nuns on the run

For some reason, Wayne loves taking photos of nuns.  And there are plenty of cute gelato-eating nuns in Rome :)  Enjoy!

Naples

Rome is, of course, what we compare Naples to.  Life is hard for most Italians -- Romans and Neopolitans alike.  But Romans in particular seem to have this unique ability (passion? determination?) to enjoy life no matter what life throws at them.

Naples is raw and gritty.  Graffiti greets you from nearly every angle.   Hard, resigned looks adorn most faces you encounter on the sidewalk.  Neapolitan drivers are a little quicker with the horn, metal grates are pulled down over storefronts at night, trash is freely thrown in the street.

There are no public restrooms (thank God for Burger King!), and signs of hard living are impossible to miss—cigarette butts, broken bottles, panhandlers, well-worn shop-keepers, well-worn cars and motorbikes parked any which way, laundry hanging desperately from balconies.  This is Europe’s most densely populated city, and it shows.

We had a fantastic hotel – the Grand Hotel Europa (thanks, Rick Steves!) – a two minute walk from the train station, quiet, friendly, with a small balcony, and breakfast included.

And great beds for jumping!

The best part of Naples?  Great pizza!

a day in the life: part 2

Sunday, March 25

I went to mass at a local parish, Santa Maria de Buonconsiglio.  At the rear of the church were two “walk-up” confessionals.  It was a box in which the priest sat, with the upper half of the front open.  One would stand there in front of the opening and make a confession.  I watched as each Italian stood there for at least 15 minutes, gesturing wildly.  It seems as though they are passionate about EVERYTHING, even their sins.  Confessions were being heard, as far as I could tell, all throughout mass.

After a lunch at home, the three of us took the Metro into town and walked up Via Veneto, through the east entrance of the Roman city wall, and in to Villa Borghese.  We had visited Villa Borghese (and gotten lost) the week prior with Paul, Helen, and Megan – enjoying the works of (mostly) Caravaggio and Bernini in the Galleria Borghese.  On this day, however, we had our eye on a riscio (rickshaw), a four-wheeled cycle we propelled by our own peddling.  

The riscio proved to be a great time – winding around pedestrians, dodging other riscio, bikes, roller bladers and skateboards.

We stopped for a snack – a crepe con formaggio for me, a caffe for Wayne, and a cioccolato caldo for Riley.  This was our first attempt at hot chocolate in Italy.  Is this an American creation?  I don’t know.  But the Italians take it literally – it was as if they took a bar of chocolate, put it in a cup, and melted it in the microwave.  It was simply chocolate, heated.  Hot chocolate.  We ended up throwing it out.

After a bathroom break, we returned the riscio, and got gelato (of course) on our way out.

At home, we prepared a feast for dinner.  I made lasagna (in two batches, as I only had one small pan I trusted in the oven), then washed and reused the pan to make something from a box that we found in the store we nicknamed “lava cake”.  One major thing missing in Italy is brownies.  We have found applesauce, an abundance of very good garden peas (that we can’t even get most of the time in the states), good fresh milk, wonderful coffee, fantastic bread, and even Skippy peanut butter.  But no brownies.  I suppose no place is perfect :)