New Photos

Howdy!

I'm in Bordeaux at the moment, taxing my brain with
the French keyboard. It's all kinds of different from
what I'm used to. So, to keep this short and sweet,
photos from Italy, France, and Spain are at
http://www.michelesumma.com.

On to Paris tomorrow, then Amsterdam and Berlin.

Love,
Michele

PS The unlabeled photo is of the Ponte Vecchio in Florence.
(FRANKNOTE: I updated the label on this one)

Feeling hot, hot, hot

I'm happy to report that my love affair with Barcelona
continued throughout the weekend, and it was only
increased by my indifference towards the cities that
followed. I could easily go back to Barcelona for
another vacation. The city itself is pretty quirky,
with lots of random sculptures and even more random
people roaming about. Tiny little barrios play host
to tons of tapas bars, cafes, and at least one
gagillion shops. Yeah, I counted. I spent a good
amount of time on my feet, walking to and from my
hostel (which was on the beach and a fair distance
away from anything worth seeing). I'd heard from a
few other travelers about pick pocketing and purse
snatching, but I lucked out. I also lucked out with
the bed bug phenomenon which got the better of a few
Canadians. Gross.

On my second night in Barcelona, a group of us went
out for tapas and dancing. At the suggestion of Julie
McCoy at the hostel (not her real name, but you get
the idea) we set out for La Paloma, an apparently
popular club for good house/techno/allnight dancing.
So not my thing, but I thought I'd give it a whirl.
We had passes for free entry as long as we arrived
before 2 am. We found the place and as we walked in
we were transported back about 40-50 years. The place
was huge. Surrounding the roller rink size dance
floor were two levels of schwanky, crushed velvet
couches and very glitzy gold trim. On the stage was a
10-piece swing band (complete with white jackets) and
they were going to town with hits from the 50's. I
loved it. The folks who were looking for thumping
bass and whoop whoop noise were most disappointed. A
few of us forgot about our two left feet and just
acted like we knew what we were doing on the dance
floor and that we looked great doing it. The band
stopped after 45 minutes or so, and then the DJ took
over, and then it became the cruddy
house/techno/thumping bass crap that the others had
wanted. I took it as a good time to make the long
walk back to the house of bed bugs.

On Sunday, my last full day in Barcelona, I caught the
double decker tourist bus and got a full tour of the
city. We went by the Olympic park, the soccer
stadium, lots of different churches, and Gaudi´s
still-unfinished cathedral, La Sagrada Familia. This
thing has been under construction for well-over 100
years and still isn't expected to be completed until
2025. After the bus tour, I treated myself to a quiet
night and a yummy burrito at a Mexican restaurant.
(It was the first burrito I'd had in almost 2 months!)

The next day, we were off to Madrid. Talk about hot.
Madrid, so far, has been the hottest part of the trip.
When we arrived it was still in the high 30´s, and
that was at 7:30 p.m. The next two days saw temps
climb up into the low 40´s and the importance of a
siesta became very obvious even though a stuffy hostel
room provided little relief from the heat. The cold
shower, however, was fantastic!

I've learned that so much of my impression of a city
is based on initial impressions (not unlike most
things in life). And the initial impression usually
comes on our walk from the bus to the hostel.
Busabout has a knack for choosing hostels in less-than
desirable neighborhoods. In Madrid, for example, we
passed about 13 tattoo/piercing parlors and at least
30 prostitutes on our short (one block) walk. (We
also passed about 6 cops patrolling the street, so it
was safely smutty.) What was my point? Oh, just that
the hostel kind of makes the city, so obviously the
girls who got attacked by bed bugs in Barcelona
probably weren't so impressed.

Anyway, off of that tangent. Madrid is a very real
city. It doesn't have a lot of Barcelona´s tourist
charm. The buildings are beautiful, and the food was
relatively good and inexpensive, but I didn't find
anything especially spectacular about the city itself.
The city has many museums--even a few dedicated to
pork. (Yeah, a ham museum or, as we called them, pig
palaces!) I did spend a good portion of one day
wandering through a huge park, and on my last night I
sought some culture and went to the theater to see
Cabaret. La vie es un cabaret! Why did I think it
would be in English? I don´t know either. But it was
great. I bought a 20€ ticket to sit at the bar and as
soon as the lights went down, I got moved to a 65€
seat at a table within spitting distance of the stage.


From Madrid, we headed south to Seville. I found it
hard to believe that it could be hotter than Madrid
anywhere outside of hell (or Rancho Mirage), but
Seville did a good job of proving me wrong. Tiny,
narrow streets are covered with sun shades to keep the
people shopping during the hotter parts of the morning
and early evening. And siesta is taken very seriously
here. Seville sort of turns into Tombstone around 1
p.m. and I think it would be hard to find many people
before 6 p.m. (I wouldn't know, though. I enjoyed
the siestas, too.)

Our hostel in Seville was a cute little B&B, but the
cuteness wore off as soon as we discovered that we
were on the top floor (of 3) and that there was no
elevator. Three floors ordinarily wouldn't bother me.
I've gotten used to taking the stairs, even with my
big old backpack. But these were steep, STEEP,
stairs. Fifty-seven of them if I counted right. So,
suffice it to say, once I'd leave, I gave myself
little reason to return until it was way too hot
outside. And then, once I was back, I stretched my
siesta out as long as possible. Harry Potter helped
with that endeavor. One of the girls in my room had
purchased the latest book back in Barcelona, and let
me read it. Talk about power reading. I finished the
thing in two and a half siestas. It wasn't that I
couldn't put it down (okay, part of it was). It was
more that I didn't want to lug the thing around (I was
told I could borrow it until Lisbon).

In Seville, I did even more walking. Calves of steel,
baby. :) I toured the big cathedral, checked out the
Plaza de Espana, saw the bullfighting ring (the
outside--I refused to watch), and a few other sights
around the city. Seville, like everywhere else it
seems, is under major construction. They're in the
process of building a metro, and it's impossible to go
very far without running into a street that's torn up,
or hearing the sound of jackhammers and other heavy
equipment. Personally, I think they should invest
some time and money and smooth over some of the
cobblestone streets. Yeah, yeah, yeah, quaint
schmaint. They're beautiful, sure. But my knees and
ankles are tired of them. :)

Never did see the barber of Seville. But I did meet
the Bubba of Seville. He was a cute, 8-month old
boxer pup who was nice enough to pose for a picture
with me. In Spanish, Bubba means drool. All these
great things I'm learning! On my last night, a few of
us found our way to a Flamenco bar and watched a
performance. It was really simple. Not the dance,
the setup. Just a guitarist, a singer, and a dancer.
All were unplugged, and it was unreal. Her feet were
moving so fast it was like watching hummingbird wings.
And the singer and guitarist were just as talented.
I didn't stay for too long because, like everywhere
else in Spain, things didn't get going until 11:30,
and I was exhausted by about 11:45. But I lasted
until 12:30 when a few of us left so we could get a
few hours of shuteye before our 8 am departure for
Lisbon.

I'm not sure about Lisbon yet. My first impression
wasn't great. Again, our hostel isn't in a great
area. No hookers or tattoo places, but not really
near anything touristy either. It's a good ride on
the metro to get to the center of town, and I'm
finding that 2 days is plenty. So today I took that
metro ride and explored the heart of Lisbon's tourist
district. Lots of shops and cafes and a pretty cool
waterfront with all kinds of statues and monuments
dedicated to various explorers. Lisbon is uber-hilly,
so after a walk around the flatlands, I hopped a bus
and headed uphill to the Castello Sao George. This
castle sits on the highest point in the city and,
consequently, has commanding views of Lisbon. From
the top, I had a great view of Lisbon's version of the
Golden Gate Bridge and all of the red tile roofs a
girl could ask for. This week at the castle, they're
holding a beer festival. Someone didn't plan this
right. The setting itself is beautiful what with the
views and all. But one of the fun things about the
castle itself is that you can climb up and walk all
around the turrets and walls and peek through the
little slats in the stone where armies once defended
the city. Narrow, slippery staircases, high walkways,
very few railings, and a whole lot of beer. To me,
that's just asking for trouble. But I managed to stay
on my feet (probably because I avoided the beer).

From the castle, I took a long walk back down to the
square, and then a longer walk along the waterfront to
check out some of the "real" parts of the city. These
parts of Lisbon reminded me of the twisting, narrow
streets in the Greek Islands and in some parts of
Italy.

That pretty much wraps up today. I'm at an Internet
cafe now, and had hoped to upload a bunch of photos,
but they wanted to charge me .30€ per and I've got
well over 100, so I think I'll wait on the photos for
a bit. Tomorrow, I'm going to take a day trip out to
Sintra, a nearby town that apparently has lots more
castles and other cool stuff to see. Rick Steves
highly recommends it, so I'm sure it's worth checking
out. :)

I leave Lisbon on Wednesday and go to Salamanca, Spain
for one night. From there, I'll catch a train to San
Sebastian (this is to avoid spending another 2 nights
in Madrid as the bus schedule dictates) where I'll
stay for a night before heading back into France and
Bordeaux (on the bus) for 3 nights. By then, it will
be August. How'd that happen already?

Happy trails ;)
Michele



Same goes

Baaaaaaaaaarthelona where the rain falls mainly on the plain

I'm in love.

And I've only been here for a few hours.

Fear not, friends and family, the love is only with
the city itself, but I'm sure it's just an
at-first-sight kind of thing that will fade with the
daylight. But right now (roughly 1:00 a.m.) I'm
loving this town.

But first... Southern Italy.

I packed up last weekend and took off with Busabout
for a 3 day adventure to the southern part of Italy.
The adventure actually began before leaving Rome when
Vincenzo (Lilly's husband) picked me up on his little
Honda scooter to bring me to the place to meet my bus.
Hah. A scooter. In Rome. In the morning rush hour.
Who needs coffee? I followed the sage advice my
friend Kerrin (Hi, Kerrin!) once gave me on a
motorcycle ride across the Bay Bridge (she drove): If
you're going to be scared, shut your eyes. Worked for
me then, worked even better for me in Rome.

Once we made it to Camping Roma, I hopped off the
scooter and boarded the bus. After a few hours we
pulled into Pompei and had a good tour of the city.
Or what's left of the city. It was an amazing sight,
all of the ruins rescued from the ashes of Mt.
Vesuvius (which our guide happily told us could blow
again at any minute). It was unreal, especially
having a look at some of the artifacts and bodies on
display (photos on the website).

>From Pompei, we headed into Sorrento and had a short
siesta at our campsite before heading into town for a
yummy 3 course dinner. More pasta, fish, bread,
dessert, and a shot of Limoncello, a digestive/liquor
that is oh-so-yummy. On Saturday, we took a bus to
the port in Sorrento and hopped a ferry to Capri. The
tour price included a full day on the tiny island, and
even though the weather was the worst I've seen on the
trip (outside of London, anyway) all of us opted to
get on an even smaller boat and do a tour around the
island. The first fifteen minutes were wild. The
swells were huge; it felt like The Perfect Storm every
now and again. I was too nervous to be seasick, and
instead giggled my way around half of the island,
contemplating whether or not I could swim to shore if
our boat went the way of the SS Minnow. We didn't.
And we made it safely around Capri to its star
attraction, the Blue Grotto. This is a tiny little
cave, accessibly only by rowboat. For a small fare,
we got off of our medium sized boat and into the tiny
one, laid ourselves down flat, and entered the grotto
itself. In the pictures you can see the amazingly
blue water. It truly was like nothing I'd ever seen
before, and the experience was made complete by the
row boat rowers singing happy little Italian tunes
(like Volare, whoa whoa) throughout. From there, some
of us ventured into the main part of Capri, a Rodeo
Drive kind of place where the price tags alone were
enough to make my eyes bug out. No shopping spree
here. Instead, I took a nap on the beach.

On Sunday, we left Sorrento and arrived in Amalfi with
enough time for a quick peek around the town and a
nice morning swim in the bay. It was a perfect way to
spend a Sunday morning. One of the guys on our trip
invested in a mask, and three of us took turns
swimming down as far as we could and checking out the
sea life. On our way to Amalfi, we passed a tiny
fishing town called Positano, and after Amalfi we
spent an hour or so in another small town called
Ravello, which overlooked the bay and town of Salerno.
(Pictures of all of these places are online.)

We arrived back in Rome on Sunday, and Vincenzo met me
at teh campsite with the scooter, ready to take me
home with enough time to do a load of laundry and have
a good sleep before heading to Florence the next
morning.

Now, when he picked me up on Friday, I only had my
small daypack with me. Riding on the scooter with
that was easy because Vincenzo actually balanced that
bag between his feet while I simply held on for dear
life. On Monday, however, I had to leave with
everything. So the small backpack went to its usual
spot, but I had to wear the big one. The big one
weighs about 14 kilos. I can't tell you what that is
in pounds, but it's damn heavy. And it was about a 40
minute ride. Abs of steel? Not quite, but if I had
to do that over and over again, I'd be well on my way
to a six pack. Instead, I only had sore muscles for
the rest of the day.

I bid ciao to Roma and got on the bus to Florence.
Before getting there, though, we had a few quick stops
in Orvieto (the donkey-well place) and Siena. I only
stayed one night in Florence, but it was great because
our guide brought us all into the town center and gave
us a quick, but unofficial tour of the town (the
Italian tourism department will fine you something
wicked if you get caught giving a tour without a
permit). We got to see the Ponte Vecchio, the Duomo,
and a few other sights. That night, we enjoyed a
4-course meal of bruschetta, pasta, steak, and ice
cream before hanging out and watching a group of
Contiki folks make absolute fools of themselves doing
Karaoke. Good thing they were there, otherwise we
would have been the fools.

For me, one night in Florence seemed like plenty, but
I'm sure I'll try to get back there at the end of the
bus trip in early September. The next morning, the
bus took off bound for Nice. We made a brief stop in
Pisa, where I took about 50 pictures of the leaning
tower (deleting about 46 of them after the fact).
It's quite a sight, that tower. After Pisa, we
dropped a group of people off in La Spezia (for Cinque
Terra) and I decided that a trip there in September
would also be worth my while. But for the time being,
I stayed on the bus and made it into Nice.

Nice is nice. I opted not to stay at Busabout's
drop-off accommodation, but headed to a place closer
to the beach. The hotel itself was nothing to write
home about (and yet, I am) but the location was
fabulous. I had two full days there, and spent the
majority of both sunning myself on the beach. The
downside of the beach is that it's rocky. But the
hotel had free mats for us to use, so that helped (a
little). I took a break from sunbathing on the first
day and wandered over towards the historical district
where there were all sorts of little markets,
restaurants, and tourist traps. It was very cute, and
I sat and enjoyed a salad lunch on my first day (I was
tired of pizza and pasta). I was close enough to
Monaco and Cannes to go visit, but just didn't have it
in me to head to either place. I'm sure they would
have been beautiful, but I was content to just hang
out at the beach and enjoy the immediate area around
my hostel.

On the first night, my 8-bed room was full of
20-something travelers (two Aussies, two from
Allentown, PA, one from Phoenix, and two from Santa
Barbara--one of whom attends Berkeley), all bound for
different parts of France the next morning. That
afternoon, when I returned, I was more than a little
bit shocked to see that the Brady Bunch had replaced
them.

"Bet this isn't what you expected," the dad told me
when I walked in the room.

"Not quite," I said, counting the children (5) and
adults (2). But they were great, actually. They're a
blended family (never did figure out which kids
originally belonged to which parent) and were just
having themselves a little holiday from the middle
part of England. The kids were all under 14 and
incredibly polite and considerate. And after spending
one day at the beach, they were all purple. "Look,
Chloe´s still got her swimming costume on!" one of the
boys said as his younger sister took off her t-shirt.
No suit, of course, but some major tan/burn lines.
Not sure why the parents were slathering the kids with
sunscreen, but not my problem either. The kids didn't
complain, just came home and went straight to sleep.

That was yesterday, which was also Bastille Day. When
I planned my trip, I hadn't even considered that I
would be in France for Bastille Day, but I was glad it
worked out that way. Last night we were treated to a
fantastic fireworks show right over the water. I made
a quick call to the home office before that got
started, and in the middle of my conversation with my
mom, some guy came up and asked if he could take a
photo of my tattoo. Sure, why not? We had a good
laugh about that. And a bit later, I got more proof
of my belief that you can't swing a cat and not hit
someone affiliated with Mills. I was doing some good
people-watching while waiting for the fireworks to
start, and my jaw about hit the floor when I saw
another alum strolling down the boardwalk (Kat Love,
for those who'd know). Small world!

This morning, we left Nice and had a short stop in
Avignon before coming into Barcelona. I've already
collected my Hard Rock Cafe t-shirt, and spent more
than a few hours wandering around the city. But I'm
pushing it staying out this late. Technically, things
are just getting started, but I can't stay out this
late without a major intake of caffeine. Tomorrow I
plan to do a bicycle tour of the city, take a good
long nap, and then head out with a group for a pub
crawl that I think doesn't depart until about 11 or
midnight. Why not be nocturnal? What I have seen of
Barcelona is beautiful. And I can actually hold a
somewhat illiterate conversation! At the HRC I talked
to two guys who are from Milan but live here, and I
was slip-sliding around in French, Spanish, Italian,
and English. Somehow they could keep up even when
they´´d ask me something in Spanish and I´d answer
with a combination of all four languages. Kudos to
them.

I think that´s about all for now. On Sunday, I´m
hoping to make it to a concert at one of the local
clubs after doing a Gaudi tour, and then on Monday
morning the bus leaves for Madrid. It's becoming a
bit of a whirlwind, but I prefer this to staying in
one place for too long.

Happy trails!

Love,
Michele

Laughter has no foreign accent.

Roman Holiday

Despite having a full week to take in the sights,
sounds, smells, and tastes of Rome, I kind of crammed
most of it into one day.

On Sunday, I was happy to catch up with Caitlin, my
cousin from Livermore who is at the start of a year
abroad in Italy. We set out to explore Rome together
and I'd say we did a good job of checking everything
out. As you can see from the photos online, we made
it to the Spanish Steps at the Piazza di Spagna, the
Trevi Fountain (who's top sort of reminded me of the
outside of Grand Central Station, only cleaner), the
Coliseum, the Piazza di Venizia, and another trip
around Circo Massimo, where we watched workers tearing
down the Live 8 stage. From there, we checked out the
piazza di boca verita (I can almost guarantee that
I've misspelled or misstated the name). Basically,
it's the mouth of truth, and if you're brave enough,
you can stick your hand in the mouth and, if you're
honest enough, your hand will still be attached when
you pull it back out. We were both brave enough to
attempt it, but we were also smart enough to avoid the
huge line. So instead, we sort of snuck up to the
front and took a photo in between customers.

From there, we took a short bus ride to Rome's Termini
station and then took a long, long walk (after a
gelato break) hoping to find the district of San
Lorenzo, which I'm told is sort of fun and quirky.
It's also very well-hidden. I don't think we found
it, but with everything closed up during the Sunday
afternoon siesta hour, it was hard to tell for sure.

On Monday, I put my bus pass to use and gave myself a
good tour of the city. I just hopped from bus to tram
to bus and kept working my way around the city. If I
saw something interesting or worth a closer look, I'd
go check it out. Otherwise I enjoyed the views of
Rome from my airconditioned and (at times) crowded
spot on the bus. For lunch, I had the Roman Gyro... a
slice of pizza. Cheap eats for sure, but like the
Gyro, something I quickly grew tired of, but kept
eating because it was so cheap. After lunch, I
tracked down the Piazza di Navona, Campo dei Fiori,
and the Pantheon. Dinner that night came from the
pizzeria downstairs from Umberto's apartment, but
instead of yet another slice, I had a stuffed tomato
and a calzone.

Tuesday was another day wandering around the city,
people watching, and learning more about the various
bus lines. I went back to St. Peter's to see if it
looked any different. I was somewhat surprised to see
about 5 times the number of people milling about than
had been there on Friday. Even though I was there at
the same time of day--noon--the crowd was much bigger.
Maybe 'tourist season' had finally opened. Anyway, I
wandered, I roamed, I window shopped, I took a stroll
past the Castelo d' St. Angelo and was as impressed by
the round fortress as I was by the sheer numbers of
street vendors all selling the same knock-off purses,
belts and sunglasses. That little excursion took me
back to the area near the Pantheon, which was good
because I had researched a cheap and good restaurant
in that area that I wanted to check out. Even with my
map, I struggled to find Osteria d'Mario, and when I
finally did, it was closed. Growls from my throat and
my stomach at that point. I doubled back to a tiny
little restaurant that came complete with
red-checkered tablecloths and bottles of chianti on
display. They also had a cheap menu, so for 6€ I had
a huge bowl of spaghetti with basil and tomato sauce,
a drink, and some bread. I love the low carb diet! I
could have gone belly up after that, but knew that I
needed to walk off what I had just consumed, so I
headed back outside and took the long way (okay, I
didn't really know where I was going) back to a bus
stop. It was close to 5 when I finally got home, and
I had only just sat down when Umberto came home and
asked me if I wanted to go to the grocery store with
him.

Food? In the house? What a great idea. (When I
arrived I found a bottle of water and the rind of some
kind of cheese in the fridge.) Maybe it's a sign of
the fact that I'm missing some of the comforts of
home, but when we entered the "grocery store" (which
was actually more like a Super Target) and I realized
it was attached to, of all things, a mall, I was close
to jubuliant. Anyone who knows me, knows that I'm not
a huge fan of shopping. But I was so happy to be in a
mall. Maybe it was just the air conditioning?
Regardless, it was great.

We did some grocery shopping, which was a kick in and
of itself as I tried to explain to Umberto that just
because I liked some kind of food, didn't necessarily
mean I needed him to buy it. I would only be in Rome
for another two days, after all. We came, we saw, we
shopped, and we left and Umberto "cooked" me a
wonderful dinner of prosciutto, fresh mozzarella, and
tomatoes. And a somewhat cold beer. It was great.

The next day, you bet your bippy, I was on my way back
to the mall on my own. I've already grown somewhat
tired of my wardrobe, and wanted a few more options.
Plus, I had a pair of sunglasses that broke back in
Greece and I hadn't found anyone who could fix them.
So, off to the supertarget for me. I got my sunnies
fixed, a new shirt, and a pair of pants for 10€. And
I didn't stop there. In a matter of a couple of
hours, I managed to acquire a few more articles of
clothing. Just enough to mix and match to make me
feel like I had a million more choices when it came
time to get dressed (even though today I've been
content to sit in my PJ's all day).

After my little shopping spree, I came back to the
apartment and wrote what I'm sure was a grammatically
poor excuse for a note to Umberto telling him that I
wouldn't be home for dinner. I was heading back out
to meet Caitlin for another meal. We had a cheap, but
decent dinner near the Trevi Fountain, then went for a
long walk stopping again at the Piazza Navona
(currently being set up for some other kind of
concert) and continuing across the Tiber, towards the
Vatican and ending up, conveniently, outside of the
Old Bridge Gelateria. Caitlin had been tipped off
about this place and how it is a local favorite. We
could have guessed it was a favorite of some kind as
the line extended out the door and across the
sidewalk. Feeling the need to see (and taste) for
ourselves, we joined the line and each had two huge
scoops of gelato. And, except for the tip of
Caitlin's shoe, we managed to not get it all over
ourselves. It was heaven on a cone.

Today I've been lying low. I've known that it would
be my last full day in Rome, and received word from
Gianfranco that, in fact, we would not be able to go
to Pisa this weekend. So, I've spent the morning
coming up with an alternative plan. With the
exception of some fun adventures with Caitlin, I've
spent the week on my own, and I'm ready to mix and
mingle with more new people. Busabout has an Italian
Explorer tour that I had planned to join in September,
but with my weekend suddenly free, I had the option of
either heading to Florence early or doing this other
trip and leaving for Florence on Monday as originally
scheduled.

So, tomorrow morning I'm off to Sorrento for two
nights. From there, the tour visits Naples, Capri and
the Amalfi coast, the Blue Grotto, and Pompeii. I
can't wait! I'll return to Rome for the night on
Sunday and then take off again for Florence Monday
morning.

Michele

Every step of the journey is the journey.
-Anonymous

Google Search: rome italy

Google Search: rome italy

Sinners and Saints (but not in that order)

It's been a busy two days in Rome.

My first quest was to have a day apart from the child,
so even though Lilly offered to take me anywhere I
wished to go, I said, "Hey... it's your last day of
vacation, why don't you just do what you need to do,
and we'll meet up later. I'm probably going to go to
the Vatican Museum, and Federica will probably find
that boring." (I'm shifty...)

But the idea was well-received and after a quick
breakfast next door, I headed off to catch the No. 81
bus. I didn't think to ask Lilly where I was supposed
to get off. Nor did I enquire about how to go about
buying a bus ticket. I ass'u'me'd that I would just
pay on the bus. Just like I assumed that one of the
stops would be clearly marked "Vatican" or "St.
Peter's" but neither were meant to be.

I did see a stop for San Giovanni's and for some
reason I thought that was familiar, so I got off the
bus (that I hadn't paid for) and started walking
around. Immediately, I found I was suffering from the
Italian version of IBM (Ishoulda broughta mappa). So
I went around a block, changed directions a few times,
and then saw a sign for a Metro entrance and decided
to give that a shot (buying a map would have been too
easy). Ahh, much better. Stops for both St. Peter's
AND the Vatican Museum.

I opted for St. Peter's first, but not for any
particular reason. As I walked toward the piazza
several different people were offering free
english-language tours of the cathedral. I'm a little
skeptical of anything "free" because it just doesn't
happen usually, so I kept walking, had a wander around
the obelisk at the center of the piazza and people
watched for a bit while trying to decide what to do
next. While I thought about it, a motorcade went by.
I had my camera at the ready, but nope... not the
pope. Just some people who seemed to get a kick out
of everyone watching them go by. At that point, it
was noon, and every single bell in town started
ringing and ringing and ringing. And I thought I
heard an explosion, which Lilly later told me was
actually a cannon that gets fired every day at noon
(not sure why).

Before I left Forano, Gianfranco gave me some advice
on Rome and the piazza at St. Peter's. He said to
find the footprints and look at the columns. Like the
donkeys-in-the-well story, I had no clue what he
meant, but I discovered that there are two spots in
the piazza where you can stand so that the columns on
the outside of the piazza line up with each other.
That's a crappy explanation, but trust me. It was
pretty cool. :)

At one point I realized that the circular piazza with
the obelisk in the middle made a pretty nifty sundial.
Kind of. So I started looking for the shadow. After
a couple of seconds, I remembered that it was high
noon, swatted my forhead, and moved out of the sun and
into the cathedral.

On my way in, I casually latched onto one of the free
tour groups and got a good amount of trivia about the
cathedral and some of the stuff inside. For example,
the cathedral itself is gigantic, and on the floor
leading up to the altar are markings of how other
cathedrals measure up. St. Peter's is 193 meters
long. However, according to our smiley guide, the
builders wanted to be sure that everyone felt welcome
at the church, regardless of their status of the
community. So they decorated by keeping all of the
statues and lettering/details to scale, so the stuff
at the top wouldn't seem so far away. (For instance,
in one section there are three statues from floor to
ceiling. At the floor, the cherubs are about 6 feet
tall, the next statue is about 12 feet tall, and the
one at the top is 18 feet tall.)

Our guide told us that another thing that sets St.
Peter's apart is that visitors are allowed to use
flash photography. Other places don't allow it
becuase of the potential for damaging frescoes,
tapestries, and oil paintings. At St. Peter's, the
oil paintings have all been replaced with replicas
made from mosaic tiles. Yes. Mosaic. Little tiles, no
bigger than the tip of my pinky are used to recreate
huge and very detailed paintings. I have a picture of
one on the website for your viewing pleasure.

Anyway, I took a fair amount of trivia from our
too-cheerful guide, but left the group to wander
around on my own. In doing so, I spotted a short line
for something and (as you do) I stood in it. Turned
out to be the line that would pass where Pope John
XXIII lies in state. (Up until a minute ago, I
thought it was the recently deceased pope, but nope.
I guess that's why the line wasn't so long.)

After another 15-20 minutes of looking around, I
headed back outside and made my way to the Vatican
museum and Sistine Chapel. Getting to the chapel from
inside the museum is a lot like being in a line at
Disneyland. You sort of snake around through
different rooms, think you're almost finally there,
and then find out that you've still got a few more
loops to go. But at least there was lots of good
stuff to see along the way. I became a ceiling fan.
The details and the amount of artwork in the various
rooms boggled my mind. But then, if I can draw a
decent stick figure, I'm a happy camper. Various
photos are online. Cameras aren't allowed in the
Sistine chapel itself, so people just kind of stop
moving and gape upward until their necks give out or
they can no longer bear the silence (or the docents
going Ssshhhhh! when the din starts to rise).
Gianfranco advised me to bring binoculars, and they
would have been useful had I remembered.

From the chapel, I set out to another section of the
museum where to see some fine art, and then remembered
that I don't really like fine art. But the one
Caravaggio painting was well worth the walk.

Then it was back out into the humidity. Friday
actually wasn't so bad, there was even a nice breeze
to help keep the heat down. When I left, the line to
get into the museum went almost around the block and I
was happy to see that I had timed my visit just right
(everyone else must pay attention to the advice not to
go in the middle of the day).

Soon, I was back at the apartment, resting my tired
feet and listening for sounds of life next door since
we were all meeting back up at 7 for dinner and a trip
to Villa Borghese (Rome's Central Park). Dinner was
over near the Vatican at Lilly's apartment and
following the meal, she took us (me, Fed, Marisa-the
grandmother, and the grandmother's neighbor) on a tour
of Rome at night. Lilly had planned for us to go to
the park for a balloon ride, but it was closed down
for some reason. Anyway, she took us past a bunch of
sights (St. Angel's Castle, The Coloseum, etc.) and to
the top of two hills for views of the city at night.
One thing I've come to like about Rome is that even
though it's a giant city, the stars are still visible.
We went past a fountain that's been featured in a
cell phone ad (whose jingle likes to stay in my head
for hours at a time) and then went and had a gelato
before returning home.

Saturday was independence day. The family planned to
leave again for a weekend at the beach, but I had
other things in mind (namely, not spending another
cozy weekend together). It was July 2, Live 8 day and
Rome was hosting a concert. That was my excuse to get
out of the beach weekend, and I really wanted to see
what it would be like. The event was held at Circo
Massimo and had about 30 people/bands scheduled to
appear. Of them, 27 were Italian artists. The other
three were Tim McGraw, Faith Hill, and Duran Duran.

Imagining the crowds, I wanted to get there early, get
a good spot and settle in. I assumed Duran Duran
would be the last act and planned to stay through
until the end. I had promised Lilly that I would stay
until they left for the beach so that I could say
goodbye to Federica and Marisa (who were staying for a
full week instead of returning to Rome on Sunday), but
by 10:45 they still hadn't arrived. Concert starts at
2:30... eek. Finally, the phone rings and it's Lilly
(who overslept). She lets me off the hook with saying
goodbye to the kid over the phone (sniff sniff) and I
race out the door for the bus (which I now have a
ticket for). I got to the Circus expecting a circus,
but it was kind of a ghost town. I must have walked
past 200 portopotties before I saw any kind of crowd.
They were there, but very small in numbers. It was
only about noon, and the sound check was still going
on. The place itself looked like it could hold
500,000 people, but I'd say less than 1/16th of it was
full. Maybe if they'd put a few more "globally known"
stars on the bill they'd get a bigger crowd.
Whatever, though. As people slowly trickled in, I
parked myself in the shade (on a hill) and people
watched while a few other bands did their sound check.
The highlight of the pre-game show was when a water
truck hooked up a hose and doused the (crazy) crowd at
the center of the stage. This happened over and over
again and was just as funny each time. Another
highlight was an absolutely spastic black lab who kept
bounding around the hillside, chasing butterflies. It
was a slow day. :)

Finally, 2:30 rolled around and the first band started
to play. Don't know what he sang about, but he was
good. Kind of sounded like Neil Diamond. Then it was
time for the Live part of Live 8 when we received a
feed from London and saw Sir Paul (soon-to-be Sir)
Bono, and the rest of U2 kick off the show with Sgt.
Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band (which has been stuck
in my head ever since). It was great. Our small
crowd went wild when it was our turn to be seen on the
big screen, and then it was U2's turn to take the
stage. I think we heard 4 measures of Beautiful Day
before the feed was cut and we were stuck watching the
roadies set up for the next act. I thought that the
least they could do was entertain us with other shows
during the inbetween times, but I guess I'll just have
to buy the DVD when it comes out.

To my joy (because at this point my back/tailbone were
killing me), Duran Duran was the 3rd group up. They
only did 4 songs, but they sounded fantastic (except
when Simon LeBon tried to hit a high note at the very
end of one song). But still, they (mostly) looked
great and sounded as good as ever. They were happy to
be reprising their role from the Live Aid concert in
1987.

And then it got boring.

I wasn't sure how long it would be before Tim and/or
Faith would show up, and I was really uncomfortable.
Still in the shade, but slowly sliding down the hill
and not really enjoying the cloud of second hand smoke
that I sat in. So I got up, stood on the sidewalk
looking down on the crowd for a while, and then gave
up entirely at 5 and headed for the Hard Rock Cafe
where I watched the London show and had a burger. So
Italian!

A couple of hours later, I headed back to the
apartment. Lilly's brother has super duper cable, so
I settled in with some other coverage of the concert,
did a load of laundry, sent some photos, and had a
quiet night. It was great.

Today... who knows? I'll figure something out. :)

Happy (almost) 4th of July (and a belated Happy Canada
Day to Roxane)

Best always,
Michele

Trouble finding me?
www.michelesumma.com