I love Rome. The ambience. The culture. The churches. The people. The food. Rome is one large stage upon which every aspect of life is played out. Its residents are passionate. Theatrical at times. The cuisine is predictably simple. It appeals to the peasant in me. Flavoursomely understated. Accompanied by wine that enables a fulsome experience. Walking the streets is a delight. Put away Google Maps and just amble. Piazza Navona appears. The Pantheon. Spanish Steps. Across the Tiber, Trastevere beckons with an infectious energy and boundless trattorias. The Testaccio Market has everything a traveller or a local might want and more. Large cuts of meat. Cheeses. Wine of all possible varieties. Tomatoes redder than red. Roseta di Roma is a rose garden dedicated to the Jewish people. Far superior to the rose garden in the Botanic Gardens. The Botanic Gardens require a significant climb. The lower reaches are unkempt. The Japanese Garden is predictably ordered and affords iconic views of St Peter’s dome.
Gelaterias are commonplace in Trastevere. The pistachio is a must. Churches, of course are ubiquitous. Wander in to any one of them, there is bound to be a famous work of art or the burial site of a Saint, or the relics of another. I forget which one famously houses a fragment of Jesus’ crib. It’s a big claim. Unless queuing is your thing, St Peter’s should only be visited very early in the day. It’s an edifice of unimaginable proportions. Other basilicas and churches are much more accessible.
I love the buses. They transport you everywhere for a modest fee. It’s akin to time travel. There goes the Colosseum. Sedately passing the Forum. Victor Emmanuele’s ‘wedding cake’ takes us through Piazza Venezia ending up at Santa Maria Maggiore. Buses meander inside and outside the Roman walls. Archaeological sites lay in waiting for someone to adopt them as a project. Other sites like the Circus Maximus are self-explanatory.
The bus shudders on the cobblestone streets. Whilst graffiti abounds public signage is scant. Public toilets are a rarity. There goes St John Lateran Basilica. It’s closed. An outdoor rock concert in the piazza takes precedence. A sign of the times!
Buses with number 64 are everywhere. They are a favourite of pickpockets for unsuspecting tourists. We prefer bus 170 stopping outside our apartment. No pickpockets. Many bus rides are inadvertently free. Ticket validators out of order. We accumulate tickets surplus to our needs. Multiple apps enable travellers to track journeys. Some of them work. One announces our bus is 2 minutes away. 5 minutes later the app announces the bus is 3 minutes past our stop and we are travelling to our destination! We are still at the bus stop. Detours abound. Roadworks, police cordons, music events, festivities, all contribute to re-routing. One helpful driver directs us to a stop which seems all wrong. Facing the wrong direction and in the wrong place. Locals also express doubt and mild confusion. No signage to indicate bus 170’s possible appearance. Happily our doubts are without foundation and a relieved bunch of travellers embark on the 170. Sometimes the system works in spite of itself.
Take a walk and hop on a bus and Rome is your oyster! The only misadventure you may have is to miss a bus or head off in the wrong direction. But there is always another bus to take you somewhere delightful.