Saturday 7 November 2015

Italy: Roma Day 3

(I told you I'd be reviving this series, almost 12 months after my last post - see here for the last installment).

On our third day in Rome, we ate the usual enormous and luxurious breakfast, this time in the company of Jeremy Clarkson and Richard Hammond who were poring over a map of Argentina, planning THAT trip as we later surmised. Tutt decided to stay at the hotel and enjoy the comforts of the pool and the room while I braved the trip into town in search of ice cream and the Pantheon. The famous chef who made our dinner had recommended the Pantheon as his favourite Roman sight and it was not disappointing. I had to search for it through a series of alleyways and with the assistance of my phone, so that when I eventually popped out on the corner of the piazza it felt like a hard-won treasure.
It was very calm and cool inside. There were lots of people, and the usual reminders from the staff about being quiet and maintaining respect inside a religious building. It was really something - dead circular with that big sunspot inching its way across the ground.

Totally got photo-bombed by this man.

I particularly appreciated how the architecture shows so many layers of age.

Afterwards, I sought out the San Crispino ice cream shop apparently made famous in Eat, Pray, Love (I believe the review I read said that "the ice cream rendered Julia Roberts' character speechless" but, having since seen the movie, I am not sure I can support that statement). It was pretty good ice cream, but probably not the best I had during the entire trip. Here's a good article about Rome's gelaterias if you're headed that way and in the mood.

After the ice cream I found a coffee shop in the bright and airy atrium of a shopping centre, ordered an iced coffee and cooled my heels for a bit. Heaven, Roma.

On the way home I bought myself a new handbag. I only went in to gawp at the Moschino bags with the cow faces on them, which I posted on Facebook to my Bristol friends, labelled "cow bag" which is an in-joke with us, caused by Kath's daughter having an actual cow bag which she referred to loudly and without irony in public. I still use that bag daily. It is by Gabs. It's lucky they're nigh impossible to get over here.

We had a dinner in the less fancy restaurant of the hotel that evening and settled in for our last night of luxury.

No comments: