Weary from our Vatican Experience, we set out on day eight to walk around the Forum. Our day at the Forum had some frightful elements, which included getting lost on a dodgy street, a bad cappuccino, and a drug dealer escorting us along a park at night. It was not an awful day by any means, but it was a day like most days in Rome: full of contrast and surprise.
After a lovely breakfast at our hotel, Domus Sessoriana, which we continued to love, we caught a taxi to the Forum. We had the taxi drop us off at Via dei Fori Imperiali; then, we walked along Via Alessandrina. There was a nice wide sidewalk along the ruins, and we stopped to take pictures.
The beautiful blue sky and fluffy clouds added contrast to the crumbling ruins and rush of modern architecture. A cool breeze blew by us. There always seemed to be a breeze in Rome. The breeze reminded us of being at the beach.
A seagull flew around the ruins as we looked down upon the buildings from the sidewalk.
Seagulls, cool breeze, hot sun, ancient ruins, traffic, fast walking people wearing American clothing but speaking Italian and wearing good shoes, I saw contrast after contrast.
To our left was the Trajan Forum, and at the end of that was Trajan’s Column. Emperor Trajan built the forum in 112 AD. At the top of the column was a statue of St. Peter. Trajan did not put St. Peter up there. Originally, Trajan’s statue sat on top of the column, but during the Middle Ages, one of the popes had Trajan’s statue replaced with St. Peter’s. That could not have been an easy task.
Around the corner and across the street from Trajan’s column was The Altar of the Fatherland, also known as the Vittoriano. Bronwyn and I thought the building was magnificent.
The Vittoriano was built to celebrate the unification of Italy. It was difficult to wrap our minds around the fact that Italy was not unified until March 17, 1861. With ruins over 2000 years old, Italy was barely over 150 years old.
Italy is just a youngin’ in the scheme of things, a youngin with really old parents.
We left Mom on a bench next to a street musician playing Italian music while Bronwyn and I walked up the steps of the monument. There were many steps, nearly 200, and no handrail.
We walked by The Tomb of the Unknown Soldier at the top of the steps. Soldiers guarded it. To the left of the tomb was the eternal flame. Four horses towered over the monument. The view from the monument was lovely.
We stood for as long as we dared to leave Mom alone on the park bench. Then, we walked back to picked up Mom, who at that point was irritated.
How did I know she was irritated?
Bronwyn and I sat down beside her on the bench and the three of us stared at the monument in all its grandeur. Mom started talking about the four horsemen of the Apocalypse while looking at the horses on top of the monument.
We decided it was time to walk on.
We walked along Via Dei Fori Imperiali gazing out upon the Roman Forum; then, we walked up Via Cavour and had lunch, dining al fresco.
After lunch, we walked up the street and turned left on to Via dei Serpenti, stopping in some of the shops. We made a few purchases and wandered through the streets.
This was not a great thing to do in Rome. In Florence, it was fine. In Rome, it was not.
We ended up on a really awful street that was next to a lovely busy street. We were not paying attention and found ourselves on a street with very few people, and those people looked very angry.
There was a police station on the street.
We walked on, stopping at a café for a cappuccino and some gelato. Our waiter looked like he had just gotten out of jail. He has rude, I felt uncomfortable around the clientele, and the cappuccino he brought us was awful. I paid the bill before we finished, and we quickly left. Two blocks later, we were in a taxi heading back to the safety and serenity of Domus Sessoriana.
Mom and Bronwyn changed clothes, and we headed out to walk around Villa Borghese, a large park that reminded me of Central Park in NYC.
Mom, tired of walking, sat on a park bench while Bronwyn and I explored some of the park.
Bronwyn enjoyed the tree-lined streets, statues, flowers, and pond. I did not find it all that impressive. For a large city, it was nice to be able to take a walk around nature, but it seemed the city could be doing more with the park to accentuate its beauty.
There were tourists riding on Segways. One granny lost control of her Segway. She jumped off, and it crashed into a tree. The granny did not get hurt, and it was entertaining to watch, but it made me wonder why there were Segways in this small park.
There were also people awkwardly riding bicycles and bicycles built for two. Visitors to the park rode by us in golf carts as well.
The park was not that big, but it seemed that there were many transportation options for those who did not want to walk. My Mom did not want to pursue any of these options.
So, after collecting Mom from the graffiti marked bench, we walked to a spot were we thought it would be easy to catch a taxi, which brought us back to our hotel.
We ate dinner in the hotel restaurant, and then took a taxi to San Giovanni to walk through the kiosks. The summer festival at San Giovanni was in full swing during the evening. Bronwyn bought a dress, Mom bought some gifts for my Dad, and I bought a dress for my younger daughter.
There was man on stage addressing the audience. We couldn’t understand what he was saying because, of course, he was speaking Italian. One of the vendors told us he was a politician discussing the dilemma of citizens being angry about some of the major roads in Rome being closed down for a bicycle road race.
We get that too in the town I live in, I thought.
We walked back to the hotel because we knew finding a taxi would have been too difficult from where we were.
We walked along Viale Carlo Felice to return to the hotel. My mother was walking very slowly and relying heavily on her cane. That is when we started to notice how different the park, Giardini di Viale Carlo Felice, we had to walk by to get to our hotel was at night from in the daytime.
There was a man sleeping on a bench. A very dressed up woman with a lot of make-up and a seemingly drunk woman who was crying sat together on another bench. There were two men walking nervously near us. The one man, who was a little better dressed, kept eyeing us out of the corner of his eye while he talked on his cell phone.
I slowed down and whispered to my mom, we need to be careful. We may get mugged.
One of the men disappeared from view, while the better-dressed man kept ten paces in front of us. This made me very nervous. He had nothing to gain from grabbing our bags of women’s dresses bought at the church festival.
With a jerk in his step and darting eyes, he seemed to be walking us out of his park. When we got to the end of the road across from the hotel, he stood and waited for us to walk past him before he turned around and walked back down the street the way we had come.
Thinking back, I wonder if he was ushering us out of his turf. Maybe he was just as relieved as we were that nothing bad happened to us. I can’t imagine he would want the media attention that three tourists being harmed on his street might bring. It might have been bad for his business that night, which I can only assume did not involve anything legal.
We arrived safely back to Domus Sessoriana. We always felt safe and secure once inside the hotel doors. Walking down the long hallway at night seemed majestic every time we walked it. I never got tired of hearing the echo of our footsteps.
We repacked our bags and watched The World Cup on the TV in our room.
Tomorrow we would leave Rome and travel to Orvieto. Before we left, though, I needed to make a visit to Antonietta Meo and the Holy Relics. I had no idea that I would have to make a choice between leaving the church without making my miracle request and paying proper respect to the Holy Relics or walking on when faced with an agitated man alone in Santa Croce in Gerusalemme.
I also had no idea what Orvieto would be like. I had learned that there was a cloth housed in the Orvieto Duomo. This cloth represented the Miracle of Bolsena when the cloth poured blood during a communion service in 1263. I didn’t know if I would be able to view the cloth, but the next day, I was going to try my best to see what a piece of cloth that poured blood from it in the 13th Century looked like. In addition, going along with the whole “bleeding-cloth-blood-of-Jesus” theme, I hoped the red wine in Orvieto would be fabulous.
Ciao!