Poisonous green beans

It is Saturday in Rome.  I make my way to Borghese Gallery after eating the most delicious custard croissant ever baked, and downing one of the tiny cups of Caffe Americano that passes for “morning coffee” in Rome.  I could drink 10 more of these and still not equal the volume of coffee that I typically drink.

I have vertigo today.  This is the first time in my life I’ve suffered from it, but it is unmistakable.  I am dizzy, and cannot stand, unless my head is tilted back and I am looking at the ceiling,  This must be some hold-over from yesterday at the Sistine Chapel.

While Wednesday’s visit to the Borghese focused on paintings and sculptures, today I study the frescos and paintings on the ceilings (see paragraph #2).  Talk about turning a sow’s ear into a silk purse…The ceilings were entirely ignored in my first visit, both by me and by my audio guide.  But they are stunning, and I am happy to be sitting on a chair, with my neck torqued to the ceiling.

Today’s weather is moderate, sunny, a light breeze, and a relief after two days of rain,  It seems that all of Rome enjoys  Borghese Park.  I spend a few hours wandering around the park, drinking peach iced tea, and listening to the street musicians.  One in particular, a Ukrainian accordionist, is quite talented.  He was on my bus this morning, and told me that he is traveling for as long as he can, and earning money as he goes by playing his accordion.  While he is quite talented, he apparently has memorized only 3 songs, so I wish him well.

I sit at a park fountain, soaking up the sun, and watching some kids play soccer.  Three women, each with two small dogs,  wander by.  As they speak Italian, I do not anticipate their actions.  They suddenly bend down, unleash their dogs, pick them up roughly and fling the dogs into the walled fountain.  What is this, Dog Murder before my eyes?  While the dogs flail and dog-paddle in the fountain, and I practice my doggie CPR, the women chat and take phone calls.  Finally, the ladies scooped their dripping, exhausted puppies out of the fountain, and all are on their way.  Everyone was nonchalant except for me.

Today I needed a rest day, and took it  My afternoon nap was luscious.  At 4:30, I packed up my gear and went into Plaza Navona.  What a stunning sight!  Unlike the rest of the week, the Plaza is packed with people.  There are tour groups following umbrellas, lots of families, the obvious deer-in-the-headlights-Americans, a few gypsies, some discrete pickpockets, many police, and lots of performance artists.  I watched some knife jugglers, break dancers, mimes, and musicians playing accordion, guitar, marimba.  Quite a sight, but the crowd got to be a bit cloying.

I decided to walk until I got lost, then figure out where I end up, and find a bus home.  Just for the experience.  What I discover is, I cannot get lost.  I always know where North is, and have a sense of where I am in the city.  I wander to the Pantheon, and have a late lunch in an Osteria on its plaza.  Three travelers from Ohio join me, and a couple from Australia.  Even though the Ohio people are Republicans, we manage to talk civilly about Rome and travel.

The light is low and golden, so I excuse myself to take photos.  The Pantheon is mysterious, and the light on its fountains is magic.  Horses with hand-embroidered hats and polished hoofs are pulling carts of tourists.  The fake gladiators harangue the tourists, and once in awhile even make a Euro for their obnoxiousness.

As I walk, I shoot.  Fountains, obelisks, children, street scenes.  This is photography’s gift- to allow me to focus on an element, enjoy it, try to capture it.

The Trevi Fountain is a disaster.  Many beggars, too many people.  Begging boys whose legs appear to have been broken at a much earlier age, and are scooting themselves around while lying on skateboards, with the contractures causing their toes to touch.  There are some beggars who are blind, and one woman who is obviously emotionally disturbed and keeps removing parts of her clothing.  This side of Rome is new and disturbing to me.

I am so thankful that I was here earlier in the week, and could appreciate the beauty without the riff-raff and the sorrow. 

I stop at a Flor for gelato.  I have discovered that asking the scoopers, “whatever you think I’d like”, gets me an interesting mix of flavors.  I enjoy my gelato, but feel melancholy for the state of these ruined lives. I move on.

There are a zillion souvenir stores on these side streets, and I zing through a few.  I finally buy some coffee mugs, and am chatting with the shop owner when someone comes in and says something very animated to the owner in a language that I do not recognize. The shopkeeper agrees, nods, smiles, and after the customer moves on, I ask her, “what did he say?”  She answers, in heavily accented English, “I have no idea”.  I crack up, and so does she.  It was my best laugh of the day.

On the way home, I stop at an Osteria for dinner.  I ask the waiter to bring me “whatever is good”, and I receive a fabulous seafood and linguine dish.  The sauce is thin, but rich, spicy, and reeking with ripe tomatoes.  I scoop it up with the mussel shells, slurping it by the teaspoonful.

On top of the pasta is a fresh green bean.  Just one.  That’s odd.  I pick it up, bite it in two, and suddenly my mouth is on fire.  This is no green bean, but a hot hot (HOT!) pepper.  By the time I get it out of my mouth, fire extinguishers have been unhooked, the fire trucks are on the way, and I’m on the floor in the “stop-drop-and-roll” position, expecting my entire face to incinerate.

Okay, so I am perhaps just a little melodramatic.

But this was one hot pepper!  Now I know that peppers can actually cause burns on the roof of one’s mouth.  I also know that bread helps to temper the burn, wine a little, but when really suffering from the pepper, one is pretty much paralyzed.  Believe me, I am glad that I didn’t buy a pound of “green beans” in the Campo Fiori this morning!  This is a lesson that I will not have to learn twice.

My waiter tells me that the crowds tonight are “nothing” compared to the crowds in April, May, and June.  Through some serendipity, it appears that I’m visiting during less craziness.  Tomorrow is my last day.  We shall see how this visit ends.