Roman ruin rigmarole

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Sometimes you tend to roam through far away countries, spending endless hours getting there and back again, where so many good things are actually within a short distance of where you live. Like Rome. I'd realized that I'd never been to the Eternal City, which is a shame, when you think about it, one of the biggest tourist drawcards in the world just one and a half hours by plane away.

So one cheap flight with a famous Irish low-cost carrier later I was roaming the streets of Rome, marvelling at the cultural, architectural and artistic wealth that the Italian capital has to offer. I arrived last Sunday night with the worst cold imaginable, constantly blowing my nose, which had turned it into more of a raw, flaky hunk of meat in the middle of my face. Add a semi-dry, nasty cough to this, and you got something that you need about as much when travelling as a club foot. I tried to make the best out of it.
My host Andrea fetched me with his scooter in front of the Termini main railway station, to where I got by bus from the airport. After a very brief introduction I was already sitting on the scooter, holding on for dear life and realizing that this was my first authentic Italian experience. The wind was freezing, which wasn't necessarily helping with recovering from being sick. We quickly stopped by in the arty-farty student neighbourhood of San Lorenzo, where we got some nice pizza al taglio (by the slice), and then went on to a bar. Andrea knew lots of people there, and the way he was constantly hugging his (male) friends made me wonder whether Italians might be a bit more cordial in their interactions. The barkeeper shouted us some drinks, even I didn't have to pay, since I was Andrea's guest, which was nice. He even gave us a plate piled high with a sinful cake with more cream and custard that I could handle at such a late hour.
After arriving at my host's place I tried to get ready to sleep asap, but Andrea was still very awake, since he works in the evenings, and usually sleeps very late. So after an hour or so of talking I could finally snuggle up on the makeshift couch, but a very persistent cough kept me up for the next three or so hours.

The next day I ventured out to have a look around the centro storico. I went to the famous Spanish Steps first, which sit on the foot of the Chiesa della Trinità dei Monti. The square in front of them and the steps themselves are always buzzing with tourists with camcorders, people getting their pictures taken, people asking strangers to take pictures of them, and people of Indian complexion selling roses. I decided quickly to run away from the bustle into the small alleys of the centro storico. Walking around the labyrinthine, cobble-stoned streets of the centro is just marvellous, there are piazze (squares), chiese (churches) and small trattorie (small restaurants) around every corner, and you have to take real care not to be run over by vespe (scooters) or the ubiquitous, wildly honking Smarts.
I didn't really get anywhere that day, except to some cafés to have some coffee Italian style, standing up, that is. The whole drinking coffee while standing up is a bit of the pain in the neck for me, it was always really hard to find a café where you could actually sit down, and then you had to pay double or more for the coffee compared to what you pay when you drink standing up. In some instances, my longing for comfort was stronger than my stinginess, so I sat down to rest for a while.

The following day was to be dedicated to a new country - the Holy See or Vatican City. The smallest country in the world at 0.44 km², the Vatican's existence as a city-state was brought into existence with the Lateran Treaty in 1929. It is a non-hereditary, elected monarchy, and the ruler and head of state is someone they call the Pope, which is currently an 81-year old German man, who was enrolled in the Hitler Youth in 1941 upon turning 14. One can argue whether it was such a wise choice to elect a German hardline conservative, who seems to be more on the mythological side of things than in touch with reality, and his most recent, already infamous, decision to reinstate a couple of nutty bishops who had been excommunicated due to their public denial of the holocaust, doesn't look to good on his résumé either.
When you set foot into St Peter's Basilica, you get kind of overwhelmed by the incredible grandeur and splendour of things. The almost obscene wealth that is displayed in this church makes you realize that you are indeed in a different state, country, world, and that things proceed at a different pace in the Vatican than anywhere else. Everything seems to be made of marble and gold.
In the Vatican museums then, my jaw dropped inevitably seeing the abundance of priceless art of all different styles and periods, mostly Christian realism, of course. The Sistine Chapel was just a bit too much for me, though, with hordes of people twisting their necks to look at the frescoes on the walls and ceiling, and virtually everybody ignoring the 'no photography', and snapping away randomly.

After a couple of days, my cold got a bit better, but I had to stay for one night in an hostel, since my other host wasn't available on that day. I found quite a good, cheap and central place with friendly staff and alrighty people in my dorm, what more can you ask for? The offer to go out with everybody for dinner and a night of clubbing afterwards didn't sound too appealing for my unsociable self, so I decided to stay in my bed and read.

The next thing on my list of sights was the Colosseum then. It is almost like you have a touristic obligation to see it, so I caved in and went there. Seeing it from the outside was quite something, I have to say, and walking around it and marvelling at the sheer size of the thing was pretty good, too. But once I'd paid the stiff entrance fee and worked my way in, I couldn't help but be slightly disappointed. It all looked a lot smaller on the inside, and the ruins of the catacombs in the middle made it hard to imagine that there were actual gladiator fights and senseless animal slaughterings going on. There is just no visible arena floor anymore. Neither are there any seats left, so the estimated 50,000-70,000 spectators didn't magically appear on my mind when I looked at the empty ruins.
Included in the Colosseum ticket was the entrance to the Roman Forum, a sprawl of badly labelled ruins that was once the centre of the ancient world, lined with gleaming marble temples, law courts and offices. Without a guide, again it proved rather difficult to make out what had been going on in those decrepit buildings. Nevertheless, it was quite a sight considering the age of it all, and the manual expertise that was required to build the whole lot.

The rest of my stay in Rome was more or less happening in various museums, cafés, and the centro storico, drinking café latte and eating pizza by the slice. I got a new host after the one night in the hostel, Michele, who was nice, but not spectacularly so. It's always kind of hard to get to know people so fast within a few days, and immediately having to get comfortable with them, and having to talk casually and uncoerced.

Altogether, before you ask, yes, of course it's worth visiting Rome, fool! There are probably few cities that have more to offer than the Eternal City, especially when it comes to great food, architecture, art and culture in general. I had quite a good time, but was always a bit restrained by my cold, which was just unfortunate. But really, I wouldn't mind going back, there's still so much to see and explore, and so far, I've only got to know a small percentage of the enigmatic city that is Rome.

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