Rome in a Sleepy Day

Let me just say that “ruin” means entirely different things on each side of the Atlantic.  But I’m getting ahead of myself.  Some very sleepy observations while we wait for our room (we both hit a wall):

 

• Where the Germans were trim and grim, the Italians are fast and loose.  By loose, I mean relaxed and, well, really very “fuhgetaboudit.”  They are not South Carolina friendly, but they are willing to work with you, especially if you seem hungry or ready to shop.
• I’ve learned that I can go almost 26 hours without sleep and still function.  When I’m traveling where there is history all around, I will still walk five or six miles, even uphill.
• I said I was going to learn Italian before I came.  I learned a little; but I’m finding it like the German.  I’m so scared to use it, I might as well know none as a bunch.
• I have learned that there is some weak something in my demeanor that attracts panhandlers and hucksters (and I suspect it would be pickpockets as well but I’m clutching my purse under my arm like Ruth Buzzy on Laugh-In).  I know how to look straight ahead without making eye contact but it still doesn’t work.  They come flocking in my direction and it takes serious concentration to ignore them.  If I crack a smile, I’m done for.
• The young me could never have handled the raised eyebrows and snide European looks.  I’m American – so it has nothing to do with age or money or thin.  Well, yeah, it is about all those things.  But even when I was very young and thinner, you could’ve given me money and I still would not have been able to pull it off.  It’s an attitude and good, leather shoes.  It’s a scarf thrown just so around the shoulders.  It’s often a cigarette.  And it’s a cool I-don’t-really-care-what-you-think that I never, ever had.  But I do so love to watch it.
• Language makes no difference when there’s a mutual intent to communicate.  Our driver from the airport to the hotel did not speak English.  It was a quiet ride for some time.  Then one of us pointed out a cathedral and asked about it.  Our driver proceeded to give us the information in Italian.  And we repeated what we thought he said in English and we all nodded in agreement.  And from that point we rattled away the rest of the trip – he speaking Italian and we speaking English.  We drove around the Coliseum and laughed about the Roman gladiators pulling people over to take pictures.  They had one man sitting in a chair and were cramming one of those uncomfortable-looking gold helmets down on his head.  And we all carried on about it in two languages and laughed like crazy.

 

I’ll get to the ruins later.  I’ve run out of steam except for one more observation.

• I’ve learned that a sense of humor is a gift from God and there are a great many people in the world who have missed out.