Day 16 - June 29 - Baths & Keyholes

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The Baths of Caracalla are BIG. We trained down and started touring in the mid-morning heat, springing for the audio guide and glad we did. We spent a pleasant two hours in the Baths, examining the pieces of mosaic tile that had survived, the slope floors and ancient marble drains, watching the two resident falcons play. The Baths, we learned, were basically like a modern day gym or sports complex; the elite went there to bath, exercise, and socialize. My favourite commentary on the audio guide was a dramatization of a neighbour to the Baths complaining about the noise and activity day in, and day out, leaving him no peace.

From there, we headed over to the Aventine Hill. I had read about the keyhole with the view to the Vatican, and had kept it as a surprise for Sam. It is the sort of neat little city planning feature I knew he would love. We wandered along the hill - which was more of a road than I imagined - and stopped in a beautiful little park. It was filled with orange trees, apparently planted in the 13th century by a monk from the church next door. There were oranges everywhere - birds were eating them - and the whole park just smelled like orange. To top it all off the view over all Rome from the tip of the park was fantastic! We sat for a while, watched some wedding pictures get done, listened to a teen tell her friend she would never drink from the city fountains (we had been drinking the cool, fresh water from city fountains since we’d arrived!), and enjoyed the view.

The keyhole was only a few hundred yards beyond. Sam peeked through and was suitably impressed. The area was guarded by a bunch of army guys, but they didn’t interfear with the keyhole touring. I had trouble photographing it and a large group came up behind us, so Sam and I found an out of the way bench and sat and watched as group after group peeped through the keyhole, and also had trouble photographing it. When, after about twenty minutes, there was a lull, I put on my zoom lens and got the perfect shot. Sam took one more look through and then we moved on.

We had packed a lunch and I would have liked to have gone back to the orange park and eaten it there, but by now we both had to use a washroom and there was none around. We did stop into the church to take a peak around - the wedding decorations were being cleaned up - and then hoofed it down the hill. We came out near Teatro Marcello, and found a small café beside it. We each ordered a beer and used the facilities, then moved on to a park across the street and up the hill to eat our sandwiches and fruit.

I wanted to go back to Giolotti for one more taste of the Riso Gelato, so off we went. It was nearing three by this time, and we knew we had to pack. I asked Sam if he wanted to do one more walk around “Rome” - Navona, Trevi, Pantheon. He said no, he was done, so we went home via the Spanish Steps metro.

“It is too bad,” said Sam. “Now that we’ve been here and I’ve gotten to know Rome, I feel like I could stay another week and love it here.”

“I know,” I said. “And there’s still lots we didn’t do. And we didn’t throw our euros in the Trevi!” I panicked, thinking of the myth that if you throw a coin over your shoulder into the Trevi, you will come back to Rome. I was thinking of the long list of churches we had missed, of the day trips to Casino, Casserta, Orvieto, Ostia Antica and Tivoli we had found not time for, the Roman Aqueducts I had wanted to spend an afternoon walking along, the hundreds of restaurants and views I had researched that we had not come close to.

Sam nodded, thinking about the coin. “I don’t want to. I don’t think we’ll come back,.” He said. “Except maybe if we’re stopping through on the way to somewhere else. Not for a week or anything.”

I nodded, but thought maybe we’d be back one day, at least for a day or two. We had “done” Rome and enjoyed it, but somehow I feel like I missed something. I did not fall in love with Rome. I had wanted to, but it was too big and too dirty and too crammed with people and tourist traps at every corner. And as Sam said just as we were starting to truly get comfortable there, it was time to go.

We packed, set alarms, went for one last dinner at “our” pizzeria, and had one last half-bottle of wine on our terrace. I was done with Rome, more than ready to move on, but I just couldn’t shake the feeling of sheer disappointment, and I went to sleep a little sad, convinced we must have done something wrong, or missed something, to have not loved this wonderful city.

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Photos

View from the Keyhole
FYI, it is very difficult to photograph the keyhole!