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April 2003 Archives

Vatican railway

Saturday, April 26, 2003

The other night, walking around the Vatican’s walled borders, we came across an overpass I’d noticed before, but never given any thought. There’s a flight of stairs leading to the top, which we climbed — to discover the most delightful, perfectly-manicured stretch of railroad this side of Anaheim, California. It was, of course, the last hundred meters of Vatican City’s private railway; shiny, shrubbery-lined tracks which exit from a batcave-like opening set high into a thick brick wall, sealed with a massive iron gate. It’s cool.

Climb the dome of St. Peter’s and you can see the rest of the rail line out back, a Disneyesque station and train collection, all the cuter from that vantage point, seemingly sized to a perfect H.O. scale.

posted by Jason 11:41 PM

Restaurant touts, fresh peas

Saturday, April 19, 2003

Walking back from the outdoor market at Andrea Doria, Azure and I were accosted by a restaurant tout. With folded red napkins over one arm, and laminated English-language picture menus tucked into the other, these smooth-talking ‘waiters’ are actually seasoned cattle-drivers, their long days spent roundin’ up and herding bovine tourists into the (not-at-all) ‘Italian Ristorante’ joints around Vatican City.

This time around, the tout hadn’t finished the opening bars of “Hello Mister, Good Pizza For You…” before spotting stalks of fresh asparagus peeping from our bags — also heavy with roman artichokes, fennel bulbs, sage, shallots, garlic, carrots, fresh peas, and Sicilian pachino tomatoes, to boot — whereupon he completely dropped his spiel and instead began to jealously ogle the produce.

Meanwhile, a second tout ambled over, at first wildly waving some menus of his own, then stopping, abruptly, to also admire the inventory of our plastic-bag cornucopias.

“Man, you guys really eat well at your place!”, the one tells us, with the other nodding rapidly in agreement, putting the menus away, and adding “I think it’s always better, eating at home, anyways.”

Damn straight it is. Happy Easter!

John Paul at Vatican Easter

Pope John Paul service

posted by Jason 7:19 PM

Vespa conversations

Thursday, April 17, 2003

Watching vespas jockey for position as they barrel down the Lungotevere, one realizes these fearless riders are indeed the cultural (if not genetic) inheritants of the whole Ben-Hur business of chariot racing.

Equally striking are the sharp yells and shouts piercing the din of scooter-noise: Some of it is just two chatty riders on the same bike, of course, but I’ve also seen solitary riders screaming monologues as they zoomed past.

Now, drop me into that Italian two-stroke Circus Maximus, and I’d no doubt wail like the lot of ‘em — in fear — but even then I could never match the emotional intensity of the Romans. The riders I’ve seen shouting aloud remind me more of ‘colorful’ old Berkeley, where large portions of the sidewalk citizenry engage in similarly loud dialogues with parties neither present nor real.

All of which i just discovered to be just half-true here: Turns out it’s de riguer for motorino pilots to squeeze, wiggle, and jam their teensy cellphones beneath their helmets, so they’re barely visible, but flush-up against the ear.

This, you see, lets them yap away on the cell tel. all the way to work (just like any other commuter), while it’s the ambient noise, of course, which necessitates the strange and dopplered yelling that I, odd pedestrian out, kept hearing on my morning stroll.

lungo.jpg

posted by Jason 11:53 PM

Emelyn Story, William Wetmore story

Tuesday, April 8, 2003

The most beautiful spot in Rome that I know is the Protestant Cemetary, a curiously silent and shaded place that’s kept hidden by the looming Cestius Pyramid, some crumbling remnants of the Aurelian wall, and a foreboding alleyway of shuttered nightclubs bordering the blue-collar Testaccio district.

The few visitors here generally arrive to see the grave of John Keats, buried, as per his instructions, under the epitaph “here lies one whose name was writ in water”. Shelley, too, lies nearby; he had earlier toured Keats’ tomb and exclaimed, “it might make one in love with death to know that one should be buried in so sweet a place”.

Azure and I mostly visit, though, to pet the resident cats, and to see, just once more again, the gravestone of Emelyn Story, a grieving marble angel that was carved by the hand of her husband, American sculptor William Story, whose own grave lies next to hers, and that of their young child, Joseph.

emelyn_story_grave.jpg

posted by Jason 6:36 PM
« March 2003 | Main Index | Archives | May 2003 »

January 27

  • Jason checked in @
    Stumptown Coffee Cafe

January 21

  • Angry, upset, and frightened by the Big Mac Snack Wrap.
  • Jason checked in @
    Glo's

January 8

  • Am in the Tiki-Tiki-Tiki-Tiki Tiki room.

December 30

  • Jason checked in @
    Luscious Dumplings

December 24

  • Mannheim Steamrollin'.

December 22

  • Jason checked in @
    Tapas & Wine Bar C
  • Back in Pasadena for a couple weeks. Mentally prioritizing and optimizing my must-visit restaurant list. (Burrito Express = already done.)

December 20

  • Jason posted The Higo
  • Jason posted Tyrolean

December 13

  • Need a sniglet for this here feeling of trepidation/dread after wolfing down a post-midnight (Pike) street-vendor hotdog. "Nachtwurstangst"?

December 12

  • Kindle'd "And Another Thing...". So far, the reading experience has been like watching good movie with bad dubbing.

December 10

  • Jason checked in @
    Cafe Presse

December 9

  • Jason checked in @
    Philly's

December 7

  • Jason checked in @
    Slim's Last Chance Chili Shack

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