Early Evening
After two less than stellar days, this one went a good long way toward correcting the balance.
It did not start with getting up. Like yesterday, there was no hot water. Today's water was at least tepid so I guess that's an advantage. Still, my thought is to not shower tomorrow until I change hotels. Tonight is blessedly the last one in this place.
And, by the way, did I ever mention the name of this hotel? It's the Hotel Mirage. There has to be some points given for truth in advertising. Any resemblance to this place and a real hotel is strictly an illusion.
My main mission for the day was to hang out with Jean O'Sullivan. Jean is a state legislator from Vermont who is very close friends with my cousin Judy. I met Jean at Judy's wedding a few years back. When Judy was looking to put up relatives with friends she thought that Jean and I would get along. Her thought was spot on. We hit it off big time over that weekend. When Judy told me that she was going to be in Rome at the same time I was more than happy to get together with her.
Jean is an incredibly smart, politically savvy woman of great energy and sense of humor. In short, she's the perfect best friend for Judy who matches that same bill. And like Judy, she's a born storyteller.
Jean and I had been emailing possible times and places over the past few days and ultimately decided on meeting up on the Spanish Steps in the Piazza di Spagna at 10:30. From there, we could walk to the gardens at the Villa Borghese. Her hope was to get to know her way around the gardens since she had to come back at 4:00 for a tour of the villa.
When I got to the Piazza, the first twelve or so steps were taken up with a military band. In a fashion that one might consider "typically Italian," they were using martial rhythms to play pop tunes. A large crowd had gathered to watch, many of them old men who were wearing the same feathered hats as the musicians. I decided to take a position on one of the platform steps so that I would be visible to Jean when she got there. Since I have a hard time distinguishing faces in a crowd I assume everyone else does.
After a few minutes I turned around to look up the Steps toward Trinita di Monti, the double-spired white church at the top of the steps that also marks the highest point in Rome. The sun was poised between and above the two spires. I decided not to take a picture at this point since everything between the sun and the camera would be nothing more than a silhouette.
At that point I saw a wildly waving silhouette. It took a second to process that it was Jean seated on the next platform step up.
As fun as the music was, it was a little too loud to have a conversation so we went to a little cafe next to the subway stop and sat for about an hour-and-a-half. Around noon, we figured it would be a good idea to head up the hill to the Borghese. It was now officially hot (it was over 90 degrees) so the walk up the very long staircase took the breath out of both of us. We took a minute to look down the Spanish Steps and across the sweeping skyline. Since this is Jean's first time in Italy, I pointed out some of the spots on the horizon like the Tribunario, the Vatican and Castel Sant' Angelo. We then walked the quarter-mile road along the ridge of the hill to the Borghese.
Once in the park, we found a nice shaded area overlooking a rotary on one side and the park on the other. We continued our non-stop conversation here. This went on for the next three-and-a-half hours, hitting on every topic imaginable from Vermont politics to costume design to filmmaking to our own theories on where Mad Men is headed. Finally, at a few minutes to four we had to fold up tents. We looked around for a standing map of the park and figured out what she needed to do to get to the Villa Borghese. By the time we made our goodbyes I think it's fairly safe to say that we were both sorry to do it.
She went west and I went back south. Along the way out of the park, I stopped to watch some impromptu roller blading skills. An instructor had created a straight-line gymkhana out of green plastic cones and a young boy and a young, well-muscled guy were taking turns going through the line. The young boy was very intense. The young man seemed to be performing intensity more than living it. Every time he took a break, he would dry himself with a towel while chatting up whichever unattached female happened to be closest to him.
I walked back the same way we had come in. When I got to Trinita di Monti, I decided to go in. It is the kind of 17th-18th Century church that reserves its wild flights of religious art for the ancillary chapels. The nave itself is fairly unadorned, it's most striking feature being the wrought iron gate that bisects the church into two seating areas. The altar is much more ornate, made more so by two giant cloth sashes that criss-cross over it. There is also colored lighting to set it off and a nun who seemed to be there just to make sure that no one disturbed the sanctuary.
When I went back out I was pleased to discover that there is a subway entrance at the top of the Steps. This meant that I could take an elevator down to the platform and not have to brave those steps again in the intense heat of a late Roman afternoon.
As soon as I got back, I settled up my bill with the hotel so that I wouldn't have to do it in the morning. In a few minutes I'll head out to dinner so that I can get back in time to get a call from Bridget. She should be arriving in New York in another two hours. Then, she's on her way here. Finally. Thank God.
Of course this does beg the question of how much writing I'll get to do in the journal once she's here. I guess we'll find out. Under any circumstances, my ability to write in euphemisms will get a hell of a work out.
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