Rome Sucks

AOG, Sitges

Word of advice number one: when you next go on vacation, never wear new shoes on the flight. 

Why? well, it could be that the airline looses your luggage and you are doomed to wear the same pair of new shoes for days on end.

Word of advice number two: Never, ever, go to Rome in August. Our friends had warned us against this. 

"Don't go, it is too hot!", they said.

"Never in August. You'll die from the heat!", they warned. 

Did we listen? Well, of course not. 

Our logic? 

"Well, we always say we won't go in August and we'll go some other time, but then we never go", said my partner. 

I agreed. My partner was right. We always say we'll go some time, but then we never do. 

So this year, we decided to go to Rome and check out the Eternal City. Eternal mistake on our part!

After paying Vueling Airlines (a low cost airline) for 2 pieces of luggage, we arrived at Rome's Fiumicino Airport with a slight delay, but no suitcases. We only discovered this after waiting for our bags for over an hour at belt #9.

I went to the Baggage handling company in charge of our flight (turns out there's more than one. Blessed capitalism!) and they told us they had no record of our bags on their system. 

Yes, having been to the country in the past, in fact, as recently as last June, my first thought was "typical Italian efficiency", but I was wrong to think that. 

The problem was not typical Italian efficiency, it was typical Spanish negligence. As we would find out the next day, the bags had never left Barcelona. 

The Italian handler made us fill a form, put the details into the computer, and sent us off on our less than merry way with a reference number which, we  would later discover, was incorrect. Although no consolation at all, we were not the only people without luggage on our flight, there was, at least, one other.

So there we were, in Rome, with a driver waiting for us to take us into the city for 50 Euros, which we thought would be a good idea since we didn't know the city and we wanted not to worry about the bags. 

He was very nice, and if he was upset at having to wait for over an hour, he didn't let on. So we got into his Ford Focus and off we went to the Città Eterna. 

I have to say that the drive went pretty well, and that it is not exactly very pretty. It was, all in all, a bit odd. First we were on a highway, then, after a while, we were in what can only be describe as 'leafy suburbs'. 

He didn't take any major roads and, instead, we were driving on one-way roads with large, tall, walls, behind which I can only imagine private villas. This took a while before we approached something which resembled the outskirts of a large city.

Once there, it was the usual dim urban landscape, typical of any major European city post 1950. Large, square, brick and concrete buildings, with many stores along the way selling mostly urban goods: fast food, urban clothing, ugly furniture, and the odd newspaper stand. 

Still, we were a little excited to be in Rome. 

Then, suddenly, something which would happen again and again, though we didn't know it at the time, occurred: when we least expected it, and just before we entered a tunnel, out of the corner of our left eyes, we caught a glimpse of St. Peter's, in The Vatican. 

This was unexpected because we had thought that we would view that particular monument going up the Via Della Concilliazione and into St. Peter's Square, like almost everyone else. But it was not to be. 

We quickly crossed the Tiber and drove down the Corso Vittorio Emanuelle II and into our hotel near the Campo de Fiori.

We paid our driver, plus a tip, then checked in. The hotel was ok. We had asked for a room with a balcony, and they gave us that, which was nice. But I soon discovered that the a/c was, well, less than able. It made a lot of noise,  but gave out little cold air. But I would only realize this later in the day. 

We were starving by now and wanted to a) see Rome and b) get some clothes. We had nothing to wear.

We left our hotel, which was, it seemed, used to situations such as ours -"you'll get your bags tomorrow", said the receptionist/owner, and off we went to eat.

We found a small restaurant about 3 minutes away and sat down. We ordered one pizza for both of us and something to drink. It was the best pizza we would have during the whole trip. It was that good. 

The service, however, was pretty bad. I wouldn't say it went downhill from there, but rather that the service in Rome was consistently bad, day in day out. 

Our waiters over the next few days, it would seem, would find new and creative ways in which to outdo their colleague's 'performance' throughout our stay. And no, we hardly spent a penny on tips while in Rome.

So, after having lunch and stopping off at the local grocery shop where we got basic eating and drinking supplies, as well as some toiletries,  it was back to the hotel, quick shower, and out before the stores closed. 

We really only had the clothes on our backs to wear and, as the lunch experience had proven, Rome was baking under the sun, and us with it.

Out we went into the Corso Vittorio Emanuele II and started walking East, with no particular place to go. 

We were really torn between wanting to see the sights, and our clothing needs, so we tried to concentrate very little on what we saw, hard to do since, if you've never been to Rome, everything is new to you, even when nine or ten centuries old. Or more.

Eventually, we got to Via del Corso, but not before we stumbled on the Piazza Venezia and the enormous monument to our right: the monument to King Vittorio Emanuele II, first King of Italy. 

This is one of the monuments on my list which I would not really arrive at the way I had expected. 

When I say we stumbled, I mean it. It is gigantic, but it is not exactly by a major road, it is on a major square, but off to the right, so if you happen to be on the street and not turn right, you might not exactly see it. But then, once you do, you can't see anything else. 

I wanted to go to it (yes, its array of classical columns was calling me) and bask in its classical 'interpretative' colossal beauty, but it was not to be on that first day. We turned into the Via del Corso, and forgot about it. 

Via del Corso is one of those major shopping streets in central Rome. Many of the major brands, and others not so major, are there. Although Rome's high class shopping strip is the Via Condotti.

On the corner, just as you go into Corso, there is the Doria-Pamphilj Palace. Serene and decorated in a wedding cake style, I was immediately drawn to it. But didn't go, and would, unfortunately, not get to go during the trip. And pretty much sums up the entire trip. I didn't get to see many things.

So back to the Via del Corso, and our shopping. We had nothing to wear the next day, and clothes were urgently needed. So we spent the best part of the afternoon traipsing from store to store, looking for garments, and missing out on Rome altogether. I must point out that by now, my partner and I were wondering how the people of Italy reproduced since, it was very obvious, all men in that country were gay.

Our main hope turned out to be H&M, but, once we got there, almost at the end of the Corso, we discovered, much to our dismay, that there was no Men's section there. Can you believe it? We had walked the entire length of the Corso in the hope of finding a place which might have something overpriced. Fat chance.


Since at that point we were only about two blocks from the Piazza del Popolo, we decided to go there. I have to say, at this point in the day, I was ready to be impressed, or something, and impressed I was. 

I had long wanted to see the twin churches of Santa Maria in Montesanto  (1662-75) and Santa Maria dei Miracoli (built 1675-79). 

And there they were, in all their Baroque beauty. I think this is the one time Rome got interesting that day. I would say it made the whole thing worthwhile, but it isn't true. 

The day had sucked all day long from the minute our luggage went missing. But that minute, when we walked into that space, covered in fatigue and sweat, the city seemed beautiful, the tourists a mere nuisance, the heat (and it was around 8:30 PM) almost tolerable. 

We stopped at the obelisk in the middle of the Piazza, an original comission of of Sety I (later erected by Rameses II) from Heliopolis which  stands in the centre of the Piazza, inside a fountain, and is the second oldest and one of the tallest obelisks in Rome (some 24 m high, or 36 m including its plinth). 

It was brought to Rome in 10 BC by order of Augustus and originally set up in the Circus Maximus. 

Once there, a tourist girl asked her friend if she could drink from the fountain. My partner overheard her and told her that he'd read that you could drink from any fountain in Rome, unless it specifically said not to. She was happy about this, and we spoke with her for a couple more minutes. She was from Spain, and was there on holiday with a couple more friends from school. She must have been in her very early 20s. And she was lovely. 

It was starting to get dark, and we decided to get back to the hotel. We couldn't decide between a bus, the subway, or walking. So we walked back along the dark and not too busy streets of, as it turns out, downtown Rome. 

Soon we were back at the hotel, where there was no news about our luggage. The hotel's concierge really couldn't care less, so we went to our room, had a shower and went out to have dinner, not too sure about where to do this.

We decided to follow the incoming crowd down one of the streets, and ended up at the Campo dei Fiori. It was teeming with life: children playing, musicians, flower vendors, Indian or Pakistani trinket salesmen. In short, Touristland right there in front of us. The only Italians being the waiters at the Campo's many restaurants. 

So in we walked, and decided that the one on the right, on the other side of La Carbonara Restaurant, where we should have dined, just as you walked in, would do. Mistake.

The food, although ok once we got it, did not surpass the bad service of a place which doubled as a drinks bar and dance club after 11PM. We kept getting food meant for other tables, everything arrived at odd intervals, drinks had to be ordered more than twice. In short, a mess. But given the day's big story, it really paled in comparison. We didn't mind much that the service was so bad. I think we were relieved it was over more than anything else!

Afterwards, we went for a walk on the Tiber, and saw that, at night, it really came alive. It seems like the good citizens of Rome have allowed for bars and stands to be set up alongside the banks of the river. I was immediately drawn by the music and the bright, intermitent, lights of the marquees. 

We crossed the bridge, and went down to the bank. We saw a couple of small stands which were a sort of Godsend since they had one of the items we needed most: a phone charger! Yes, ours were safely (we hoped) stored inside our suitcases. 

We then decided to go to one of the "bars". A rugby-themed bar by the side of the Tiber showing New Zealand's Rugby matches. Yes, slightly surreal, but then Rome is slightly surreal. 


We would have stayed longer, but we were beat. We had had a long day and were yearning for sleep. 


So after a couple of drinks, we headed back to the hotel. The room was not exactly cool, although the imitation a/c had been on all afternoon, so we agreed to sleep with the balcony window open.


So our first day in Rome ended.

On the way to Japan: First Rome, then Tokyo

AOG, Tokyo

My partner found this really good deal to Tokyo with Alitalia a few days ago and, almost on a whim, bought (after some consultation with yours truly and his own brother and some friends) two plane tickets to Japan.

Alitalia is an Italian airline which neither one of us had flown before, and, as a company, it gets really bad publicity in the European press.

A friend of ours told us about the experience a friend of his had with it last August.

Apparently they lost his luggage on the trip to Rome from Caracas, and, for the duration of his stay, he was without any of his things. He did get them back in the end. Once he returned to Venezuela!

It seems they are also on strike these days.

With this in mind, we left my partner's apartment early in the morning for our 11:45 flight to Rome. It is quite funny that a few months ago we discussed where to go in the Summer and we mentioned Rome a few times, before settling on Brasil (see previous posts).

So in the end, we went to both places...almost.

Rome's airport is on the coast, and nowhere near 'la città eterna'.

Funny how some things turn out...right?

The flight itself was not too bad. Although the interior color scheme is identical to that of a plasticky Christmas tree (same odd green hue), the seats were large enough for both of us, and comfortable enough.

The staff were a combination of politeness, aloofness, attitude, and airline industry courtesy. I don't think they can really be faulted for much. We got a small free snack on the way over. And some red orange juice which we both found very strange.

Be that as it may, however, that is more than what I can say for Iberia!

Once in Rome's airport, it was a slightly mad rush to the gate. We kept thinking how British the thing looked. Spartan meets budget cuts and aims for design. If nothing else, it is functional.

And just as expensive to shop in as Britain's (and Spain's) airports.

When we arrived at the gate, it was swarming with (mostly) Japanese tourists. How odd, I thought, that they should fly Alitalia to Europe -we had seen some of them in our flight from Barcelona. A few minutes later, I saw that many of the women were carrying Gucci bags, Prada backpacks, Missoni sweaters....and then it all became clear!

Once on the plane, we discovered the anomaly that our flight from Barcelona had been. The seats were not very comfortable, nor were they spacious. Furthermore, the flight was packed. And I mean packed!

I think there was only one spare seat next to one of the window exits. Next to me there sat a middle aged Japanese couple. Next to my partner, there was a couple around my age. We were both lucky enough that the wife (small Japanese lady in both cases) sat next to each of us. In Spain this normally does not happen.

The husband always sits next to me to ensure I don't disturb or take away his wife (if only they knew!). It appears that in Japan they have other things to think about....or maybe they want me to take and disturb their wife! Who knows.

The first odd thing we noticed about the Japanese (and this has turned out to be first of hundreds...and counting) was the large amount of passengers wearing masks over their faces. Throughout the whole 12 our flight, they never took off the mask. We found it a bit odd. Especially when, at the back of the plane, a small self-service minibar was set up by the crew.

They would come over, pour themselves a drink, and lower their mask for a few seconds to take a sip. Then they returned to their sit and all, I think, slept with their mask on.

After being served dinner at around 5PM our time, we were not to be served anything else until about 1 hour and 45 minutes before landing at Narita Airport, one hour outside Tokyo. To say that I almost starved to death is cutting it short. Oh my God were we ever hungry! There were not enough saltines and crackers to keep us going on that plane!

I slept most of the journey but once I got up from my slumber, I stayed up until we landed. And, unfortunately, everyone's personal TV screen and entertainment center -located on the seatback in front of you- worked, but mine.

I told the crew about it, but they are not engineers. What can they do, other than reset it as many times as you ask them to? Nothing. And no, there was no chance of an upgrade unfortunately.

Finally, after a 14 hour journey from Barcelona (and 3 hours sleep before leaving), we landed in Tokyo.

And Oh! Mah! Gad! the things we were about to see!

Hillary Clinton as Ceasar's wife...

AOG, Madrid

I remember listening in a radio interview in Spain a couple of years ago a quote which I agreed with wholeheartedly. Although in Spanish, it went along these lines:

"Ceasar's wife must not only be his wife, she also has to look like she is his wife"

The quote was a reference to a scandal which happened to Ceasar's second wife, Pompeia, whereby she was accused of doing something which brought great shame to Ceasar: a scandal that occurred during the rites of Bona Dea.

Although, as it turned out, she was innocent, nevertheless, the whole episode was used as ammunition to deliver a divorce veredict. It is from that court case that in the English-speaking world we say "Ceasar's wife must be above suspicion".

Caesar divorced Pompeia and an inquiry was held. Although several members of Caesar's family gave evidence, Caesar himself did not and the court asked him why he had demanded a divorce when so much uncertainty surrounded the incident. "Caesar's wife," he replied, "must be above suspicion."

I mention this because I have been paying a bit more attention to the Democratic primaries in the US. And in particular to Hillary Clinton.

On paper, she is a super candidate. She has (or claims to have), great experience. She certainly is intelligent and she has some good ideas to help the country.

But then, I look at her. How she speaks. How she moves. Her appearance. And then I don't buy it. Especially when compared to the package Mr. Obama sells.

When I listen to them debate, I often think I am witnessing a debate between a PTA Mom and a politician. Silly. Untrue. Unfounded, because they are both great candidates.

But...

Ms. Clinton does not look the part. She does not look like the President of the US. He does. And so does McCain.

Am I the only one who thinks this? Surely not.

May the best person win, of course, but this will not be the case. The best person will not win. The person who most looks like the President of the US will win. Like Reagan did. Like Bush Sr. did. Like Gore did- although we all know what happened there. Like Bush did the second time around.

I am not for a second suggesting Ms. Clinton is not a great candidate. She is. And I would vote for her over McCain any day. But I would have trouble picturing her in the White House sitting as Madam President.

I guess we will have to wait and see.

Obama, despite Tuesday's 10-point defeat, appears all but certain to finish the primary season with more popular votes and more pledged delegates than Clinton.

And then, there's this: