Roman Mythology

If you're going to Rome because you think Gregory Peck is going to pick your drunk ass up off the street and take you around town on the back of a Vespa, stay home.



If you're going to Rome because you want to wade in the Fontana de Trevi in a black strapless dress with Marcello Mastroianni wrapped around your neck, stay home.


This is me thinking, "I'm going to play Frogger on my bike through this?"

But if your idea of a good time is standing butt cheek to butt cheek with busloads of obese American tourists looking for Vatican City while chasing your wallet down the street and eating mostly Little Italy quality food, by all means, take that road to Rome. 

I got to Rome on Wednesday night and was supposed to leave on Monday morning. I thought I would love it.  I loved the food in Milan.  Wouldn't Rome be even better?  But by Friday, I was like, better eat all the gelati you want because you're probably never coming back.  And on Sunday, I spent the entire morning trying to figure out if there was a way to get back to Stockholm sooner.  When I realized I couldn't get back for less than 500 Euros, I spent the rest of the day just sitting in the cool, quiet apartment hiding from the crowds and doing work. I don't know why I forget that I'm such a misanthrope.  But I don't want to be around that many people ever again.

What I hated:

1. I got swindled by the taxi driver on the way in ("No, it's 70 Euros at night with the tariff, no you gave me 30 Euros, no I need change for this 10 because you owe me five more Euros").  Come on, I am a pretty well-seasoned tourist.  When did I start looking like a sucker? 
   
2. I rented a bike on the first day and nearly got flattened by the INSANE mopeds and drivers and buses; but there wasn't enough room to walk my ride on the sidewalk thanks to the herds of gaping-mouthed Pope tourists.
3. My 85 Euro/night room at Hotel Zara was a total dive. Worse yet was having to hear the tourists at the breakfast room complain about how terrible the breakfast was as they were stuffing their mouths with it.  Two days in a row.
4. I think someone who cleaned my room took my fancy earrings. 
   
5. The food was mostly meh, no better than linguini on Mott St.  WTF?  We are spoiled in New York, people.  
6. The heat! The dry, hot hot heat was such a shock to my body.  It hasn't gone above 65 here in Stockholm.  I packed poorly and sweated buckets through a beleaguered silk dress.
   
7. Did I mention the complete clusterfuck of tourists?  I have lived in New York and London, and I have never seen a tourist situation like this.  At least in New York, all you have to do to avoid the tourists is to stay the hell away from Times Square.  Rome is like 15 different Times Squares.
   

What I loved:

1. Hamming it up with all the friends I met up with there, old and new: Winnie, Francis, Molly, Austin, Jeanne and Joao.  God, I've missed laughing at American jokes.
2. Cooling off, drinking bitter orange soda and a cold cappuccino in the Borghese Gardens with Francis and Molly, reminiscing about our families.
3. Molly and I did an amazing bike tour of Rome with Top Bike Rental, guided by our half-Sardinian, half-Czech, drop-dead gorgeous and knowledgeable guide Giorgia.  We zipped coolly around the cobblestone streets of the city center on the shop's excellent, well-kept hybrids.  About as safe as bicycle riding can get in Rome.  Also very satisfying to plow through the throngs of tourists, breathing in the scent of night-blooming jasmine growing on the alley walls and only stopping into the sites worth seeing.  Giorgia also gave us some excellent food tips.  If you must go to Rome, just go for two days and do the bicycle tour one of those days. 
   
4. The Pantheon.  That thing was built in 146 A.D., and it is one of the most breathtaking things I've ever seen.  And the rain drains into the floor.
   
   
5. Also, the Fontana de Trevi is still a remarkably gorgeous, gaudy thing.  Or it would be if all the freaking tourists weren't completely blocking it.
   



6. The apartment Jeanne, Joao and I got in Celio had the most beautiful view.  Coral buildings, terra cotta roofs, cascades of fuchsia bougainvillea.  It was also in a quiet, calm neighborhood just behind the Colosseum -- well, quiet except for the bumpin Euro disco music the gay bar would play well into the night.
   
   
7. Pizza at Forno Campo de Fiori.  The best.  Pomodoro was amazing, zucchini flower with anchovies and mozz was as good as it sounds.
   
   
8. Volpetti deli and a fruit and veggie market in Testaccio.  Flirt with the old counter guys in white coats, taste some Tuscan prosciutto, get saddled down with bags of Italian goodies.  In fact, my favorite meal was probably the one we had at Winnie, Francis, Molly and Austin's apartment -- noshing on speck, serrano ham, tuscan prosciutto, thumb-sized carciofi, squeaky nubs of mozzarella di bufala and sliced Sicilian tomatoes which Francis dressed in olive oil, salt and pepper.
   
   

Here's a map with more detailed reviews of restaurants. There were a couple of good hits in there, and I ate enough gelati to take a year or two off my life. But I'm telling you, most of the gelati in Rome ain't got nuthin on Il Laboratorio del Gelato.  Green means good, yellow means meh, and red means AVOID.  Click on an icon to read more.  And don't say I never do anything for you.

 
View rome in a larger map

After feeling under the weather in London and totally crapping out in Rome, I'm not too sure about Paris this weekend.  I'm so happy that I'm too broke to leave Sweden for all of June.  Actually, these trips have made me fall in love with Stockholm.  Stockholm is like the sweet boyfriend I've been ignoring -- sure he's not super spontaneous, and he tells jokes I don't get, but he doesn't beat me or cheat on me.