Fodor's Travel Talk Forums - Trip Report We Didn't Drink ALL the Vino! Maitaitom's Italy Uncensored

DAY 21 - TOM’S TOURS HITS A SNAG, IS NERO NEAR, A FUNNY THING HAPPENED ON THE WAY THROUGH THE FORUM, A COLOSSEO SHORT CUT, THE DEAD POPE (AND NEARLY A DEAD HUSBAND), THE MYSTERY INSTRUMENT AND A MIME IS A TERRIBLE THING TO WASTE 

As stated earlier in this report (when, I don’t know, because it has taken me too damn long to write it), I don’t like being late, so it was with trepidation that I asked the hotel for a taxi pick up about 50 minutes before our scheduled Domus Aurea (Nero’s Golden House) tour. I had pre-reserved the tickets and had my print-out to take to the ticket office. Right before we left the room, Tracy said, “Do you have the print out?”

“Of course,” I answered confidently. We were supposed to arrive a half hour early, and the hotel said it wouldn’t take more than 15 minutes to get there, so I thought the only thing that could go wrong would be the taxi breaking (as it had the day before).

Kim and Mary were feeling chipper, so they decided to walk (about 45 minutes from the hotel, they were told). Dan, Linda, Tracy and I were waiting for the taxi when the guy at the Hotel Santa Maria desk came outside to tell us that the taxis were very busy that day, and we had better walk down to the taxi stand to get one. OK, now panic was beginning to creep into my brain.

For most of the trip, the leader of Tom’s Tuscan Tours had been in control, with no problems. Now, I felt that control going away as we walked the five to ten minutes to the taxi. We were going to be late, and I was not happy. I walked ahead of the other three, talking to myself like an idiot, and I think it was here that Dan and Linda began thinking that I had lost my mind. As Al Jolson would have said (if he were still alive), “You ain’t seen nothing yet.”

We got to the taxi stand, and were fourth in line, but there were no taxis. OK, now I’m officially worried. Not only were there no taxis, when I reached in my pocket, I discovered there were no printed reservations, either. Yes, yours truly had left the paper on the bed after telling Tracy, “Of course.” I didn’t even turn around, because I could feel “the look” coming from Tracy, not to mention Dan and Linda.

“Damn,” I said (although I might have used a more descriptive expletive at that point). “Have the taxi meet me at the hotel,” I said. I then started running back to the Santa Maria. For those of you who have seen the movie “Damn Yankees,” I must have looked like Shoeless Joe Hardy running for the fly ball after the Devil had turned him back into an old man. The citizens of Trastevere could only look in awe at me running slower than the slow motion scenes in Chariots of Fire. When I eventually reached the room, I was sweating more than I was when I couldn’t get the car in reverse at the rental car exit.

I got the reservation form, the taxi met us, and we were off. Linda said, “Tom, I’ve never seen you like that!”

Tracy, quicker than a Muhammad Ali jab, answered, “Oh, I have…often.” She doesn’t get a lot of punch lines, but she nails them when she does.

We were 20 minutes from our tour time, when the taxi driver gave me another bit of bad news. “What is the Domus Aurea?”

I repeated the mantra, “Attitude is Everything! Attitude is Everything!”

As he drove the busy streets of Rome, I was showing him where it was on the map, and he kept alternately kept switching his look from the road to the map as he was winding through the streets, pedestrians hurtling their bodies out of harm’s way. I told the rest of the crew, “I guess we’ll get there or die trying.”

He drove past the Colosseum, let us out and said something like, “I think you’re close,” which did not give me a lot of reassurance. We were just about five minutes from tour time.

Nearby was a horde of police giving one guy a traffic ticket. One bored policewoman (who was standing and looking at the officer writing out the ticket) must have noticed my sad countenance and said, “May I help you?” She obviously knew the look of a confused American. She pointed me in the right direction, and I went into full gallop, old man style. Tracy, Dan and Linda followed, but I got so far ahead of them again, that they also had to ask for directions.

As I got to within 50 feet of the ticket office, I saw two familiar faces walking toward me in the sunlight. It was Kim and Mary. Kim said, “How come you’re sweating? We’re the ones that walked.” Oh, the trials and tribulations of a tour leader.

I got to the ticket window, and the very nice woman at the counter, noticing the beads of sweat on my face, smiled and said, “Don’t worry, you still have a few minutes until the tour.” We enjoyed the tour of Nero’s House (audio guide a must) and since there is not a lot intact to see, you need to use your imagination to know what it must have been like back in the day of the crazed emperor.

Afterward, we all walked through the Foro Romano, which Dan and Linda visited the first day, and where Kim, Mary, Tracy and I had visited in 2001. We wanted to show Dan and Linda the Carcero Mamertino underneath the Church of St. Joseph of the Carpenters near the Foro Romano, where Peter and Paul had been imprisoned 2,000 years ago. We walked down the winding stairs from the first floor and saw the small room where Peter and Paul were kept before being executed.

We were going to go to the Colosseum, but since Dan and Linda had already been there, they went off on their own, and the four of us walked back through the Forum. Before they left, Dan gave us this piece of sage advice. “Get your ticket to the Colosseum on the combo Palatine Hill ticket. Go to the second ticket office.” This information garnered Dan the Tip of The Trip Award.

As we walked through the Forum, Tracy and Mary stopped at the House of the Vestal Virgins (well, what’s left of it), where they immediately went into a chorus of A Whiter Shade of Pale. “One of sixteen vestal virgins who were leaving for the coast” resonated through the Forum, and since neither was really a virgin, Kim and I thought about burying them alive like they did to virgins who strayed in the old days, but we decided against it.

We got our combo ticket and went up to Palatine Hill. Words do not do justice to the view of the Forum that day from Palatine Hill. The blue skies and amazing cloud patterns made for some remarkable photo opportunities. I think it was at this point that Tracy first said she was hungry.

Then, it was on to the Colosseum. Dan had told us not to wait in the long line, which stretched forever. Instead, he told us to go into the guided tour line, which we did. At first, the guard said we could not go in this line, but when we showed him the ticket, he waved us through. That little tip saved us more than hour of wait time.

We took the elevator up. On top, as I was reading about the Colosseum from the guide I had put prepared before the trip, a young couple stood nearby. We thought we might be blocking their view, but when we asked if they wanted us to move, the guy said, “No, I was just enjoying the comments from the tour guide.” It had taken a few hours, but Tom’s Tuscan Tours was back in business (although it was now called Tom’s Roman Tours).

Afterward, Kim and Mary took the subway to Circus Maximus, while I continued to deprive Tracy of sustenance as we headed on the subway toward the Vatican. I told Tracy there was a method to my madness for wanting to go to the Vatican. We had 9:15 am Scavi Tickets for the following day, and I wanted to know exactly where we should go. Plus, both Tracy and I wanted to see St. Peter’s again.

We asked the Swiss Guard where the Excavations office was, and soon we found ourselves in a surreal takeoff of the famed Abbott and Costello “Who’s on First” routine.

“Where is the Excavations Office?” I asked.

“Do you have reservations?”

“Yes, for tomorrow, but I just wanted to make sure where to go.”

“Come back tomorrow.”

“Yes, I know, but is this where I go?”

“Do you have reservations?”

“Yes, for tomorrow.”

“Then come back tomorrow. Ok?”

“I don’t know…Third Base.”

Anyway, I did ascertain (finally) that this was the place to go the following morning. We saw a long line stretching through the Vatican, and I was going to ask the Swiss Guard what the line was for, but realized we had to be back at the hotel in a couple of hours for cocktails. Instead. I asked someone else. “Oh, that’s the line to see the tomb of John Paul II.”

We went inside St. Peters and spent a good deal of time wandering. We then saw another line that was going past another dead Pope. “Who’s that?” I asked.

“Pope John XXIII,” was the answer. He was lying in state because he was on the fast track to sainthood. The line was short, so we got in. People were taking pictures of the pope as they moved through, and although it seemed a little sacrilegious, I took one, too.

Tracy’s hunger pangs were evident, but we were now in the dreaded Bermuda Triangle time of in-between lunch and dinner, so she said she’d just wait until the Santa Maria Happy Hour. Since we had been on our feet for more than six hours, we could have taken a taxi back to the hotel, but we had not had a lot of luck with taxis, so we walked the 20 minutes back to the hotel along the Tiber. When we arrived at our room, Tracy said, “OK. My feet are now officially broken.” She was too tired to even give me the look at this point.

We met up with our friends at the Santa Maria Happy Hour, and it seemed like “Broken Feet Syndrome” was running (well, walking) rampant in our group. However, there is nothing like Campari, Prosecco, Vino and a nice spread to rejuvenate the spirit, if not the feet. We chatted with other guests until it was time for dinner. Eating hors d’oeuvres can certainly make one hungry.

At eight that evening, we walked the (thankfully) short distance to the Piazza Santa Maria in Trastevere. Dan and I walked over to a restaurant called Sabatini, and he turned toward me and the others, his face white as a ghost. We couldn’t figure out what was wrong until we glanced at the menu that said their fish was priced by the gram. Dan was having a Venice flashback, so we hurried over to the Ristorante Galeassi on the piazza and got an outside table.

As we dined, I kept looking out on the square at a guy dressed as King Tut, or at least that’s what I thought he looked like. He kept staring at our table and suddenly I couldn’t get that Steve Martin tune out of my head. Thankfully, he finally had to go back to his condo made of stona or somewhere, and we ate without his constant stare.

Then came the piazza’s musical entertainment. Two youngsters “playing” accordion regaled the crowd, but something seemed amiss. Linda said, “They’re not really playing. I think the music is recorded.” We all agreed, except for Kim, who steadfastly said the boys were live, not Memorex.

Well, we went back and forth until we all chipped for a handsome tip and had Linda go pose with the boys. She swears that when she got close up to the boys, the kid on the left was just faking playing the instrument. She maintains, that there was some sort of tape recorder inside the accordion. Looking back, she could have requested a song to see if they were really playing, but it was more fun to just argue the point.

We decided to go back to the Enoteca Trastevere for dessert.
NOTE: Tracy found our notes and the dessert’s name is Il Saraceno and besides chocolate, it has cinnamon and some sort of hot, candied peppers or Red Hots.

Once again, this chocolate masterpiece was terrific. We chatted with one of the owners who said it (the enoteca, not the dessert) has been in the family for 60 years, and she lived upstairs. We had a great glass of a 1998 Brume Rosse Reserva and also a glass of Rosso Moio. We liked the atmosphere so much, that we made reservations for dinner for the following evening.

For us, we were sad because that was going to be the final night for all of us in Italy. For you, it’s good news, because this report is almost finally over.

 TOMORROW – UNDER AND ABOVE ST. PETERS, SHORTCUT TO A DEAD POPE, THE INCREDIBLE GARLIC BREAD AND THE LAST SUPPER (ROMAN STYLE) 
((H))

DAY 22 - UNDER AND ABOVE ST. PETERS, SHORTCUT TO A DEAD POPE, LINDA BUYS A RESTAURANT, THE INCREDIBLE GARLIC BREAD AND THE LAST SUPPER (ROMAN STYLE) 

In an effort to not recreate the trials and tribulations of the day before, the crew was ready to roll by 8 am, and we all walked to St. Peters (no taxis today, thank you). Before we left, Tracy said, “Do you have the printout for our tour under St. Peters?”

“Of course,” I replied.

As we left the room, Tracy asked again.

I reached in my pocket and, unbelievably, it was not there.

Then, in a Siegfried and Roy moment (without the carnivorous tiger), she whipped out the paper from behind her back. Tracy held the reservations over her head. “You left it on the bed again,” she said incredulously, all the while giving me the look at the same time. I was beginning to worry that she had given me so many looks recently her eyebrows might freeze in that Spock-like position. Fascinating.

At 9 am, we walked into the Excavations office, and in 15 minutes a group of 13 were on the Necropolis Tour underneath the Vatican. We were a little surprised that we were allowed to keep our daypacks on and that they were not searched.

For anyone who has any doubts about this tour…take it! We were very lucky to have a terrific English-speaking guide who also had a sly sense of humor. As we entered the chapel near the end of the tour, the sounds of chants and hymns filtered down from above. We found out later they were inducting priests on this day, and the sound of music we heard in the bowels of St. Peter’s made the experience quite surreal and spectacular.

We saw the tomb of St. Peter and what they think are his bones. Winding through the streets of the necropolis were also memorable. The tour more than lived up to its advanced billing.

Earlier. Tracy and I had told Dan and Linda about being able to stand in line for Pope John Paul II’s tomb. Their flight the next day was in the afternoon, so they thought they would wake up early and get over to St. Peters at 7 am, when it opened to beat the lines.

As the tour ended, the guide said, “You can exit to the right, but just to let you know, if you walk about 25 feet to your left you can see the tomb of Pope John-Paul II. I’m not supposed to let you go that way, but I might look the other way if you decide to go left,” which, of course, we all did. Dan and Linda could now sleep in tomorrow and, truthfully, I would have been disappointed had I waited in line for it.

After the tour, it was time to walk and soak in the majesty of St. Peter’s, and then I told the group that Tom’s Tours had one more climb left in it. After a slight bit of cajoling the group, we all decided to go to the top of St. Peter’s Basilica.

I gave the crew a slight break, and we took the elevator first, which saves nearly 200 steps. The view down of the inside of St. Peter’s Basilica is amazing and not for those who have a distinct fear of heights. I then gave the group the sad tale, “There are more than 300 steps to go to the top.”

The stairs that wind to the top have a weird tilt. I felt like it was Leaning Tower II. It was all worth it for the views over the roofs of Rome. But by now, the group only had one thing on its mind…food!

I had picked out a restaurant near the Piazza Navona, so we made the walk from Vatican City. We finally found the restaurant on a narrow street and looked at the menu.

As a tour director, you have to be cognizant of what the group wants, and they definitely did not want this restaurant. How do I know that?

I turned around and Mary and Linda were already looking at a little pizzeria across the street, where we eventually wound up eating. As they say on the Miller Lite commercials, “Good call.” The name of the ristorante is Pasquino, which not coincidentally is located on the Piazza Pasquino.

First of all, we had a wise-guy waiter who was really funny. Linda tried her best Italian to order a pizza, and the guy shoots back with, “What? You want to buy our pizzeria. Do you have the money?” The rest of us quickly ordered in English.

The food was really good including the Caesar salad, a Greek salad, spaghetti with bacon, tomato and hot pepper sauce, the four cheese gnocchi and a vegetable lasagna with eggplant, zucchini and capers. But the best item on the menu was the garlic bread.

We all agreed it was tremendous, but obviously Mary had taken a look at how much they had spent on the trip, because when Kim was about ready to order another piece, she said, “I don’t think it was worth money, honey.”

In a surprise turnaround, which shocked wives and husbands in the general vicinity, Kim gave Mary “the look.” He then said, “Whatever,” and ordered another one. Husbands throughout the land rejoiced.

After lunch, we all went our separate ways for the final afternoon in Rome, but a heavy downpour had all of us back at the hotel for our final Happy Hour.

That evening, we had a good dinner at the Enoteca Trastevere, and I had TWO of the great chocolate dessert.

TRACY INTERVENTION: She looked at my description of the dessert that I wrote in Day 21 and said, it was NOT hot peppers or Red Hots that gave it the distinctive taste. It was a red cayenne pepper or a facsimile thereof. No matter what it was, by the time the evening ended, I was once again wiping chocolate off my nose after cleaning the plate. I have to get that recipe!

To no one’s surprise, we had consumed a good amount of vino at dinner, so there were hugs galore because Tracy and I would be up before the crack of dawn to catch to our flight, and Kim and Mary would not be far behind. Linda smiled, knowing she could sleep in AND have the good breakfast.

We were recounting all our adventures when Kim reminded us of going to the Monte Oliveto Maggiore while wearing his short pants. “I guess I made a mockery of the monkery,” he stated. Believe me, after a few bottles of wine, that sounded pretty funny.

Tom’s Tuscan Venetian Roman Tour was done, and I, as usual, was very sad to leave.

 DAY 23 – HOMEWARD BOUND AND IS THE PILOT BAKING COOKIES? 

We had an early flight, so the hotel rang us before 5 am. I quietly got the luggage to the Happy Hour Room. The Santa Maria was another fantastico hotel, which I would definitely recommend. I liked Trastevere more than Tracy (although she loved the hotel). It’s hard to describe, but I just liked the vibe. For some reason, it felt real, and the walking distances to most major venues are not bad, at all. I can see that Trastevere is not for everybody, but I would stay here again.

The guy called a taxi, and we chatted while I waited. He made Tracy and me one final, delectable cappuccino. “I hate leaving Italy,” I said.

We first flew to London where I checked my e-mail one last time:

NOTE: I used mail2web.com to check my e-mail throughout the trip. This way I was able to keep up with the thousands of offers of Viagra and how to find dates with desperate housewives (coincidence, I think not!). Mail2web is an easy way to check your e-mail, however, and I was already married to a desperate housewife…desperate to get home and see our cats.

It was first class again, baby, and we took full advantage of the perks. Non-stop vino, steak, pizza and caramel Sundays were all digested with gusto.

A few hours from landing, the smell of fresh, baked cookies wafted through the first class cabin of American Airlines. I was afraid that if the passengers in steerage also smelled these cookies, we could have a riot on our hands.

Then out came fresh, baked, sensational, warm chocolate cookies. They were more than delicious.

I told Tracy I wanted to stand up and yell to the folks in the back, “Let them eat peanuts!”

She gently reminded me that we would be those peons again for the next ten years until we accumulated enough frequent flyer miles, so I stood down. Oh well, it was fun while it lasted.

Tracy’s friend met us at the airport, and in the car were about eight tacos. I somehow found the appetite to eat my fair share. We picked up the cats, paid the bill (I’m glad we love them) and got home.

In the near future, I will go to my blog site and put this monster report (sans typos and grammatical errors) up with our photos. I’ll also include a “Best Of” from the trip.

It was another incredible trip to Italia. Everyone got along, the sights were amazing, the food was delicious, the wine divine (and cheap), the memories are indelibly etched in our memories and the people of Italy could not have been nicer. From Pecorino Ravioli to Pumpkin Risotto to Singing Gondoliers to Mystery Chocolate dessert on my nose, we could not have asked for any more (well, maybe a few napkins).

Yes, there were a couple of stumbling blocks (and gas tanks) along the way, but they were only minor inconveniences in the scheme of things that we can easily laugh about now (although it was only recently that I could utter the word Diesel without pain). Where we go to next is still up in the air, but I guarantee that whether it is Tom’s Eastern European Exodus or Tom’s France Foray or Tom’s Spain Swing, we will maintain the two most important facets of any vacation:
 Enjoy the Journey!
Attitude is Everything! 
((H))