Vacanze Romane: day one

Bread. Bread. Pasta. Pasta. Pasta. Pasta. Cheese. Cheese. Cheese. Chocolate. Gelato. Gucci. Vino. Vino. Vino. Vino. Vino. This is the Roman food group.

(Posting via email, forgive wonky formatting and/or other errors.)

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Rome invites you in and squeezes you tightly to her heaving bosom the moment you meet. She sleeps until the late morning, which means that before 10 on the AM side of things, the cobblestone streets are yours alone. For my first morning in Rome, I made my rounds at the Pantheon, Trevi Fountain (and throwing in the requisite coin) and Piazza di Spagna, before setting out to spend some of my cold, hard Euros in the name of la dolce vita.

Ah, LDV. It's not just a janky LiLo tattoo. While the good life to LiLo means some coke and not getting kicked out of the Chateau Marmont, it is, for Italians, embracing the finer things in life-- food, art, fashion. In Rome, there is no better place to observe and practice this Italian phenomenon than on Via Condotti, where the city's tastemakers gather and play. And because la dolce vita does, in fact involve lots of dolci, it made sense to start with a ciocolatta con panna at the uber-posh and old timey Caffe Greco where you can idle amongst faded ephemera, antiques, and a lot of marble. After a stop at Laduree, where the flush can buy a chest of 200 macarons for 600€, I found myself at Ciampani for pranzo and people watching. Have fun making eyes at the locals as I did while slurping down a plate of spaghetti alla carbonara and wine. After checking out half of Rome, I was off to GiNa for an espresso and something vaguely healthy. Did you know that "funicular di frutti" is not fun fruit on a conveyor belt? Imagine my disappointment when a smoothie showed up. 

My trip is also an earnest attempt to visit all the places in Roman Holiday, including Via Margutta. The ivy-clad apartment complex that Gregory Peck's character called home is still there, quiet and unassuming (also closed to public access; had to break some rules for this one). Via Margutta is also home to Enrico Fiorentini's divine La Bottega del Marmoraro. He hand carves marble plaques for 15€-- there are plenty to choose from, or request your own bespoke plaque. One of the many things I won't soon forget about Via Margutta-- Enrico's hearty laugh and how he gamely peeked out from his workshop when I asked him, "Posso paparrazarti?" 

I ended the night at Antica Trattoria da Pietro al Pantheon where the spaghetti alla matriciana was seriously fantastico, so much so that it inspired me to punctuate my Italian with hand gestures, e.g. clasping my hands over my heart and sometimes my stomach. I was trying to express my gratitude, but maybe I expressed only "heartburn."

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The cobblestones kill your feet. The exchange rate kills your bank account. Other than that, Roma and I are getting along swimmingly.