Skip to main content

Roma, day One


I left my flat very early in the morning, but still managed to be so late to my flight that they had given away almost all of the seats and had to put me in business class. Woe is me! I had to use real silverware and drink out of an actual ceramic cup! I wish I could always fly business class--it makes you feel like a real human being. I landed in Italy and found the train into the city. The view from the train windows looked much like Chicago or the outskirts of any major city. Apartment buildings crammed together, laundry hanging from balconies, graffiti here there and everywhere, lots of trash... but there were also Mediterranean-type palm trees (which I haven't seen in a while) and a general Santa Barbara-type feel to all the city-ness that made it quite an enjoyable train ride. The station was a fifteen minute walk from my hostel and I had printed out a detailed map from Google to help me on my way. My little wheelie suitcase bore the jutted cobblestones very well, and the Italians seemed not to mind the entrance of another tourist into their city. There were lots of shops, but nothing remarkably ancient. Chaeli was asleep in the hostel when I arrived, for she had been travelling for about 22 hours or something like that. I was going to go out and explore for a bit, but found that I, too, was tired. So I took a two hour nap, woke her up, and we left to peruse the city. It was evening by this time, so we headed for the Spanish steps (I believe in the film Roman Holiday, Gregory Peck holds a watermelon on these steps while Audrey Hepburn eats gelato. I could be wrong...). The church at the top of the steps is supposed to be worth looking at, but a column-monument directly in front of it was having some work done, so I mostly saw lots of scaffolding. The view from the top of the steps, however, was not a disappointment. There were lots of city lights and a few important-looking domes all lit up across the landscape. Chaeli and I followed this with some dinner (I had gnocchi with gorgonzolla sauce; very yummy) and more wandering around. Altogether, I was struck with a remarkable sense of safety. Either Rome is a very gentle city (excepting the pickpockets), or the Spirit of God was favouring us with particular grace. This sense of safety lasted the entire trip, no matter how late or how lost (though we were never really lost) we found ourselves. All was always very well. Everyone around us was very gracious and full of goodwill.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

window in the sub

Dear Nathaniel, I am microwaving pie that Mom bought up in Oak Glen this week on her way home from the orthodontist. As I put it in the microwave, I was full of sadness that I was not in Oak Glen with her. Why did I not go? I was working. I want to see the trees turn. I want to wander slowly through autumnal gift shops. Under the water, you cannot sense the approach of the seasons. Even here it is difficult because, after all, it's California. But I can still sense it. After three seasons in Illinois and one in Scotland, it must be with me for good. Or at least for a while. Because I am all abuzz with eagerness for fall and winter, for turkeys and dried leaves and Santa. I should start cooking again this fall. Fall foods are my favorite. Baked squash dripping with melted butter and brown sugar, pumpkin soup... this year, if I have enough money, I will put together a holiday dinner for my friends. And we will drink Scandinavian mulled wine, which is the most wonderful thing I have e...

At the close of nine years

I'm moving to Texas in less than two months. I've lived in Long Beach now for nine years. Already I have stacks of books covering my dining room table that I'll be reading for my PhD program in the fall. I've quietly begun the tedious work of sorting and cleaning everything in my little apartment. I'm scheduling all of my last days with friends, moving through my calendar in reverse order from when I expect to slip into my car and drive away. This is the longest I've lived in one place, so I've never really experienced a leaving quite like this before. I remember the day I left Wheaton, closing the bedroom door on my best friend, walking down to Chaeli's car so she could drive me to the airport. (The greatest grace of Texas is that she will be there. Some friends we never lose completely.) I remember leaving California for Scotland—walking away from my mother in the Palm Springs airport. We leave people who have changed us, and we leave places that ha...

wanderlust

I am going home tomorrow morning. This is a strange idea. It will be a stranger reality. I am glad to go home, glad to step away from this world for just a moment, to better see it new and fresh but familiar when I return. More than this, I am glad for my sister's wedding. Glad for the vows, the strange appearance of extended family members, the green skirt. Glad for seeing my brother and my mother and everyone. Glad for the twos-on-twos. On the airplane, I will do my best to blitz through Samuel Richardson's Pamela. I will ignore the assigned readings of Foucault's "The Deployment of Sexuality," in part because I couldn't get it at the library and because I don't want to buy it, but most of all because I simply don't want to read it. I will read the essay by Adorno instead, and the chapter of Adorno and Horkheimer that I couldn't finish last night. I will listed to Rob D on my iPod. I will buy an overpriced sandwich in the airport. One of the airp...