I only take my engagement ring off for two reasons – to slather goop in my hair to stop it looking boofy, and to massage. Sitting in Gatwick Airport, Rome-bound and ringless, rather than assigning its absence to one of these ring-removal activities, I deduced it must be in my backpack and rifled through it for 3 hours. Aside from the sickening feeling of losing something precious, I feared my fella would think I intended touring Rome as a single lady. But he reassured me that my ringless vibe was more spinster than single-lady, so he wasn’t worried at all. By the time I got to Rome, he’d found my ring (in my massage room) so all is right with the world again.
I have just woken on my first day in Rome to the happy singing of birds. To right they’re happy, they’re in Rome! I arrived late last night, so haven’t seen anything yet, aside from the whizz of lights from the taxi and splendor of the building I am staying in.
This fine establishment is the British School at Rome. I am here for a 4 day research look-around for an art project I’m working on. Typically, one comes to Rome to see the Colosseum and where the Pope lives, but I’m here to look at wells and bones and eat the food (which my fella prepared me for by taking me to M&S to buy some big pants for the trip)
later…
It’s now bedtime and I am utterly exhausted after Romeing all day, so long story free of waffle:
The communal school breakfast consisted of cream filled pastries (phew for the big pants!) washed down with divine coffee and great conversation with the other students, including my lengthy descriptions of the wells I am researching (they were so fascinated, Mathew!).
I went to see a well on Tiber Island, which is about 40mins away, but took me 4 hours cause I kept stopping off at the Bassicallcas (fancy for churches) on the way, including one that has a holy well, the water of which you can drink, which I did, and got the trots, and narrowly avoided disaster.
There was also a Basilica called Nicola something, that I had to go in because I have a lovely friend called Nicola. I am very glad I did because it had underground goings-on you could visit, which included a niche with bones.
I felt a bit misty-eyed when I made it to Tiber Island. The Tiber River is beautiful, as is the bridge I crossed, which is the oldest in Rome. I did think of taking the steps down to the river and have a little wander along the toe-path, but a massage client warned me that nefarious types hang out by the river, and sure enough there was a group of scruffy-looking people hanging out down there, though whether they were nefarious or not I couldn’t say.
On the Island, I visited a Bassicallca that was built on the site of the Temple of Asclepius (the god of healing), a place where you’d go to be healed by dogs licks, chicken sacrifice, and sleeping in a snake-filled room order to dream of your cure. The Basilica houses a well that was once fed by an underground spring that was around in the time of the temple.
I then went to the old Jewish quarter and had a lunch of wine and pepper pasta, which, though delicious, I came to regret when the trot situation loomed. But I ate it all in ignorant bliss and amused myself by reading about wells.
I then visited the Great Synagogue (phenomenal!) and museum, and was going to have a leisurely walk back to school, stopping for coffee and cake along the way, but it soon became clear that wells and bones and the Great Synagogue would be the least memorable things about my first day in Rome if I didn’t get back lickety-split. Getting terribly lost added to by woes, but the 5 different strangers I asked for directions, meant I returned with my dignity intact.
Exhausted by my shenanigans, I lay down for a bit, then tarted myself up (aka put anti-boof cream in my hair) and went to a lecture the school was hosting. Oh and it was no ordinary lecture! The guest speaker was Mark Rothko’s son. It was fascinating and touching in equal measure.
Then there was a big communal dinner, with amazing food, great company, and plenty of talk about wells.
bexODESSA 