Heading for Three Weeks in Italy

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Heading for Three Weeks in Italy
Beginning of a trip by Tom and Gretchen McClelland.

Friday, April 23, 2004—David Nishida, a fellow employee at Gretchen’s bank, joined us for a 7 p.m. departure from San Francisco. We boarded a Boeing 747 that was filled to capacity. We cruised at 35,000 feet with a ground speed of 596 miles per hour. How do we know all this? Today’s aircraft have a tracking system which shows on channel one of the little video screens in front of every seat. The ever-changing video pictures show maps at different scales, depicting where we are at all times. We knew we had a tailwind of 41 miles per hour. As I took notes on the amazing system, I noted that Calgary and Edmonton were to our portside. The outside air was MINUS 72 degrees.
As usual, we were flying tourist class, which meant there was very little leg room. David had been assigned a window seat behind me. Gretchen was crammed in the middle of three side seats, an overweight man sharing most of her available space. The massive man, clad in black, had been sweating profusely before coming aboard, so poor Gretch dealt with stench and arm room. The British Airlines plane had a center section of four seats and the usual three on each side. Movement is awkward in such situations. I managed to spill red wine, most of which went on the side paneling by the window and not on my jeans, one of three pair of trousers I brought along for three weeks abroad.
Among the choice of movies we had the classic “Third Man” with Orson Wells. It was not good audio and was hard to follow. The whole flight is a challenge. We faced nine hours and 45 minutes in flight. While the first two hours zip by, the remaining time seems like eternity. When our personal tracking system reported we were over Moose Jaw, Canada, our feet were swelling, nerves were fraying. Our video message reported we only had some eight more hours to destination: Heathrow.
Saturday, April 24—We had a few hours in Heathrow and then made the final flight to Rome, getting there on time, about 9:15 p.m. It was a nine-hour time difference from our California time. And it was a day later.
We were picked up by a man named Guido who is the husband of our landlord. He sped us into Rome to our medieval apartment near the Roman Forum and the Colosseum. We were on the second floor which the locals refer to as the first floor. The stone steps were steep and well worn. A metal handrail was helpful.
David’s room lacked privacy as Gretchen and I had to pass through it to get to our room. David had bunk beds but they were not stacked one atop the other. Closets had been attached to the ancient walls. They appeared to be made for giants. They were Scandinavian in style and some of the poles for hanging clothes were at least 10 feet high. We hung no clothes on them.
The walls of our spacious apartment were plastered and painted over the original Roman brick structure. The ceiling, unplastered, had wooden beams and wooden floor boards for the apartment above us. When the four-story building was built (about 1700 we guessed), there was no indoor plumbing; nor was there electricity. Plumbing and electrical fittings were much later additions. Pipes and covered wires were affixed to the solid walls. Inside our six-by-five-foot bathroom were crammed a sturdy toilet with a water tank overhead, a bidet, a shower and sink. The mirror over the sink was too high to be of much assistance, and the lighting was weak. There was no window, no ventilation.
The outside balcony off our kitchen was big enough for one chair. It had a view of an outdoor courtyard or atrium between floors of our building and the walls of our neighbors. A stray cat roamed about on the outside, somehow able to leap from balcony to balcony. Most of the walls were eroded enough to show the original stone and brick work. Clothes lines between windows and outside wall hooks are reeled in by a pulley system. It appears that Italians use solar drying for their clothes. We would see laundry on lines hanging from buildings throughout our visit.
Our front door was a double layer of inlaid planks that may have been put together when Michelangelo roamed the local streets. The hardware on our locks had primitive heavy metal latches. We felt secure once we were locked inside. Italy is known for its tile work, but our tile floors were not the best example of Italian craftsmanship. We had loose tiles in our bedroom that went clickety-clack when we walked on them. When a suitcase rolled over them, it sounded like an approaching thunder storm. Gretchen claimed the floors were tilted. Sure enough, when she dropped a cylindrical container of pills on the tiles, it rolled to the end of the room.
Ceilings were 12 feet high. Furniture was eclectic, perhaps handed down from family to family or purchased at the Sunday flea market in Trastevere.
Our street—the Via dei Fienelli— is less than 100 meters from the Roman Forum, but because of protective fencing, we had to walk around one way or the other to get there. It would be a good 20 minutes to get to the entrance. Our street is wide enough for two cars, but one side is dedicated to parking. The pavement is lumpy cobblestones.
Rome is layered with ruins, dating from B.C. to centuries of A.D. At every turn we would see remains of ancient structures trying to blossom forth. New buildings were often built into—or connected to—ruins. The Forum, visible from our neighborhood, was lighted dramatically—giving it an eerie appearance at night.
It was too late to dine out—or at least we knew not where to find an open restaurant—and we were in no mood to explore strange streets in the dark. So we dined on left-over scraps from our flight and a few edibles that we happened to bring along. We had planned for our first breakfast by bringing coffee and oatmeal.
We would adjust for jet lag and get a fairly early start on Sunday. Tired? Yes. But we were too excited to sleep. The first two days were wasted in long-distance travel. We still had the better part of three weeks to do some exploring.

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Photos

The Colosseum
Gladiators faced the lions according to old tales. Modern gladiators played the role, wanted tips if you took their photo.

The Pantheon
Impressive was the dome on this old Roman structure.

Today's Gladiator
Pay him if you take his photo

Our Apartment is as Old as Forum
The old apartment looks good from here, but ours was the one to the right, too close to the street for a photo.