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Bonjour tout le monde,
I am finally settled in France, and decided it was time to update my blog. But, as tends to happen when you step outside of New Zealand, so many things have happened in the last few weeks, that I don't know where to start. So I'll start in Rome.
I flew into Italy and spent four days there before going to Lyon so that I could see Sylvia on her way back from Europe. The first two days we wandered around Rome, watching the hoards of tourists who are actually very interesting in themselves, especially because they tend to be so at odds with Italians who have an innate sense of coolness that it is the antihesis of being a sightseer (especially the sneakers wearing, camera toting kind).
Italians are also very well dressed, from the women and children, to the grandmothers and homeless people. But the ones that amused us most were the men. After a renunion that involved alot of running and screaming, the first thing Sylvia said to me was "have you seen the men?! In New Zealand, they would be gay!"
But of course, as any guidebook will tell you, it's not just the people in Rome that are interesting. It must be the city with the most things to see in the world. On every street you run in to a building that is 100 years old and has the history to go with it, usually you run into five or six.
We walked and walked, from the Spanish Steps where we were staying (well not on them, near them) past the Trevi Fountain, past the Parthenon, through the hundreds of churches, almost ubiquitous but each one a piece of magnificence. We gave our feet a rest and metroed to the Colosseum (Sylv was astounded by the lack of German efficiency on public transport that she has become used to). But then we walked and walked up the Palatine Hill and through the Forum and back down to the colosseum. Outside it were thousands of tourists and the venders taking full advantage of them. We had gotten our tickets at the quiet Palatine entrance so were able to walk past the huge line that snaked it's way from the entrance far out on to the piazza beyond. Walking down the huge carpeted aisle past the crowds of people with cameras felt alot like being on a red capert, except for the envious glares we kept getting.
For an ancient ruin, it felt very alive, looking out across the amphitheatre it wasn't so hard to imagine the performances space that once existed between the dilapidated stones. And then two things the intercom ruined the moment: "Mr Smith would you please meet your wife at the entrance." Sylvia and I burst into laughter and agreed if you had to be ordered to meet your future life partner somewhere, the colosseum was a romantic place.
We couldn't stand the heat and the crowds much longer and left to find lunch. On the way we walked past a huge gleaming white museum with gold statues and marble fountainst which Sylv planned to model her house on. Lunch was delicious like all Italian meals. I think there are few countries that live less up to their stereotypes foods than Italy. I ate pizza and pasta at least twice a day and drank red wine like it was water.
After two days Sylvia left for Turkey and I had two days in Rome by myself. I did more wandering, sitting in beautiful churches and piazzas (Italian piazzas are the best place to people watch in the world) and filling up my water bottle from Rome's many fountains to try and cool down. This was one of my favourite aspects of Rome, being able to drink from the city really makes you feel a part of it.
It was very hot and on my last day in Rome I decided to go to the Vatican which I thought might be cooler. It wasn't, but it was well worth. I'd been to Rome when I was eight so everything felt strangely familiar, like having a particularly bad case of déjà vu. I remember the Vatican had inspired in me as a child and despite being an agnostic at best, I felt the sense of sacredness that accompanies such beauty and the attention to it needed to build such a place.
Inside St Paul's Cathedral I sat in the cordoned of prayer area, feeling a little like an imposter. There was something about watching the well-dressed, put together people kneel and submit to the something they perceive as higher than themselves.
I climbed to the top of the basilica and looked back down into the cathedral from right beneath the intricate mosaiced dome designed by Michelangelo, I could almost feel the renassaince seeping through.
The stairs I had to climb next I think hadn't been renovated since that time. They were tiny and crammed, and the humidity in them was ten times more intense than outside. But outside on the top of the dome you can see for miles. It's not that the basilica is particularly high, much shorter than the average office building, but that there are no buildings over five or six floors in Rome, (a fact that confused me greatly, I spent the first two days wondering where the centre of town was). The parameters of Vatican city were well marked and it was bizarre to consider that this tiny neat little state exists in such a sprawling dirty bustling city.
On the way back from the Vatican on the metro a Roma (I think) family came through my carriage, the father busking with an accordian and the mother followed laughing and carrying their young baby. They were obviously poor (although like al Italians, dressed beautifully) but they looked so happy that I was completely enchanted.
The next morning I flew to Lyon. Well it should have been morning, but, in typical French style, the flight was delayed three hours.
But I think I'll save life in France for another blog post.
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