Roman Holiday
While I was perusing a stall at a market near the river Tiber I was interrupted by the stall holder who pointed to a black and white photo postcard of Gregory Peck and Audrey Hepburn on a moped from the film ‘Roman Holiday’. ‘He’s Dead,’ the old Italian man croaked. It was June the 12th, 2003. I stopped and stared at the picture. This was one of my favourite Hollywood actors. I grew up watching classics like his portrayal of Atticus Finch in ‘To kill a Mockingbird.’
We were in Rome to hook up with our friend Simon from back home who managed Finnegan’s Irish bar in Cavour near the subway station. Arriving around tea-time at a sunny Ciampino airport, we jumped a bus and subway to the bar. After a cold beer we were then driven to meet Simon’s Italian friend. So we started dinner around seven-thirty in this small fifth floor apartment in the suburbs of Rome. I had never been to Rome before despite extensive travels through Italy. I was glad to finally be there and eager to submerge into its rich culture. Dave and I spoke enough Italian to order food or wine at restaurants. Simon however had worked in Italy for four years and spoke fluently, so he became our translator. Back at the apartment the sun slipped behind buildings and the food kept coming, we started with fresh mussels, followed by soup, then pasta, then fish and on it went until midnight. The food was fresh, simple and fantastic. We talked and drunk wine until full and tired. Only for Simon to suggest going to a nightclub. We simultaneously burst into laughter at the thought of it. Wow, I could hardly move for being so full and we hadn’t even been to our apartment yet. We eventually caught a taxi well after midnight through the dark streets of Rome to a district called Re de Roma.
- Rome at night
The apartment was two up, traditional stone built on the main road just south of piazza Re de Roma. Next morning, we woke to the sound of car horns, Simon’s flatmate had opened the double doors and the city noise swept through the airy apartment. We had coffee and cake on the balcony for breakfast and watched the traffic chaos below. I didn’t seem to mind as I was on holiday mood. We listened to the chat from the American flatmate who studied priesthood at the Vatican. Tales of crazy nights and goings on, were far from the expected image of Catholic school interns mainly caused by their confused mid-west upbringing and a new found freedom from their peers. Taking our first steps outside, we caught the subway along the road and so began a ten-day voyage around Rome. We took in the sights of the Colosseum with fancy dressed Romans waiting to be photographed for money. Ice cream at the tricky to find Trevi fountain, lunch outside the Spanish steps, the sites of ancient Rome, to the newer gaudy architecture of Mussolini’s time. Dave had been before so I spared him the trip to the Vatican, which I slipped into without a queue one late morning. The weather was hot from the time we arrived, Rome was having a heat wave but I didn’t mind, I enjoyed the heat.
With daytime being a tourist, we spent the nights being locals. Going to recommended restaurants, eating fabulous food and later going out to bars and clubs. We frequently used our apartment balcony with Campari and sodas as a starting point, followed by Simon’s Irish bar. If Simon joined us for dinner we ate in the Cavour area and received discounted meals, like one time it cost ten euros a head which I was staggered at. We went to a nightclub on a boat on the Tiber river, which was fun but hard to get into for tourists. After the nightclubs had closed, we were taken to late night bars where the party continued. This was a strange experience because local legalities meant they had to be a sports club, so some were darts clubs like the ‘Naklar’. This was a dingy bar like you would see in a film. The neon lights, guys hanging around the bar, drunk people falling asleep and an old hag for a landlady. To my astonishment they served ‘super lager’ on draught, something I had never seen in Scotland where it comes from. This was a strong lager, popular with alcoholics back home. So in our wisdom we decided to use it for a ‘doctor pepper’ cocktail. ‘Seven nation army’ by the White Stripes became a favourite anthem of the trip with Dave humming the intro tune relentlessly. The night became dawn quite quickly. We left walking out into the daylight, where a sweet-smelling bakery across the road brought morning customers. We staggered into the now busy subway to head home for a sleep.
- Naples with Mount Vesuvius behind
After that we decided to get away from Rome, finding ourselves slipping into a dangerous routine. We were both keen to see Mount Vesuvius and Pompeii, so got a train south to Naples from Termini the main station in Rome. The old train moved faster than our trains at home and we bagged a carriage to ourselves. Seat pulled out from underneath to make the carriage into a bed. After closing the curtains, we bedded down for the three-hour journey. We arrived in Naples at tea time and stood in the station looking lost. I quickly felt uncomfortable and suggested we look for a hotel for the night. It felt like a western movie where men stood at street corners starring towards you. This didn’t seem like a friendly place. Out on the street didn’t seem much better, so we quickly moved on and found a cheap hotel not far from the station. The chubby hotel owner greeted us in his vest and gold chain. He wanted to keep my passport and wasn’t happy when I refused. I didn’t feel safe, so I put some valuables behind a picture on the hotel room wall. Walking around a local market and felt an uncomfortable feeling of being ‘tailed.’ I remember an old Italian friend from this area saying to me once quite seriously that never buy a shirt in the market, because often they will be wrapped without a back to the shirt! I suggested dropping in somewhere for pizza which was a good shout. The pizza in Naples was probably the best I had tasted, the winning combination of thin crust and sweet fresh tomatoes has travelled the world over. But this had to be the best with simple good flavours.
- Naples pizza
Next day we were off to Mount Vesuvius with a train to Herculaneum and a shared minibus cab up the mountain. We were lucky enough to share with a retired Oxford Professor who gave up a great insight and showed us the lava flow level from 1944 which stopped short of destroying the towns below. The green lush, misty landscape was replaced by barren lava rock and we stopped at a busy car park high on the slopes of the mountain. Students waited to volunteer as guide up the last stretch to the summit. The mists cleared and we neared the rim with a high point further round the path with metal railings protecting the deep drop into the smoking sulphur canyon. In the distance the ‘Bay of Naples’ with it’s hazy blue sea met seamlessly with sky. It was by no means a strenuous walk, in fact much shorter than I had anticipated, helped by the road access near to the summit. We spent the afternoon at Pompeii, the Roman town which had been engulfed by a Vesuvius volcano eruption in 79AD. Armed with rented mobile information phones we wandered the site. It was interesting to see, I didn’t realise the size of the town. In the barren landscape around, it was difficult to imagine a bustling town. Gypsy kids pestered us for money at the station waiting for our train. We stayed the night before heading back to Rome the next morning. We had missed a chance to go to Capri by a few minutes with the last ferry. I would also have liked to see the burning fields caused by the volcanic ground, north of Naples but these would have to be for another trip.
Back in Rome, we had arranged to watch Simon’s pub team play football in a mini-World Cup tournament at the Francesco Totti’s Longarina football centre at Ostia Antica. Meeting at Finnegan’s bar we greeted the friends we’d made over the trip who just so happened to be playing in some teams. We met other friends, a couple of girls from Austin,Texas and took a train to Ostia Antica where they would be playing. The facilities were good and the competition was well organised with proper team strips, singing of national anthems and match programs were also sold. Simon’s British & Irish team did well but were defeated by a strong Polish side in the quarter finals. It was a great day out and the fans entered into the spirit of the tournament. We then travelled back on mass for some beers back in Rome.
- Ariccia, Lazio
Meeting late the following afternoon, we met with Simon’s Italian foodie friends who drove us through the rush hour traffic out-of-town. A large heavy sun sank behind our heads, the warm wind pushed through the small car and a shiny sheen reflected from the road. We were heading to a village called Ariccia in the Frascati region. Famous for ‘porchetta,’ the crispy spit roast baby pig. It’s just passed the summer residence of the Pope, Castel Gandolfo, a picture postcard area beside Lake Albano. It’s also a Roman foodie’s favourite day trip and I was delighted to discover it. When we arrived at small hilltop village we were taken directly to a bustling place on the cobbled Corso Garibaldi. Our Italian friends ordered the food while we sat on benches at wooden tables awaiting our al fresco experience. We had a local chilled sparkling red wine which refreshed in this warm, humid early summer evening. It was quite the surprise, I half expected a white Frascati wine but thoroughly enjoyed this new wine experience.The food came served on greaseproof and was fantastic with olives on their vines, melt in the mouth buffalo mozzarella, ripe tomatoes and of course the porchetta was succulent, soft and a crispy skin. We gorged on these fresh, delicious and yet simple dishes. With the sun now set, hanging light-bulbs from trees lit up the quaint village with narrow cobbled streets. We took a leisurely walk up to the Piazza della Repubblica for espresso and Limoncello at a bar near the fountain. Sitting at this beautiful square in the cool air, I didn’t want to leave but it was already past midnight. We had to head back to the city which was an hours drive away.
- Cafe culture in Rome
Our last day was spent on the one of the public beaches – Ostia Lido, a thirty minute subway and train trip down the coast. The long flat beach was quite busy, we basked in the sun and warm breeze from the sea knowing that our summer was probably going to be over since we were going back to the unpredictable weather of Scotland. Thoughts of wonderful food, wine and culture lingered on this lazy afternoon. At night, Rome welcomed an endless stream of strolling tourists passing through busy piazzas, watching people who watched them back sitting in the cafe’s. Our Roman holiday was over.
“You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view… ’til you climb inside of his skin and walk around in it.”
Atticus Finch (To Kill a Mockingbird)
Ciao Roma!
now read Wedding in the Old Country – Sicily
Bumps On The Road 
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