But return our car to the agency we did and taxied into town from the airport about 30 minutes away.

While in Barcelona our friend Fabrizio had attempted to set us up in his mothers place in Rome while she was out of town but alas she did not leave. Along the road we received an email from him indicating that he had succeeded in finding us a room at the inn. We were to stay with his cousin, Pimpi, and her son, Nino, right in the shadow of St. Peters Basilica. What Luck!

We gave the cab driver the address, we thought, in Piazzelle San Gregorio # 7. Well when we got there it was in front of a convent with no apartment buildings in evidence and after much zooting around the local streets we showed him the address and he went, ahaa! Turns out it was not #7 after all but THE 7th. Septimo NOT Sette, and a horse of another color all together. We finally arrived at the proper square and after more snooping and pooping, as the addresses were not exactly sequential, we found ourselves deposited in front of the correct door and greeted by Nino. Yeaaa! The driver, very graciously, charged us only for the fare and not the usual extra fees for the airport and the baggage. We were happy to have had a driver and found ourselves imagining how lost we would have been if we had tried to find our hosts on our own.

We were now in good hands and graciously received by a family that had never heard of us until a couple of weeks prior to our visit. I can’t say enough about how royally we were treated and catered to by Pimpi and Nino. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

That first evening we dined at home, as we did every evening subsequently, and were joined by Pimpi’s daughter Michelle and her beau Paulo. At home, we were made to feel, and it was a joy getting to know one another. We in our broken, was it ever whole?, Italian and they in their English. Paulo let me know after a bit of male repartee that I was the first American that he had met that he would call wicked. ;-)

The following morning after breaking our fast we were off to view the Vatican Museum in the morning and had hoped to see St. Peters in the afternoon. Beh, Pues, Well, after circumnavigating (how often do you get to say circumnavigating?) the tall walls of Vatican City we finally came to the entrance and continued our quest to find the end of the line hoping to gain admittance. We found it, the end that is, and woefully realizing that it would take about 4 hours just waiting in line decided to forego the freekin Vatican art collection in the interest of preserving our earth pads, our feet. Din wanna see no stinkin religious art anywho we din. Bummer, as we really had wanted to view this huge collection and the Sistine Chapel while in Rome. So it goes, perhaps in another life.

Being Taoists, we made a quick revision of plans and decided to visit St. Peters instead. I understand that this is the worlds largest church. It be big mon, way big. All of the ‘paintings’ contained therein are in actuality not paintings at all but mosaics. Very intricate and well executed by the finest Renaissance artists, as they should be having been commissioned by the richest man on the planet at the time of conception, El Papa himself, the pope.

After touring the main floor we thought we would just pop up and visit the roof. Well the line looked short in the beginning and we were told that it would probably only take a half hour to attain the assention. Wrong! We waited in line for 1 1/2 hours. Was it worth it? I donno??? We did it. We saw the view. We took the photos. We left.

If you, like we, have perhaps read Rick Steves Italy book and read where he blithely goes on about how you can see Rome in a day. 2 hours at the Vatican Museum, an hour at St. Peters and then do the Coliseum and the Forum in the afternoon, to this I say - BULLSHIT!!! I suppose that guide book writers don’t have to wait in lines. We were enlightened in Rome, we had an epiphany, we discovered the truth, had our blinders removed. It just can’t be done. Rome in a day.... Harumphhh...

After the throngs we retired to our abode and indulged in the siesta rather than pounding the pavement. We had hit the wall, we took a nap. It was good to do so, it was just good.

That evening, after our siesta, we headed off on foot to the heart of the beast. Being in tourist mode once again onward we strode, doing tourist things. Shopping and window shopping. Taking in the sites. Piazza Novona and it’s fountains and then the Pantheon.

Well, I/we had seen photos of the Pantheon of course but were unprepared for this almost perfectly preserved 2000 year old temple, now a Catholic church. (Of course now a Catholic church, the conquering civilizations always either tear down or take over the temples/churches of the vanquished civilizations.) The facade with it’s enormous one piece columns, the original bronze doors and the huge dome of the interior with its 9 meter hole at the acme, peak, pinnacle, through which one can view the sun in the morning and the moon at night. It is awesome dudes, COWABUNGA!!! Very moving actually and perhaps the most impressive building this reporter experienced in Rome. I know, I know, there are much bigger, more ornate, lusher edifices in this city of gold and gilt but the simple grandeur of this ancient monument (disregarding the crap that the church has hung on it’s interior in the period since it claimed ownership) is whelming my friends. Did I say we liked it??? We did, we liked it.

Onward we strolled, to the Trevi Fountain where the rose vendors are like flies and I angrily spat - ‘Vai, Vai Via!!’ ‘Go, Go Away!!’ as they accosted my sweetest Rosemary. Here also we dutifully tossed the requisite number of coins over our shoulders in order that we will be assured of returning to Rome in our futures.

To the Spanish Steps and it’s throngs of the great unwashed. An then, Ah!, a taxi home to rest again for another day.

Another day, another site to see for these intrepid travelers. Pimpi was oddly going to a class on ancient christian and roman art. I say oddly as she indicated that she hates the church and that for which it stands. Close by was the Roman Forum. We accompanied her by car and went to our site while she went to hers. The Forum is another ruin in a city of ancient ruins. It was here that the ruling class held forth in the times of yore when Rome was ROME. It was interesting to see and upon entering we had purchased a little book of the ruins of Rome complete with overlays that depicted them as they might have been when current. I wondered about senators and vestal virgins and if these vestal virgins were like modern day Washington interns, the object of senatorial desire?

I would like to say that we also toured the Coliseum but we only viewed it from afar, through the ruins of the Forum, and yet, it was enough.

Before Pimpi’s class we had met her Aunt and Uncle who were also her classmates and it was decided that we would retire to their home in Tivoli for lunch and to tour Villa d’Este. Leaving the city center, returning to our car, we crossed a crosswalk. Pimpi just set forth, strode right on out, stepped directly into traffic. I having read that if you want to get across the street you should follow a Roman, did so. A motor bike was rapidly bearing down on me and I leapt aside. Pimpi saw this, abruptly stopped, turned and stood with legs stiffly spread wide like a gunslinger with her hands on her hips, a smirk on her lips, she then glared at the moto driver and practically dared him to hit her. He didn’t, he knew a macha Roman woman when he saw one. He slammed on his brakes, stopped before her and waited patiently for us to pass. She possesses bigger balls than I Gunga Din...

The Drive to Tivoli, about 1/2 hour out of the city, was another of those peak life experiences. I/we had heard about driving in Rome and Roman drivers. Pimpi is without a doubt the most aggressive driver I have ever ridden with. Much weaving in and out, arm waiving, intimidation, terrifying actually and we learned a great deal of new Italian words in an interesting number of formations that I wouldn’t dare print here. Pimpi told me that Italians have little respect for the law and it’s basically survival of the fittest, so she just goes for it. With great gusto, I might add. Nino says she has never been in a wreck but that she terrifies him too. I just decided early on that she hopefully knew what she was doing and that I was on a scary ride at an amusement park and just had to enjoy the adrenaline rush. And what a rush it was. Every time we rode with her we were oh so happy to arrive safe and sound...

Christina and Livio have a lovely home and it was a lovely lunch we had with their son and another uncle/cousin/whatever - Giando. After which it was off to Villa d’Este.

Created during the 16th century for Cardinal Ippolito d’Este this lush country residence is most notable for the gardens and fountains that tumble down the steep hillside. Water, water everywhere, the fountains are fed by a diverted river and at one time one of the larger ones produced music by water power. Rumor has it that the townsfolk found it irritating and said, ‘could you please stop it?’ Lovely, lovely and a pleasant respite from the ruins of the ancient city, Roma.

Another day, our last in Rome, and off we go to meet Michelle and Paulo along with Pimpi and Nino for Chinese food. We have always found Chinese restaurants to be a welcome recess from a total diet of the local offerings. We in America are so lucky to have so many of the world’s cuisine offered everywhere for our dining pleasure. Not so in Europe that we have seen. In England and the Netherlands you can find Curry houses of course but most every where else the Chinese provide diversion. Cheep too! The 6 of us had a huge meal of many dishes for around 50 bones U.S.