From the Mouth of Babes...

Salvete!

I'm typing this from our Roman appartment, three floors above the bustling street.  We arrived in our spacious quarters after hours of travel.  I'm not really sure how long we travelled or how long I was awake; time got rather out of joint at some point along the way.  Neither my uncle nor I slept even for a moment on the flight from Detroit to Rome.  Instead, we watched the sun rise over Spain and jammed out to Queen.  Well, we couldn't particularly see the sun or Spain, but we watched the pink-tinged clouds over Spain until things cleared up and we could see the crumpled green and brown rug spread out beneath.  Arriving in the Roman airport was a shock; our passports were given a very cursory glance and we were hustled into a grimy baggage claim patrolled by drug dogs.  At length, we stepped out of the airport and into a waiting car, which whisked us into Rome proper.

Rome flashed by the windows, presenting an incongruous admixture of old and new.  Grand marble facades jostled with rundown, grafittied buildings.  Compact European cars, American cars, Smart Cars, and a variety of moterbikes clogged every available parking space and then some.  The most dramatic sight was suddently emerging from a cramped street at the foot of the Circus Maximus, which towered above us like a lost city, improbably huge and ancient.  The visa flashed by, however, and we careened through a tight alley lined on both sides with parked cars and pedestrians.  Eventually, we emerged from the car onto a narrow, crowded sidewalk near the apartment, met the proprietor, and settled in.

In ancient times, Rome was built on seven hills.  The modern result is that the streets plunge steeply downward in some place, then surge back up.  Some of these streets are evenly paved, but many, particularly the network of alleys, consist of somewhat uneven cobblestones.  The roads are often very narrow, and the sidewalks are narrower, typically allowing no more than two to walk abreast.  Unlike New York, much of Rome lacks anything remotely resembling a well-planned system of blocks.  The streets cross at random, often intersecting at odd angles, or in juctures of five or three streets.  Navigation is made difficult by the fact that many of the smaller streets don't appear on maps.

American and even European tourists stand in stark contrast to the native Romans, who size us up and dismiss us with narry a glance.  The Roman men wear sportsjackets and leather shoes or sneakers and have a distinctive Italian look.  The broad gesticulating and city-bred tendency of walking briskly and purposefuly don't hurt, either.  Many people smoke, and the smell lingers nearly everywhere, migled with the aroma of Italian food and the general smell of the city.

After lunch and a nap, we forayed out to the Spanish Steps and the Trevi Fountain.  Both are more grandiose--and crowded--than pictures can convey.  We eached flipped a coin over our shoulders into the fountain to ensure our return to Rome.  Then, we walked a few blocks to escape the zoo and stopped for dinner.  I won't unduly tantalize you, but I will say that Italian food as made (and eaten) in Italy is incomperable to American versions.  I look forward to many more meals!

Until Next Time,
Courtney

P.S. I apologize for the length! Please feel free to forward this to anyone and please pass on to me the email addresses of anyone I missed.