Settled in Rome.

This morning we woke up, had a leisurely breakfast and coffee in the apartment, and then ventured out around 11 am with a modest goal:

1. Get to the Campo dei Fiori

2. buy a snack, and lunch if necessary

3. get back to the apartment

Dining room in Roman apartment. We told the kids not to touch or tip Caesar.

 

I carried the baby in the cloth carrier, with my wallet and phone zipped into the pockets therein. The 10yo carried a man-bag I bought many years ago in Paris, just the right size for a guidebook and a map. Mark carried the diaper bag. We headed north away from the river on Via Arenula, clutching the smaller children tightly by the hand for fear of buses and garbage trucks and motorbikes. I had to tug my daughter along, she was so taken by the contents of shop windows. I paid close attention to nearby pedestrians and tried to cross the street when the other people crossed the street, causing Mark to yank me back sharply a couple of times when I started with them against the signal that I hadn't noticed.

We turned left at Piazza Cairoli, a little oasis with a wrought iron fence around it, to put us on Via dei Giubbonari, and took this as far as the Campo dei Fiori (after a slight detour for a bakery, to buy a pastry each, and to devour it standing outside). We could see the openness from a block or so away -- the impression is that of a sunlit clearing in a forest, where the brightness caused by the sunlight coming down where the trees have thinned out is visible ahead, even if the sunlight itself doesn't yet come down upon you, still deep in the forest and not to the clearing yet. Anyway, the impression was gray in the foreground, yellow in the background, and we could catch a glimpse of Giordano Bruno in his hooded metal cloak, up on his pedestal.

Once there we walked around slowly, looking at all the market stalls with their white awnings and umbrellas. Fortunately, the market at Chamonix had desensitized me a little, and I was able to walk around and admire things without hyperventilating.

I have been relying on a guidebook called Rome with Kids: An Insider's Guide, by J. M. Pasquali. It suggested having the children choose a piece of fruit to buy, wash it in the fountain, and eat it there in the Campo for a snack. And we did this: only, two of the children were enchanted by pre-cut fruit in a plastic cup, so they had that. The rest of us had lovely white peaches, which I did not photograph, because the juice was running down my arm.

 

What my daughter really loved -- and I admit it, so did I -- was a stall selling leather goods. Keychains, coin purses, handbags. There were clever little coin purses that closed elegantly, by folding the top in half, bringing a pair of slender metal rails together, and sliding a little bangle along the rails to hold them together at the end, where the little bangle snapped down to a place sewn to the leather. These were in colors that indicated they were feminine coin purses; there were also egg-smooth little masculine coin cases with a leather hinge, which stayed closed by friction and were meant to slide deep into a front pocket.

After finishing our fruit and washing up, I chose a few fresh vegetables to bring back to the apartment -- the seller offered to my daugher a chunk of watermelon on a skewer, she said she was full, I said, "È piena," and so the seller gave the melon to me -- so good! Then we stopped at the bakery in the corner with the sign "Forno" to buy a loaf of bread for dinner, and continued to Piazza Farnese. There I sat with the 10- and 8-year-olds on a bench attached to the façade of the palazzo, and watched the police providing security for the French embassy there, while I nursed the baby. We admired the two giant, ancient granite bathtubs in the fountains there (salvaged from the Baths of Caracalla) and waited for Mark, the 4yo, and the 14yo to return with ice cream treats and espressi. One of the security officers came over to ask how old was the baby, and where we were from, and smiled and cooed at him.

It cannot be overstated how enthusiastically people here will admire a baby, and congratulate a mother of five children. (The dad doesn't get quite so much attention if mom is right there.) Bravissima! At least twice I have encountered a grandmotherly type who I feared might eat the baby if she had the chance. È bello, che bella testina, è solido, mangia!* and many other exclamations. Even after I make it clear that I barely speak any Italian, they go on, talking now to the baby, now to me, animated, and almost always a little bit... melancholy? I don't know what to say except at the appropriate time to answer "nove" (how many months old) and "grazie, grazie." I guess I should arm myself with phrases like, "yes, he loves to eat," and "indeed, he is quite friendly," and "he enjoys attention," and "no thank you, I will hold the baby myself." Maybe "And you, do you have children or grandchildren?"

*not guaranteeing I transcribed this correctly

Next we went on to the Galleria Spada, a good introduction to museum behavior since it has only four rooms (although the walls are covered top to bottom with framed paintings -- it is a lot to take in). My 14yo noticed many cool details in the frescoes near the top of the wall -- hidden faces, with beards that curl up and become the capitals of trompe l'oeil Corinthian columns.

What we were really after was Borromini's perspective gallery:

 

 

The floor comes up and the ceiling comes down, and the columns come together, so that isn't a large statue far away, it is a small statue rather close. Visitors cannot walk down the hall to see the illusion, but a docent stationed there will walk to the statue, revealing it is only half her height. (No photos of the docent allowed.)

We decided to have a big sit-down lunch off the Campo, since we were hungry and the four year old seemed fresh. Mark picked the trattoria, Ai Balestrari di Campo de' Fiori, and we sat at two tables outside. (Later Mark regretted this choice when the tables wobbled on the cobblestones and my 10yo nearly overturned it, glasses and water bottle and all, twice; he has since vowedto test tables before sitting there in the future.)

Here is our strategy: order roughly six items, some small and some full size, with water for the children and due birre piccole for the two of us. Allow the kids to peruse the menu and -- not order for themselves -- but recommend something for the table. Put all the plates in the middle and share everything. Today we ended up with bruschetta (some olive, some artichoke, some fresh tomato, surrounded by a generous garnish of arugula and basil leaves); spears of raw carrot, fennel, red pepper, and leafy celery, with a bowl of olive oil for dipping, dregs of salt and pepper piled at the bottom of the bowl; battered fritters of zuccini flower and of tomato-sauced rice; two fat, fried-out patties of pure white cheese; a cracker-thin pizza sauced with cheese and (no kidding) hot dogs; a second pizza, cheeseless, topped only with a bright, pure tomato sauce and a dusting of oregano.

After that we were quite full. While waiting for il conto we noticed an accordion player setting up, so I gave the 4yo a half-euro coin for him. I totally knew what would happen next: the 4yo went over in front of the acordionist and danced a little dance while he played, which amused the other diners greatly. He also tried to pocket the coin himself, another thing which I predicted, so I had to remind him to offer the musician a coin when he was done.

And now back to the apartment to rest, and dinner in the dining room here!

 

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Comments

[Rebekka]

You write an excellent travelogue, I'm really enjoying reading them. We've never been to Rome (was in Florence once though, before the kids) - I can tell we need to wait on Rome, because our 3yo is an escape artist. And by the time she's trustworthy we will have a new 3yo!