Thursday, 19 July 2012


17 June.

An audience with the Pope.
Yes, it was time to meet Benny boy.

Getting to the Vatican for 9am, a hyperactive mother wrested brother & I to drink as much holy water as humanly possible. Death by internal drowning. May point her in the direction of this article

The happy-clappy's were out in force, a 'halllejulah' there, a 'praise be to God' there. The cobbles were awash with flags, attempts at dancing and heck of a lot of individuals out of tune. They seemed happy enough.

I settled in the shade with my literature of choice. 50 Shades of Grey, naturally. At the Vatican what else would one read? Mother had kittens.

I perused the tack; Pope on a rope, nodding Pope, calendar of hottest preists of Rome (obviously bought this) that sort of paraphernalia. I notice the stall owners seem to have had their weekly bath, everyone seems positivly buoyant. I like it.

Strolling back to my fit-to-burst parent, I'm shocked at just how many people are there, all nationalities, languages, varying levels of good looking.

The clock strikes 12. The doors open and I'm deaf.

Now, it was very hot, he was speaking Italian, I was tired. His only sentence in English was 'the world is like a mustard seed'. Good on him for saying it in 6 languages though, clever chap.

Shopping. It's a must right? We dine on pizza and plonk at Nana Vini e Cucina, they had a ginger fragrance in the lavatories, nasal vim.

Breaking from the gruesome twosome (mother dropped her glasses, I scarpered) I set about ambulating. These were the champions:

La Rinascente - think House of Fraser. Nicer toilets.
Galleria alberto sordi – similar to Burlington Arcade, wolf whistle in pauper way.
Le group – Forever 21 but classier.
Altariva – Russell & Bromley. But better. Ignore the website.

Stock phrases:

Do you speak English? Parla Inglese?
How much? Quanto?
Credit card? (said an octave higher at the end, y'know, to indicate it's a question). Carta di Credito?
Expensive. Costoso!

Natural, no?

Met the duo and hiked up the Spanish Steps (not what it's cracked up to be) followed by gawping at the splendor of Via dei Condotti. A high-fash-gasm. 

The night ended with my watching football with some young ladies from the Netherlands, discussing the Jubilee. Peculiar.

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