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Will and Kristina spent a week in the Eternal City in January ‘05. Ancient Ruins, Renaissance Cathedrals, and Louis Vitton. ...And a lot of really funny looking cars. We took pictures of it all, and present it here for your viewing pleasure.
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The preflight meal. We're feeling good, made it through the 8 mile long check in and security lines, and we had a half an hour to spare. Little did we know that the insideous French were already plotting against our timely arrival in Rome.
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Bienvenu a Air France. Where you get nice gift packets just for coming on board, and video games for free on the TV's in the seat backs. It's amazing what the French airlines managed to do with state subsidies. Why oh why couldn't American carriers leverage government money to such great effect.
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Lift off at sunset from Dulles international. 6.5 hours till Paris.
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Sign of trouble #1: We taxied PAST the concourse and out to a field with rabbits hopping around in front of the runway signs. This was followed (after a longish bus ride) by Sign of trouble #2: 270 people piling off the plains into the customs line with only two surly customs officers on duity. Sign of trouble #3: The big metal door behind customs opens up to the outside of the airport, so if you have a connecting flight, you're back in the security lines with everyone else.
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This is the ceiling of the airport. After Kristina was hand searched at the security gate (probably for only barely restraining herself from beating the crap out of the Air France stooges that kept dragging their feet with us, even after looking at our tickets and saying "oooh you are be very close") we sprinted through the airport only to find out that we had missed the flight. This was in spite of the big lighted sign that said our flight was still boarding. Did we mention that even as we ran up to the gate and pointed wildly at the door waving our tickets, the stewardess kept talking leisurely on the phone after dismissively waving her hand at us, then finally hung up the phone, looked at our ticket, said "oooh you are be very close", looked at her computer and then said "oh, no, is gone" and pointed us in the wrong direction (back through the security line) to go talk to someone else.
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By this time we had gotten wise to the Air France game, so we went in the opposite direction from what the stewardess told us. We spoke to a nice lady behind a different counter who said "I'm sorry I have to give you such a bad customer experience, but I do" and then put us on a later flight, after asking if we would like to have our luggage make it to Rome with us. (Apparently we could choose to have them lose it up front, taking the uncertainty out of it - we chose to gamble.) Needless to say we had a good amount of time to kill until the next flight, so we pressed buttons on the stupid French pay phones trying to call the Hotel and tell them we'd be late. Oh yeah, and we took more pictures of the ceiling.
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Once we escaped the black hole of Charles De Gaul, we continued on our journey on Air France. Yet again, we were impressed by the service and free stuff. Here you see what is left of my Air France breakfast, AFTER I ate what I wanted out of it (fruit cup, some sweet pastries).
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Tickets? We don’t need no stinkin tickets.
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We made some navigational mental quantum leaps and determined that we flew south through what we are calling the Pyrenees mountains. They could have been the Rockies, or maybe baked Alaska. Regardless, they were impressive, even from the window of the airplane. As we got closer to Rome, the landscape flattened out some and started looking very much like any rural town, with fields broken up by rows of trees, and little farm houses across the landscape.
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The Hotel San Carlo is situated on the corner of to very narrow streets, surrounded by fashion shops, little local eateries, and famous places. Our room is on the top floor, accessible by only a narrow, four flight staircase with marble steps. The room is modestly sized, with all tile floors, and no power outlets. Even with this shortcoming, it’s a marvelous room, with decorative iron shuttered windows, and an amazingly comfortable bed.
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The view from our room is equally impressive, with a slice of old world charm right out side. At night with the windows open, we can hear birds on the rooftops, and the occasional scooter racing through the narrow streets.
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On our first foray out of the hotel, we were really only trying to get a read on where some things were in relation to the hotel, not actually going looking for anything in particular. We stumbled on the basilica of Saint Ambrogio E Carlo entirely by accident. It was maybe a half block from our hotel, and is just one example of the amazing things that appear to be found on any random block of Rome.
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Basilica of Saint Ambrogio – The head of John the Baptist I believe.
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Basilica of Saint Ambrogio – Looking up at one of the side chambers of the main hall.
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Basilica of Saint Ambrogio – The main altar.
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Basilica of Saint Ambrogio – In the hall behind the main altar, Saint Joseph can be found overlooking the spot where the remains of some saint are buried.
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Basilica of Saint Ambrogio, heading out the door, looking up.
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We had caught a glimpse of an orange streak out of the corner of our eye while walking around down town looking for the internet café. We found what it was about 30 minutes later when we walked past the Lamborghini dealership. We were not allowed inside.
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These little cars (if you can call them cars) are all over the place. People park them on curbs, in the medians, or like this one, on side walks. Kristina was just about to hotwire this specimen, when a pair of shoes in a nearby shop window caught her attention and she abandoned it.
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Another random amazing sight in Rome – we were just wandering around, wondering how we were ever going to find our way back to the hotel, when out of no where Kristina stops walking and says “BALLOON!” I said “what???” thinking a kid had let go of their McDonalds toy or something. She then pointed around some ancient arch that was getting in the way of a perfectly good street (and my view of the balloon) and sure enough, there was this balloon, slowly descending into a downtown park.
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As we continued down the street, we happened across several more remarkable vehicles, including several diesel BMW’s, and this old Volvo (I think).
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As the sun was setting, we found our way back to the Spanish Steps, a landmark two blocks from our hotel. Here’s the view out across Rome from the top of the steps. The church is the Basilica of Saint Ambrogio (yes the same one we accidentally found earlier in the day). I was forced to Photoshop out the giant crane in the background. You're not missing much.
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Still heading home, this is a shot of the main drags we walk on regularly to get to and from the hotel. This is taken from about ˝ way down the Spanish Steps. The traffic on the street is normal – all the streets, even major thoroughfares with lots of car traffic, look like this.
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For comparison here’s that same street at about 2 in the morning. (Amazing the photographic opportunities jet lag affords you.)
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This is Kristina at the Spanish Steps. I’m not sure, but I think the sign to her right says “Welcome to the Spanish Steps. Please, watch your step.”
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We ate dinner on our first night in Rome at Nino’s – a tiny little restaurant around the corner from our hotel that, according to our concierge, “has better food than ambiance”. We found both quite satisfactory. I had seafood pasta, and Kristina had risotto. We both had plenty of house wine (the waiters made sure we were well supplied).
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Here’s my dinner, in all its Pescatore Glory. Kristina’s risotto was equally excellent, but considerably less photogenic.
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Nino’s – we recommend eating here if you ever find yourself in the middle of down town Italy in need some come great Italian food.
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After such a meal, and such a quantity of wine, even the most mundane becomes fascinating. Take for example this run of the mill door knocker. (It's the size of a human head.)
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With enough Italian wine, one might be tempted to go do something rash, like buy the most EXPENSIVE and DIFFERENT magnet in the world. Luckily the store was closed and we were forced to head for home instead.
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On the way back we happened across an Italian motorcycle in its native land…
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…and stumbled across a Louis Vuitton shop, prompting Kristina to think she had found HER native land. We hurried home and to bed before we did anything rash.
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