They say Rome wasn't built in a day. They also say that all roads lead to it. They also say that when you are there, you should do as they do. So evidently, after you inevitably arrive at the place, which was apparently oft-delayed in construction (we know how the Italians can be), you have to do as they do, which means shout a lot, make really good dough-based foods, conquer most of the ancient Western world (leaving the masses to figure out your verb tenses), and make gesticulations a fine-tuned, precise art.
And you make better croissants than France. Or at least on par.
One day, not so long in the past, Alex S. Johnson and myself, Alex Jr., decided we had had enough of Hispania - this corner of the former empire. Like that, we decided to head across the Mediterranean to the boot. Because we had had enough of madre mía.
It was time for mamma mía. Oh, and you can bet we exclaimed, while making pinching shapes with our hands in a pleading motion.
As you have seen in my previous posts of images, o' cherished and imaginary reader, Rome has a lot of badass things apart from their native hand gestures. They've got Egyptian obelisks, giant stadiums where they fed Christians to lions, places on the outskirts of the city where partially eaten Christians were forced to do their burials, ornate graffiti-covered Opera houses, gargantuan statues of dudes on horses flanked by football-field-sized flags, epic views, Holy Sees, Unholy Sees, and green rivers.
They've truly got it all.
Like they say, you really have to be there to believe it, to drink it all in. No Canon PowerShot picture, regardless of the megapixels, is going to do justice to drinking a Heineken in an ancient plaza, overlooking more rounded church domes than you can shake a stick, all while watching the setting sun and listening to an out of tune trombone busker playing "Lowrider". Can't take a picture of that shit.
Also, for those who were worried, the Vatican has more gift shops than DisneyWorld. And I don't know which ornate paintings were cooler: the ones in the Sistine Chapel, or the ones covering the Rome subway trains. I mean it for real. They were awesome. Except some of them didn't work. Good to look at though!
We ate good, we saw a lot of awesome, old stuff, looked at some amazing street scenes, met a rad Chilean dude, avoided excessively party-hearty Australians and Israelis, hung out with the locals (well one local who was awesome to us - grazie, Laura, who will never read this), and we did not get robbed at the train station.
All in all, another small victory. Right, Trajan?
And you make better croissants than France. Or at least on par.
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| Whaddya mean French croissants? |
It was time for mamma mía. Oh, and you can bet we exclaimed, while making pinching shapes with our hands in a pleading motion.
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| I don't know who this man is, but he knows how I feel. |
They've truly got it all.
Like they say, you really have to be there to believe it, to drink it all in. No Canon PowerShot picture, regardless of the megapixels, is going to do justice to drinking a Heineken in an ancient plaza, overlooking more rounded church domes than you can shake a stick, all while watching the setting sun and listening to an out of tune trombone busker playing "Lowrider". Can't take a picture of that shit.
 |
| But I'll try anyway. |
We ate good, we saw a lot of awesome, old stuff, looked at some amazing street scenes, met a rad Chilean dude, avoided excessively party-hearty Australians and Israelis, hung out with the locals (well one local who was awesome to us - grazie, Laura, who will never read this), and we did not get robbed at the train station.
All in all, another small victory. Right, Trajan?
cierto!
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