Diario di Roma II – Rome Diary 2!
Selci: On my Fifth Day - Festa! Festa! Festa!
Partly cloudy with Thundershowers, 93°F/34°C – Definitely August, already!
Buongiorno!
As my Alitalia 777 completed its first leg on my flight from LAX to Rome,
it turned in a
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| Mike and Michael |
northeasterly direction over New York, and the animated map on
the cabin’s front screen laid out my course across the North Atlantic: north to
Nova Scotia, turning almost due east off Halifax and flying through the
darkness at 550 mph until landfall over England at Land’s End just at sunrise.
The map and the route looked very familiar to me. It was because it was the
almost identical route taken by my father at this same time of year back in
1944! There was a difference, however. Our big Boeing jet was flying at nearly
the speed of sound almost eight miles high over the North Atlantic. When
Charlie Botula made the same crossing in August of 1944, his LST, the 920 was
plodding along at about 9 or 10 miles an hour in Allied Convoy HXM 301 along
with a thousand other ships. While my own singular discomfort was the Economy
class seat I was trying to get comfortable in, my dad’s big worry on his trip
was the prospect of sudden death by U boat from the German
Wolf Packs that dogged his route across. His fears were not unfounded. In four days, I’ll be posting my annual memorial story about the torpedoing of his sister ship, the LST 921. So, more on that around the fourteenth.
When I departed Rancho Lost Musket,
it was Tuesday morning. When our Alitalia 777 finally
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| Tolfa-Dining al Fresco! |
touched down at Fiumicino
Airport in Rome, it was Wednesday afternoon. Michael, Laura and Sofia were
right there outside of Customs waiting for me and ten minutes later we were at
their new house. After getting me settled in Laura headed off to work and
Michael and I chatted for a while before heading out to a location that every
visitor to Rome should visit first, the Supermarket! My host was thinking that
dinner might be nice, hence the quick trip to the market. I fell in love with
the produce section! Not one genetically modified veggie in the lot. No
pesticides! Everything sustainably grown. Vons and buying tomatoes that feel
and look and taste like the ones you might grow in your home garden. You get to
pick out your produce and then once it’s in the bag, you check the ID code on
the price label…enter that number as you weigh it….and voilá! No harried
checker fumbling with your produce at check-out time.
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| No Funny Stuff! |
I always work a couple of days of
down-time on a trip like this. So we really didn’t click into No Funny Stuff! for a sound check, even
though they weren’t scheduled to play until midnight. Laura drove us out to meet
the band for dinner before they went on. After a sumptuous repast in the balmy Tuscan
evening, we hiked upward along narrow, winding cobblestone streets to the
Piazza Bartoli, just in time to see a trio of female singers take the stage,
and struggle through their first few numbers while the sound system squealed
and crackled. I felt anxious for them, but fearful for No Funny Stuff! The ladies were quite good, and I counted at least
four languages among the songs they sang. Looking at the time, I asked Michael
if this happened a lot. He nodded, “an awful lot, but the audience will still
be there,” he assured me. There was one more group before No Funny Stuff, Michael’s group, took the stage. By then it was
almost two in the morning. Sure enough, the piazza was still packed. It was
almost 3:30 in the morning before we headed down the hill toward our car. Wow!
I thought to myself, “this old senior citizen is still partying, and it’s
almost sunup. Gee! Back home they lock the front door after Bingo starts at 6!
tourist mode
until Friday. Michael was playing a gig at the Busker Festa in Tolfa, a medieval
town
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| Sidewalk Art in Tolfa |
northeast of Rome. Music and art is everywhere in Italy. Some of the most
talented musicians and artists work right out in public on street corners or in
the ubiquitous piazzale which can be found at frequent intervals in every town
large and small. At the Busker Festa in Tolfa, there is a sound stage in every piazza
in the town, and strolling musicians everywhere. We even saw two gals dancing on the side of a
building up the street where we were dining.
They had rigged mountain climbing gear so they could dance on the wall
three stories above the street. Sidewalk artists and street vendors rounded out
the scene. Food stands everywhere and every restaurant in town had tables
outside. Mike left early with some of the musicians from his band,
Back to Rome for a good night’s
sleep and then it’s up and get ready for our holiday in Sabina. Sunday, it’s
off to Laura’s folks’ country house an hour north of Rome. Higher elevation, a
little cooler and off to another Festa! Laura’s dad, Sergio Tomei is an avid hunter
and his hunt club is putting on the annual Festa
di Caccia! The hunter’s festival at the local fairgrounds. A team of avid
cooks working on open bit barbecues are preparing the meats – cingale or wild
boar, which is big in these parts, venison, goat, sheep and a few others that I’m
sure got lost in translation. Pasta, greens, my choice is the mutton all served
at long tables in front of the dance floor near the bandstand. What can I say?
Not a night to start a diet, for sure. A fun time amidst a thousand of my new
Italian friends. And the adventure is just getting under way!
A domani!
Ciao!
MikeBo
© Mike Botula-2015
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