First of all, Ms. Packratty had what may have been one of the better meals of her life Saturday night at a rather famous Roman restaurant called Checchina dal 1887. It was scandalously expensive, a gift from her parents, but will be something to remember forever. She had veal and a bread and greens salad and roasted vegetables.
Honestly, Ms. Packratty does not know what she is going to do about food when she returns home. Even street food in Rome is so ... clean and clear tasting that American food seems like a very bad memory. I don't know if it is because we season things too much or that the basic ingredients here are better, but even the eggs are insanely good with deep orange yolks. The bread is amazing and Ms. Packratty's rented abode is right across the street from Paneficio Monti, which she has been told is the best bakery in the rione, or district, and the bread is superb. So are the pastries, which she has been rationing one piece and a different sort each day. They also sell pizza bianco.
It was a huge effort to wake up Sunday morning, but Ms. Packratty hauled herself awake, showered and dressed and caught the Metro to the Pyramide station. (There actually is a pyramid in Rome, although unlike all the obelisks, it was not plundered from Egypt, but was built as a tomb in imitation of the Egyptians, although it is much much much smaller and located in the middle of a traffic circle. Apparently Imperial Rome went through an Egyptian craze much as America and England did after the discovery of King Tut's tomb.)
From the Pyramide station, it was a short trip across the river to the weekly Porto Portese market where everything from fake antiques to fake Guccis along with a few presumably genuine articles was on sale. With her money and identification tucked under her clothing, Ms. Packratty had nothing to fear from the legendary pickpockets. She wandered up and down for more than an hour and made a couple of small purchases. She has, however, concluded that people in Rome go through a LOT of underwear. There is an underwear shop on every block it seems, with the raciest unmentionables for both genders on display in the windows - and it seemed as though every third booth at the Sunday market was hawking more underwear.
Leaving Porto Portese, Ms. Packratty caught the #75 bus all the way back to the Colosseum, where she hopped off and used her ticket from Saturday to take an amble through the Forum. It's vastly different to actually walk through the place than to look at all the pictures. The scale they built on without benefit of machinery is astonishing and even though things are BIG, they also retain a human scale.
Unfortunately, it started to mist a bit and Ms. Packratty consulted her map and made a beeline for Via Nazionale, where she lucked out and caught the tail end of a Carnevale parade. Unlike New Orleans' Mardi Gras, Carnevale here seems to be mostly for children, who are dressed up in all sorts of cute costumes, very few of which are merchandising tie-ins for cartoons or movies. From there, she found Via Panisperna and hiked over the hill to where it intersects with Via Urbana, one block from her apartment.
Up until Sunday, the weather has been relatively pleasant. A bit chilly, but really perfect for tramping around without getting overheated. However, from the garb of most Romans, one would imagine that the second Ice Age had begun. Fur coats are present in great numbers, along with overstuffed nylon parkas, heavy wool hats, etc. The children are especially loaded up with heavy coats.
Ms. Packratty does have pictures - although not of Porto Portese market - but needs to get the man who runs the Internet spot down the block to hook up her camera for her to upload them.
And her feet are holding up. Saturday night she was very sore and tired from the knees down, but when she woke up this morning, her feet suddenly felt better. The mileage she has been putting on has been formidable and she has also been greatly thankful for the mapreading skills drilled into her by her father.
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