Thursday
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Thursday in a nutshell
- Cot della Diablo sopra Hades
- Vatican Museum pics
- Internet stop and the Vatican Poste
- Shopping pic
- Rush hour in Rome
- Santa Andrea al Quirinale & Stanislav's Shrine pic
- Osteria De Mario
All week, Dan had been having trouble getting in a solid night's sleep. It turns out Dad and I both
snore! Who knew?! Dan had also been awarded for his youth with the fold-out cot, which had a good-sized
dip in the middle.
So on Wednesday night I offered to swap beds with him. And he did indeed sleep better. But lordamighty I found out how bad that bed was. I was more or less awake all night long. The good news was that if I rolled over on my right shoulder, the pain would wake me up before I was permanently in the shape of a cooked shrimp.
The most successful arrangement was to lay across the bed at a diagonal, left hip in the dip, shoulder high on the side and twisting at the waist so my chest was down. Several times through the night I pondered my life and how it would be a sad end to die in a cot.
ANyway - we got up earlyish and headed out for the Vatican again, to visit the museum. They have limited hours, and close at 1:30 and stay closed. Lots of places would be closed during lunch, but the Pope must need some extra downtime.
Everything in Rome is big (except the cars). The bus let us off on one side of St. Peter's Square, and the museum entrance was a solid 15 minute walk, across the Square, down the block, round the curve, down another block, and up a hill.
The (don't go to Rome without it) book, "City Secrets, Rome" suggested that you race through the museums, ignoring the beautiful tidbits you pass, and head straight for the Sistine Chapel.
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We stopped outside at the Western Union/Cell Phone Sales/Internet Point. For 1 euro Dan and I both spent 10 minutes online checking email. This was less than a third the cost of the internet cafe on Tuesday.
Since the Vatican City is its own country, it has its own Post Office. We went back there to get some postcards sent off, so they'd be postmarked by the Pope (pope-marked?)
We bussed back down to the center of town. Did I mention how huge this monument is? Look at the base of the
center horse statue - those dots are humans.
Then we did some shopping. There is a very cute store with kitchen gadgets and Christmas ornaments, right next to the hotel. We bought some things there, and didn't realize until after we got back to the States that the name of the store was boringly in English - Kitchen and Home. So much for the romance of buying an Italian gift!
Dan and I headed up the Via del Corso where we'd spied some Italian hipsters shopping, and Dan bought a few cool sweaters and sweatshirts. We got separated, which scared me, but one of the joys of travelling with a 17-year-old is that they can pretty well take care of themselves and we both made it back to the hotel alive.
We headed north to the Quirinale. This is the political center of town. We arrived on the bus at rush hour, and walked up the Quirinale hill (one of the famed 7) to the church we were visiting.
Rush hour in Rome is a sight to see. Motorcyclists have free run to do whatever they want, and they do it. After all the cars have come to a stop at the light, the motorcyclists keep going, running up the median line, the gutter, even the sidewalk, to get to the front of the line.
Of all the churches he had done, San Andrea al Quirinale was Bernini's favorite. His son said the old Bernini would
go and just sit there. It is small, and really stunning.
The City Secrets book told us a true secret. If you walk out rear door, you enter what seem to be the offices of the church. You walk up these stairs to the apartment where Saint Stanislav had stayed. A shrine has been built there for the saint that is one of the coolest things we saw.
This very nattily dressed white-marble Stanislav is wearing a black-marble dressing gown. His collar is turned up, and he is reclining holding a book. The mattress is carved to look soft and rumpled. But if you get down in his face, you can see his eyes are rolled back in his head - death or rapture, I don't know.
This being Thanksgiving, Dad took us out for our first full-course Italian meal. Rick Steves recommended
the Osteria de Mario, a couple blocks from the Pantheon. It was great. Dad asked the young proprietor,
Mario's son Marco, what he recommended, and that was all the cue Marco needed.
The bruschetti was very simple - just tomatoes, olive oil, and pepper - but was somehow the best I'd ever had. We got three different Primi's, two pastas and soup (one for each of us - not three each). All wonderful.
Then Marco recommended "Fagioli e B-something-in-italian" and he pinched his wrist. "You know what I'm saying? Pork..." and he'd pinch his wrist again. I assumed he meant ham hocks, and nodded my head, that yes, I'd love some some pork and beans. Dan said he wanted the same. Dad ordered some yummy veal thing.
Well, our ham-hocks arrived, and it turned out he'd been saying "pig-skin"! Two-inch by one-inch rectangles, 1/4 inch thick, of stewed pig-skin.
But man o man - it was great. Best pig-skin I'd ever had. No, really, it was wonderful. Tender and delicious, I was glad his English skills were weak and my Italian skills were worse, because otherwise I never would have ordered it.
We had "young wine", the Italian equivilent of Nouveau Beaujolais, from Sicily. We gathered, from their delight at our order, that they were Sicilians. Their front-man, a 55-year-old short fellow hired to charm the patrons, caught Dan in a yawn, and made a big deal, shouting "you tired?", and opening the door to let the cool night air in.
We finished the evening with shots of L'Amorone and Limoncello, and trundelled off to bed.
