I'm up with the lark. My new room-pals (brother/mother) are not.
Christopher Fry once noted 'I travel light, that is, as a man can travel who will still carry his body around because of its sentimental value'. Packing is a challenge for most, granted. With around 300 dresses to my name I tend to overthink my travels. Limited to Jet2's idea of hand luggage I was darn well impressed at my ability to fit 10 options in.
Grecian 'I'm so boho and casual' look acquired with minimal/maximum effort, I spritzed the last of my factor 50 on & braced myself for the day ahead.
As I head for the culture immersion a cry trills behind me. 'Tea Victoria, I need a cup of tea', I'd forgotten the relevancy for hot drinks, but Mother hadn't. Without learning any lessons from the night before we enter into a quite cafe. Armed with the word 'tea' what did we expect? Denby china perhaps? Portmeirion? In hindsight I'm not surprised she was given a thimbleful of peach iced tea. Icharrads was never our strong point. However I did discover an ice lolly that had replaced the wooden stick with a liquorce stalk. Kept me quiet for an hour.
Unsuitably refreshed we shimmied down to the hustle. Shooing away the silly men trying to sell you hats/umbrellas, we jumped aboard a hop-on, hop-off bus, the 101. Taking us from San Pietro to Via Barberini.
Taking on the role as pathfinder (self given title), sibling took us on a goose chase of the Panthenon. Along the misguided way we hit Piazza Navarro, Trevi, a strange protest about pensions, The Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, ate a damned good pizza and toured the bleeding Colosseum before we found the P-dog.
Unknowingly making a miniture whistlestop tour of Rome, I'd hotty-spotted, learned the words hot and cold (caldo ... freddo) and walked for a solid 7 hours. Not too shabby.
note: my brother isn't blind.
I'm not a real fan of snaps. Snap however ... I'm pretty good at.
My mother. The tourist.
There's a solider standing here at all times. Poor male.
I fell over whist taking this.