Day 16 in Rome
We meet Allison at 10:00 in the morning. We give the kids an extra hour of sleep. I am looking for some brownie points but I am not sure I get them as they drag themselves awake.
We have a full day ahead of us and we have the use of a van and driver to make things easier. I know we don’t have many days in Rome and we want to see as much as we can so the van seems like a good idea. My dad is getting a bit tired of walking and quickly makes friends with the driver.
We head first for the Coliseum and buy our tickets at Palatine Hill where there is no line. We buy some water to take in with us and all use the bathrooms. We walk all around the Coliseum.
We stop for photos and learn about the Velaruim, a sort of awning that was supported by poles on the upper story and created shade for the spectators. We also see where the animals were housed down below the floor. It is quite something to see the places you have seen in movies and read about in books.
We leave the Coliseum and head in the van to the Arch of Constantine. Allison wants to be sure that the kids know who Constantine is; she asks them a few times to make sure they remember him.
We go to a street with a different view of Palatine Hill and she tells us the story of the Founding of Rome with the twins Romulus and Remus. Some of our kids have studied this in Latin class in school and a spirited discussion ensues. We also see Circus Maximus and talk about chariot races and other sporting events.
We are off to the Pantheon for one more event before lunch. We can’t seem to stop talking about rain coming in through the enormous hole in the ceiling of the Pantheon. Everyone is hungry and Allison suggests her husband’s aunt’s restaurant outside the ancient city. We are all excited to go to a restaurant off the beaten path and quickly tell her that we want to eat there.
She calls the restaurant and finds out that her young daughter and husband are having lunch there now. She becomes hesitant to go as her daughter will see her and want to stay with her, and she is working. We tell her we want to meet her daughter and family and a small scene with her daughter won’t bother us.
We go to the restaurant. It is called Steak House-Pizzeria L’Archetto 3. It is on Via Ancona, 33/35. We are warmly welcomed and given a table in the back. We are definitely the only tourists in this place and we leave it up to Allison to order some of the specials for our appetizers. We share some fried zucchini flowers and some fried rice balls and they both are delicious. There is enough for everyone to try.
We get some house wine and order our own lunches. I order one of the specials of the day, on Allison’s recommendation. She tells us that her mother-in-law comes in to the restaurant in the morning to help her sister make all the specials of the day. I have the ravioli in vin santo and it is wonderful.
Halfway through our meal Allison’s husband arrives to say hello and he brings her daughter. Her daughter, quite spontaneously, gives me a big kiss right on the mouth and giggles very loudly. She is adorable. We meet Allison’s husband’s aunt and uncle and the whole family is friendly and happy to host us in their restaurant.
We say our goodbyes and head off to the Trevi Fountain area. We park a bit away from the Fountain to walk after lunch. My twins, Sam and Alex, remember their favorite gelato place is near the Fountain and they set off to try and find it. We relax at the fountain and take some pictures and cool off a bit.
Sam and Alex come back triumphant; they have found the gelato spot. It is San Crispino, Via della Panetteria 42. There is always room for gelato. This time I lean toward the fruit flavors and get a delicious raspberry.
We are off to the Catacombe di Priscilla. Allison must take many people here, as the nun at the reception desk knows her and they chat for a minute.
Allison takes us down into the catacomb and we learn about the tunnels and burial procedures. There are no bones in most of the places where the bones used to be; they have been removed. There is one spot where the bones remain and we get to see them and imagine them in the rest of the catacomb.
Our friends from Arezzo told us about the Church of San Clemente and this will be our final destination. Ancient Roman buildings are underneath a 4th century basilica. The basilica is under a 12th century church, which is under the current church. An Irish Dominican prior of San Clemente began excavations in 1857 and discovered what was underneath his church. The church is undergoing renovations so the “modern” part is not completely accessible, but the older areas are interesting and worth a visit.
It is time to say goodbye to Allison. She is an excellent guide and we all highly recommend her. We ask her for a recommendation for a good restaurant for our last night in Italy. She suggests Café Luigi, which is not too far from our apartment and on Corso Vittorio Emanuele.
We freshen up and relax a bit in the apartment before we gather to walk to our dinner. My husband, as usual, is in the lead. My dad, as usual, holds up the rear of our little entourage.
My husband and the older boys spot the restaurant and before we know it the host comes out and quickly seats us. The table is suspiciously close to the busy street and only separated by an iron fence.
I am skeptical but we are quickly asked for our drink orders and oblige the waiter (who is also the host). I know something is wrong when I can’t find fried zucchini blossoms or fried artichokes on the menu. I had had a long discussion with Allison about these two things and she said that Café Luigi does a wonderful job with them.
Suddenly the water and bread is upon us. The water bottles (one with gas and one without) are plastic and the bread is pretty plain. Almost at once my mom and I look up and see that we are at Papa Razzi (strange that it is the same name as a chain back in the states). Café Luigi is right next door down a sort of alley and not really on the main street.
As soon as we say something my husband gets really upset. It is too late to move, we are not so brave as to do it now. My husband Jeremy is mad at himself and then at everyone else for following him.
The only way to handle this is with some humor. Everyone starts making jokes, really stupid jokes, and my husband relaxes. We all try to laugh about our mistake. Someone mentions the money we will save and what we can do with it. We talk of walking past a few more tourist stands to spend the extra hundred dollars. There are giggles and grins and wine and before long we forget that we made a mistake.
The food comes and then there is a moment of panic but almost everyone has a meal they like. We think my mom’s veal would be something else but we are sure it is a translation mistake and not a cooking misstep. I think it is pretty good but she doesn’t love it. She shares some of my pasta, which is actually quite good. Jeremy’s pasta is very uneven-some of the pieces are soggy and some are not cooked enough. His is by far the worst meal. The kids like their pizza, and my dad likes his dish. It is not terrible for a mistake but nothing like the elegant looking restaurant in back of us.
We will always remember our last meal in Rome. It is now a funny family story. How quickly we were seated and how slow we were to realize our mistake.
We have a nice walk back through Piazza Navona to our apartment and gelato. Of course we couldn’t have our last night without gelato and then drinks in the Campo.
This time Jeremy and I find ourselves at a table at a very full bar on one side of the Campo. Before we know it there is conversation with our young female server. She finds out that we are American and gets excited and tell us her boyfriend is American.
He is the bartender inside. Soon he comes out to say hello, bringing us two shots of some kind to try. It is a shot of the same drink that our friend the server is bringing to the table next to us. It is good and we stay for another round.
There is a man doing a magic act who parks himself in front of the tables out front. We wonder if he is the same man the boys talked about the other night, the one they saw perform in Piazza Navona. The boys said he took off his wig and used it to collect tips at the end of his “show.”
There are a few men at the table just next to me and I hear they are speaking English, with heavy accents. I turn around and ask them in English what the magician is saying to the crowd. They explain that he is saying, “Look at me, look at me.”
This begins a conversation and we both turn our chairs and talk for a while with the guys at the next table. We enjoy our conversation but one of the men gets a cell phone call and they have to leave. It is pleasant talking about cultural differences with these men, one in particular. He is originally from the Middle East and knows the owner of the bar.
Soon our server comes over and asks us if the owner could come over and have a chat with us. It seems the owner found out we were from Boston and he went to Boston College in the 90’s. It is truly a small world and he also brings us a shot of something sweet and interesting on the house.
We are really having a nice last evening in Rome. Our first server comes over and I ask him where he is from-his English is fluent without accent that we can detect. His Italian seems fluent as well. It turns out he is from Denmark. At the end of the evening, when the tables are being put away, we get up, rather slowly.
All the servers come over to say good-bye and the Danish man says that he was confused as to our nationality when he first came by our table. It seems that he asked us a question in English but we were too engrossed in our conversation with each other to hear him. He then tried Italian but we weren’t paying attention. After that he wasn’t sure about us.
Now he asks us, because he hasn’t heard the stories from the others. I joke that I am from Denmark, why didn’t he think of that. Suddenly he starts speaking Danish really rapidly and pointing to me as if I was his long lost sister. It is a funny moment and we all share a laugh.
We walk slowly back to the apartment. We are definitely the last ones to arrive home and hope that we will be able to get up in the morning.
Septimius Severus