Since I had to stay in Rome on Friday night to play water polo, I wouldn’t have been able to train anywhere until Saturday morning. A couple friends and I planned on training up to Perugia and Assisi (two places in Umbria) for the end of our weekend. There were many trains that day, and we didn’t take any of them. While we ate a early lunch, we all decided to stay in Rome instead. After lunch and a short siesta, we met back up to go kick a soccer ball around. Dan, a friend from Bates College, Jamie, and I headed down to the park about 5 minutes away to kick the ball around under the amazing Roman sun. Dan brought his skateboard with him (something I don’t think any Roman has ever seen before) and despite the uneven cobblestones, he could skate almost the whole way there. Everyone turned to look at him as he wheeled by and must have been thinking, “What the hell is that thing?” Then when he would do a kickflip or just ollie, people got scared, the loud noise that it makes coming back to the ground shocked many of these italians.
We messed around at the park for a little over an hour, taking in the sun and people around us. I found this park on a run one day and it was a great find if I do say so myself. Besides being green, flat, and large, it is adorned with pull up bars, dip bars, a place to crunches, and other structures I can use to work out (for free I might add, the gym is 50 euro a month). But that day, most people were there to sit or lie in the park and relax. There was a father and son duo who were also playing soccer; the kid, maybe 9, was dressed in his favorite players jersey with cleats on and was so happy to kick the ball every time. I almost killed Jamie a couple of times with my shitty kicks that ended up in the street that ran parallel to the park (he would run after it, jump in the street, put his hands out to have a car stop, retrieve it, get honked at, and then run back). After a pull up contest, we all agreed that it was time for gelato.
Jamie had been bragging about this place called Tre Scalini, or Three Steps, on Piazza Navona. I thought we were going to run back to the convent, where I had left my camera, but we went straight to Navona (sorry no pictures). As we seem to do often, we walked where we didn’t know and eventually ended up where we needed to be. It is a great attribute to this city, that eventually at one point, you will run into something that you know. The whole time we kicked the soccer ball back and forth which made the 20 min walk pass very quick. Once there we got our gelato: Stracciatella (every time) e caffe e vaniglia, which was up to par, but didn’t beat the one we had in florence (mainly because their stracciatella was better than this version). Piazza Navona is famous for its street vendors and we wandered these while we ate and kicked the ball around. Most are selling the far to originall paintings of famous views or monuments around Italy, but some offered portraits and characatures. One guy was spray painting either panoramic views or the colosseum. We watched him from start to finish tag a mountain scene. It was an incredible sight, the process seemed to be make something very detailed, then cover it up with a blob, then the blob turned into something cool and you could see both the first part and the second, then cover that with another blob and so on. It was very layered and the finished product had a mountain range with water falls in the foreground and the moon over an acid-trip green and yellow sky in the background. We continued, kicking the soccer ball further down the square (more an elongated oval shape). At our exit street, I passed it Jamie who tipped it up to kick it a few times in the air. At the same time, a man turned the corner and the ball met him straight in the groin. He tried to play it off by trying to kick the ball a couple times, before he buckled and the pain of his injury took full effect.
From there we walked west, meandering through the cobblestone streets, people watching and just out for a stroll. We stopped for a refreshment, a Birra Moretti, and sat across the from a pub. The pub had hamburgers on the menu, very tempting, but luckily we got out of there before we got sucked in. Feeling tired, we walked to a main street with the intention of finding a bus to take home. We hopped on a random bus, 571, and hoped it would take us somewhere. Earlier in the day, I had been reading Rick Steve’s guide to Rome and a couple spots peeked my interest. Of course, leaving it at the hotel, I didn’t know where they were, but our spontaneity led us 2 blocks from the Castel Sant’ Angelo. I believe it is the tomb of Emperor Hadrian; it is of importance because it is the closest tomb to Ancient Rome. Romans (including Emperors) were not allowed to have tombs within the ancient walls. There is a museum inside, but we were there for other reasons. We gazed upon its greatness, admired the bridge over the Tiber, and then heard music. The music was for a ice skating rink, which was situated 20 yards from the castle against the railing for river bank. Here we watched very inexperienced skaters walk across the ice and slam into the ground. It was a very comical sight and took up about an a half hour of our time. One guy had the stereotypical arms flailing in circles with feet out in front before he slammed to the ground with a loud thud. At that point, I was in tears; the stitch in my stomach was too much and I had to move on before I laughed to death. Walking back past Sant’ Angelo a couple of the food vendors wanted to play with our soccer ball; a brief juggling session ensued (mainly between them). They were very good and did lots of tricks as we stood in amazement and occasionally got a foot on the ball. It ended when a ball almost hit a cop car and the corresponding officer gave us a very stern shake of the finger.
Straight ahead, stood St. Peter’s square (we couldn’t not go). It was a few blocks away, and even from there it was massive. Dan grinded a few of the marble benches along the way, which disrupted the serene and mesmerizing affect that the square had on us. Once there, we sat at a statue in the center of the square and looked on the dome’s grander. A little kid saw the soccer ball and found that more important. I passed it to him and he returned the favor. His brother got involved and they fought over who got the ball next. The dad got busy and started playing with them right in front of the vatican. It was a great sight; I wish I had it documented, but it is one of those events that will make my experience at the vatican more special than a picture of the porticus. I joined and the game of pong continued for a little longer; some people disapproved while others enjoyed it, but it didn’t really matter, it was happening. They ran off, continuing their journey through the tiny country of Vatican City. I returned to my seat (no fight this time) and we snacked on a few peanuts taking in the sight further. It is a surprisingly tall structure. I mean of course it is a formidable building, but it wasn’t until I told Jamie I’d give him 3 grand if he booted the ball onto the roof and hit a statue. We deemed it impossible to kick it that high and that was the reason why he didn’t try. We saw the Swiss Guards, standing at attention in there jester like costumesuniforms, with emotionless faces being bombarded with flashes from the paparazzitourists. Then two cops drove by on a golf card and shook their fingers at us about playing soccer in the square (I guess little kids make it ok to do, but not just us) and we took our queue and left.
Now we were actually lost; I knew that we were north west of the Aventine and knew that I didn’t want to walk the whole way back. We approached a bus stop, waited 15 minutes, and took one that dropped us off at Piazza Venezia. We took a short cut, climbing up the back of the Vittorio Emanuele II monument, up the stairs to the back of the Campidoglio and down the Capitoline hill. The forum and colosseum are in perfect from here and we stopped for a second to observe it at night. The walk and soccer session continued down that hill past the mouth of truth and the circus maximus before we re-entered the quite neighborhood of the Aventine around 7:30.
It was afternoon that you can only have when you live here. For everyone else along our journey, it was a stop along the itinerary; we just wondered. They were in a rush; we had all day. They didn’t take time to look at the surroundings, we ignored the museums. The contrasts could go on forever…
That night, we tired a new restaurant, Da Augusto. It was a small place, maybe 15 tables, and they were packed. I tried to put my name down on the list, but they didn’t take reservations (I wasn’t trying to make one). We waited outside with 20 new friends and talked and waited until there were open tables. Jamie went and bought a bottle of wine and we drank while we waited. A man brought cannoli and gave us a taste (nothing wrong with dessert first). 45 minutes later we were in and we order a complete dinner. I started with a consomme, then rigatoni all’amatraciana, and finished with roasted veal. All for a reasonable 22 euros with wine and bread. It was a wonderful restaurant that hasn’t changed to accomidate modernity. You only got one glass, neither water glass or wine glass, but one that’s function was for both. We alternated between water and wine until both were gone along with the food. The night ended with a drink at a bar, more for people watching than booze (lots of scots were here this weekend for the 6 nation’s rugby match wearing kilts). It was the closest I’ve gotten to drinking with a scotsman and they are not easy to understand between the excessive boozing and the accent (apparently its our same language, but I’m not 100% convinced).
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