Rome: best food of my life. Period.
My first experience, on Saturday night, was free pasta in the hostel cooked by 2 lovely sisters from London, but they've lived in Rome for about 20 years so I figure it's authentic enough. Apparently they live in a castle in the country. What a life. After looking around my wonderfully cozy room (which I had all to myself for one night) and terrace, I turned in early.
Sunday morning was a whirlwind tour of the Colosseum, Palatine Hill, and the Forum, using my free Rick Steves tour podcasts (I told the hostel staff later that they should tell everyone about these-they were amazed). Thanks to a tip from goitaly.about.com, I avoided the huge line at the Colosseum by buying a ticket at Palatine Hill instead (the ticket is good for all 3 places). While the Colosseo was certainly spectacular, I liked Rick's story about the Vestal Virgins' house in the Forum the best. Apparently, a few daughters of the aristocracy were chosen around the age of 6-10 to tend the eternal flame of Rome and the house around it. They would be at this post for 30 years and then, if they were found to still be virginal, received a sweet dowry and were allowed to marry. They were like the female celebrities to the male gladiator celebrities, even had their own box seats for the Colosseo. Great work, if you can get it. The whole morning tour was extremely hot - glad I had my sunscreen and big hat or else I would have been red as the pizza sauce on the delicious slice of heaven I had for lunch. Took a walk from Piazza Popolo down Corso (main shopping street) to the Spanish steps (not really that impressed by these, but interesting story that models used to hang out and perform here because the designer shops are nearby), and then to the Trevi Fountain.
I ate San Crispino gelato (the best in Rome!) while watching all of the sunburned tourists take pictures, make out, or throw their coins in. From what I've seen, there are 3 main groups of tourists: school groups, retired folks, and couples. Three guesses who were the most annoying. I tossed the requisite coins (first for a wish, second to return to Rome) over my left shoulder. For dinner, my hostel-mate and I tried to find a tiny Italian place nearby (recommended by the desk guy, who first tried to get us to go to an Indian restaurant, I mean really). Sadly, the place is closed on Sundays, but we were able to find another place where I ate delicious spaghetti with weird drinking-straw-like noodles, which made it difficult to slurp them up. Still tasty though.
Woke up bright and early Monday morning for my 8:00 Vatican reservation. At 8:00 sharp, the huge green doors opened up to reveal the Musei Vaticani entrance, reminiscent of the doors to the Emerald City in Oz. The museum itself was full of artifacts from all over the world, many pillaged from Rome. No clue what I was looking at half the time, but I feel like I still would have had no clue even if I had paid for a tour guide. The multilingual signs scattered throughout were helpful, and I recognized Dionysus even without the sign-clearly the best god. The Raphael rooms were interesting, especially The School of Athens. This may be cliché, but of course the best part was seeing the Sistine Chapel. With Rick Steves help, I was able to interpret most of the ceiling and the Last Judgment wall, the best part of which was a caricature of one of Michelangelo's critics in hell. I admire the cheekiness. Also interesting to compare the two halves of the room; Michelangelo decided that the first half wasn't dramatic enough, so he went all out for the second half, and you can tell. Still can't believe he did the whole thing by himself; meanwhile I was complaining about neck pain after only 15 minutes of studying the ceiling. There were guards everywhere passionately enforcing the 'no pictures' rule, but I was sneaky and dropped to the floor in the middle of a tour group in order to get this pic:
You can't access St. Peter's directly from the museums, so I walked around the wall and waited in a short line (just for security, entrance is free). The inside is pretty epic, evidenced by the floor plaques in a row down the center marking off where the rest of the world's great basilicas would end. I have no idea who many of the saints represented inside are, but I do know St. Peter, and it was pretty cool to see his supposed crucifixion and burial site. I did not know that he is considered the first Pope. It's ironic that Peter is famous for refusing to be compared to Christ even in mode of execution, and nowadays the Pope is almost as equally revered as Christ. I'm not saying I wouldn't have be starstruck and taken several pictures if I had seen ol' Benny, just that the reason for my visit was more about history than some sort of religious mecca. I wonder if any of this stuff, or modern Christianity, would even be here if Constantine hadn't had a crazy vision of a cross. Perhaps the citizens and tour guides of Rome exaggerate their place in history, perhaps not.
Later I grabbed some more pizza and gelato and headed to Plaza Navona (too touristy) and the surrounding side streets. I think I found the door from the Eat Pray Love apartment, and there was a cute little cafe nearby with great paninis. There was a woman eating spinach and boiled eggs outside (I found out later she worked there) who told me she was on a dieta, which is a fail in Italy, I think.
Following a visit to the Pantheon - amazing architecture, and the single hole in the ceiling made it seem as if some god were about to beam down at any moment, Star Trek style - I got ready for the night's culinary adventure. Somewhere around Plaza Navona, I found 2 Italian ladies chatting outside an apartment and asked them where I could find the 'migliore pasta a Roma.' They personally escorted me to a tiny hole in the wall with tables outside full of lively Italian conversation. Between the mouthwatering food and the charming waiter, I was not disappointed. My pesto ravioli made me want to renounce all other forms of pasta from then on. The tomatoes tasted like they had just been picked from someone's grandmother's garden behind the restaurant. And the tiramisu, ohhhh Lord help me, I actually found myself trying to eat faster so that one of the curious passersby could have my table and experience it too. I never really liked Olive Garden in the first place, but it's like a wax statue compared to the real, living breathing body of flavors that is authentic Italian food. Sighhhh.....
I didn't take my camera to dinner that night, so as not to feel like a tourist, but I'll sign off with a picture of the (renovated) apartment building from Eat Pray Love. According to a blog I read, the nearby cafe where I ate lunch may have also been in a movie scene! I think the one where she is eating with the Italian language exchange guy.
Travel tip: Avoid restaurants with pictures of the food outside; the best method for finding authenticity in a touristy city like Rome is to wander around side streets and ask a local for a good recommendation.
