Day 5 - Rome: Villa Borghese



Motorcycle Santas

My signal to jump out of bed was the sound of motorcycles, revving their engines and honking their horns.  We sprung on to the balcony and what to our wondering eyes should appear, but about a hundred visions of Santa Claus riding their motorcycles through town.  It was fun to see and made me want to go out and explore town.

We wondered our neighborhood in search of a Farmacia.  We had not packed sunscreen and the sun was shining brightly.  The wandering took us first to the Spanish Steps, which are closed for renovations, but are only a half block from our hotel.  There was nothing to see, unless you count the uber-aggressive street vendors.  Their game was to hand me a rose.  I would decline.  They would say, "Please, it's a gift." Then, they would chase Tony around for money.  We learned quickly and returned the roses.  We then walked across the street to the steps that would take us to the Piazza Spagna, but the vendors were aggressive there too.  They were insistent we buy a selfie stick and a toy that looked like a ball, but just stuck to the ground.  It was a strange solicitation. 

Vicki volunteers for stairs

From there, we went to the pharmacy and poked around our neighborhood.  Since I didn't have the Spanish Steps to climb, I voluntarily chose to climb the steps in the picture.  Tony was so shocked he had to memorialize the day with an image. After the stair climbing, we had lunch.  It was a fine lunch, though I have no doubt it was not the most authentic option we could have chosen.  How did we know, you ask?  Perhaps the "Nuggets di Pollo" option on the menu was a clue.

After lunch, there was more wandering, then hailed our first international Uber to go to Villa Borghese.  We learned something there- Uber drivers in foreign countries do not necessarily speak English.  We managed with the little Italian we know and the little English he knew.  It worked out just fine.

The grounds at Villa Borghese




Handsome man in dapper hat.

Villa Borghese is a museum and park.  The grounds are sprawling and quite lovely.  The sun was shining through the trees and there were rolling hills of green grass.  It was hard to believe we were in the middle of the city.  We arrived at the museum prohibiting cameras and phones and all bags, including my purse.  When I checked my bag, the attendant asked if I had a camera in the bag, which I did.  She said I should take it for pictures.  Perhaps they hadn't updated their signage.

The museum was full of classic marble sculptures and paintings that were once the personal collection of Cardinal Nipote Borghese.  Borghese was the nephew (nipote) of the Pope and used his power to threaten people into handing over their artwork.  Sure, he bought some, but often he just threatened to imprison the owners, or call them up on trumped up charges, until they turned over their artwork.  Seemed like a charming fellow.  Interestingly enough, he married Napoleon's sister.  So, Napoleon somehow had a stake in the art collection too.  The audio tour told the story of how Napoleon strongly encouraged the sale of many pieces of art to the Louvre, and, because they were sold, they did not need to be returned after the Napoleon occupation was over.  There was a subtle indignation in the commentary that Tony and I found absurd given every other room told the story of how Borghese obtained his collection.



Napoleon's sister and Borghese's wife

Caesar's wall

On the walk home, we passed a thick brick wall, touched it even, that had apparently been standing since Caesar.  There wasn't great pomp around it.  Just a little plaque that explained the history of the wall.  It is like that here.  Everyone who had been here told us it would be like that and I cannot help but echo it.  Everywhere you turn there is some kind of amazing monument or fountain that isn't in your tour book.  We have to struggle to stay on course because there is always something amazing looking a block away.



The view from our balcony

The sunset from our room was beautiful tonight.  It sets much later here than in London.  We took another recommendation from the Concierge tonight and had a lovely dinner.  While no one burst into song, we had a complementary glass of Prosecco upon our arrival and the charming waiters talked us into prosciutto, cut right then and there with fresh mozzarella for our appetizer.  Tony and I both wanted soup.  I had rebollita, a veggie soup that also has bread in it.  Tony had pasta e fagioli, which kicked the butt of any pasta e fagioli I have ever eaten.  It was thick and stew-like. Tony ordered risotto and I had the sea bass with a potato crust.  (The English menu called it "Sea Bass in Potato Skins," which gave me a less refined image than it actually was.)  We are back at the hotel, ready to sleep.   Tomorrow, we venture to the Laundromat.