You meet them. You fall for them. You think you’ll never be able to live without them. And then, just like that, you let them go. They let you go! Holiday romances are strange, intoxicating relationships that can last a week; yet still live in the memories for a lifetime. I technically fell for Amy over two “holidays”. Firstly on a long weekend in Glastonbury; then in a hotel in Shirley, West Midlands. She on a training course, me hiding from the world. Thankfully our romance lasted in to the real world, but tonight, memories of another holiday romance came flooding back. I first fell in love with Tipopils in Ma Che Siete Venuti A Fa, Rome. It was one of two bars I drank
Rome Archive
This is the postcard where I just dump stuff. The parts, and places, that didn’t quite get the time – or warrant the attention of their own, individual postcard. The disappearance of Cacio e Pepe from the average restaurant/tourist menu was rather disappointing. Travellers clearly no longer see the want or the value in plain pasta, cheese and ground pepper. You’re as, if not more likely to get foreign beer in the restaurants and trattorias near the main sites. I still absolutely adore eating a sweet, sugary cornetto for my breakfast – it’s why I’ve smuggled some back with my shampoo. What ever connotations and historical wrongs that may be associated with the Vittorio Emanuele II Monument – it is still, day or night, one
It seems wrong to try and compare Rome’s Fiumicino airport with Leeds Bradford. It’s that blood orange/lemon thing again. One is the main airport for a global traveller’s city – the other is a regional airport that few global travellers will pass through. But still – there is one aspect that you can compare, even if it is through a rose tinted, end to the holidays view. On our way out here I had a bap – that had no bap. Just dry toast and bacon gristle. Here, in Rome, I had the choice of four pastas, five salads, three main courses and five puddings. All of which I’d happily buy. Three of which, I did. They weren’t great – good but of a very
I feel bloated. It’s post beer, rich food, average night’s sleep – bloated. Sleep interrupted by thoughts of a return – thoughts of a departure. I think we all had those thoughts. Even LLK – who spent three nights comfortably sleeping in a double bed, before falling out of it on her last night. In a city whose history has been dominated by the gods, by one god; I have to take that as a sign. Or, I can just assume that my daughter turned over one too many times in her sleep. Logic prevails. An old me, mentality – not of passing years – would have moped around until It was time to get the taxi. Negative thoughts cascading behind my eyes. This me,
I’m fighting back the tears as I type this. Damn you predictive, emotive text. What I meant to type was – knocking back the beers – but, well, there is an emotional attachment that grows stronger every time I come to Rome. I love the north – Turin where friends live; Milan where I once (struggled to) worked. But in terms of boxes ticked – Rome does it for me every time. From Cacio e Pepe, Calcio, Birra e Forum Romana – it has everything I could want; would love in a city. So what is the one thing I always, without doubt, take back from my time here? Shampoo. Yes. Shampoo. I can only ever get the shampoo I really like when I’m here
I can hear you ask, what will you take away from this holiday? Is it wrong to say a love of a beer, of a bar – of the people who work in a beer shop and bar? Tipopils is great. Ma Che Siete Venuti A Fa’ (MCSVAF) is absolutely fantastic. Yes you pay €4s a half but you do so knowing that every beer you buy is truly, out of this world – but of this world. Of the earth they grow the hops in, the malt in, that the yeast develops in – of the water (see, sometimes this blog is aligned) that flows right though it. This earth – our earth! Most of my real life friends don’t care much for beer.
There are three things you see, everywhere in Rome. Statues, Obelisks and water – water in both the Tiber and in the many fountains and water based monuments throughout the city. We’ve already seen the Fontana di Trevi in these postcards, but where the might – the power of the Empire (as in bringing back the obelisks from Egypt), the achitecture and the importance of water to the city are most evident – is where the triumvirate forms a single, magnificent monument in Piazza Novona. Water has been a sign of Rome’s majesty for years. Firstly in showing how a landlocked city could harness nature through the form of aqueducts. Then how the many renaissance and later period artists could use water to make their
Sunflower, flag, jester hat or ballon – all different in their own way, but all similiar in one – they are all usually held by a tour guide. A tour guide who is more often than not, boring the life out of the people following behind their identifiable stick. OK, so I’m being a little unfair in this instance – as the woman I tried to snap here, who turned her head just at the wrong moment – appeared to have her group enthralled by her talk. But in the main, I have spent the last four days watching group, after group, snake through the streets of Rome – with headset and frown – playing follow the leader. A leader who appears to have turned
Pop quiz due How can you tell the locals from the tourists in Rome? Most of you are going for the trademark cameras or rucksacks. Others, for the gormless look of the lost tourist, nose deep in a map. The true key to differentiate between the two is not necessarily that simple. The real test is in what the person is wearing. Or more importantly – not wearing. It was once explained to me that Italians dress by the season. Only last week did the calendar herald the arrival of spring – and whilst I have been fighting temptation to drag out my hairy, pasty legs in a pair of shorts – resisted thus far – your average Roman adult is still wearing a coat
Pop quiz uno What is the monument above? No consulting google – well, unless you want to see a far better image of it. Maybe one at night – or at least one head on. I’m no good at taking photos. It’s why we’re not really a picture family. There are plenty of snaps of Lauren on our various phones – but for us to actually carry a camera around is a rarity. But as we walk around Rome, I feel almost compelled to fumble with my phone – trying desperately to capture each monument as I go. But then, can you really do them justice – do their natural surroundings, justice? Not really. Even professionals use editing software. So I barely take photos. Instead