Sorry I haven’t written for a while.
I’ve been grieving.
The pain began as soon as I left Rome.
What a beautiful city. What history. What fantastic men in fantastic suits driving down the cobble stoned streets on their Vespas.
We arrived at the five star Baglioni Hotel after a killer journey from Bogotá (all courtesy of Peroni).
Our double bed turned out to be a twin, the toilet was broken and there was no hot water.
This was great news since we were promptly upgraded to an executive suite.
Ah, what luxury. The kind that would make you feel slightly ill if you thought about it.
We had a private city tour with a very knowledgeable and good-humoured guide and had our own driver, Lorenzo, who drove us around the capital in a spotless silver Mercedes.
He collected us from the Olympic Stadium after we watched Lazio versus Bologna, and waited for us while we had lunch.
For a special evening, the concierge booked us into an exquisite restaurant with a view over the city.
Luckily my lady’s menu had no prices or I wouldn’t have been able to order a slice of bread.
It was our pre-honey moon and we clinked our glasses of prosecco and wished ourselves a happy marriage!
On day four, Peroni’s promise had been fulfilled and it was time to leave the hotel that had housed royalty and head to slightly more humble lodgings.
The porter took our luggage out to the entrance.
“Shall I call you a car, Sir?” he asked.
“Oh no, our friends are waiting for us down the road,” my Fiancé lied.
One feels compelled to keep up appearances in places like the Baglioni.
We couldn’t possibly admit that we were walking our bags by ourselves to a three star hotel.
Rome was heaven even without the fancy bottles of body lotion and chocolates on our pillows.
I fell in love with the ancient skyline and the wonderful hues of burnt umber, terracotta and olive green.
I’d never seen such elegant pine trees and I thought of my Mum, who in the past had used up whole films on snaps of trees rather than of us lot on holiday.
We walked until our legs ached and then walked some more.
I bought one half of Rome and admired the other.
A few more weeks and I’d have been posing as a silver-painted cowgirl with a money pot in front of me.
I may be gone now but my absence is temporary.
I threw a coin in the Fontana di Trevi which means my return is assured!
4 comments:
Wait. So, the statue you're sitting by is actually a live person? Had me fooled.
Very nice opening lines, drew me right in. I've never had a hankering for Rome, but your description of the city has made me feel otherwise. Or was that of the men? :)
ooh isn't it amazing! That's exactly how I felt when I went to Rome and I've been desperate to go back ever since then. In fact, forget it, I'm off to look at flights!
I adore Italy and Rome is such a gorgeous city. Your post does is justice though and is just as fab.
My husband loves Rome because we witnessed one of those vespa-riding men stop at a zebra crossing and chat up the woman walking across it - she brushed him off and he simply shrugged and drove on. Imagine that in London...
Terrifc update Em - sweet, poignant, funny.
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