We reached Rome quite late in the night. I reckoned it was about 8.00 o'clock. There was a very heavy downpour earlier and it was still drizzling when we reached the city's rail terminal. The exit was a little messy passing through passageways and staircases with hundreds of tourists and commuters going helter-skelter, and what with our heavy un-wheeled luggages. On top of that we had to queue up for a taxi. We later found out, that the taxis were on strike which explained the crowd of stranded commuters at the terminal. We managed to meet a kindly looking man who sent us to our hotel for a 'reasonable' price. It was about ten when we finally checked-in into a hotel.
After a late dinner, which was more like supper, and at the suggestion of the front office personnel, we went into a neighborhood bar a few blocks away. We noticed that the bar was decorated with lots of basketball paraphernalia and the guests were mainly decent athletic types. We reckoned that the bar must be owned by an ardent basketball fan. As it turned out, it belonged to a former professional player who enthusiastically talked to us about the sport. Being strangers, we gave our enthusiastic ears, and for that we were offered a bottle of fine Italian wine on the house. Returning the hospitality of the owner, Susan ordered two bottles to take away which she later shipped to her daddy as a momento of a happy encounter in Rome. To date, I understand, the two bottles of wine are still with her daddy unconsumed.
Early the next day we roamed the street of Rome. We were told that the street we were on was the longest in the world, stretching all the way to Paris. That was news to me. While roaming the city's street, we were quite shocked to notice that pornographic materials were freely and rampantly available along streets not quite far away from the Vatican. In fact from where we stood, where piles of pornographic magazines were displayed, we could actually see the dome of St. Peter looming, prompting one of us to jokingly remark that with a pair of powerful binoculars the Pope could actually browse through the covers of all the sleazy magazines.
Belied by a deceptive estimation of the distance as the cockcrow flies to the Vatican, Susan suggested that we walked the street so that we could get acquainted with the nooks and corners of Rome. So we walked which took us a few hours to reach St. Peter's and only with the guidance of kindly Roman commuter. But our time was not entirely wasted as we managed to get to see, at close range, some of the interesting places which were way out of the usual tourist routes. For instance we did get to walk pass by the Central Jewish Synagogue of Rome; we did get to assess the life styles of the common who were standing around the crowded bus stand. And although we didn't manage to board any of the coaches, we did get to walk across the bridge crossing the Tiber to St. Peter's Basilica . Also, earlier in our walk, Susan and I did get to mock-gauge the extent of our faithfulness to each other by doing the ritual of sticking our hands into the mouth of an ancient Roman-Truth-Determiner, a roundish face-like rock board fashioned from a block of hardy rock. An intact hand after the ritual signified that one was faithful. We both walked away certified 'faithful' much to our glee.
The owner of the gadget had told us of a legend that liars in antiquity had their hands cut-off every time they stuck their hands into the 'mouth' of the thing. Believe it or not, I made sure the thing was resting against a solid wall block before I dared stick my hand into it. I noticed that Susan too had some hesitation and laughed heartily, happy that her hand was still intact when she pulled it out. Andrew thought that it was some stupid legend dreamed up by some ancient royalties to vindicate their questionable judgments. Well, we had our good laughs happy that we still have our hands intact.
After a late dinner, which was more like supper, and at the suggestion of the front office personnel, we went into a neighborhood bar a few blocks away. We noticed that the bar was decorated with lots of basketball paraphernalia and the guests were mainly decent athletic types. We reckoned that the bar must be owned by an ardent basketball fan. As it turned out, it belonged to a former professional player who enthusiastically talked to us about the sport. Being strangers, we gave our enthusiastic ears, and for that we were offered a bottle of fine Italian wine on the house. Returning the hospitality of the owner, Susan ordered two bottles to take away which she later shipped to her daddy as a momento of a happy encounter in Rome. To date, I understand, the two bottles of wine are still with her daddy unconsumed.
Early the next day we roamed the street of Rome. We were told that the street we were on was the longest in the world, stretching all the way to Paris. That was news to me. While roaming the city's street, we were quite shocked to notice that pornographic materials were freely and rampantly available along streets not quite far away from the Vatican. In fact from where we stood, where piles of pornographic magazines were displayed, we could actually see the dome of St. Peter looming, prompting one of us to jokingly remark that with a pair of powerful binoculars the Pope could actually browse through the covers of all the sleazy magazines.
Belied by a deceptive estimation of the distance as the cockcrow flies to the Vatican, Susan suggested that we walked the street so that we could get acquainted with the nooks and corners of Rome. So we walked which took us a few hours to reach St. Peter's and only with the guidance of kindly Roman commuter. But our time was not entirely wasted as we managed to get to see, at close range, some of the interesting places which were way out of the usual tourist routes. For instance we did get to walk pass by the Central Jewish Synagogue of Rome; we did get to assess the life styles of the common who were standing around the crowded bus stand. And although we didn't manage to board any of the coaches, we did get to walk across the bridge crossing the Tiber to St. Peter's Basilica . Also, earlier in our walk, Susan and I did get to mock-gauge the extent of our faithfulness to each other by doing the ritual of sticking our hands into the mouth of an ancient Roman-Truth-Determiner, a roundish face-like rock board fashioned from a block of hardy rock. An intact hand after the ritual signified that one was faithful. We both walked away certified 'faithful' much to our glee.
The owner of the gadget had told us of a legend that liars in antiquity had their hands cut-off every time they stuck their hands into the 'mouth' of the thing. Believe it or not, I made sure the thing was resting against a solid wall block before I dared stick my hand into it. I noticed that Susan too had some hesitation and laughed heartily, happy that her hand was still intact when she pulled it out. Andrew thought that it was some stupid legend dreamed up by some ancient royalties to vindicate their questionable judgments. Well, we had our good laughs happy that we still have our hands intact.
