Everyday Rome

At 5 AM we woke up, groggily got ready to head to Rome, ate some breakfast feeling slow and headed out in the chilly dewy dawn.

The moon still twinkling in the dawn.

The sun rising over the rose colored mountains.

Flocks of sheep.

Driving down through Pescara, over the hills and mountains of Abruzzo and through the middle of the boot that is Italy was mesmerizing  It would have been nicer had I been fully awake however under the sleepy circumstances it was still pretty good.

This mountain pass is historically windy. You can see the clouds pushing through the pass.

The mountain winds create really cool colors of the clouds. 

See the mountain town on the cliff? Pretty.

McDonald's on the way to Rome. Cute building but really does McDonald's need to infect every corner of the earth?

Why did we leave so early to go to Rome?

In hopes of avoiding rush hour Roman traffic. See, there is a huge difference between Seattle traffic, Mexico City traffic, Fairbanks traffic, Baltimore traffic, Naples (Italy) traffic, NYC traffic and Puyallup traffic. Each city has a social style for driving, a code so to speak that only the people that live there know, and also one for pedestrians. In NYC, for example, there is a code for pedestrians. When at a cross stop that is clearly marked red, as in do not cross red, NYC pedestrians channel their inner thug lock eyes with the pedestrians on the opposite side and visually agree to stop traffic, cross the street and protect each other as a human barrier while infuriating drivers. In Naples, Italy there is a code for drivers where they don't use turn signals as a philosophical rule of thumb. What, you didn't see that they were intending to turn? Silly you for not paying attention. Mexico City traffic says you can squeeze as many living humans in a car and as long as they fit, you are A OK.

In Rome? Well, one traffic observation I had was that the scooters are gangsters. They all drive their cute innocent looking Vespa's tougher than a group of Harley Davidson's Hell's Angels in the middle of a Texas highway. It is their way or no way. I was amazed, jaw dropping, amazed at watching the scooter rebels drive all in the opposite direction of traffic against hundreds of cars coming in their direction.

Going against the flow of traffic.

Bring. It. On.

I don't think the hairiest, fattest, most tattooed, pony tail whipping, and tobacco chewing Harley Hog mongrel could stomach driving against Roman traffic in a cute scooter. Roman girls though? The spirit of the Roman soldiers that conquered half of the known world without cell phones still rings into the souls of all Roman scooter drivers. They turn into terrifying outlaws on their scooters, barreling against the oncoming flow of traffic like Emperor Claudios barreling into Brittain and Judea to expand his empire. Needless to say after all of my traffic observations, we hit traffic in Rome.

Intersection of 6 maybe 7 directions? 

Apart from watching Roman traffic in amused horror, I also enjoyed watching the people who were passing in the street going about their life. In Rome, there are Romans of course. Descendants of the brave Roman soldiers fill the majority of Rome but there are also a great many foreigners that work there for international companies, writers, artists, students and lots of nuns and friars. Rome is a 100 layer lasagna of history. It's first layers are sort of hard to taste because they are covered by lots of other more tasty layers, like the Romans. But that doesn't mean that the top layers of the lasagna like modern times or the bottom ones like the Etruscan are not tasty. They are equally tasty, different than any other layer and all a part of the 100 layer lasagna that makes up Rome. Does that make sense? I hope so. Well, Rome is also Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman. There are so many types of Romans from past: rock-age past, roman gods past, renaissance past, WW2 past and then the boring present that make up Rome. Just as Whitman described each person and occupation as a leaf of grass in a field of leaves, there is one leaf of grass for each Roman that has existed. Roman senators, attorneys who began laws as we know them (they  introduced taxes...), prostitutes, drug addicts, teachers, cross dressers, nerds, divorced men, married unhappy women, married happy women, popes, cardinals etc etc. You get the point: Rome is peppered with everyone interesting alive and alot of interesting people that are dead. Here are some pictures of Romans going about their business in everyday Rome.

snack time

hi hoe hi hoe it's off to work we go.

at the bus stop

looking for a diamond of a book

palace

the scooter repair shop

tourist pizza break

fake prada/furla/louis vuitton purse sellers. all african.

keeping an eye out for the police

McDonald's sign...at the fountain of Trevi. Seriously?! The fountain of trevi has a mcdonalds. disgusting. how dare they. I don't know who "they" is in this case but it is unacceptable.

gypsy beggar

mom and daughter

lots of naked statues in Italy. Particularly heroic ones in Rome. 

checking out the salami and olives. Not the statue, just the food.

jars of olives floating like stars

resting 

I always admire women who wear high heels in cobble stone cities. how they are not terrified to twist an ankle is beyond me. 

biking and walking. people walk a lot in Rome. 

Men from India sell roses on nice days and umbrellas on rainy ones. If you see them with umbrellas you know it is going to be a soggy day.

making a point: she is not afraid of her thighs. 'atta girl.

The last picture reminds me of a poem, Ode to My Thighs, that I read in college. It's theme is a woman who hates her dimpled fat thighs (as many women do) and finally sees how great her thighs are, how they have carried her through life and she finally embraces them. Rome is a very "thigh" city if you ask me. All the historic statues show plenty of gamb, current Romans walk here, walk there walk everywhere like a Dr. Seuss book. I am happy they seem to be at peace with their thighs. In honor of Roman thighs, particularly the gals, here is an ecerpt form Ode to My Thighs:

Oh I have been so cruel to my thighs.

I have starved them, hidden them, exercised them into exhaustion.  I have blamed them from every issue I’ve had in my life, from past loneliness to not being able to buy clothes.  I have loathed them simply because of their shape and size. 

How could I have done that after all they have done for me?  They have carried me for over 38 years now.  They’ve propelled me through life and held me upright. They have tolerated everything I have tried to do to minimise them, to eradicate them.  They have given me the power to lift everything from children to furniture.  They’ve cradled lovers.  They have propelled me through water, on a bicycle and around a dance floor.  They’ve fleshed out fabulous clothes, given shape to gorgeous tights, and held stockings up.  They have been part of the foundation of who I am all this time.

They have done so much for me, with almost no complaint, for my whole life.

And I’m sorry I’ve treated them so badly.

I’m sorry I didn’t recognise how beautiful and amazing they are.  That I didn’t see the beauty in their fleshiness, their solidness, their width.  Even the rolls and dimples and scars and cellulite are beautiful.  Most of all their strength and resilience is beautiful.

I’m sorry thighs.  I hope you’ll forgive me and keep on being the amazing thighs you are.

I wonder what Ode to Thighs Roman Goddesses would write?