Veni, Vidi, Vici!

OK, I'm danger of losing my entire hard-earned blog fan base if I don't start producing. It's just that things have gotten busy again lately with a flurry of continued domestic infrastructure developments--another round of furniture arriving (I never thought I'd hear myself say, "Thanks, IKEA!"), beginning German lessons (Ausgezeichnet!), dog grooming appointments, etc. Nevertheless, I must remember to stop and reflect, yes?

What seems like aeons ago--actually the weekend before Easter--we visited Rome for a weekend rendezvous with Steph's college roommate (currently living in Germany) and associated troublemakers (husband, sister and brother-in-law) renting a downtown Roman villa (OK, so everything in Rome is downtown) for a week. Despite what I like to consider a fairly extensive resume of world travel, this marked my first trip to Italy. I'm somewhat hesitant to admit my expectations were fairly low, mainly due to a seeming preponderance of tourism (most people visiting Europe visit Italy, yes?) resulting in a multitude of either overly gushing reviews or superficial distate, e.g., "Oh, it's so d-i-i-rty". But of all the potential places to visit in Italy, I had indeed wanted to try Rome first.

Steph and I boarded the brief flight from Zürich to Roma on Friday evening and arrived fairly late that night; despite the airport taxi queue's elevated, smudged and nearly obscure sign in Italian stating a flat fee of 40 Euro to the city and several guide books corroborating that amount, our slightly-too-amiable cab driver ran the meter (warning sign!) during the long (even at 90+ mph) drive in and then ripped us off for 50 Euro on arrival at the hotel. Steph confronted him briefly, he stuttered slightly and rolled back on his heels as he lied (you've heard about poker tells?), we said, "Yeah, right" and paid him anyway. Unfortunately not surprising, but slightly disappointing nonetheless.

We stayed at a nice boutique hotel, the Albergo Ottocento (no Hyatts in Rome yet), Friday and Saturday nights before the "villa" rendezvous on Sunday and Monday. So Saturday Steph and I strolled around the neighborhood of the hotel, excellently located near several classic sites. Before seeing anything, however, we stopped almost immediately at a nearby bakery/deli for a breakfast of fairly good cornettos (Italian croissants) and, more importantly, the first of those destined to become my Roman obsession--mind-blowingly excellent espresso.

I'm a longtime coffee drinker but only a recent espresso drinker, within the past year or so. It's nearly impossible to adopt without being overwhelmed by Italian espresso lore--the various Italian blends and roasts and Italian espresso machine manufacturers and Italian vernacular (NOT including tall, grande and venti). So I'm thinking, feh, who really cares, right? It's all supposedly Italian in heritage, they're usually pretty good wherever you get them, big deal. Well, my tune has changed. I "tested" maybe six espressos during the weekend--every one was phenomenal, a noticeable step above. And you know I'd prefer to give the French the nod in any food category, alas I'll say with espresso Italy's got 'em beat.

We walked to the very-near Spanish Steps, noticing an unusually high proportion of kilt-clad visitors, whereupon Steph entreated some quite genial, kilted Scottish gentlemen (is there a non-genial Scot??) for an explanation: Rome was hosting Italy v. Scotland that day in rugby. We window-shopped along the sprawling cobblestone shopping streets, stopped for lunch at a restaurant streetside table (good espresso!) and watched Romans and tourists saunter by in equal numbers, and meandered to the Pantheon and then Trevi Fountain. You may be familiar (I was not) with these just several of a seemingly endless number of Roman landmarks; some pictures here:

http://www.kodakgallery.com/I.jsp?c=2hd8fyj.2ph80g73&x=0&y=-u2vih1&localeid=en_US

After stopping for R&R at a little wine bar, we next stumbled upon a crowded-with-British-rugby-fans Scottish bar, and chatted up some friendly Brits over a few beers. Since being immersed in Swiss-German and French for so many months, it was quite refreshing to hang out in a little pocket of almost exclusively English speakers.

After the mandatory nap back at the hotel, we walked to dinner at an unpretentious little neighborhood restaurant (only one table of tourists besides us!) with good, simple and ample food. Italian cuisine is so hyped and reproduced in Chicago, if not everywhere else in America, that knowing what to expect was difficult--we found it much more like Spanish cuisine than French, that is, only a few simply prepared but really fresh ingredients per dish. Just the cherry tomatoes in Steph's salad, for instance, stole the whole show.

Our brief solo tour came to an end the next day as we rendezvous'ed with friends in the AM...Part II to come.