ecco qui

Well, here I am, footloose and fancy-free in the Eternal City. Getting to Rome turned out to be a breeze; way easier than I had any possible right to expect. A 118-knot tailwind sped across the Atlantic in record time; meanwhile, I filled mah belly with half a pastrami sandwich (left over from lunch), popped a couple of Benadryl like the Burroughsesque renegade that y'all know I am and dozed my way to an Italian sunrise.

I was, of course, eager to get my feet on the ground and wander around the city (not to mention keep busy and stave off jet lag), so I walked down the Gianicolo, through Trastevere, over the bridge across Tiber Island, through the ghetto (cue the Elvis song, inappropriately), a half-loop around the Theater of Marcellus, up the Capitoline, and down the other side into the Forum where I realized that, hey, it's about a billion degrees out! and I left my hat in the US. ditto sunscreen. At that point, Lobster-Boy walked baaaaack the same way he came, stopped in Trastevere for lunch at an ostaria (penne con fiori di zucco: kinda disappointing. The penne were served in a blush cream sauce, and while there were flowers in the sauce, they were just sort of lying there like so many soggy napkin fragments. If I'd been smart, I'd have ordered pizza con fiori; that's how they can really shine) and back to the Centro for nappin' and emailin' and bloggin' before dinner. Whee!

The other Centristi swear that the local gelateria, "Miami", is the best they've had. I can hardly believe to the idea that the best gelato in the city is to be found within rolling distance (seriously; it's like fifty feet away); some things are just too much to hope for. Clearly, research will have to be done.