Tuesday, January 01, 2013

Rome & Wet Cheerios
We went to the Coliseum because if T is going to go to Liceo Classico we have to get some culture in that girl ASAP. 



T took as many photos as she could until the battery on the camera died. Oops. My mother and Jack walk really slowly so we played a game of really slow motion relay tag in which we went ahead and then they caught up and so on. After we got to the Colosseo, we decided to hike up past the Foro and the hundreds upon hundreds of students from around the world. The marauding groups of students were singing songs in their various languages of origin, eating stolen oranges from the many surrounding orange trees, and generally coveting T's floral doc martens and braiding each other's hair. The more religious ones carried prayer benches under their backpacks. Even the really doped up ones passed us without breaking a sweat. 

I was determined to follow my friend Elena's advice and wait on the line to peep through a lock on the garden wall door that gives us the perfectly framed vision of St. Peter's under and arc of poplar trees and a fairytale dirt path. It is called S. Pietro dal buco della serratura. Getting there with my mom and Jack was roughly like pulling wet cheerios on a long, long very frayed string. They got there, but there wasn't much of them left at the top of the hill. After we got our peek, T went to a nearby park and procured plenty of oranges for herself while also helping a bunch of twenty something guys who were not as bouncy as she fill their pockets with fruit. Then we decided that the only thing to do was to call a taxi. The taxi never came.  We walked back down the hill ever so slowly, and T and I tried to hail a taxi. This made the taxi drivers wave their fingers at us in a scolding way, but I wasn't going to fall for that call-a-taxi-and-it-will-come trick for a second time. One of my only talents in life is getting taxis to stop for me. After I got F and the folks in one cab, T and I finally got a second one for us and we all met up at a really perfect Indian restaurant that was practically empty. More poori bread for us!


My family is back there. I left them in the dust.

This is me peeping. I was thinking about love, peace, and the absolute necessity of sanctifying gay marriage, if you were wondering.

I'm not sure what Jack was thinking, but I think it involved getting a taxi.

Indian food can be an aphrodisiac, you know.

Or, pehaps, it can induce severe fatigue.

This is me, managing to hold my head upright.

 T says the store windows here are like looking into the interior design of my mind.

Here we are after making our wish at the Fontana di Trevi

We're not going to tell you what we wished.



This is the store where I bought T's first baby outfit when I was here thirteen years ago, pregnant with her and dreaming of how to instill her with a love of fashion. Check!


The lady who worked at the store was moved by our nostalgic tale and was happy to be in the photo with us.

 New Year's Eve at the Piazza di Spagna is a pretty rocking scene. People light off their own fireworks in their hands. Nobody even arrests them or gives them a stern look. Try to hail a taxi and it is a totally different story. Behind us a group of men had a prosecco fight. My mom wore ear plugs. She is deaf in one ear so I guess she really wanted to protect the other one. She still jumped about ten feet in the air when midnight struck. I jumped ten feet in the air when a collection of corks landed one after the other at my feet. Then one hit me in the shoulder. I couldn't figure out why these men were aiming at me until I remembered what I was wearing on my head.


It's open season on all weirdos wearing furry ear scarfs.
It was an Italian coca cola comerical of togetherness.


These little ladies with sparklers look cute, but they were dangerous. Never give drunk ladies of a certain age fire to play with.

Look! A group of happy, braided, singing students. They all smelled of stolen oranges.

These people did a congo line wearing glitter hats into the street and back into the warm glow of their bar. Their breath was a fire hazard.



Crimson is her color. T just got a call back to play the Girl of Fire  in part two of the Hunger Games, but she passed when she found out real hunger might be involved.


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