Early Afternoon
I woke up still groggy from last night's news. The overhanging air of sadness was not helped by a complete lack of hot water and a continental breakfast that tasted like it was flown in weeks ago from one of the lesser continents.
I decided that the best thing for my mood would be to take a good long walk. I headed down the Via Cavour to the Colosseum. It was 9:00 so the sun was up but not yet hot. I sat in the shade of the old walls facing the Constantine Arch and just let my mind wander. After about a half hour, I decided that the time had come to do something I had always promised myself but had never quite accomplished.
The Vittoriano sits at the opposite end of the Roman ruins from the Colosseum. I have always loved this building unconditionally and make it a point to gawk at it whenever I come to Rome. The only way I've ever been able to describe is to say that it looks like a ridiculously overdone Italian wedding cake plopped down at the end of the Via di Corso. Dazzling white and layered with a massive staircase and not quite matching floors, the obvious intent was to recall Roman Imperial architecture. The irony is that it commemorates the victories of Vittorio Emmanuele in the Risorgimento, the unification of Italy in the 1860's after having been carved up by the Romans two thousand years before.
I ascended the long exterior stairway that stretches the breadth of the first several floors. Nowadays, the monument does double duty - celebrating the victories of Vittorio Emmanuele as well as extolling the virtues of the Italian military. To the latter end, there are two halls of photos of Italian soldiers, most showing them smiling and being nice to Arabs. Like most American depictions of the military, it scores points for public relations, but avoids mentioning the actual work accomplished.
The former is much more interesting. A long hallway that runs the length of the monument details the history of the Risorgimento in a way that makes it easily grasped. Quite an accomplishment since the joining together of the nation required complex negotiations with foreign powers and constantly clashing egos as well as numerous battles.
I worked my way through this then went onto the terrace overlooking the ruins. Across the street are two domed churches I've always found quite striking. Figuring that the goal so far had been to go inside places I'd only seen from the outside, I headed out and across the street. One of the churches, Nome di Maria, was closed. The other was blessedly open. An overwhelming series of murals and reflection stations, the small round church shoots up like a Renaissance silo to the spectacularly painted dome. It's practically an orgy of iconography. I looked around for the name of this one but it was nowhere to be found on the building. I'll have to look it up.
About this time the sun was beginning to get quite hot. I decided to head up the Via Nazionale so I could get some production shots on my way back to the hotel. I wanted at least a few minutes of air conditioning before I had to leave for my 1:30 meeting.
Early Evening
I caught the subway at the Termini and took it to Lepanto, a stop just the other side of the Tiber. The Roman subway system is quite different than any other subway I know in Europe. For one thing, it isn't exactly clean. I don't know how they do it, but most European subway stations and trains are so clean you could eat off the floor. In Rome, you just stick to them. It isn't anything that I'm not used to - it's remarkably similar in that sense to Chicago's Red Line - but it always throws me a little when I'm here. On the other hand, it is efficient and fast.
Just before getting on the train I texted Giovanni Piperno, the producer with whom I was to have lunch, a brief description so that he could recognize me. I agreed to wait just outside the Lepanto station exit. Fortunately, there was a shaded island right next to it so I decided to wait there. About two minutes later, Giovanni came flying across the intersection on his silver Mata-framed bike. Dressed like a slightly disheveled young professional crowned by a beat-up riding helmet, he skidded to a stop not quite short of the curb in front of me.
"You are Ron," he said. "I take you to a little place here for the not sophisticated."
O.K..
We walked about two blocks to a little corner bar/ristorante, the kind where you have to go in, order and pick up your food and the only time you see a waiter is when he brings you your check. I got a plate of spaghetti with oil and zucchini and we found a table outside. Just as we were about to start eating, a young waitress came by and told us we had to move because this particular table was reserved. We shifted one table to the right.
Giovanni is the kind of person who gets a great kick out of networking. As soon as we sat down, he starting giving me a battery of names and emails, all of whom he also wrote down with notes to himself about getting ahold of them before me. Many were contacts to different film commissions that we would need to meet with. The most interesting contact was to Giovanna Taviani, the daughter of one of the Taviani brothers. She is apparently a solid filmmaker in her own right and has had multiple dealings with Sicilian authorities. Hers, Giovanni assured me, was necessary information to have, particularly since the term "Sicilian authorities" is sometimes a euphemism for "Mafia." These folks apparently insist on pay-offs if we are to shoot in Sicily.
When lunch was over I decided to walk to the Vatican, about a mile or so away. It was beginning to get fairly hot so I stuck to the shade as much as possible. I wound up approaching Vatican City from the side with Musei Vaticani (aka the Sistine Chapel) and the papal residence. This means moving along the massive wall that reminds one that that this was meant to be a fortress as much as the home of a religion.
The St. Peter's Square was, as always, crowded. My mission for this visit was to get a decent series of pictures of the basilica. Because of issues of lighting and time of day, I have never gotten any good shots of St. Peter despite how many times I have been here and tried. This time, I did better than I have in the past, but still not perfect. Ah yes, I guess another visit someday.
I grabbed a bus and got back to the room in time to call Bridget. I also tried calling Diana and Joe to see how they were doing but, not surprisingly, they weren't picking up the phone. I left a message telling them I loved them and giving them my number in case they wanted to call back.
A bit on my meeting with Davide last night. We had agreed to meet at the information booth at the Termini. I gave him a quick description of me and he gave one of himself. He told me that he was tall, had black hair and would be dressed in black and carrying a black bag. I didn't say it to him, but I thought, "You've just described 80% of all Italian men."
The real problem, though, had less to do with looks than it did with the meeting place. Since my last visit here, they have started a new system for giving out information. The booth is on wheels and they push it about the Termini. This makes it a difficult to meet someone in front of it. This led to a series of texts telling Davide that I was at the end of Binari 1 (where the information booth had just landed) and that I would wait for him there. When he didn't respond, I called his number. An older woman answered. I tried asking for him but she only said something in Italian. As it turned out, this was Davide's mother. She immediately called him and told him that his father was making prank calls. Somehow, he tumbled to the fact that the caller was not his father, but me. He called me and we finally hooked up.
Probably best we did it this way. He hadn't had the chance to go home so was not dressed in black.
I suggested a little bar I know on the Via Gioberti. We walked over, got a quick drink then sat at one of the street-side tables. There was a certain amount of sniffing out going on, but once we were both sure that the other one was legit, we settled into having a great time. We talked about production crews and how to get what we need in Italy, but we also had some acquaintances in common and this led to a fairly far-reaching and fun conversation. After nearly three hours, there was a palpable feeling that we could have gone on. Unfortunately, his car was illegally parked and around here that is about the time that the police begin to notice. We split up at the Termini with talk about possibly getting together for another drink when I swing back through Rome in a couple of weeks.
This was the prelude to getting back to my room and hearing about Eileen.
No comments:
Post a Comment