Tales of a Travel Photographer

Touchdown Italia

May 24th, 2009 Frankfurt airport.

We touched down at Frankfurt at 9:45 am local time.

I had managed to sleep well, and was fresh. Gayu had not and was looking haggard. Rhea hadn’t either – the personal entertainment system being over-utilized under reduced supervision – though was her usual frisky. We professionally killed 5 hours and took our next leg to Rome.  

May 24th Roma

The city goes by the name Rome until the very second the plane touches down and then it Roma all the way. I guess, that more ROMAntic. Nowadays, all airports seem to have decided to lose local color, gravitating to a boring middle-of-the-spectrum uniformity. One can barely make one out from another. Leonardo Da Vinci is no different. Our pre-arranged cabbie picked us up and whisked us to Eurostars International Palace.

Eurostars was the only modern hotel in our itinerary. Part breaking in slowly, part wanting to be in the historical district, walking distance from every POI in any guidebook. The hotel was nice. Decorated with colorful frescoes and clean, we were not asking for much. The receptionist looked at our luggage and Rhea and asked us to upgrade to a larger room at E30 extra which we obediently did.

After a quick splash of water, we asked for a nice dinner place and a map. “Grill and Wine Restaurant”, our first experience at Roman outdoor dining, with live band playing  - uh - American pop music. Amidst several hoards of tourists walking by, the restaurant being round the corner from the Trevi fountain, we relished our first authentic Italian meal of a full Sea Bass – tenderly done, chick pea soup and asparagus with a 2007 Nero d’Arola.

 

(Next: The Trevi Fountain)

Trevi Fountain, Roma

May 24th, 2009

The night was still young (or was it the jet-freshness?) and warm, and we decided to turn the corner to take in “Fontana de Trevi”.

Like advertized, you truely hear it before you see it. Should you not, with hundreds of gallons of gushing fresh water carried by Agna Virgo – the aqueduct built a thousand years ago?

Nicola Salvi, in 1792, definitely went overboard with the marble. The fountain is the size of a medium sized parking lot in New York, complete with three storey facade, lit beautifully. The fountain was swarming with tourists, not surprising, given the number of column-inches every tourist book on Rome gives it. It is fulfills the promise of nice 30 minute gelato accompanied sit-down.

After we tossed in our coin (that mythically promises you a return to Roma) and having gathered our stuff to leave, 4 teenagers precariously perched over the 300 year old marble balustrade, leaned too far back and dunked themselves into the cool water. I would not be surprised if it was well planned part of a wager. Since Anita Ekberg's rendition of swan on water here for the 1960s Dolce La Vita, I am sure it is a local fashion.

We tried to take a different route back – under fading light- missed a turn and and landed in front of Victor Emmanuel’s monument. Had I not been biased about the structure, being equivocally called hideous, resembling a wedding cake or a typewriter, I actually might have liked it.

We managed to find our way back navigating the old fashioned way – asking a few passer-bys – and made it back intact.

As the back hit the cushion, we realized the AC had conked off. Too tired to check it or get it checked, I opened the windows, and let a cool waft of Rome in. Morpheus, then, quickly took over.

Read on: Next Day, We went to the colosseum

Colosseum,Roma

(Previous night, we were at the Trevi Fountain)

May 25th, 2009

At 8:00AM, Rome was just starting to wake up. Many shutters were still down. The streets had the occasional walker in no seeming hurry to get any where. The traffic was sparse. We hit the road.

Time to be the tourist.

Head buried in the map, folded into a neat 2 inch square, we crisscrossed strada-this and strada-that, passing several important looking ancient structures, dilapidated walls and ruins, wondering if they really were ancient and important. Everything around looked historic. As if the buildings were build to comply to a singular, central plan. It is only much later, I realized that Rome has a huge mishmash of architecture. A 2000 year old Roman arc standing next to a 500 year old Renaissance facade  elbowing a post modern Fascist reign utility structure. To my eyes, so early in the trip, they all reeked exotic. 

We came to Colosseum rather suddenly.

There was no fanfare in the pre-presentation, no drama one would attach to as historical a site, a world heritage building, one of the seven modern wonders of the world.

Like finding a media-darling diva eating with finger at a hole in the wall joint.

Built on the razed Nero’s Golden House, reflecting the mood of a tired nation, Emperor Vespasian commissioned the Flavian Amphitheater in 72 ACE. He used the slaves from the Jewish Revolt and distributed the work across eight contractors who would face certain death if they did not keep to the schedule. It’s doors were thrown open in 80 AD, just an year after Mt. Vesuvius had turned Pompeii into cinder, to fifty thousand people to watch bloodcurdling games that lasted hundred days. 

We still has 40 minutes for the gates to open. We ducked into a nearby breakfast bar for our very first Italian breakfast. We walked in trying to merge in, our black hair (not mine), and brown skin as much help as a pig to a lipstick. Ordering a meal smoothly is definitely the litmus test of being a local. We gawked at the delicious looking pastries and sandwiches behind the glass counter. Tongue tied like a novice stenographer at her board meeting, I managed to jab at a few items. My “Un cafe” was responded with a delicate cup of cappuccino, the best I have ever tasted (Sorry Starbucks, I have switched forever). The “aqua” came in two flavors, naturale (pronounced Na-two-ra-lay) or gas.  Plain water or soda. It came from a bottle, though one does not pay for it.  Having enjoyed the ordeal without outright disgracing oneself, we crossed the street to the place that has seen more blood than Normandy.

We bought a Roma Pass and a guided 2 hour tour on the spot and beat the queue without paying through the nose, and entered the Colosseum.

The remnants of what was once the “stage de la stage” for the “show de la show” needs the mind of the eye (or have seen Gladiator recently) to imagine how it would have been to stand here 2000 years ago.

The ovoid shape, the emperor’s box, the grandstand, the minion row for women and slaves, the main arena with its labyrinth of underground passage and trapdoors to surprise the gladiator with an animal or a warrior where he least expected one. From the inside, the structure still looks solid and intact. Alexander Severus, who made the most recent restoration, 1800 years ago, by imposing tax on male and female prostitutes, is thanked from the bottom of the heart.

And to believe, that it could be evacuated in eighteen minutes (compare with fourteen in Wembley of the same capacity), tells you that there was more thinking that went in than just the spectacular that dazzles the eye.

We took time to walk the periphery once at the arena level. Then once again, midways in the stand. Only the grumble of the stomach, could take me away from a place like this that has more stories to tell than an Anasazi grandmother.

 (Read on: Next we went to the Roman Forum)