Stadio Olimpico

Well I made it in good time to see the two female stars, Sciapone and she who shrieks and won
the Oz Open champion practising on the outer court. 

It was good to arrive three hours early, remember what I told myself, always be early especially in Rome, where you never know when the next bus is coming. I had prepared myself with bread, ham and cheese for a long day at the courts. It's cloudy but still hot, God knows what it's like hère in summer. I am quite well prepared but no sun screen, just a cap and long sleeved shirt. It's very relaxed hère at thé moment but am sure it will change once the stars are on court. I am hoping to see Nadal and Federer but am happy whatever.

I haven't said it before, but it's obvious, the Italians enjoy life, even in its adversities. for most people, life is quite hard, just work, sleep, eat, and play when you can. Like the couple at the caffe Siciliano yesterday. He was a type like Marcello Mastroianni, and she was a veritable puta. Big breasted and small waisted, high heels and painted lips. I noticed her arrive at the caffe and descend to the toilets, the sign said Sgre e Sgras, and I had wondered if if was a communale toilet. Ten minutes later emerged from the doorway, she, perfectly coiffed still, and close by, he, trying not to look like a cat who's just had his milk. Today I went to the toilet, for all the legitimate reasons, and discovered it was a perfect place for a dangerous liaison, soundproof and large enough for anyone, or two, to have a good time. Well those two were a busy couple who needed just ten minutes for the necessities of life in Bella Roma.

Back to the tennis. Outside court it is now the boys turn, but I don't recognise anyone, damn!
However it's actually much cooler outside, or is it just that the clouds have appeared. It's going to be a long hot day, and btw, just in case you want a hit of sugar, don't bring along a bar of chocolate, which I did, and which is now a mess of melted brown caramel in the packet. I dare not open it. Well I've never even been to an Open before, and I don't know these things. There are many die-hard tennis tragics around me and I dont think they bring chocolaté!

La Traviata

It's domenica mattina, and I'm again having collazione at my local caffe Siciliano. This time I try a cappuccino and two pastries, just trying things out, I tell myself! Anyway I am on my way to Stadio Olimpico, with no tix, hoping to get a day pass for thirty euros.

Last night at the English church in via del Baduino, I witnessed an interesting operatic scene not likely to be heard elsewhere. Some retired singers and some new ones in a creditable and sometimes excellent rendition, of the Verdi favourite, La Traviata. The bass singer was astounding, an older man, and he was kind enough to present himself at the exit door to receive 'auguries' from the audience. 

The church itself, reputed to have the best acoustics in all of Rome, didn't disappoint. There were plaques all around commemorating the English liberating Rome in1944. Also the first visit from the Archbishop of Canterbury to meet the Pope, Jean Paul 23rd since the reformation.

Home on the metro with many young Scandinavians, and then luckily a direct connection of bus 913 to take me home tired but happy.

Earlier in the evening, I experienced the 'passiagiata' along Via del Corso, from Piazza di Spagna to Piazza del Popolo and it was interesting, but nothing to compare with the same in Istanbul last year, which was twice as big, and much more exciting. Rome is still happening, but not with the buzz of yesteryear. ..the tourists have taken over, and the inmates are running the asylum.

Will now go to local supermarket to get some lunch for a long day at the tennis. Yesterday, the girl at the cash register was lovely and took my bunch of bananas to weigh all the way back to where I had picked them up, me not realising that you need to price them 'sur place' ! The service in the area is local and very attentive, and it's not touristy, which is the best.

In Air over Russia

Well, not really, as I've just flown out of Helsinki. 

The earlier flight was OK as I took a valium to help me get some much needed sleep. My neighbour was a sweet young Singapore student on here way to Warsaw on an exchange program. She was conveniently tiny and quiet. My excitement escalated on viewing Finland from the air, all sea and small islands. However I didn't have much time to savour its culture as I had to run to make the transfer, last one on board! 

But now I am on my last leg I am much more relaxed, getting ready for the madness of Italy. My first impression of the Finns was excellent and I look forward to my return flight when I have nine hours to look at, and taste their excellence. A proud and honest race and one with whom I am sure I would be happy to share their culture. Happily again I have no neighbour and it's a very well regulated flight, with perhaps even a good breakfast, I am hoping.

Cafe Balduina

Just received some awful service in local cafe, the waitress was in such a bad mood she spilled coffee all over the table! She bought me a new one, but with cold milk. I still haven't learned how to order my coffees in Rome.

Yesterday was really my first day, and was spent in the time-honoured way of bussing through the major sites, checking where I will revisit. The crowds at the Coliseum were too great to contemplate visiting there so I may rethink that plan. However it was excellent and I finished again at the Vatican
where I decided to have some lunch, not exciting, at a local cafe. I was seated next to four Americans from Colarado, about my age, chatting about their trip The men were macho, the women quite nice. Nodded to me 'bravo' when I gave some small change to a Romany girl, suckling her baby, was it hers, I wondered.

Feeling tired, I caught the Metro home for a nap and then checked out the cinemas. Max, my host, had said cinema Adriano, where he saw the Beatles in 1965 was now converted to a complex, but one movie had a five star movie at six pm. I hurried to the bus stop, caught the next bus 913, discovered two helpful Romans who disagreed where I should alight, but luckily I took the girl's advice and miraculously arrived in time to see a delightful Japanese kids' cartoon movie called 'Kiki'. I was the lone adult there and enjoyed it immensely.

Home for an early night as today it is Carravaggio at the Villa Borghese tomorrow.
Ooh, I forgot, I also booked a seat for Saturday night's opera at a basilica near Piazza del Popolo, La Traviata, a must when in Italy to see an opera, I was thinking....

Caffe Siciliano

Today I feel less jetlagged so am having collazione at local Siciliano cafe. Yesterday was exhausting, walking a quarter of Ancient Rome to visit the Villa Borghese, the Galleria in the meandering lush greenery of the giardine. The Villa itself was worth the trip to Rome, amazing opulence and the sculptures, and paintings, Carravaggio to be sure, were incredible. I emerged artistically exhausted but satiated and little drops of rain were trying to appease the quite humid spring day. the French were out in droves, and a few Americans. One such couple waxed bitterly about our tour purchaser, the famous Viator, they had missed their guided tour and they had no more tickets. The American dame was ropable, and told everyone she would 'yelp' very quickly about this monstrous mistake. This is the new way to complain, the Internet complaint service, where the world now knows of your perceived injustices. Later I spoke to her, still somewhat aggrieved. She had at least made the cut, but had no guided tour which she had booked and paid for.

Walking through the famous gardens in the spattering rain, looking at all the tourists, some on bikes, the new-eco transport, some on one-wheelers, obviously having a good time, seems to be a good

 way to experience Rome. I passed by the Museum of Modern Art, but couldn't manage it, and walked on, a bit lost, down the big boulevard. I noticed suddenly Via Antonio Gramsci, just where my friend T.  always stays when she come regularly to visit Roma to study at the British Institute. 

Getting more tired, I eventually made Metro Flaminia at the Piazza del Popolo and took the train back to Cipro, and home. It was only five o'clock but my day was done. I was ready to lie down and think over the day. After all, it wasn't just the Galleria Borghese, but the walk from Piazza di Spagna through Via Condotti to the Fontana Di Trevi, then along the winding and famous Via Veneto, which has surely seen better days, and the hour or so walk on the cobbled streets has left me wanting to lay down and rest my aching back.

After a day of Art, today is shopping, and I hope also to purchase two rail tickets, one to Naples and one to Orvieto, todo when I return after London.

 Home after a big morning, checking out my next residence, where I am staying on my return from London. The place looks good, but Iolanda, my hostess, wasn't at home. I take the tram back to Termini where I decide to look into booking tickets for Naples and Orvieto. After coping with the touts trying to help me, I manage to get my two trips books, for no particular days, so I will just go when I feel like it. I have always wanted to see Naples and I know Orvieto is beautiful. So my week in Rome on return is nearly filled. 

Feeling tired I see the Caffe Ciao on the first level at Termini, a self-service, so I think I'll try it. Not a good idea! I want to tell everyone, do not eat at the Termini, unless you just want to view the masses from above, which is what I eventually did. The food was awful, and even the girl sitting next to me couldn't eat her salad. You do need to pick you eateries in any city I suppose. However a lesson was learned, and now am back home for a brief rest before the experience of the opera, Verdi's popular La Traviata, done by a local company, but should still be OK. 

Photo of Caffe Siciliano.

Arriving in Roma

Well I'm here, and it is fabulous... 

Took the five euro bus from airport Fiumicino, sat with an Eritrean and two Turks, feel I am really in Rome now. Stazione Termini was just as bustling as I had imagined. I managed to buy a fresh orange juice and then tried to contact my host, Daniela, with my unused mobile. Bad idea, it's more complex with the travel SIM card in it and I had enormous trouble getting her, but finally, miraculously, she answered, in Italian of course, saying she was leaving the house in 20 minutes so I'd better hurry otherwise she would not be home till after seven. 

Mamma Mia, I immediately rushed to the Metro, buying two tickets from the street seller, asked for direction Ballestrina, jumped on and arrived at five to one, still with another bus to take. I asked a woman on the stairway how to get the bus to Piazza Balduina, via Medaglio D'Oro, not knowing what I was talking about, and then she said she was going that way, and to follow. Which I did. I saw the 907 bus I was told to catch, but it went without me, and I stood there stupidly lost and thinking, 'I'll miss her'.  Then I saw a taxi, jumped in and said 'Via Attilio Friggeri, ninety four', he looked OK but hated that I put my luggage on his new back seat, (he was obviously in love with his car), and then proceeded to take me to the right address and charged me the right amount, no rip-off there. A good driver and honest. I then tried to ring Daniela from the entrance and finally she answered
'thank god' I muttered, went in and discovered the lift door had not ben properly closed, so I had to climb the four stories. Panting and exhausted, I arrived, and she was quite delightful as I collapsed on her wonderful couch and told her my phone was mal-functioning, not that I was disfunctioning, more to the point.

Anyway, I made it, and her apartment is ab. fab. and I have lucked out there. At present I am in the local cafe having a 'the con citron' and typing this while checking out at the local colour. I will come here for breakfast every morning, I hope, and temporarily become a real Romano!

Rome, here I come!

At airport, through security and customs, a breeze, and another hour before the gate 12 even opens. All is well, extra well really, although the only thing not yet working are my bowels, but then, that was to be expected. they'll come good later I hope.
Anthony came with me to Hobart airport, ready exactly as he said even a little before 5 am. He was stretching with two dumbells at his doorstep, totally prepared for our little ritual trip to the airport. It will be a cleansing this time as on our last trip we arrived five minutes late, my seat had been taken and the flight closed. Not a nice memory although I survived, albeit quit a bit poorer after the last seat in a Qantas flight broke the bank! This time no problems, boarding pass in hand and at least half an hour before flight time, which, for Hobart was acceptable. Of course Anthony wanted to talk, more excited about my travels than me, as it is is dream to leave the island one day, thus completely breakingthe mould  which ties him to his Tasmanian heritage. He has given up smoking, again, and drinking, and therefore has no friends. I encourage him to continue his dream, although I know it will be a hard one for him to realise.

On the Virgin aircraft, aisle seat, I am immediately assailed by strident voices discussing work and kids. A couple of dressed up forty somethings, on their way for a big day shopping in Melbourne. At six am a harsh excited voice, reminiscent of chalk on a childhood blackboard, is not the easiest to deal with. I have started my travels!

At Changi airport, for an eight hour stopover.....
Safety, industry and efficiency, that is the feel of this highly organised airport, no terrorists here.

At least I can catch up with this blog. The Qantas flight was uneventful, with a large Indian man directly In front of me being fussed over by his wife and son. He was not a happy traveller. Happily I had no one around me as it was not at all a full flight. Most stewards were Asian, with one middle-aged Aussie wheezing about. The food was extravagantly,  written but bland an uninteresting to eat.
I caught up with three inflight movies during the seven hour stint, all ones I wanted to see...The Sessions, with Helen Hunt, The Sapphires, top Aussie movie, and the French foodie movie Haute Cuisine, all good. But I am a wreck, and my eyeballs are falling out go their sockets. I need a nap but can't seem to take one. I'll be great tomorrow, lol!

But one marvellous bonus of travelling with Qantas was the pilot telling us when we were over Uluru and the Olgas, a breathtaking view of the red centre, something I will never forget, amazing desert landscape. Woul have liked to have taken a photo of it. But anyway, it was worth the trip, in itself!
Here are two snaps at the resting place...