kids, too busy flirting with other co-eds, didn't even notice the signs for the stairs to the dome and so missed it all together.

Best 6 Euros I have ever spent at one time.....The View from the Top of the Duomo over Florence. And not only THAT.....when I paid our 12 Euros for the tour.....I handed them a 50 Euro note and they did not even bat an eye. I got change without drama. Churches will always make change if someone is willing to give them some money. Trust me, I know.

Peace,  Bob

I Needed One More Fare to Make My Night

The other day I was familiar enough AND oriented enough to ask a lost couple at a street corner, pulling their suitcases and looking bewildered at a map...if they needed directions.
Makaila said, "Dad, you don't know where anything in Rome is!"
I told her, "You are right, but for the first time in many days, I finally know where I am!"

Rooftops of Florence

Travel days....i.e. those days where we are between one hotel and another, bring about a different pace. It is strange how one can become attached and familiar with a small hotel room which one was not even aware existed a few days earlier. But, then, we were known a bit by the hotel desk men who greeted us as if we were old friends. (who had a charge card) The breakfast staff knew us by sight, if not by name or hometown or destination. When we walked out of the hotel in Rome, we knew which way to turn to head towards several general destinations. When we left for the train station, we could negotiate the walk without the map. But, now we leave all that.

Trains in Europe are an excercise in "manging personal space." The writer Paul Theroux commented on how crowded it was in China and that if you had binoculars and looked through them at some sight across a valley you would probably see someone there with binoculars looking back at you. I know I experienced that feeling in India....the only difference is that in India someone would be standing next to you waiting to borrow your binoculars. It was crowded. Mannerly in a sense, but crowded.

Europe is less crowded, but they have chosen to travel together in trains, which brings all of humanity in one cylindrical tube. In the States we put two people in a car and head for the coast. We put three people in a minivan and drive across the state. The only time you need to interact with one another is when you stop at the rest stop or pump gas....and even then interactions are minimal. It's fascinating on trains in Europe how we (or they, whomever) insulate themselves. Americans seem to have the notion that if we are all traveling together that we should probably get to know each others names, blood types and then sing Kum Bah Ya with those in around us.

Not so on European trains. We non-native speakers get special dispensation. As soon as we drag our suitcase on the train we are marked as Americans and while we are accorded as much respect as anyone, folks realize they don't even have to make small niceties since we probably don't know the language. Of course they are right, we don't know the language. But I notice that say, in Italy, Italians on trains pretty much ignore other Italians. There is very, very little of the old, "Good morning, how are you, where are you from, I hope you have a nice trip, my Junior sure is cute, how about that football game last night" stuff.

European trains. Whoosh! goes the train. Silence is the order of the day for the passengers. I know there are a variety of nationalities and that makes for language barriers, not just for us Americans, but it's fascinating. The train car is packed and their is virtual silence. Save for the constant "beeping" and "dingalinging" sound of cell phones. If it weren't for cell phones, one would swear that on trains, someone had hit the "Mute" button.

Love the trains though. I don't suppose America would ever consider something like that would we? Maybe I'll suggest it. Maybe someone just never got around to mentioning it. I can hear Congress now, "Oh, man! I knew there was something we forgot...a rail system!"

Florence, Cradle of the Renaissance. Or so I am told and so I will soon discover. We got in to the station. Took a cab. Discovered that you can practically spit out the hotel on the train station.

By the way, here is a great European travel tip which I am about to offer. I think it applies mainly to Italy, though not sure why and it has surprised me.... but Makaila will back me up on this...

Get small currency. Get small, one, two and five Euros. When you get cash from an ATM...say 200 Euros...and it dispensed in 4x50 Euros....walk back into the bank and break the 50's. Get 10 fives for every 50. 

Merchants in this country nearly have a collective fit when you produce even a twenty Euro. You'd think they were up for an Oscar each time you produce a 20 to pay for an 8 Euro bill. They make this shoulder slump type thing, then they roll their eyes, then mutter some sort of italian thing which I am probably better off not knowing. Then they throw up their hands in an attitude of helpless and hopeless dispondency. All for a 20 Euro bill. I haven't seen such acting since I tried to ask Debbie Jane to the Senior Prom in Lima.

Yesterday the cabbie nearly called in the military when I produced a 20 for the cab ride. You'd have thought the Greeks had invaded. I suppose that would produce less reaction from him.

I love this country, see all the sights, but avoid the 20 Euro notes. Much too much drama.

Peace,  Bob

Thrown to the Lions: We Came, We Saw, We Ate Gelato

"Tour  of the Coloseum sir, Speak English? Sprecken ze Deutch? Habla Espanol??  Say ALL the tour operators standing in front of the Coloseum.

We had no intention of a tour guide and so kept walking past and 5 minutes away we purchased our Coloseum and Palatine Hill tickets. Walked back to the Coloseum and past the Tour Guides.

"Sir....Tour! The lines are 30 minutes long to get in and I can get you in now."We walked on past the Guides, into the underneath area of the Coloseum, past the 30 minute ticket buying lines. past the Tour Group Area....up to the turnstiles, handed them our ticket purchased but 5 minutes earlier down the street and walked in.

(Our thanks to both Lonely Planet and Rick Steves who suggested we bypass the lines and Guides and Coloseum ticket booth and buy tickets down the street and return.)

We scoped out the Coloseum on Friday and decided that our visit and tour of the ancient ruins would be on Monday when we could arrive early. So we did.

I have continual visions of the Coloseum being in a big open place with cars circling the ancient ruins in the midst of Rome. Well the Coloseum is big and old and the cars do circle the ruins, but it is sort of wedged into the midst of Rome and to walk the neighborhoods is to walk through multiple layers (literally) of history. Like seeing the various layers of eons on the walls of the Grand Canyon, one can walk through time as one tours the Coloseum, the Forum and Palatine Hill. In a few hour, a tourist such as myself is indeed walking through time.

It goes from the sublime to the ridiculous or in this case, it begins with sublime upon seeing the very first glimpse of the Coloseum after walking through the streets of Rome. The scene turns ridiculous as half the knick knack sellers of the Western World descend upon you with trinkets and tours. There are also a group of beefy men dressed as "Romans" who will pose for pictures for a fee and you'll have an ancient gladiator or a Ceasar. Most of the costumed "Romans" look bored as they smoke and check their cell phones. They also look a bit scarey and bear no resemblance to modern Romans who are followers of fashion, though I suppose in their day, the ancient Romans were also.

The first moment of walking into the Coloseum is a bit of a dramatic moment, we have all seen countless movies of Rome and the modern and ancient Coleseum and this place is so big and massive that even time could not wear it down and here I am today walking through it. Alas, like so many antiquities, it has had its share of re-builds and retorations. Much of the Coloseum is missing and today, it seems as if the focus of us tourists is the under-the-coloseum floor warren of passages which are exposed since the floor of the actual arena is long since gone.

Apparently the ancient and Middle Ages Romans had better things to do with cut stone and marble once they had finished with the Coloseum as a focal point of their public lives. Many of those stones were carted off to be a part of other buildings and Cathedrals. Good for them, it's ancient recycling. Bad for us...we are left with an incomplete shell. But, I tip my hat to the people of Rome, the Coloseum is a must-see and it is in good condition to visit and exercise one's imagination with the grandeur of Ancient Rome.

We wander from the street level to the next level up and walked all around that upper level. A couple higher levels are tourist-accessible but not for us. No matter. We took in all the angles of the place and marveled at the brick, stone and marble structure. I kept trying to picture Ben Hur in his chariot race in the place, but I had the wrong movie and place. Russell Crow in Gladiator is a good reference for what Hollywood has done to popularize the vision of the Coloseum.

Like the Grand Canyon, the Coloseum needs to be seen from as many angles as possible, using one's imagination and marveling that this ancient structure is today circled by Fiat's and Toyota's on the modern city streets of Rome. It is a must-see. We came and we saw. We're glad.

But like the ancient Gladiators, we had to face the real test AFTER the Coloseum...that of the Tour Guides and trinket sellers outside the gate. And we did and we moved quickly down the street to The Forum.

Inside the Forum, one can wander an active re-creation and on-going archeological site. And it is smack in the midst of Rome. It is wonderful to imagine. There are columns of this building and excavations of that set of buildings and Arches commemorating that battle which turned the tide for Rome or subjected a conquered people to slavery and destruction. Interesting how the victors write the history in their favor.

We thoroughly enjoyed the Forum and the connected...Palatine Hill which had an almost calm City Park atmosphere about it. By seeing all three of those Ancient Rome sites....all within about five minutes of each other....one can enter Ancient times and return all within a couple hours.

We took note that modern Rome for all its creature comforts does not include Water Closets high on their list of tourist friendly necessities. But, you just keep walking.

After a few hours, the antiquities start to blur, something old....and here is something older....and over there is a bunch of old things....and next to it some more old stuff. Yes, I know these things are the pride of Ancient Rome and the Western Civilizations which came after. The day was truly a highlight of the trip thus far and it will be remembered fondly.

Our greatest achievement (amidst all the achievements of Ancient Rome)? We knew exactly where to find our favorite Gelato store (and that they had modern bathrooms) and we could negotiate our way back through Rome via the Piazzas which everyone loves so much....and we could do it all without a city map.

All who wander are not lost, as someone else said.

Peace,  Bob

When in Rome

Greetings All,
All roads lead to Rome. Rome is the center of the fashion universe. Rome is the center of the cafe society. Great people. Astounding scenery. Delighted to be here.

But, it will never be confused with Silicon Valley in California.
I think I have seen one Wifi ad on one restaurant. They are probably too civilized to taint their cafes and restaurants with wifi and one can't blame them.
Our hotel lost wifi for a couple days. I asked the manager if they might get it back. "Tomorrow maybe. Maybe not." He replied.
He wasn't too concerned about it and it took 48 hours. My life continued even without wifi and that in itself was a revelation. 

So, I have a couple back-Blogs from Saturday when we visited the Vatican. For some reason the Moderator of our Church Council neglected to inform the Pope that the Senior Minister of Dublin Community Church was in Rome or the memo was still in the "In" box which he forgot to read...hence, I got no Papal Audience.

 Should he come to Dublin, I will take him to J. Liu's across the street. Somehow having Asian Fusion food with the German Pope and leader of the Holy Roman Catholic Church just seems so right.

 I could tell him about our 200 years of existence and he could tell me about their 2000 years of existence.
I could tell them about our church budget and he could tell me that they own a sovereign state. 
I could tell them about our 800 members. He could tell me about their 800 million members.
I could tell them about our female Associate Minister. He could.......end of conversation.

But, I was delighted I was granted free entry in to St. Peter's. So there are some perks to being a UCC minister.
I later found out that everyone gets in free, saints and sinners alike.
Here are a couple back-Blogs. Feel free to read or delete at your own leisure.
Bob