Last Supper

Last supper

I spent the last day in Roma hunting for shoes, trinkets and tourista chotzkies and walking in the glorious day. I buy 8 elegant curtain panels without knowing why except that I like them, they are on sale and cheaper than I can get in the states... until I factor in the cost of the taxi to schlep them back to the hotel and the larger suitcase I have to buy. I justify getting another pair of boots since I can't find this quality or style back home and unless the dollar strengthens, probably won't be returning to Italy for awhile or until these boots go out of style and the fashion patrol demands a mandatory trip. My friend Cristina meets me at the Pantheon and together we chat non-stop breathing only to inhale espresso or ciocolatti caldo.

At 7 p.m., the stores close and the sun has long set on my Roma shopping frenzy. It is night time, and the streets have the normal cluster of Japanese and German tourists following a tour guide holding up an umbrella or a sign for their troupe to follow. Heading back to the hotel to consider my last real tasty dinner for a few days, I pass Trevi Fountain where legend says that a coin tossed into its waters ensures your return. I flip an American quarter as far as I can hoping the U.S. dollar makes a return.

There is a wonderful little trattoria around the corner called Andrea's. After eating there two nights they consider you a friend and bring you little tokens – amaro, limoncello, tiny tastes. Tonight they seat me next to another who is eating solo, a handsome man named Valentino who laughs when he hears me say “last supper” and thinks I want to see the painting. We laugh, drink and talk about Italy and his ex girlfriends. He pours my wine, tells the waiter to pack a lunch for me, buys dinner and insists that I return to ski the alps with him. “You call your boss and tell him you can't return for another week and I'll show you the real Roma,” he tempts me with dessert. Unfortunately, the internet cafe was closed and since I was leaving in several hours for the airport I couldn't write the bosses to ask for another week to spend traipsing through Roma with a man named Valentino. However, he walks me home safely and I regretfully return to the room for the arduous packing task ahead.

The taxi cruises past most of the major attractions in Roma on the way to the airport. I think about all the wonderful friends I have made, places I've seen and undiscovered treasures yet to explore. I focus ahead to Crested Butte, anxious to see my buddies, my cat Mr. Gizmo and return to Buttian life refreshened with a a more expansive outlook... ready to ski, play and write... it could take awhile to get into work mode. Ciao, Italia! Brava!

Mass

Mass

If you plan on sleeping in Perugia don't book a room anyplace near the main duomo church where the bells ring every quarter hour throughout the night. The street directly below my room must have been the vortex of hyenas meeting to yelp and bark all night. Perugia never slept in the 2 days I was there.

One night was quite enough of the dirty room and its noise factor; I set out in the morning to find solitude in the form of another accommodation, no matter what the cost. I found that I had been taken for a ride... because everywhere I looked the rooms were comfortable and cheaper. I just happen to pick the one, online and site unseen, that wasn't representative of the norm. I packed up and moved to Eden, another 2-star hotel but a paradise in comparison – clean, stylish, sweet smelling, non smoking, free cappuccino and internet. Heaven. And 10 euro cheaper.

Apparently the population in Perugia doesn't like to have photos taken of them or their merchandise, either because it's stolen or they don't want their business ideas copied. If you walk into a shop with a camera they immediately approach and demand no pictures. This happened in every shop I entered. The town doesn't have the style or interest that Roma has, although it is certainly architecturally worth a visit. The food is geared for specific tourists... possibly Germans and British since it was bland in comparison to Tuscan or Roman dishes. What Perugia does have that excels is chocolate. Indulging in a ciocolatti caldo (hot chocolate but nothing like you've ever had... thick and more like pudding) is like sipping the life fantastic.

With so little time left, 2 full days in Perugia was plenty and I took an earlier train back to get in the maximum shopping time possible. Back in Roma the public lovers are asphyxiating each other with carp-like sounding kisses. There are so many of them I begin to suspect that the tourism board hires them as props to enhance the romantic ambiance of the city. I walk along the Tiber River to Trastevere, probably the most hip area of Italy. It's Sunday evening and all the churches are open so I sit in every one I can to soak up the art and magnificence.

The Jesus and Mary theme is prominent in the paintings and frescoes, but Joseph is not portrayed in most. The man who really stepped up to do the right thing – marry some young girl who says she's been visited by angels and God made her pregnant with the savior of mankind – that's worthy of more than just being named the patron saint of carpentry, isn't it? Consider Joseph next time you don't think you've gotten the glory for doing something...

Choir practice begins in the Basilica di Santa Maria with sweet harmonies reverberating through the arches and domes that reach to heaven themselves. Angels and saints look down from lofty heights and smaller chapels that line the length of the Basilica. The aroma of frankincense entwines around the pillars and the senses.

Caught up in a timeless moment, I hadn't noticed that the other pews were filling with Sunday faithful and mass begins. I know my mother must somehow be behind my inability to escape as the priest floats down the aisle holding an ornate bible above his head, flanked by 4 very old altar boys holding tall candles, an ancient gold crucifix and swinging more incense. Women kiss their fingers and cross themselves at the sight of this.

The priest is singing, although nasal and without feeling in between the readings and mass. Since it's all in Italian, it all sounds like a song. Finally, after about half an hour, the crowd stands and I slip out. On the streets, evening dark has fallen, the shops are open, church bells are ringing and flocks of Roman birds hidden in the spreading tree limbs are making their own night song louder than the traffic.
Photos of church: Chiesa di Ercolano, Perugia

Spontaneous

Spontaneous
I awake in Roma after a deep 10-hour dreamless sleep and gaze at the beautiful barrel vaulted ceiling that at 8 a.m. is vibrating with the pounding and scraping of workers above. At 90 euro a night, there should be nothing but golden silence, however, this is a new hotel and I was fortunate to have christened its opening night. Being a holiday weekend, everything was booked. Rather than hang in an expensive construction zone, I stuff a small backpack with 2 days worth of essentials and stash my suitcase at Hotel Papa Germano where I'll return on Sunday evening. I book a hotel in Perugia, a city I had hoped to spend more time in, and hop the 2nd class regional train for Umbria.

The train speeds through lengthy dark tunnels so fast that ear pressure feels like you've just dived to the bottom of a 30 foot pool. The first hour of the trip is endless tunnels and no countryside views until suddenly the vista opens on russet, gold and green Umbrian mountains, valleys and vineyards dotted with small towns and magnificent villas. The train pulls into an amazing overview of Perugia and a young intellectual-looking man helps me jump the bus, whose doors have already closed, for Piazza Italia where my hotel is.

The son of the owner is a warm and genuinely friendly host, unfortunately the room at Hotel Umbria is less than nice – tiny and cramped, rusted window frame, stained and cigarette burned carpet and a wet smelling bathroom with barely enough space to turn around in, the place reeked of cigarette fumes. Grossly disappointed I can only hope that nothing is living in the sheets. Since I'm only here for 2 nights I close one eye and head out to the streets.

It is a glorious little city of about 100,000 people with universities, shops, pizza and chocolate everywhere. Perugia being the capital city for chocolate, (Perugina Baci... those scrumptious little chocolate hazelnut kisses with words of romance tucked into the foil wrapper) I'm in love. Feeling up to eating again I grab a slice and a kiss, walk across grand piazzas and climb narrow and steep streets which are as dark as its chocolate.