For Ingrid’s birthday treat this year, we spent a romantic weekend in her favourite city. We left straight after school on Friday and were in Rome in the early evening. We had booked into a lovely hotel just off the Piazza della Repubblica, on the 4th floor serviced by an impressive historic lift. After dropping off our bag we went walking, looking for dinner. We came across a restaurant with people queuing outside and thinking that was a good sign, booked a table and went off for an aperitivo. The waiter seemed particularly amused by my first name, probably just relieved that I was not German. After dinner we wandered down to the rococo masterpiece that is the Trevi Fountain, threw in the required 3 coins and took photos like the other 500 tourists there at the time. After, walking through the deserted streets around the Quirinale was quite atmospheric with a lot of history in the air.
Breakfast in our room featured coffee which smelled like coffee, unlike in London a couple of weeks before. For our first venture, we took the Metro to get to the Church of St Pietro in Vincoli, realising after that it would have been quicker to walk. Despite its unprepossessing exterior, this church features a reliquary containing the chains that bound St Peter in Jerusalem as well as Michelangelo’s statue of (a pissed-off looking) Moses on the unfinished tomb for Pope Julius II. Here Ingrid received a phone call featuring a very tuneful rendition of Happy Birthday from Louise and Ian.
We then wandered down along the edge of the Roman forum (curiously, there was a number of statues of Caesar trying to catch a taxi) to the Piazza del Campidoglio, a very popular place for Saturday morning weddings. We climbed up the architectural monstrosity that is the Vittorio Emanuele II monument, known to locals as “the typewriter” or “the wedding cake”. Its main attraction is the panoramic view of Rome from the top. Of the numerous church domes to be seen, the one with the most presence was, of course, St Peter’s.
We enjoyed a traditional lunch in the sunshine on the Largo di Torre Argentina. Our post prandial perambulations took us through the Pantheon, Piazza Navona, a gelato stop and a riverside walk to the Castel Sant’Angelo (of Angels and Demons fame). The view from the top in the late afternoon light was exquisite.
We had the birthday dinner at a quaint restaurant on the Largo del Pallaro in the (really) old part of town, renowned for its complete lack of menu or choice – you eat and drink what is placed in front of you. After, we walked through the backstreets to Campo de’Fiori, which has an impressive statue of the pantheist and free thinker, Giordano Bruno, who was burned at the stake as a heretic, which is perhaps why this area is clearly the place for young Italian smokers. A rough and wild bus ride across town then delivered us back to our hotel.
The combination of perfect weather and lack of weekday traffic made the walk towards the Spanish Steps quite delightful. The highpoint of the day was finding the elusive red shoulder bag in a shop the size of a (small) wardrobe on the Piazza Barberini. At the top of the Spanish Steps sits the Church of the Trinita dei Monti which belongs to the French state. A sung mass in French was in progress with a choir of very nun-looking nuns. I happened to sit near a big African gentleman with an amazing baritone delivery. The whole effect was very moving.
We continued down the uber-trendy Via dei Condotti gawking at the very expensive shops and very expensive people. There were any number of caricatures. The controversial Richard Meier building housing the Ara Pacis sits starkly on the banks of the Tiber – an immaculate piece of architecture, but perhaps out of place and context with its surroundings. As there was an horrendously expensive exhibition on at the time, we did the peasant thing and stared in through the enormous windows at the Roman Ara Pacis (peace altar) itself, as well as an officious custodian and some poseur explaining the ancient panels to his companion – it reminded me of me.
Almost the highlight of the whole weekend was the lunch we had sitting outside in the Piazza della Maddalena – Parma prosciutto, fresh pizza bread, (real) mozzarella followed by gnocchi almost as good as Mamma Fedele makes, all washed down with something red. Replete, we wandered through the Galleria Alberto Sordi, past the Trevi Fountain, picked up our supply of coffee and parmigiano cheese and then to the airport via the long trek through the Roma Termini station.
As a magical postscript, after take off we were treated to an immaculate view out over Monte Argentario across the Tyrrhenian to Corsica, where I first sailed when I came to Europe.
