Roma Saga Part III

Someone remind me where the time flies, s’il vous plait? Because it certainly isn’t to France.

I’m feeling quite ridiculous that Rome still isn’t finished. Let’s get this done, then I’m posting another entry with the past weekend.

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Q: For real, what in the world have you been doing Elaine?

A: Working 40 hours a week on organic chemistry synthesis, cooking edible compounds for my personal consumption, and planning logistics for my dad’s stay in France. Please take a deep breath and compose yourself.

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Blogging Saga of the Year: ROME PART III

We last left our two heroines at St. Peter’s basilica in Rome. They were amusing themselves watching the beginnings of a peculiar wedding by imagining situations which would allow one to get married in the Vatican.

Following St. Peters, Elizabeth and I made a stop at her favorite local bakery. The bakery was located in the basement of a residential building (actually also neighbors to a sex shop) BUT it was a really cute local bakery. The bakery had this modern, yet local chic feel – something only Italy could pull off. The desserts looked like something from a story book while the interior sported a modern stainless steel look. There was even a flat screen TV mounted that silently played the Italian “E!” fashion channel.

We ordered Elizabeth’s favorite biscottis (cookies) which were these mini tartlets filled with a chocolate cream. While we were waiting for someone to take our order, some locals were coming up and down the steps carrying bags and platters of mini Italian sandwiches, finger foods, desserts, and cakes. Basically I wanted to go to this party or have a bakery like this down the street to cater.

After our cookie stop, we hit up the subway, landed in a random northern piazza, and worked our way south. This means we saw A LOT. We walked, we absorbed, we talked, we took in Roma.

Went back down past the Pantheon, but couldn’t go inside because a mass was going on. I hugged a column instead because I’m silly.


From there we started walking toward the Roman Forum and Coliseum. As we walked past the “wedding cake” Palazzo Venezia -- nicknamed because apparently even the Italians find it gaudy, and I’m not sure how this is possible – Elizabeth and I noticed that the roads were being blocked off by police and that there was a lot of noise coming from the base. Once we started guessing what it was we knew it would be good.

Yes, the two prim and proper only children, who last summer took tea and scones regularly on afternoons following discussions of English literature found themselves in the middle of a gay rights rally in Rome.

You may be picturing an organized rally protest or colorfully classy gay pride parade that one would find in the US. But no class and organization in Rome. This rights rally quickly turned into a Eurotrash gay rights/random street party. What started as a protest, ended as a bunch of trailers and trucks blaring techno music. Cross dressers were everywhere, random people were just jumping in, people were dragging bins of beer, there were ghetto signs hanging off the back of pick up trucks, and this party was just getting started.

We had a really fun time laughing at ourselves ending up in the middle of such a European spectacle.

When we finally had decided the show party was over (and we were still trying to make sense of what exactly we had just witnessed) we walked through the Roman forum and headed toward the collussim. We both had kind of realized that we were starting to need to go to the bathroom.

Traveling Tip:
I’m convinced that Europeans are just perpetually dehydrated, because they hate bathrooms. This also might explain why public urination is so widely accepted here – as I see frequently. When you realize that you even MIGHT need a restroom soon, start looking immediately.

Both experienced travels, we started looking. The ONLY thing we seriously could find were a set of portapotties that were just NOT ok. 40 minutes later, no bathroom, and a worrying feeling in my bladder, I decided that I had major penis envy and declared my hatred for all males.

I also was desperate enough to pay 3 dollars for a diet coke so that we could finally relieve ourselves at a restaurant.

At moments like this you miss the United States, land of the public toilettes, quite bitterly.

Here come the Italian Brides?

After our desperate walking, we took our expensive drinks and crashed outside the coliseum. I didn’t even care to go inside at this point, we just wanted to sit. We were sitting facing Constantine’s Arch, and we both noticed a bride and groom getting their wedding pictures. Both of us nonchalantly made a comment and continued talking about whatever.

Then we saw another. That was odd.

Then there were two more.

Was this a photoshoot? And why would people come to a monument that symbolizes such violence?

And the brides kept coming. When we got back to her apartment we tried to look it up, but we think it must be some type of tradition to get your picture by Constantine’s Arch because we saw about 25 brides and grooms traipse through the tourist’s litter to get in place for pictures.

Elizabeth and I enjoyed this because it spurred conversation regarding “oooohhh look at her dress!” or “omg, I’ll never wear anything like that” and general girly fantasy. It was very fun.

We were both exhausted, so we headed back to her apartment. What was supposed to be a 15 minute crazy, bat out of hell, bus ride back turned into about 30 minutes re-routed and stuck in traffic.

Then Elizabeth remembered. George Bush was coming to Italy that night to meet with the Pope. We got stuck in traffic because of it. All the locals were confused on the bus and we were trying to figure out if we were going to make the right stop. After fighting traffic, we crashed in her apartment and had some Frescati Italian wine.


Sunday

My final day in Rome. Sunday for us was more about soaking up the Italian atmosphere. I did some last minute souvenir shopping and we went and saw a final famous Piazza with a famous statue, non of which I can remember the name of. Normally in this case I’d look it up, but I’m tired and have work tomorrow.

So yeah, famous stuff in Italy. We “brunched” at a local popular café. We both ended up getting this specialty bean soup, that came with freshly grated parmesan and fabulous bread. Amazing.

Afterwards I headed back to the airport, and back home to Strasbourg.

Fini. Bet you though I’d never finish this entry?

It’s past my bedtime. Tomorrow look forward to a post about my weekend biking around Strasbourg, exploring Heidelberg, soaking up the music festival, and spontaneously visiting a local castle.