Monday, February 9, 2015

Rome if You Want To

So we have already established that this is a weird vacation.

 I have a terrible cold. If you had told me, two weeks ago, that the main attraction in Italia would be the Appian Wall of Phleghm, I would have taken a pass. Imagine me trying to form a simple Italian sentence in my brain from the few words Ive learned in Fabulo...then the waitress answers me and I cannot make out her words since my ears are so clogged. I shake my head to clear them and she realizes I am actually an idiot and just shoves something at me while making hand motions, glancing around for someone who can speak whatever my native language might be (generic European and-or American white person).

But the good news is, I have a terrible Italy.

On Saturday I slept until noon and Alexa bustled me, dazed, onto the Metro. I emerged in another time and place. Cobbled streets, graceful buildings, street signs and cars that look like toys, nude statues and fountains in the traffic circles. Sun piercing through clouds, sidewalks wet with rain, manhole covers stamped SPQR.

I walked up the Via Venetto, a winding street filled with elegant hotels and restaurants, to the Borghese Gallery, where a preponderance of masterpieces overwhelmed me. I mean, where does one begin? I missed Jenny terribly, since this is exactly what we had planned to do together. But took some pictures to send her, one of which was incredibly weird. And I didnt catch the name.

On the way back home the phone Alexa had provided me with didnt work, (@#$%^ Mercury), so I bummed some WiFi from the Hard Rock Cafe to send a message to her, but my tablet was almost out of juice (@#$%^ Mercury). And just as she was reading it, her car battery died (@#$%^ Mercury). I decided to get some dinner and wait out the drama in the comfort of Rock and Roll. So there I was on my first night out in Italy, eating a plate of nachos. On the video screen, the B-52s: Roam if you want to, roam around the world, without wings, without wheels.
Yes, that seems to be a platter of boobies

The next day I got this letter from Jenny. Its as if she had been there with me.
God I'm green with envy, can't deny it. That's the museum with the Caravaggios and Apollo and Daphne, right? I can't look at a Laurel without thinking of her escape... 
She went on to tell me the news I needed to hear.
Things are okay here. The surgery turned out to be more involved than it seemed - deeper and a bigger tangle - but was a success. The first couple of days post-op were pretty painful but getting better. They only shaved a little of my hair so that's good.  :)
I mean, thank GOD about her HAIR! She is a Leo, after all....

Im hoping, when she reads this, she`ll roam. Without wings or wheels...

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