Rainy, rainy Monday

Monday morning in Rome arrived with rain thrumming loudly on the skylight in the tiny kitchen and although it did not last long, the entire day was damp and overcast. Ms. Packratty had planned to go to Naples but there was some possibility of one of Italy’s one day, spotty transit strikes where some trains run and others don’t depending on where you are, so she elected to stay in Rome. Even thought the strike did not materialize, the day was put to good use.

Ms. Packratty downed her morning cappuccino around the corner and took her sheets, towels and dirty shirts and trousers up to the launderette that Alessandro had recommended. In lieu of sitting and watching the tiny little Italian washers spin away, she paid an extra 3€ and arranged to pick up her clean laundry at 3 p.m. Back at the apartment, she made a small breakfast and took out the trash, before getting her paperwork together and walking up Via Panisperna to Via Milano and then on to Via Nazionale to the Palazzo delle Esposizioni.


Valeria Duttweiler’s portrait painted during her first marriage has a partial sticker on the back saying it was exhibited in 1936 or 1938 there and Ms. Packratty has been hoping to find out more about the exhibit and the artist – Rolando Moriti. No immediate luck, but she was given the name of one of the museum’s historians. Her first attempt to contact him failed, but there is always tomorrow.

Ironically, right next to the Palazzo is the basilica church of St. Vitale and St. Valeria. Ms. Packratty went in to say a prayer for Valeria, Ozzie and Raymond. There were statues of all the other saints and martyrs associated with the church, but it was under the control of the Society of Jesus for 3 centuries and apparently St. Valeria was expurgated from everything but the name. A church has stood on the site since the sixth century AD and the present church is reportedly unchanged for about the last 500 years. It is easy to see how things get buried in Rome, though – the surrounding area has been built on and filled in so much that one must walk down a long stretch of stairs to get to the front of the church.

Leaving the church, she proceeded down Via Nazionale to the Via de Quattro Fontane, stopping to admire the eponymous four fountains at the corner of via 20 Settembre. She went down the hill and checked to see if the ticket office at the Barberini might be open – no such luck, but she will return tomorrow. Then back over the hill, stopping for a fast espresso, taken Roman style standing at the bar and back down to Via Nazionale.

A shop lured her in and she spent more of her parental gift on a very pretty blue wallet to replace the wallet her mother purchased for her 12 years ago in Florence which is finally falling apart. Back at her apartment, Ms. Packratty tidied up and had a cup of tea and then went down to try to call the historian. No luck. (Fortunately for Ms. Packratty there is a shop with Internet and Vodaphone service about 8 doors down, since the Mobal phone she bought proved to be useful only as an alarm clock. However, at 15 cents a minute, calling family back in the US is not expensive and it was a godsend during the American Express prepaid debacle. Ironically, the two things that Ms. Packratty thought were going to make her life more convenient were both great big giant flops.)

It was almost 2 p.m., so Ms. Packratty stopped and bought a prosciutto and cheese tramezzi, had it toasted and took it back to her apartment, after which she washed up her dishes and crossed the street to an alley with stairs that cuts through to Via Cavour and picked up her very nicely done wash. Except for the fact that the launderette used some very stinky fabric softener on her shirts, which she has now washed out by hand to desmell them.

After that, she wandered around the neighborhood and located the Mailboxes Etc., where she needs to take some of her purchases tomorrow to be shipped home. She has not decided on dinner, but keeps thinking about this little place down the block that makes Pulgliese style food.

Tuesday, Ms. Packratty plans to visit the Barberini and then go to Trastevere to St. Cecelia and St. Maria. The Barberini has that wonderful Holbein of Henry VIII in late middle age at his piggish worst after he’d already divorced or killed several wives. Ms. Packratty has to pick up her ticket for the Wednesday’s papal audience after 5 p.m. at Santa Susanna which is northwest of Termini, but that’s all that’s scheduled. Wednesday she will attend the aforementioned audience, try to find some popeners (bottle openers with the papal emblem for some of her sacreligious friends) and then she hopes to get to the Borghese Gallery in the afternoon.

Speaking of popes, Benedict may be sitting on the throne of St. Peter, but if one was to judge by the calendars, rosaries and other paraphernalia being flogged to the tourists, John Paul II is still tremendously represented, especially considering that he’s been dead five years.