Amalfi Coast: a rainy day

Friday April 4th.
An uneventful day.

Today we woke up to clouds rolling in from Africa. It wasn't raining yet, so we still ate breakfast on the patio. We just did a lot of reading and walked up to the town square in Ravello right before 11am.
We sat in the church for a while. I took some photos. 

Then we got comfortable on a covered outdoor patio at Al San Domingo, drinking espresso and rooibos tea while using the wifi. 

And then it started to pour!

Ravello's town square:

Town square

We sat and sat and sat, sipped and sipped, meditated and read until finally it lightened up enough for us to find some lunch. We ate at Ristorante Vittoria. I had an octopus salad and cuttlefish (squid). It was really light and lemony and didn't involve anything but the squid and some vegetables- perfect for a rainy day. Our food there was good, but Max order a pizza and it just wasn't as good. That was our only problem with the place. 

We wandered the town some more and relaxed.

On our walk around town that afternoon, while it was still kind of drizzly and damp, we were walking down some stairs and saw this guy:

EWWWWWW!

I have ascertained I have a deep, irrational fear of large frogs. Especially the ones with weirdly bent legs. Oh my GOODNESS. So gross. He was bigger than my HAND. Like my entire hand. 

After a freak out sesh that lasted about 15 minutes, I calmed down enough to walk past him. 

Our view of the rain clouds from the terrace at B&B I Limoni:

When it came to choosing a dinner spot, we both knew we wanted to go back to Cumpa Cosimo. No question. Our only hesitation was that were not too hungry and preferred to order ourselves. We couldn't risk 'mama' coming over and offering us 3 or 4 courses again. I could not bear to think about the crestfallen look on her face as she or her grown son came to clear away our plates with half finished food leftover. Oh horror of horrors! But the allure of the food at such a good price won us over, and -mama or no mama- we decided to eat there.

As luck would have it, she let us order for ourselves. We had fresh, local anchovies marinated in lemon, then a vegetable soup for me, and linguine with porcini mushrooms for Max. I believe we also had an arugula salad. So very good, and not too heavy.
We did not have the opportunity to build a big appetite this day because of the rain, and it was fitting that it was also a Friday in Lent. So we noshed happily and lightly and still felt incredibly satisfied. When they asked what we would like for dessert, we could hardly refuse homemade tiramisu though... They even insisted we take extra! No arguing with that.

At least I was spared the limoncello.

The Amalfi Coast: Day 2

Thursday April 3rd

Ravello, Italy 

We awoke to a sunny morning. This was a good thing because we were expecting (and did receive) some rain that afternoon and the next few days. We looked out at the patio and saw thermoses of coffee and funky place settings and a platter of homemade bread and ricotta cake:

The coffee was so so strong. And milk was there in a little pitcher to pour inside. I poured myself a usual American cup of coffee and gave thanks. I think I almost made it through the entire thermos! What can I say? I am a Pacific Northwestern girl and I like my coffee, the stronger the better.

My coffee:

And seriously what is going on with that homemade placemat. I don't even know.

Our first Amalfi hike was to go to the next village over, called Atrani. This involved (you guessed it- steps!) but also a really cool hike down the Valley of the Dragon. There is a river that runs the length of the valley. We followed it all the way down from Ravello to Atrani, where it then fights its way into the ocean near the boardwalk.

There were some really cool houses and old mills in the valley, and the wisteria was unreal:

We further and further down the lush, green valley and eventually wound up in Atrani:

Below the arches in the above photo is a seating area right over shallow spot where the river runs into the ocean. 

I love watching rivers meet the sea. There is a constant struggle as the tide comes in. The river runs and runs but the aggressive waves win. At this point, there is more salt water than fresh water in the river bed. Then, as the tide goes out, the pacifist river peacefully flows out uninhibited, and in its own little way, it wins. It is amazing to think about the enormous amount of living creatures that depend on this constant war for survival. They need the perfect balance of pH, of salt water and fresh water, in order to thrive here. If the river triumphed too often, then they may not survive. Of course (nature being what it is) they could probably adapt and become purely creatures of the river. And vice versa. But here in this bed of sand and rock where the perfect marriage of the two environments is, they currently, and hopefully always will, exist. 

We sat and looked at the ocean and mused for a little bit (obviously I waxed poetic about water, sorry about that). There were a few little skiffs anchored on the shore. We saw one guy take one out to fish. Designer jeans and sweater along with rubber galoshes and fishing pole. If there's one difference between us Americans and these Europeans, it's that we always sacrifice style for practicality when we do anything outdoors. For instance, I was wearing hiking boots, quick-drying hiking pants, and an athletic shirt as I wrote this! If an Italian was embarking on the long hikes I did, she'd probably wear loafers or designer sneakers, jeans, and a loud flashy leather jacket. The only exception to this rule is Germans and of course, British. They wear their hiking pants and kerchiefs like any old American would. 

On this subject, I'll never forget the time Max and I went to Bryce Canyon National Park in Utah, and a bus of French tourists came over and stopped at the edge of the canyon. The women who disembarked all wore high heels and nylon stockings! They hobbled down the paths, gripping the sides of the canyon like their lives depended on it. Which, of course, they did. They would wear their heels and succeed, damn it!

Back to Atrani… We hung around for a while and walked up to the local church:

This is me and a construction worker, hanging out on the square in front of the Church:

After seeing Atrani's church we hiked over to the town of Amalfi from Atrani. Here's a map if it's all a bit confusing:

Ravello is further inland (barely), we descended to Atrani, and you can see how Amalfi is right next door.

We did this little walk quite a bit, since it only takes 15 minutes. You walk up tiny narrow corridors between stucco housing, laundry hanging out to dry above you and handwoven rope doormats below you as you come across little, brightly painted doorways (the entry to someone's little apartment). Occasionally in the tunnels and under the arches we would see a shrine embedded in the white wall, to Mary or some other saint, with fresh flowers in a little vase and an electric light bulb brightly lit. We climbed and climbed step after step until finally the path leveled out, and we emerged from the housing buildings, walking and hugging the cliffside and passing someone's sloping lemon grove on the left, and cactus garden to the right. 

We went again into the covered white plaster walls of the alleyway and between living spaces before descending into the town of Amalfi:

The view from where we emerged between houses

We walked down the steps and looked out over the beach:

It is a lot bigger than Atrani, with more tourists. There are places here that have been open since the 1930s, when Greta Garbo wined and dined in the area. 

In Amalfi there is most notably the cathedral of St Andrew the Apostle. He was crucified in the mid- to late- 1st century A.D. in Patras. The tradition is that he was crucified on an X-shaped cross. In the 1200s, his relics were brought to Amalfi and the cathedral was built. The tower and facade have amazing mosaics that glitter in the afternoon sun:

Combined with the glittering ocean, it's a sight to behold. It doesn't look like a lot of steps, but a lot of steps lead up to the cathedral, and we got to go up through the courtyard, where they had big, incomplete pieces of art and engraved marble that they found on a recent excavation.  

This is the inner courtyard, which was really peaceful:

The inside of the church was stunning: 

Underneath this statue of him, beneath the altar, is where his remains are.

I definitely stopped to reflect and be grateful for the fact that in 2014, I have seen the burial places of 3 apostles! Peter, Paul (for me, he counts) and now Andrew. 

We went out for lunch at Il Tari' (find the website here) in Amalfi, and then geared up for the steep, sweaty hike back up to Ravello. 

We embarked

An example of some of the steep narrow steps. This was at least 1,000 feet UP these steps, straight up from Amalfi, you can see the white blur of Amalfi down below.

We did not go back up the Valley of the Dragon, but rather went up around this Villa:

We found the motto for Wolfson College! (see photo below) 

"Humani nil a me alienum puto…" meaning "I find nothing human to be alien to me"

I thought this tower at the Villa was pretty cool:

Villa Cimbrone was built by some rich British guy back in the 1800s. He was old and had a wildly pretentious name. Turns out he wanted a good view and had tons of money with which to find and claim one. The Villa part was nice, but the best part by far was the gardens and the view. If you have ever been to Meditation Mount in Ojai, California, then imagine that on steroids and maybe you'll come close to this (without all the annoying hippie mantras carved into the rocks). It had a similar vibe.

Some more photos around the villa:

The famous view with the heads.

I swear I was happy? just trying not to get blinded

the mountains were ridiculous

After the Villa Cimbrone, we arrived back in Ravello via long pathways and more alleyways. We passed a homeowner's backyard vineyard. I groaned with jealousy:

These sorts of painted tiles govern every doorway:

The alleyways whose beauty I can't describe:

The statue of St. Francis (who travelled here!) with a kitty perched on the right, at his feet:

These cats have the right idea:

A sign for the Cosmos and Damian church in Ravello:

...and saw the Villa Rufolo, which is actually from the 1200s and so was really a sight to behold. This was the view:

And the freaking old entrance to the Villa:

When you look at the narrow road, and the fact that the garbage man STILL takes a pack mule up the narrow alleyways to collect the weeks trash, it is astonishing to imagine how on earth they built a magnificent villa and church in the 1200s. The marble and mosaics and tiles....the thought of transporting them makes my legs wobble.

We had a nice siesta back at the B&B and Luigi, the owner, came over to us as we were reading on the patio and offered us homemade limoncello from their own lemons.

Lord, give me strength. This stuff went down like moonshine (not that I would know about moonshine, but I am from the old dominion). 

cheers!

He then brought a shot of espresso and that was a wonderful chaser. I prayed my intestines would forgive me, which I knew they would, and we continued relaxing until it was time to walk up for dinner.

We ate at a restaurant called Da Salvatore. The view was amazing. The whole place had an old Hollywood feel to it, and it has been in continuous business since the 1950s. A lot of celebrities back then vacationed here, so the feeling made sense.

Snuck in a shot of the restaurant without looking too awkward, I hope

I had smoked grouper fish with cauliflower purée:

It reminds me of the "depressing, dimly-lit meals for one" photo series on Buzzfeed

and then a beef steak with tomatoes and balsamic vinegar. 
Max ate gnocchi with a bittersweet chocolate sauce:

it looks monstrously horrifying, but it tasted lovely

And he followed that with veal. Highly recommend this place. All while we were eating, these curious noises came from around a corner. First it sounded just like a dog barking, then it was weird little Italian phrases. It didn't take long for us to put together that there was parrot in the restaurant! He was a cute little guy:

He didn't know English.

As noted, we stayed below the town though so every time we went to the town square or restaurants like Da Salvatore we needed to climb almost 1,000 stone steps. I was grateful we had to go up to the town rather than down. Going up just means you get more of an appetite before eating, then you have a pleasant walk down afterwards. The alternative- goodness! I can't even think about it.

The Amalfi Coast: Day 1

Wednesday April 2nd:

London Gatwick Airport to Ravello, Italy.

After a bit stressful of a morning (we thought we might miss our morning flight and ran a mile to the gate only to find out that the airline was running late), we arrived in Naples airport. It was pretty nice to pass the Naval base and see where I might have spent part of my childhood. The city itself, though, was just your average city. I was so happy to be in the land of palm trees and ocean (yay! Seagulls!) I didn't notice all the graffiti and sketchy people on our warm bus ride from Naples airport to Naples train station. The wind would catch the little patches of trash and swirl them around into a litter-tornado. It felt kind of like L.A. or NYC. After thirty minutes on the bus, we had a short walk over to the train station to get our train tickets to the Amalfi Coast.

We got off the bus, and immediately I hear a bright, friendly voice say:
"Hi- do y'all mind if I walk with you to the train station?"
I turn to my left and see a bright, friendly face to match the bright, friendly voice of a woman about my age, dragging a suitcase and carrying an admittedly cute Yorkshire terrier. Caught a little off guard by this girl, I said "uhh sure! I guess the train station is this way? Anyway, we'll find it together!"

Turns out, she is in the US Navy and stationed in Naples, all alone, and just needed a human connection. I can't blame her. I need desperately to have someone to talk to, and when I go an afternoon alone I begin to go crazy. It's definitely no accident that I was born in a big family. It's bad, and I have tried to work on loving being alone. But I can't. I do not like it, Sam I am.

So this gal was on her way to the train station to go on a trip up to Venice. She had a "grit your teeth and bear it" sort of attitude to her loneliness. She is stationed here, she might as well travel. Her last post was Jacksonville Florida. I've never been there. After we chatted and walked to the station I introduced her to Max, who was walking just a step ahead of us. She nodded her head towards me and said "I just needed to see a friendly face and talk to someone nice and she looked like the right person to talk to!"



Well, glad I could help. We chatted a little longer, wished each other well and parted ways.

After an hour wait for the (late) train in Naples, we arrived in Salerno, Italy. This is on the coast. We bought two bus tickets for Amalfi, then patiently waited for the (late) bus. This is when I realized Italians can be very impatient people. They stamp their feet and pace the ground and look at me darkly-- as if it's MY fault!
--Gosh Mary, way to make the train late
--if it weren't for you, I would be halfway to my home by now!



I imagined them growling these thoughts as they stared at me through their narrowed, dark eyes... Perpetual scapegoat that I am, I was tempted to bow humbly and acquiesce to the irritated attitudes of those around me. But I suppressed this. It's definitely a stereotype that your transportation never runs on time, people! Don't even get me started on the joke that getting the trains to arrive on time was Mussolini's kindest act of service to this country. (*note: this is a gross exaggeration of what was probably one old lady who actually looked at me angrily about the lateness of the transportation, looking more for empathy than a person to blame)

Anyway, trains, buses, flights- they are all going to be late, and it does not bother me one bit. Because why? Because ITALY.

We drove on tiny streets that hugged the sides of cliffs in our bus. I have so much respect for that driver. Anytime we came round a corner, he had to blast the horn so that other cars could stop for us. We meandered up the mountainside to Amalfi, and then changed buses and continued on to Ravello, our first overnight stop on our journey through the coast.


The Church in Ravello, in the town square:








Ravello is up on the mountain, and it has been a destination for celebrities in the past, such as Greta Garbo and Richard Wagner (who gained some inspiration here for his opera Parsifal), and current celebrities like Justin Timberlake/Jessica Biel (when they were a thing, are they a thing? Who knows).

We stayed in a gorgeous little B&B called B&B I Limoni:




When we got off the bus, it took us a while to find out which direction to go in. The maps are oriented south to north, not north to south, and no compass or directional key to speak of. What's up with that?
We were stopped by an ancient Ravello (Ravellian?) man with a grocery bag and a cane, he stooped and despite being born and raised in this small town, he spoke fairly good English:



"Where are you going?" he asked pleasantly.



"B&B I limoni" we responded with a plea- help us find Via Gradoni!


"Ah, well, limoni- they are...they is...everywhere!" he offered with a smile. He grabbed my blurry, printed page with the map on it. The page got wrinkly in his tight but wobbly grip, and he seemed reluctant to ever give this piece of paper back to me. He happily told us: "Ah! Limoni! ....you just go to....there...and then here [he drew a square on the ground with his cane, meaning town square] you buy…limon- lemon! All thing with lemon. Sometimes there is a boy in the square with lemons. Ah, but he was not there today. But there is always limoni here. Just go...left. Yes, go left."His hazel eyes looked up at us. He looked like he might fall over with the exertion of telling us where to buy lemons! I think I muttered "hotel limoni" but he didn't hear me. I also could've sworn he meant go right, not left, since we had a vague notion of where the town square was.



"Dextro?" I added helpfully, with what I thought was a winning smile. This means right, and you have to go right to get to the square.


He looked at me with a furrowed brow, like he didn't know who I was, or why he was standing there on the warm cobblestones, talking to us, at that precise moment. Is it possible he had some form of dementia?? He spoke remarkably good English for a man who had no idea what he was talking about. Then he smiled. Oh well, then. We thanked him profusely, I managed to wrench the map out of his startlingly strong grasp, and we walked on.


Welcome to Ravello! That was mightily awkward!


We asked a few more people and finally managed to find Via Gradoni, where our place was located. It is actually not a "via" at all, it's JUST steps which meet the road. Hundreds of steep stone steps. And it was about halfway down the mountain, between the upper town square and the sea. So we scurried down and went through the gate.





"Sorry we're a bit late" Max said apologetically to the owner Rosalba after we introduced ourselves. She looked cheerfully at us and said "sorry, no English. Italiano??" To which we shook our heads. "Français?" She asked hopefully. All I remember is Max looking at me and saying "err she knows a little French" and suddenly I was saying things like "je suis désolée, nous sommes trop tard!" And she replied "pas de problème! Voici votre chambre...vous voulez quelque chose??" Rosalba is from Rome but studied French for a while and spent some time in southern France. Her husband Luigi who runs the B&B also was born and raised in Ravello, and he barely spoke English, and other than that it was Italian for him only.

This is how I ended up speaking French during the first few days of our trip to southern Italy. I love it when a brief, non-fluent relationship with a language becomes so entirely USEFUL. I know how to ask for more water and toilet paper! I know how to say her homemade cake is delicious and the sky is blue today despite the forecast of rain!

The world can be so full of possibilities.


Our room was nicely decorated:



This is me, rummaging, and it shows our big open doors out on to the terrace and the pretty stucco walls:












And this was the view from our terrace area:







B&B I Limoni is conveniently located closer to the ocean...towards the bottom of the mountain...below the town of Ravello...put it all together and it means yes, lots of descent and ascent. As kind, sweet Rosalba said:


Living towards the bottom is kind of a problem (with a wink).

Yo- massive understatement!


The tiny, steep corridors of steps are a marvel, to say the least. We have to climb 257 steep stone steps just to get to the first available paved road! Beyond that, it's another 350+ to get to the town square. On top of this is the sheer fact that hiking anywhere in Amalfi means hours straight of steps, steps, steps. It never ceased to amaze me how much strength the locals must have had, especially back in the days before the roads were built. Getting your daily tasks accomplished was made infinitely more difficult by the steps involved, I can imagine. But the locals know they wouldn't give it up for the world.


We wandered up to Ravello.


We ate our first night at Cumpa' Cosimo. We were seated, given water, then nonna came up to us.
"We have a bean zuppa, a good bean zuppa, and would you like pasta or fish?"
Keep in mind we have full menus in front of us and had started mulling over our own choices before she came up to us, thank you very much. Yet, her soft, warm gaze and pleasant attitude somehow made us hang on to every word and follow each suggestion with a smile and nod. In a bright floral apron dress, her once black hair now greyed pulled back tightly by a teal hairpiece, wearing those sensible tan stockings and 2-inch comfortable shoes that only older Italian ladies wear, she ruled the joint and definitely was in charge of the menu.



"Ok, I do bean zuppa, lasagna to share and grilled fish with potatoes"



Who could argue with that? We obediently passed her our menus and answered "Bianco" to her wine inquiry. The meal was incredible. The simple tomato-y bean soup was so good, she asked if we would like more when she came to check on us. It was tempting, but we decided not to imbibe just in case. Her son (in his late 30s early 40s) was helping out that evening. We sprinted through that meal. The main plate was tender sea bass cooked to perfection and served with potato and local lemons. They filleted the fish right in front of us before dishing up, and after we had finished we were offered limoncello. I am only sorry that I was so exhausted, I didn't think to take photos of our meal!

Limoncello is the local specialty. I have heard that some people love it and some, quite simply, don't. Well I LOVE it. It's an after dinner liquor ("digestive") and the shot of it comes in an icy chilled shot glass. Since there are so many lemons in this region, they have limoncello everywhere. It has a strong lemon peel flavor, and so is slightly bitter even though it's very sweet. So the whole experience is like a sweet lemon ice, only insanely alcoholic.

The waiter asked us both if we would like some. Having never tried it, I nodded eagerly. He looked at Max, who was on the path to refusal ("I'll just have a little taste of hers" he was saying) and the waiter said "I bring you both some, she is not going to leave any for you to try."



Very wise man indeed. I had my shot of it, and liked it though I was startled by the taste at first. It's so lemony! Then Max had a tiny taste of his, and he is not a fan, so I finished it. Then the waiter brought another shot for me! (Good thing I can hold my alcohol, I thought. A lesser individual would have gone silly at this point, but I inherited the iron constitution of somebody back in my ancestral line.) There were no flower pots nearby to dump it in and plus, I liked the stuff. I rallied. Following my third after-dinner shot, I hoped and prayed he wouldn't bring me another one, regardless of my alcohol holding abilities.


We paid our bill (we felt that she undercharged us) and said goodbye.

We walked back to our B&B, pondering what life was like for these people back in the day. People like 'nonna' of Cumpa' Cosimo. They had long days working in the vineyards and tending their gardens, walking up and down all of those steps with groceries. What about the pregnant ladies? Or the kids who learnt to walk on these uneven, steep pathways? It must be some inherited strength, we thought. As if their bodies pass on an evolutionary advantage to withstand steepness until the end of time.

Update

That's right, everyone. I am officially dusting off the old laptop screen and getting the little grey cells moving in order to bring you thoughts from my most peripatetic journey yet: the Amalfi Coast of Italy! I know you probably couldn't hear it, but that was me applauding…admittedly slow-clapping, for myself. To myself. I know. Sometimes, I can get a little bit self-focused. But when you live between suitcases, cities, and countries you have to learn self-preservation. For me, this meant taking a step back from writing. Mostly because nothing interesting was happening. But also because I decided 'less musing, more doing'. My own version of 'keep calm and carry on', albeit less catchy, and…it probably won't end up emblazoned on your coffee mugs.

This writing break also happened because I spent 2.5 months away from England in order to prove to them (that is, the U.K.) that I was NOT going to be an overstay. It is awful to be away from your partner-in-crime for so long, especially after being together non-stop for almost 2 years. (Wow. Almost at our second wedding anniversary. Be still my heart!). Yet I am pleased to report that if I had to leave England and my hubs due to visa restrictions, then I got to enjoy my time in exile doing productive things with really good people. I worked hard, played hard, and got much closer to these beautiful people in my life I am blessed to call family and friends. The quirks, the shadowing in the ICU, the 9pm sushi making with my younger brother, honestly it was great. You all know who you are, and I'm so thankful for the time I got to spend with each and every one of you. Thank you for making my time away from England so memorable!

Before I cry, continue reading on. Because exciting and interesting things have happened, and now I get to write about them! Namely, our 2 1/2 week adventure to the Amalfi Coast of Italy and the Cinque Terre.

Rome Part 1

Roma. The Eternal City. Rome. Whatever you choose to call it,  whether it is a great big mess of chaos and cars to you, or ruins and long rolled rrrrrr's, Rome has an incredible ability to make one feel at home. Even if you aren't Italian in the slightest, it is quite possible that you might feel Italian in Rome. It is so easy to sink into their routine.

Normally, I like my breakfasts BIG and my coffee PRESSED (yes, I like-ah the French-ah Press-ah). BUT, I began skipping breakfast and knocking back a solo cappuccino like I was born there. Surprisingly, I made it until lunch. Which was a long, involved affair and often left us feeling so stuffed we never thought we would eat dinner. Siesta time? Yeah, that definitely happened. We lounged in the hotel room, feeling like stuffed beach balls, for the duration of the afternoon hours. If we had not taken the time to rest after the miles and miles of walking, sightseeing, and eating, then I think we might have died. Then, we ventured out once again, and, when 8:30pm rolled around, we considered eating dinner. This is the Italian way, and I never thought I could gel with it, but I did. Gelato, almost twice daily, was the ice cream on top of the cake which is Italian living.

Day 1: Arriving at Rome Fiumicino Airport, in which the highlight of the trip occurred:

Friday we arrived. Big deal. Well, we grabbed our luggage and started following signs to the central train station at the airport. See, we heard that taking the Leonardo Da Vinci express train from the airport to Termini Station (only a mile from our hotel) was a good idea. And it was. It is the cheapest option, at €14 per person. But there was a woman guarding a tourist booth right at the entrance to the train station, and she talked us into a private shuttle that would take us right to the front door of our hotel for only €1 more. So we chose this option, and it ended up being faster and well worth it.

The highlight of the beginning of our trip involves the tourist booth woman. She was located near the entrance to the train station, and everyone who walked through those doors got pegged by this lady, because she tried to greet everyone in the language she thought they would understand best. A few people after us looked American, so she said "hello!". Another couple that came out later looked German or something (they ended up being Norwegian), but the tour guide lady said "Guten Tag" (or however you spell it).

So what did she say to me and Max when we walked through, you ask?

"Bonjour!"

I almost died. She thought we were French. No wonder those Parisians never spoke English with me. Even if I butcher their language on occasion or stare blankly at them when I don't understand their pithy comments or that they are making a joke, they think I am one of their own! Just a pathetically dimwitted and rude one of their own. But I can deal with that. So anyway, we were greeted with <<bonjour>> at the Italian airport. Day = Made. If for no other reason than because I feel Italians respect the French because of their similar culinary feats.

Dinner: On day 1, we went to a restaurant called Il Gabriello, fairly close to the Spanish Steps:

We ate ricotta with fresh honey and walnuts // steak with balsamic glaze
buffalo mozzarella with tomatoes and basil














Day 2: Trastevere neighborhood, Campo de' Fiori, etc.

We stayed at the Eurostar International Palace (hahahah) on Via Nazionale, near the Repubblica Metro stop. On the morning of Day 2, we scampered around after a quick cappuccino and saw a bunch of different neighborhoods and landmarks, starting with the Campo De' Fiori. It's a square in which there is a statue of this guy, Bruno, who was condemned as a heretic and burned at the stake on this very spot. For some reason I cannot find my picture of the square, but here is the statue of Bruno:

Who do you think I am, Rick Steves? (Please, don't say yes- he is like the biggest dork ever). I am not going to give the history lesson for each and every Roman landmark, so suffice it to say that everything I will mention is a must-see, because it's cool, and because if you ever go you'll regret not seeing it. I'll leave it to you to discover the myriad of facts and details of every landmark, because it's better that way. In a nutshell, this statue of Giordano Bruno is pretty interesting. The guy dabbled in cosmology and other sketchy things so the Vatican condemned him to death. The Church has formally apologized for the deaths of anyone in the Inquisition years. It was a scary time to be alive for everyone. Since the creation of this statue, Bruno has been in a permanent staring contest with the Vatican (yes, he faces them), as if in defiance of the fact that he was executed.

We also toured the Piazza Navona, which has the Church of San Agnese (St. Agnes). St. Agnes was beheaded for being a Catholic in the early 300s. It is said that even Pagans cried at her death. Her head (skull) is in this church in the Piazza Navona:

Ignore the great big obelisk.

Interesting side-note, all of the obelisks had ancient Egyptian writing on them. Oh yeah, I mean hieroglyphs. I thought it was fascinating that in the midst of all this classical Christian architecture there is a tribute to Egypt with these obelisks, which were taken from there and brought to Rome way back in the day. 

We saw the Capitoline Hill on Day 2 as well.

This square on Capitol Hill (aka Campidoglio aka Capitoline Hill) was designed by Michelangelo. He did a fancy design with the marble inlay on the ground to distract the viewer from the fact that it is not a square Square, but because of the nature of the hill and time and non level building structures, it is a trapezoid. 

Capitol buildings

We saw a bride and groom who got married in the Capitol building on Capitol Hill, and watched as they walked (with dignity and poise) down the hill to take photos over the Forum area. Yep. "Lucky Bleepity Bleeps" is exactly what I was thinking as well.

The best part was watching certain tourists who followed the bride and groom and snapped pictures (and recorded videos, we all know who those tourists were) the whole time the couple was around. Like this was somehow part of the Roman experience. While we're on the subject, I may or may not have asked Max to take a photo of me with them in the background...And how did this photo end up here?

Lunch: On Day 2, we walked to the Trastevere neighborhood to eat lunch at Sora Lella. It is a little gem of a restaurant that has been around forever. Trastevere is the traditionally poorer part of Rome, so they are incredibly creative with the parts of animals they use in their cooking. Intestine is common, for instance. All I know is that the food was incredible. Highly recommend this place. Especially the Suppli (risotto that has been formed into balls and cooked further with cheese and/or meats inside):

One of them didn't even make it into the photo-- but hey! We were hungry!

The bridge over the Tiber (Tevere), which you cross in order 

to enter the Trastevere neighborhood  

We saw this sign on the way to Sora Lella: perfect.

The church of Santa Maria di Trastevere

"You know, there really isn't enough art in Rome" -said no one ever.

Dinner: On day 2, we were so exhausted and worn out that we decided not to try and make reservations and eat at a nicer joint. So, we walked back to the Campo area. Between that square and the "Largo di Torre Argentina" (the spot where Julius Caesar was murdered, apparently),  there is an amazing little spot that specializes in baccala, Italian for fried cod. It sounds so simple, and it is. But the combination of fried cod, white wine, and a traditional Roman anchovy salad (did I mention you get a side of fried potatoes as well?) is pure heaven. This place was cheap, casual, and really, really good.  With what heart I have left beating in my body after consuming so much fried goodness, I heartily recommend Filetti di Baccala. 

What a pleasant way to end day two! Up next, days 3 and 4: in which we visit St. John Lateran and I go up the Spanish Steps on my knees...