Italy Diary - 22 Day Globus Tour - Page 8

June 1999

Day 20 - Saturday - July 10, 1999 - St. Peter's in Rome:

Up early today and onto the bus to San Pietro, Vaticano. We're becoming old hands at public transportation. Once at St. Peter's, we take the elevator inside the Vatican to its top floor, and then climb the 320 steps to the highest gallery on the outside of the Basilica's dome. We stand as close as we can to the giant bells just as they begin to chime 10:00 AM. A beautiful view - St. Peter's Square and the Tiber River below us. While at the top, we engage in an interesting conversation with a young schoolboy on holiday from Poland. Afterwards, we tour the crypt and view the tomb of St. Peter. We return upstairs and stand on the large round purple stone where Charlemagne was crowned in 800 AD.

Leaving St. Peter's, Kathi, of course, must stop for a gelato - two scoops, one chocolate and one mint. Then a long walk along the Tiber River under shade trees lining the street. After a while, we stop for pasta and shrimp salad at a tiny sidewalk café and, while there, enjoy the violin music of a street musician. Unfortunately, we discover that the Capitoline Museums are closed now in preparation for Jubilee 2000. We continue our walk, stopping at the Vittorio Emmanuele Monument for photos of Kathi - it was the first famous monument she discovered on her first trip to Rome. The "wedding cake" structure, also known as Il Vittoriano, was built between 1885 and 1925 to honor Victor Emmanuel II of Savoy, the first king of unified Italy. Finally, we reach our objective, the Via Nazionale where Kathi lived in 1972.

Walking along the Via Nazionale, Kathi shows me the building which (she thinks) had housed the Pensione Max - her first residence in the Eternal City . She narrows it down to two possibilities. The one most likely, judging by the downstairs foyer and the position of the cage elevator, has now been refurbished: quite a transformation. I urge Kathi to go upstairs with me and investigate - she hesitates at first, but relents. Once in the office, we explain our quest to a nice young lady in charge of the desk who graciously shows us her accommodations. It is very pretty, so we take a brochure (maybe we'll return and stay here sometime in the future.) We next visit the American Bar (where Kathi used to literally count out Italian coins for American coffee - alas at that time she had no appreciation for cappuccino.) The new owners have expanded their establishment, but it retains its original cozy character. On down the street to St. Paul's Within the Walls, the American Episcopal Church where Kathi had worshipped while working in Rome as an au pair.

All during this afternoon, Kathi has experienced the sense of "coming home." She remembers all of the feelings of excitement and adventure, and we both delight in the newfound joy of traveling the world together.

In the late afternoon, my curiosity draws me to take the subway all the way to the end of the line to visit Cinecitta, the famous Italian movie studio where Elizabeth Taylor filmed her spectacular procession into Rome in "Cleopatra." Fellini filmed "La Dolce Vita" here, as did Charleton Heston his "Ben Hur." Kathi is gracious enough to walk around the entire lot as I take photographs. We discover that "tours" are given on Saturday evenings at 7:00 PM and I certainly wanted to take one. But after waiting and waiting and waiting, and reading the brochure, I finally reach the conclusion that it is all probably a "tourist trap" and we wouldn't actually see any of the sound stages or backlot so we left Cinecitta and returned to the subway.

Arriving at the Spanish Steps subway stop, we once more return to the nearby McDonald's and purchase "take away" and enjoy another sunset and alfresco dinner on the Spanish Steps.

Wonderful, one could easily get used to this.

Back at our hotel around 10:00 PM.

Day 21 - Sunday - July 11, 1999 - To church in Rome:

Due to practical considerations (mainly dress and too much luggage already), we opt not to go to the Via Portuense for the mercato delle pulci (flea market) at Porta Portese. Kathi went there when she was living in Rome in 1972 and says that it was something to behold and we had wanted to visit it this morning. However, we slept in this morning and then left for church service. We're both dressed in church clothes today and therefore look nicer (and wealthier) than we normally do. We take the bus from the bus stop to the Flaminia station, then the subway to the Termini station which is near the Via Nazionale and a short walk down the street to St. Paul's Within the Walls. How appropriate it is for Kathi to return to this church, the church she attended 27 years ago while living in Rome.

For me, the service is remarkably familiar - almost the same service as ours back home, except for one factor: the service is sung by the Priest. The congregation is not large, consisting of no more than 100 souls. When the service is over, I take some photos inside the church and then we move outside for a welcome gathering and refreshments. Kathi has a chance to meet the current Rector and tells him of her return to St. Paul's. We also meet a lady from Altadena, California, where our friend Jan lives. It is a small world.

Leaving St. Paul's, Kathi and I walk down the Via Nazionale finally arriving at the Bernini Bristol, a five star hotel in the Piazza Bernini. Kathi, while living in Rome, had always had a desire to dine at this hotel's famous restaurant and today, she will get her wish. Entering the restaurant, we discover that we are the only patrons - they usually serve a rather large number of guests breakfast but very few dine here for lunch. So today, we are and will be their only guests.

Our head waiter is a handsome, blue-eyed, Paul Newman look-a-like who speaks very good English. Wine is served automatically and I attempt to drink it but, alas, I'm not a wine connoisseur. Our waiter, dressed in an immaculate white dinner jacket, prepares our meal on a cart before us and I am amazed that throughout the entire luncheon, he never gets a single stain on his dinner jacket.

As he is preparing our entree, he tells us of his background.

He was born in Italy, mother was Swedish and father, Italian. He has worked for many years as Head Waiter on cruise ships but his wife wasn't happy with him being away from home for such long periods of time. He wants to come to the United States and open a restaurant but is unable to get a visa.

We are impressed by our waiter's demeanor, his sense of humor, and his intelligence and tell him that, with his talents and drive, he could easily become very successful in the US.

For dessert, we have crepes.

Leaving the Bernini Bristol, Kathi and I first walk down the Via del Corso and then just wander down small streets and alleyways, admiring the wonderful Roman buildings. Kathi had purchased a few days earlier a beautiful yellow silk scarf and she decides she wants to find a matching motor scooter for a souvenir photo.

So we look and look and look without any luck. With the thousands of motor scooters in Rome, one would think that there would be at least one yellow scooter parked somewhere. Finally, we discover one parked in a back alley and, with Kathi posing beside it, I quickly take her photo.

We're both tired and we have a lot of packing to do before flying home tomorrow morning, so with many regrets, we decide to return to our hotel. We walk to the nearest major street hoping to find a bus stop sign nearby. And ahead, about a block away, we do in fact see one. Approaching the sign, we discover that bus "64" stops here - the infamous "Bus 64" of which most of my travel guides had warned. We look at each other and, since we're both too tired to walk any further, and we're both wearing money belts under our clothes and nothing of value is in our pockets, our choice is simple.

And besides, what are the chances that someone will actually try to pick my pocket anyway?

Bus 64 arrives in a few minutes and we enter the front of the bus behind a couple with a baby carriage. Upon entering and before the bus has actually started moving, the driver says something in Italian which we interpret as "Move as far back as possible," and so I squeeze a little closer to the other passengers who are also standing in the front third of the bus. The driver repeats his instruction, this time a little louder - so again I squeeze a little closer to the other passengers and the bus begins to move.

As the bus picks up speed the man standing next to me begins to "bump" into me sporatically and I immediately begin to feel something like a butterfly's wings "flapping" in my right trouser pocket.

Can you imagine my reaction? I mean, come on..... I had read the warnings about "Bus 64" and here, within mere seconds of getting on Bus 64, someone is trying to pick my pocket. And he's not very good at it!

More indignant than surprised, I quickly turn to face the man next to me and state, quite loudly, "There's nothing for you in there - nothing at all!" He looks surprised and I turn to Kathi, who is squeezed between several other passengers and is five or six feet away and state, again quite loudly, "He had his hand in my pocket, right down in my pocket!"

I turn back to my new "friend" and he is shrugging his shoulders in a sort of "I don't know what you're talking about" manner and I say, "Oh don't give me that, you know what you were doing, you were trying to pick my pocket!" Everyone on the bus is now looking at me but a mixture of adrenaline and indignation is sweeping over me and I continue talking, this time addressing Kathi loudly again, "He was trying to pick my pocket - he had his hand right down my pocket."

At this point, the bus stops and my new "friend" exits quickly. Kathi pushes her way next to me and we continue to discuss the "incident" until we arrive at our stop - the Termini subway station. We exit the bus and walk to the subway station and I feel elated.

In many ways this was the "perfect" ending to our three weeks in Italy - someone attempted to pick my pocket and I caught him in the act! Tourists 1 - Pickpockets 0.

Back at our hotel, we begin to pack and discover that we have accumulated too much "stuff" to fit into our luggage and will have to discard many things - but what? The choice is difficult but has to be made. I throw away anything that isn't absolutely irreplaceable - the peanut butter I had brought with me from the US, the Ritz crackers I had purchased at the Panorama store the first day we arrived in Rome, and many other things I didn't want to discard but knew I must in order to make room in my luggage. One of the largest and heaviest items I had brought with me, the tripod for the camcorder, was used only once - at Pompeii - and I had to ask myself had it been worth it? Probably not. I had also brought 11 video cassettes, 6 camcorder batteries and a charger for them along with 54 rolls of 35 mm color film for my still camera, all absolute necessities in my opinion.

We have arranged with the front desk for a car to take us to the airport tomorrow morning to make our flight out of Rome. Finally, with bags packed to almost bursting, we turn in for our last night in Italy.

Day 22 - Monday - July 12, 1999 - Rome to NYC to Cincinnati to Raleigh to Home:

Up and down to "breakfast" in the dining room. Then back up to our rooms to wrestle our baggage down to the lobby. Since the tour ended almost a week ago, we've had to become our own porters and be responsible for our luggage ourselves. We don't have to wait long for our driver, who arrives in a nice new Lincoln. We have been told by the desk that the fee will be 40,000 Lire for the 20 minute drive to the airport and when we arrive there, I tip our driver an additional 10,000 Lire. I ask to be dropped off at the Delta terminal and he stops at a Lufthansa terminal and tells us that Delta is just a short distance beyond - but it isn't. We have to walk, dragging our luggage behind us, to the far, far end of the terminal to find Delta's check in desk.

This is the part of a long journey which I dislike the most. The lines one has to go through, the check points, the unnecessary waiting, and the worry. Will something unexpected happen to keep us from catching our flight - some small detail that will screw up things and set off a domino-like series of events that will prevent us from getting home? Example: After our luggage is taken from us and sent to be x-rayed, a Delta representative asks us if we have any battery operated devices in our luggage and I respond, "Yes, I have an alarm clock in my suitcase." The fact that it still has the batteries in the clock is the problem. When x-rayed, a clock with batteries inside could possibly look like the makings of a bomb to security personnel and my luggage could either be torn open or cause me to be held for questioning, the Delta agent tells us. So for the next hour or so I worry about what happens if my name is called or my luggage is torn open and 54 rolls of film and 11 video cassettes are lost in the process. Fortunately, none of this happens and we finally board our plane and take our seats. Our seats, by the way, are wonderful. Anne, Kathi's travel agent for many years, has taken the trouble to get us excellent seats, always next to a window and an aisle. And when you have to endure a seven and a half hour flight, good seats are a must.

Sitting across the aisle from me (Kathi has the window seat) is an Italian gentleman with whom I have a short conversation. He tells me that the Vatican is in reality, a large multi-national corporation with business concerns in various countries all over the world. He goes on to state that the Vatican even owns a factory that manufactures condoms! He assures me that this is true. I tell him a story which Vincenzo related to us about the female Pope and he confirms that also. Amazing.

The flight westward takes longer than our flight coming eastward to Italy and this fact seems counterintuitive. Since the Earth rotates from west to east, intuition tells me that would effectively make us fly faster but it doesn't. In fact, it is the jet stream and head winds which actually slow down the plane's forward progress and make the flight longer when traveling westward and shorter when flying eastward.

Our flight first takes us over the island of Corsica, across the French Riviera and France. Lunch is served and later dinner. This journey is more complex than the one we made three weeks ago. Kathi and I arrive at JFK, then take a connecting flight to Cincinnati, and from Cincinnati we fly to Raleigh where my daughter is scheduled to pick us up.

All in all, this has been an amazing trip. We've visited many different areas of Italy, met many kind and interesting Italians, made new friends, and learned a great deal about the inhabitants (both past and present), the history, and culture of a magnificent country.

We know we will return...(and, during the past 19 years, we have returned, many, many times).

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