So early one Monday morning we took the train to Gatwick for our flight, arriving in Rome at lunchtime. As we stepped off of the plane we were hit by a wall of heat which was a bit of a shock to the system. We knew it would be warm, but we what we hadn't expected was a difference of 20 degrees! England was cooler than average for June, but apparently Italy was hotter than average for June!
We took the airport shuttle bus to the city. I had been to Rome twice before so I let my husband take the window seat. We watched the suburbs flash by and before too long we were on the outskirts of the Vatican, and then across the river and through the centre, though not past any of the sites, to Termini Station.
My husband had worked out the route to our hotel, which was a blessing because I was already too hot and bothered to look at a map. My body was crying out for air conditioning, something it never ever does because normally I am an air conditioning hater.
It was so hot that the walk took forever, and we were enormously relieved to find the Via Veneto, which is on a hill no less. How dare it be so! Our hotel was only about half way up and we walked through the glass doors to be met by deliciously cool air and a marbled hallway.
The concierge showed us to our room which was bigger than our house, complete with an enormous bed and more lovely air con. Everything seemed rather posh, if a little dated. We were mildly intimidated by the apparent grandeur so I guess it put our minds at ease to see the chipped glass lamp shades and the the worn carpet. It was a 5 star hotel of a bygone era, but comfortable and cool and all that we needed for somewhere to freshen up and rest our heads.
After cooling down and unpacking we headed back out into the blazing sunshine, following the Via Veneto round in the direction of the Villa Borghese. There we wandered through the peaceful parkland, watching as tourists whizzed past on segways or on the rather disappointingly named chariots - I'll admit that when I read in the guide book that you could hire "chariots" I thought they meant Roman imitations, not glorified pedal bikes - wouldn't that be better don't you think? Or is it just me?
We stopped at a restaurant to buy ice cream. Italy has served me the best ice cream I have ever tried every time I've visited and I am pleased to say that I was not disappointed on this occasion. My husband had a scrumptious chocolate ice cream and I went for lemon which was as wonderfully sharp and refreshing as a glass of Victorian lemonade.
After making a bit of a mess of ourselves as the ice creams had begun to melt as soon as the sun looked at them, we continued onwards to the Pincio Gardens, which look out across the Piazza del Popolo across to St Peter's Basilica in one direction and the Il Vittoriano in another. We leant on the wall gazing at the views and settled deeper into holiday mode.
After relaxing for a while we made our way down the steps to the piazza and then onto the Spanish Steps which were predictably crawling with tourists and guys trying to sell us roses and weird squeaky monster things. We successfully bypassed them by firmly saying "No grazie," several times before we quickly disappeared into the maze of neighbouring cobbled streets.
After a while we found ourselves at the Mausoleum of Augustus which was unfortunately all fenced off so you couldn't get close to it. It was strange sight. I have written so many essays on Augustus, particularly during my MA. He has to be my favourite emperor simply because of how much I read and wrote about him, his household, his government and polices, his enemies, and the years before and after his rise to power. It was strange to see his mausoleum hidden amongst modern buildings, fenced off, looking forlorn.
We stopped by the giant glass cube that now houses the Ara Pacis, one of the great monuments in honour of Augustus, something else I read and wrote a lot about. Unfortunately it was closed. I would have liked to have seen it having dedicated an entire essay to it, as well as giving it a honourable mention in a short story! Instead we sat on the steps in the shade by the fountain and chilled out before it was time to search for dinner.
We stumbled across a pizzeria a couple of streets away called Al Leoncino. We were the first customers of the evening, and we didn't have to wait long for our two enormous pizzas to arrive. They were fantastic - Roman pizza is, after all, the very best! Soon the restaurant was full of other customers and the place was buzzing. I enjoyed putting my rusty Italian to use and quickly regained my confidence in it, unlike my nervous French on our trip to Paris last year!
The streets were still baking when we left, even though the sun had set, so we meandered slowly through the cobbled streets, past the Trevi Fountain that was swarming with tourists and more rose sellers, and across the markedly quieter Piazza Barberini and back up to our hotel where we soon crashed out into one of those wonderful holiday sleeps to prepare us for the next day's adventures.
Photos my own.
