The Romans Do It Bigger and Better

Engulfed in a horrendous anxiety and anticipation of what come may, so I finally made it, I survived over thirty hours of the less glamour part of “globejetting” at high altitude. No, honestly I could do without the cattle class syndrome, the aching from the ‘ergonomic’ contour of the economy seat. That tiny space sold out for cheap is definitely not something you’d like to do very often over your life span.

Fiumicino is a mishmash of what supposed to be a modern European airport however failed to impress most travellers. Well, I ought not complain really: my business going through the immigration (yes, your status as a non European Union citizen matters!) and customs was all brisk – credits due to them, compared to the nightmare at Sydney airport everytime I “go home”. Whereas most airports these days attempt to brush a stroke of a cosy lounge room, the foyer of Fiumicino got left out apparently, it is absolutely a grim looking of mishmashed chaos alla Romana.

Rome and half of Italy at the moment are battling through their yearly share of the African breath. There’s a heatwave going stroking the eternal city to an almost standstill and with high humidity this time of the year, this knocks nearly everybody out who’d prefer seeking shelter at home or airconditioned space.

I got really knackered the first night. Jetlag is the ugly face of world tourism! But, finally the Piazza di San Pietro at nine thirty the next morning. With few tourists roaming around the ample space it looks grizzily suave, squinting through the grand greco-roman columns,and on top of them those statues of the Roman Catholic saints sternly oversee the rest of the world as they have done so for over centuries.

And, you’d just not believe the obnoxious queue for the Vatican museum. It’s barely ten a.m. and the line up was already snaking up for over a kilometre. Che schiffo!

Whereas Paris is elegant and melancholic, Rome gives me the impression of a city that escaped several times from the Angel of Death and gained immortality in a most spectacular way. The centro (city centre) appears in a most grandeur style to awe any visitor. No, the centro storico (historic centre) is not huge in size, you could probably cover one end to the other in less than a couple of hourse but I must say it’s probably the largest in Europe, and what with the layout and waywayd grid an uninitiated visitor like me would surely be lost in no time.



The only problem I perceived is: it’s a clash of colour, each palazzo tries to outdo all those in the same street. Rome is, as one’d expect, a metropolis struggling with growing traffic, incessant fuming buses impatiently buzz through the main artery, eternal smog over the centre, minuscule tourist minibuses dodging cobbledstone bumps in pedestrian zone, and yes most restaurants gear up towards (American) tourists.

O did I mention: I love cobble-stoned lanes.

Lastly, Remember the golden rule, refrain from entering a noshery that puts up a sign: We Speak English here; Tourist Menu available. It’s simply a blatant sign saying, You’re about to be ripped off Loser.

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Oh my Holy Lord! I’m not even sure if it’s really acceptable to blasphem in this city of God, but it seems appropriate really. With more churches per square kilometre than any other place called a city in the whole wide world, Rome has been (still) a rather big sister to the Holy See/ Vatican.

Simply said, the churches in Rome stun me. The style is grand. The façade are adorable to say the least, no expense too big for the Catholic Church. Even a humble and simple one lurking at an obscured corner has that allure to admire “God’s work”through Roman art.



Life, I guess, works in a funny way. Take this for example, I ended up at the Capitolini having unexpectedly taking a chancy turn from the Fori (the Roman Imperial Forum) where the ruins and site are just marvellous. I’d never have believed it had it not my own eyes have borne witness to the Roman legacy. Roman Senators loved life in very grand proportion and size. Even in the state of the ruins, it’s hard not to be impressed. Each column copied from the Greek is humongous in stature, easily dwarfing their mortals dwellers for millenia to come. Each ancient Roman arch is painfully elegant, enough to impress the rest of Western Europe (eg. we probably give too much credit to Napoleon’s Arch de Triomphe, which now seems an insignificant copycat structure).

There’s this young woman about my age offering a museum ticket. Well, she’s not a scalper. She explained she soon had to be at the station to catch her train and would not like her museum ticket go wasted. I thanked her and wished her, You should finish your visit to the Capitolini museum – thanks heaps.

The Capitolini museum houses the original of Michaelangelo’s bronze statue of Emperor Aurelius whereas a copy is placed in the main piazza of the Capitolini. The statue is pretty cool, I’d say. Its green mossy hue has faded in more than several places, reinforcing its need to be under controlled condition at all times. What have better impressed me is the Museum’s collection of Greek arts. Mamma mia: have often do you find yourself surrounded by two thousand years old lifelike marble statues. Bernini’s sculpture of Medusa is eerily provocative.

What’s great about the Capitolini museum is it specialises in ancient Rome. Most of its collection are said to been donations over centuries from the Ponticatus (the Popes) as a token of his gratitude to the Roman people. Therefore, you have several rooms housing majestic frescoes by Renaissance artists depicting Roman life be it their daily life or legend. One chamber shows a scene how the Romans warred against their neighbours; one failed attempt to kill the Etruscan king the soldier decided to burn one of his hands; the abduction of women whose kingdom has just been conquered by Roman soldiers.

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I took a train from Rome to Perugia. This Perugia is to be home for at least the next six months. So I better like it.

Well so far so good. I have not been NOT impressed by what Italy and the Italians have to offer. The Umbrian paesaggio (landscape) is so gentle it puts you in disbelief everytime the train passes a Mediaeval village. One after another.

At around evelen at night, I dedided to have a walk around the centro storico (centre) of Perugia. Now, what I’d say for now is that Perugia is world famous for its Arco etrusco which is a collection of arches dating to a period of over two and a half millenia, a silent witness to how intelligent the Etruscan tribe was before the Romans put them into history forever.

Italians love their passeggiate (walks) all right. Towards the main piazza (Corso Vannucci is a slender cobblestoned square covering enough shops, cafes, cathedrals, government palazzi etc.) I saw trickles of people becoming a fall. In the dead centre of c. Vannuci a strong troupe of young (university) students assembled. What are they up to? Well, this is the time of night where Italians young and old “go out” to see and be seen. I swear blind, I though those movies showing Italians go out in style, arm in arm with their amici (mates) were a bit of an exaggeration.

It’s not. My new flatmate told me, it’s normal really and in the coming weeks it’s going to get worse, there could be four our five thousand people there.

You may not think the figure is large. But you have to see what I’ve seen. Call me easily impressionable, I don’t care, but it’s an incredible sight. Not only the cafes just start of their nocturnal trading, but they also serve as focal meeting point for young Italians. There you have it, Ciao … ! Plus the Italian kiss on the cheek (two, please). And with a setting of seven hundred years old magnificent structures all well lit to enhance their perfect ambience, can you blame if they said the Italians constantly have their Dolce Vita.

I’m not sure how long this is going to last. I feel like I’m a wee lad in a candy lolly shop. Each moment is an adventure, every person in the street seems to be interisting and doing odd things to my eyes. Each corner looks so ancient I think I’m going to pass out from the overwhelming sense. Each building has a character, if not just plain pretty.

At the moment, my Italian life is immensely delightful.

Let me say ciao for now. I have half a day to kill, so I probably have to check out a mediaeval village –again! O how boring. LOL. And, I believe, tonight I am to experience my first Italian party in the countryside. Oddly enough, I have been invited to a farewell bash of Alessio at his parents near the border of Tuscany.

Sweet!