As I sit here listening to Sounds of the Sixties (the best 2 hours of radio in any given week in my opinion). I look back to my third day in Roma*
Hopped on a bus.
Sat next to an Australian lady who had deep vein thrombosis.
Turned out she lived close to an old school friend of mine. She adopted kangaroos who had been orphaned, touching. Not that I asked, but I was treated to a slide show of said roo's.
Before I left for Rome, I was showred with advice, tips and recommendations. Il gelato di san crispin popped into every email and converation, so I steered the gaggle to sample. No dissapointment. Bloody fantastic. I chose pistachio, ginger and cinnamon, a wicked combination. As in 'down with the kids 'cool' and a dieters devlish delight.
We dodged a few tourists (understatement) around Trevi and stepped into Santi Vicenzo e Anastasio a Trevi. Considering it is merely a few metres from a throng of activity, it's a messianic and inobtrustive corner in an otherwise overcrowded spot.
Toddling back to the sweltering bus, we decided to take a look on the green route, the historic-rich catacombs tour. Kind of a snore.
Jam-packed day so far no?
Shuffled around the Basillica, shoulders covered, natch. Lost mother for 20 minutes (wanted poster fodder in the making)
When reunited she was charming some security officers into letting us in to mass. Man alive. It worked, and despite it being in italian, was very halcyon. However, this irked me to high heavens, if my nail sissors hadn't have been taken off me I'd have leant over to snip this rat tail off him.
Being a Saturday night, & the air was getting hot (ta Whigfield) I was in the mood for a little jig. Heading to Trastevere, we found a square where those under 35 went, it was a hive of activity, sweeping along the river we perused the stalls and ate at a joint which was cheap as chips and can only be described as pulsing.
I became tipsy merely on the atmosphere of the area (plus maybe a litre of plonk was involved), it was just so alive. If you want an entertaining, real night out, I'd recommend this area (around Via Della Lungaretta). However, I would not recommend wearing silk. One word, oil (see below).
In bed for 12, thrilling.
*I say Roma in homage to my Italian friend Mauro. Despite my best efforts, I could n'er get him to say Rome … as in gnome.