Bookchick's Roman Birthday With Other Chicks Attending
Oct 8th, 2008, 05:00 PM
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Bookchick's Roman Birthday With Other Chicks Attending
I've just realized it's been almost 6 months since my birthday, and I've not posted a trip report! So here's the beginning of it, with more to come soon.
My most recent sojourn to the Eternal City began as the fulfillment of a promise. In 2007 I was gravely ill, and had been hospitalized for 7 weeks. While still in the hospital, I made a pact with my friend, N, whose birthday is April 7th. Since she’s an Italophile herself, and my birthday is on April 11th, we agreed that if I were still alive and well enough to travel, we’d spend our 2008 birthdays together in Rome. And that’s just what we did!
I actually flew over on April 2nd, when I left the States, traveling first-class aboard an NWA flight bound for Amsterdam, where I was to have a brief layover. When the cabin steward came to take my drink order, I naturally ordered champagne. The flight was fairly uneventful, although one poor chap in first-class was ill, and a steward gave him oxygen and arranged to have him stay aboard the aircraft when we landed so a wheelchair could be brought down the jetway for him.
Amsterdam was cold and rainy, and I realized in the chaos that was going on at my house when I left, I neglected to bring a raincoat. As my layover merely consisted of me staying in the airport and praying the young teens en masse in the boarding area were not going to be on my flight—and they weren’t—this was not an immediate need, but could prove to be something I may require when I reached Rome. Serendipity smiled on me, and just as my flight was about to depart Amsterdam, the sun came out in full force. Just in time for me to fall asleep like a log on the flight to Rome.
Rome, what can I possibly write about my return there that I’ve not already written? When lying close to death in a hospital ICU in 2007, I looked back on my life and counted my blessings and reviewed my few regrets, and prayed that I might someday return to Rome. April 3, 2008 was my someday. The driver I had pick me up at the airport was a jovial fellow who’d driven me before. The walls of Vatican City, as we approached, did not look at all forbidding, but welcoming. As we turned a corner, I gasped audibly and my driver asked if I was okay. I assured him I was, but told him that in my part of the country, spring hadn’t made much of an appearance yet, and the sight before me was overwhelming: all manner of lovely pink and purple blossoms were on trees just outside the Vatican Walls.
At the Hotel San Carlo, a young lady I’d not known was working the front desk, and provided me with the key to a room numbered in the 70’s, up 5 flights of stairs. The installation of the elevator, now complete, was in full swing at that time, and shank’s mare, as my late Irish parents would say, would have to do. Now N was not the only pal who’d be joining me on the trip. We’d invited two other American friends, C and J, who were scheduled to arrive on Sunday and Monday respectively. N was also arriving on Monday, which was her birthday. I meandered about the town for a bit after unpacking and then took a nap. I also read for a bit in my room. My energy levels hadn’t returned to normal since my illness and my 70 lb weight loss, but I didn’t feel hungry, so I skipped dinner, and made a list of errands I’d need to run on Friday. A fourth friend, CW, would be flying down from her native Germany on Wednesday evening to join us.
My most recent sojourn to the Eternal City began as the fulfillment of a promise. In 2007 I was gravely ill, and had been hospitalized for 7 weeks. While still in the hospital, I made a pact with my friend, N, whose birthday is April 7th. Since she’s an Italophile herself, and my birthday is on April 11th, we agreed that if I were still alive and well enough to travel, we’d spend our 2008 birthdays together in Rome. And that’s just what we did!
I actually flew over on April 2nd, when I left the States, traveling first-class aboard an NWA flight bound for Amsterdam, where I was to have a brief layover. When the cabin steward came to take my drink order, I naturally ordered champagne. The flight was fairly uneventful, although one poor chap in first-class was ill, and a steward gave him oxygen and arranged to have him stay aboard the aircraft when we landed so a wheelchair could be brought down the jetway for him.
Amsterdam was cold and rainy, and I realized in the chaos that was going on at my house when I left, I neglected to bring a raincoat. As my layover merely consisted of me staying in the airport and praying the young teens en masse in the boarding area were not going to be on my flight—and they weren’t—this was not an immediate need, but could prove to be something I may require when I reached Rome. Serendipity smiled on me, and just as my flight was about to depart Amsterdam, the sun came out in full force. Just in time for me to fall asleep like a log on the flight to Rome.
Rome, what can I possibly write about my return there that I’ve not already written? When lying close to death in a hospital ICU in 2007, I looked back on my life and counted my blessings and reviewed my few regrets, and prayed that I might someday return to Rome. April 3, 2008 was my someday. The driver I had pick me up at the airport was a jovial fellow who’d driven me before. The walls of Vatican City, as we approached, did not look at all forbidding, but welcoming. As we turned a corner, I gasped audibly and my driver asked if I was okay. I assured him I was, but told him that in my part of the country, spring hadn’t made much of an appearance yet, and the sight before me was overwhelming: all manner of lovely pink and purple blossoms were on trees just outside the Vatican Walls.
At the Hotel San Carlo, a young lady I’d not known was working the front desk, and provided me with the key to a room numbered in the 70’s, up 5 flights of stairs. The installation of the elevator, now complete, was in full swing at that time, and shank’s mare, as my late Irish parents would say, would have to do. Now N was not the only pal who’d be joining me on the trip. We’d invited two other American friends, C and J, who were scheduled to arrive on Sunday and Monday respectively. N was also arriving on Monday, which was her birthday. I meandered about the town for a bit after unpacking and then took a nap. I also read for a bit in my room. My energy levels hadn’t returned to normal since my illness and my 70 lb weight loss, but I didn’t feel hungry, so I skipped dinner, and made a list of errands I’d need to run on Friday. A fourth friend, CW, would be flying down from her native Germany on Wednesday evening to join us.
Oct 8th, 2008, 05:01 PM
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Friday morning I rose and made my way down to the breakfast room. When I stopped at the front desk, Victoria and Alberto almost didn’t recognize me. We chatted for a few moments, and I left to go run said errands. I needed to purchase a birthday present for N, and thought of a funky little jewelry shop down the street, J. Alcozer. I myself have some earrings and a beautiful pin from this store, and thought N might especially appreciate something from Rome. Luckily I found something in the window immediately that I felt would suit her perfectly—a small pin shaped like a little basket of flowers—and went in and made that purchase. I set of for American Express to see if I could score some train tickets to Florence. The plan was that we were going to have a nice dinner on Monday evening to celebrate N’s birthday, then Tuesday morning go to the station and catch a train for Florence. I’d already procured tickets for an English-speaking guide for the Accademia, but getting train tix while still in the States proved impossible. Luckily Amex didn’t let me down, and I left with 4 Eurostar tickets prior to heading out to Vatican City. At Vatican City, I had a couple of missions: I wanted to shop at Domus Artes, and also wanted to purchase some Vatican City stamps. Missions accomplished, I headed back to the San Carlo with my purchases. By now I think the staff was on the verge of throwing a ticker-tape parade in my honor. Dante, the chief porter and lifeblood of the place, and one of the hardest workers anywhere on our fair blue planet, introduced me to young Christopher, a young man he was training. The beautiful Italian brunette who was working the front desk the day of my arrival, Elena, was told by Alberto that I was the most important American guest they have ever had! Frankly I wondered if my ego would be able to withstand the hyper-inflation. Friday evening I found my way to an internet café, and this was no small feat. Easy Everything, for years a mainstay for Americans especially, at Piazza Barberini, is now gone, and the construction of a bank had replaced it. I remembered a place near the Piazza dei Cinque Luna, and it, too is now closed. I headed further down the street, however, and located a place near St. Andrea Viale. By now I was very convinced I needed a raincoat; the skies grew iffy and an occasional drop had fallen, and despite the fact I did pack sweaters and a dressy jacket or two, I knew I needed something more substantial. I looked online for the location of a Marina Rinaldi store. Walking back to the hotel, I looked for it, but didn’t find it where the internet said it would be—it was actually a block or two over, though. (This crystallizes for me the general way things work in Italy. The expression “it’s just a suggestion or a general idea” works well here.) I located the store, but it had already closed for the evening, so I returned on Saturday and found a great khaki trench coat with a perfect fit, and made the purchase.
On Saturday I also set about procuring some foods for the later arrivals. C had never been to Italy before—and she didn’t speak the language and was traveling all the way from the west coast of the USA, so I felt most inclined to baby her as much as possible. All of us were in rooms with fridges, and they were well-stocked with water by the hotel, but still there’s always enough room for other goods. She mentioned she’d bring an infuser for tea, so I purchased some tea for her, some chocolate, some yogurt, and some orange juice in a little market at the intersection of via Mario del Fiore and via Vittoria. Saturday afternoon when I was stashing this stuff in the fridge, my phone rang, and it was my buddy Giancarlo. He wanted to take me to dinner and asked if I’d meet him around 8 in Piazza di Spagna. He knew from my voice that I am much changed since becoming a cancer patient, and I’d told him my long blonde hair, which he’d always rhapsodized over had been replaced by a short mass of blonde corkscrew curls over which I have no control. So I was a bit anxious. I got there a little early, and knowing he’d be around the fountain when he arrived, I stood up on one of the lower steps, so I could see him. (Yes, I am somewhat short.) When I located him, he was looking at the direction of the street my hotel was on, so I came up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder. When he turned around and saw me, he hugged me so hard I feared he’d break a rib. We went to a restaurant called In Di Fronte A.. on via della Croce for pizza and to catch up a bit. I invited him to N’s birthday dinner on Monday.
On Saturday I also set about procuring some foods for the later arrivals. C had never been to Italy before—and she didn’t speak the language and was traveling all the way from the west coast of the USA, so I felt most inclined to baby her as much as possible. All of us were in rooms with fridges, and they were well-stocked with water by the hotel, but still there’s always enough room for other goods. She mentioned she’d bring an infuser for tea, so I purchased some tea for her, some chocolate, some yogurt, and some orange juice in a little market at the intersection of via Mario del Fiore and via Vittoria. Saturday afternoon when I was stashing this stuff in the fridge, my phone rang, and it was my buddy Giancarlo. He wanted to take me to dinner and asked if I’d meet him around 8 in Piazza di Spagna. He knew from my voice that I am much changed since becoming a cancer patient, and I’d told him my long blonde hair, which he’d always rhapsodized over had been replaced by a short mass of blonde corkscrew curls over which I have no control. So I was a bit anxious. I got there a little early, and knowing he’d be around the fountain when he arrived, I stood up on one of the lower steps, so I could see him. (Yes, I am somewhat short.) When I located him, he was looking at the direction of the street my hotel was on, so I came up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder. When he turned around and saw me, he hugged me so hard I feared he’d break a rib. We went to a restaurant called In Di Fronte A.. on via della Croce for pizza and to catch up a bit. I invited him to N’s birthday dinner on Monday.
Oct 8th, 2008, 05:02 PM
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On Sunday I awoke and went out onto via del Corso to purchase postcards. Then I headed to a little spot near the Spanish Steps, Barcaccia; there’s table service upstairs and when the windows are open—and they were—the gorgeous sight of the flowers on the Spanish Steps is available to savor. I had a coffee, and wrote out postcards to my doctors, some friends, and the people in my office, then headed back to the hotel. The San Carlo had arranged for Gianni, a driver with whom they contract, to meet me and take me out to the airport to pick up C. Gianni had a van, as well as a sticker on the windshield allowing him to park near certain sites without penalty of any kind. An affable fellow, we began to talk, and I asked him in Italian if he were really Italian. He asked me why I doubted it, and I told him his English, when he spoke it, was almost completely without detectable accent. He laughed and explained he’d lived in Ireland for 5 years. I was a bit nervous about seeing C for the same reasons I’d been a tad nervous about seeing Giancarlo again—how would she react? Also, would she like Italy? Gianni directed me to the area where passengers from C’s flight would be, and I waited eagerly. C had also changed a tad, had let me know she’d had her hair cut, so I hoped we’d recognize one another. My fears, of course, were for naught, and we ran toward each other to hug and tell each other our hair looked great, and C needed to use the ladies room, so we headed there straightaway before heading out to locate Gianni. In the van on the way to the San Carlo, C was so filled with energy, despite her long flights, and I pointed out the umbrella pines to her that up until that point, she’d only ever seen in photos and paintings. Like me, she had her “breathless” moment near the walls of the Vatican at the sight of the flowering trees. After checking C in at the San Carlo—she was just 2 doors down from my room—we headed out for a little walk. I showed her the church known in the neighborhood as San Carlo al Corso, and showed her the little store where I’d purchased the juice, tea, and yogurt for her; despite the fact it was closed, she wanted to know how to get there. In the late afternoon we went to Café Leonardo, sat outside, C ogled the waiter, and almost fell asleep in her soup. I had a sandwich, and afterwards almost fell out of the ladies room—gotta watch that first step, it’s a doozy—and we headed back to the hotel to turn in for an early evening.
Oct 8th, 2008, 05:35 PM
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BC - I have an April bday! I didn't know I was supposed to celebrate it in Rome. Great idea! Actually, I just got back last week and noticed the disappearnce of internet cafes also (found one about two blocks from the forum just off Cavour on via Serpenti). There were still lots of them in Florence.
I wandered through San Carlo al Corso as I was trying to locate their convent accommodations (scouting for a future trip), but couldn't locate the entrance (or anyone to ask). It would be a great location though.
I wandered through San Carlo al Corso as I was trying to locate their convent accommodations (scouting for a future trip), but couldn't locate the entrance (or anyone to ask). It would be a great location though.
Oct 8th, 2008, 05:55 PM
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Hey, Bookie!
I've heard some stuff about this fabulous trip from C, but it's so great to "see" you tell it because it really means you're doing well!
DH and I are leaving for Italy in 2 weeks, so hurry and get the rest of this posted so I can steal some hints!
I've heard some stuff about this fabulous trip from C, but it's so great to "see" you tell it because it really means you're doing well!
DH and I are leaving for Italy in 2 weeks, so hurry and get the rest of this posted so I can steal some hints!
Oct 8th, 2008, 06:05 PM
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Hi ..
My birthday is April 11 too...I love books too and love Italy..love travelling and reading in general
Actually looking at ur birthdate brought back the memories years ago when I was crazy abt astrology
My birthday is April 11 too...I love books too and love Italy..love travelling and reading in general
Actually looking at ur birthdate brought back the memories years ago when I was crazy abt astrology
Oct 8th, 2008, 06:52 PM
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Hey, bookchick! I looked and looked for your trip report before I went to Rome in June. Happy to see it now, but happier that you were able to go...and for your birthday, no less. Looking forward to the rest of the report and hope you're doing well.
Oct 9th, 2008, 05:59 AM
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<i>When lying close to death in a hospital ICU in 2007, I looked back on my life and counted my blessings and reviewed my few regrets, and prayed that I might someday return to Rome. April 3, 2008 was my someday.</i>
Ha! Take that, death! Score one for Bookie...a chick who knows how to LIVE!
This trip report makes me a very, very happy Fodorite. You go, girl.
Ha! Take that, death! Score one for Bookie...a chick who knows how to LIVE!
This trip report makes me a very, very happy Fodorite. You go, girl.
Oct 9th, 2008, 06:48 AM
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Hi bookchick
Ever since I read that you would be taking this trip, I have been waiting for the report.
What a wonderful way to celebrate your long road to recovery.
Looking forward to reading more.
Johanna
Ever since I read that you would be taking this trip, I have been waiting for the report.
What a wonderful way to celebrate your long road to recovery.
Looking forward to reading more.
Johanna
Oct 9th, 2008, 07:07 AM
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A very heartwarming, interesting and nicely written report. Also, glad to hear that you are doing well.
Could I beg you for a paragraph or two, though ? A bit easier on my eyes.
Looking forward to more.
M.
Could I beg you for a paragraph or two, though ? A bit easier on my eyes.
Looking forward to more.
M.
Oct 9th, 2008, 09:41 AM
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Sorry, Mathieu! I was working off a computer I rarely use, not my own, and actually did a cut & paste in Word, where I did have paragraph breaks. Bien sur, je vous demande pardon.
Back to Italy…
On Monday morning I met C in the breakfast room, and she recounted to me how before retiring for the evening, she came to my door dressed in her yoga pants and a sweatshirt to bid me goodnight. Knocking on what she thought was my door, she was stunned when a rather attractive man in his 30’s answered the door. She admitted to me that she thought “Wow, Bookie sure works fast!” We had a good laugh, then began to discuss N and her birthday, when lo and behold, N arrived! There was laughing, hugging and kissing, and I introduced N to the staff at the front desk. Turns out the young man C had encountered the night before checked out, so they were putting N in his former room, and she’d be in between C and me. We chatted for a while and finished breakfast and N took a quick ride out to Vatican City with me so I could mail postcards and I gave her my 5 cent tour of San Carlo al Corso. When N is in Rome she usually stays in the Piazza Navona area, so the neighborhood of the Spanish Steps was a real novelty for her.
Soon it was time for me to meet up with Gianni so I could go out to the airport to get J, who’d also had a little layover in Amsterdam. J had already seen me post-cancer diagnosis in January when I made a brief trip to her home in Louisville, and it was then I invited her on the trip. She is a well-traveled lady, had been a military brat who’d lived in a number of places around the world, and is a general delight. Once again Gianni proved not merely an able driver, but kind of a cool guide, and pointed out some places of interest on the way back to the San Carlo. Back at the hotel, we checked J in, and C and N joined us in her room, where J gifted us with some nice things from Louisville—a Kentucky Derby tote bag for each of us, as well as some nice socks that were meant to function as slippers, trimmed in faux leopard skin.
N was filled with energy and decided to go walking. I stayed and spoke with C and J a bit longer, then decided to let them nap before our elegant dinner, and headed out myself to take in some air. While walking, of course, I ran into N, and we headed together to get a gelato and see Piazza Navona. Sitting in Piazza Navona, I said to her that I honestly hadn’t dreamed this trip would be so wonderful, that we’d spend part of her birthday in a place both of us have enjoyed and appreciated so much, eating gelato. It was a “pinch me” moment; but a woman always needs to be careful of "pinch me" moments in Italy!
Back to Italy…
On Monday morning I met C in the breakfast room, and she recounted to me how before retiring for the evening, she came to my door dressed in her yoga pants and a sweatshirt to bid me goodnight. Knocking on what she thought was my door, she was stunned when a rather attractive man in his 30’s answered the door. She admitted to me that she thought “Wow, Bookie sure works fast!” We had a good laugh, then began to discuss N and her birthday, when lo and behold, N arrived! There was laughing, hugging and kissing, and I introduced N to the staff at the front desk. Turns out the young man C had encountered the night before checked out, so they were putting N in his former room, and she’d be in between C and me. We chatted for a while and finished breakfast and N took a quick ride out to Vatican City with me so I could mail postcards and I gave her my 5 cent tour of San Carlo al Corso. When N is in Rome she usually stays in the Piazza Navona area, so the neighborhood of the Spanish Steps was a real novelty for her.
Soon it was time for me to meet up with Gianni so I could go out to the airport to get J, who’d also had a little layover in Amsterdam. J had already seen me post-cancer diagnosis in January when I made a brief trip to her home in Louisville, and it was then I invited her on the trip. She is a well-traveled lady, had been a military brat who’d lived in a number of places around the world, and is a general delight. Once again Gianni proved not merely an able driver, but kind of a cool guide, and pointed out some places of interest on the way back to the San Carlo. Back at the hotel, we checked J in, and C and N joined us in her room, where J gifted us with some nice things from Louisville—a Kentucky Derby tote bag for each of us, as well as some nice socks that were meant to function as slippers, trimmed in faux leopard skin.
N was filled with energy and decided to go walking. I stayed and spoke with C and J a bit longer, then decided to let them nap before our elegant dinner, and headed out myself to take in some air. While walking, of course, I ran into N, and we headed together to get a gelato and see Piazza Navona. Sitting in Piazza Navona, I said to her that I honestly hadn’t dreamed this trip would be so wonderful, that we’d spend part of her birthday in a place both of us have enjoyed and appreciated so much, eating gelato. It was a “pinch me” moment; but a woman always needs to be careful of "pinch me" moments in Italy!
