THIRTY-EIGHTH
DAY
SINGING
IN THE RAIN
October
20 and 21
It
feels like a long time between words.
Naturally, things are happening and for us they seem central to our life
in Roma. The rains have come to our part
of Italy once again. On our Thursday
calendar we have guests from the foreign capitol of Rumania, Bucharest. Lauren and Keith Unke and Keith’s mom Martha
are here with my latest niece Caitlin.
Caitlin is one year old and to make sure my brother reads this, she is
the cutest kid in a million miles.
Speaking all languages from Rumanian to English she confounds us with
her brilliance. We feel bad for them
because the rain will really cramp their visit to Rome. They are leaving for Florence on the Eurostar
in the early evening and only have the day.
They made an excellent choice and have taken a bus route around Rome
that protects them from the rain and at the same time they get to see some of
the sights. It is a two-hour ride. We decide to meet for lunch at a fancy
restaurant that Kimberly has wanted to try called Dal Bolongese. In the meantime, the rain lets up and mia
moglia agrees to ride to the Piazza Popolo on the scooter. Silly girl, about
two minutes from our start it begins raining hard and then harder. Kim is great and doesn’t say much, but this
is not where she wants to be. Lunch is
at 1:30 and we arrive around 25 minutes early.
After all, my name is Blattner and we don’t want to be late for our
date. The rain starts really pounding; I
get hell from a cop who tells me I am going the wrong way on a one-way
street. I knew that. We disembark the motorino about a block from
the square and duck for cover at a small bar.
Both of us are soaked through to the skin. Kim starts a conversation in Italian that has
everyone in the place smiling and I decide a quick scotch is a small part of
the answer. We get a short break from
the rain and move on up Via Ripetta to the square.
From
the second you enter Dal Bolongese you know that you have made a good
choice. It is filled with
Romans top to bottom and not the lower tier.
These are the folks with the bread and the Euros. It reminds me of a wonderful French
restaurant (names? I don’t know names) in Paris with brass chandeliers, leather
chairs, a great looking bar and zillions of regulars seated in the right
spots. We are led up to the top floor
where our guests including Caitlin the great are waiting. They are in good form despite the weather and
have had a fine morning. This is the
first place that we have been to that does not have the menu in Italian AND
English. There are other tourists about, but I would guess that none are in the
first floor right spot. Because we have
the kid, our place on the top floor is perfect.
I will say that Ms. C was great about the long Italian lunch. We manage to get food ordered, but it was not
so easy. Nobody seemed disappointed, but
someday ask Keith about the Misto Bolito and the several sauces that came with
it. Lots of sharing and conversation and
really great to see Lauren et al.
It does not astonish me
that I am getting a cold. My guide and
translator tells me nobody ever got a cold from being wet, it’s all about
germs, but who believes that. I still have
my faithful gym in front of me. Should I
go, big decision? I go and do my Thursday free weight workout. I stop for Flu Vaccine (just like home, they
don’t have it today) and buy some meds like Sudafed, which I really hate. The cold is rushing at me and by dinner time
even with the drugs I am feeling punk. I
last through a lifetime (1-1/2 hours) of a
dinner and excuse myself looking to the miserable night ahead. Correcto- sleep is at a premium and the
Kleenex is going fast. We have a
wonderful tour of the Vatican excavations this morning and I am dying (ha) to
go.
Can you believe that
Kimberly? I once again convince her the rains have stopped and Voila we are in
them again. But not before I have gone
to my favorite bank teller, Roberta to pick up my checkbook. I have beaten the system, the Euro is
mine. She gives me 10 checks, and
suggests that should be plenty for our stay. She is the only woman in the Banco
Lovorno branch and has been assigned to me because she speaks some English.
Certainly, more then my weak one word Italian.
She is cute and young with a wonderful Southern Italian olive
complexion. She asked me on one of our
visits how I could be a Visiting Scholar at the Academia Americana if I was so
old. Sure puts a guy in his place.
Because of my condition (runny nose, tearing eyes and sore throat) my intention
is either to get Kim to tell you about this exciting tour of the underground
Vatican and the search for the grave of St Peter or to wait for another day. We are off to an open studio put on by the
wonderful visual artist, Andrew Lyght. A
very charming man who is leaving next week.
More to come.
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