Day 33 - More Rome

It's a rainy morning in Rome, perfect for writing blogs and making reservations. I have no qualms about spending only six days in Rome. It's certainly got enough to see, but it just doesn't feel like Florence. It feels more like New York. If you say hello to someone on the street, they assume you want something from them. Not everyone is like that. An older lady I offered some strawberries to was very nice. She chatted at me in Italian, and I was so glad to meet someone friendly I didn't want to spoil it by admitting I didn't understand. And now, for the sights:

• Castle of Saint Angelo. Actually, that may be an incorrect translation. The name may refer to the two big angel statues (one in a courtyard and one on the roof). Regardless, it's big, a pope or three lived there, and the tomb of Hadrian (one of the best loved roman emperors, based on the amount of statuary made in his likeness) is what it was built on. You can't really see the tomb as such, but you can see the many different layers the castle was built on. And if you still feel let down, the piles of marble cannon balls (leftover or perhaps cannibalized (cannon-ball-ized?) from castle sculptures) are nifty keen. And if you still feel let down, after seeing the bits of papal furniture, paintings, etc. Head for the roof. As I looked around, I couldn't see any building that looked like it had a better view of Rome. And all this for five euros.
• Tomb of Augustus Caesar. Click on his name, and read of his deeds. His tomb is now an overgrown pile of bricks where trash is thrown and homeless people sleep. To say I was indignant would be polite. This man made Rome an empire more even than Julius. I stood at the foot of this mockery and made a soliloquy of my contempt for the people of Rome. They weren't even fit to hold what he captured, and this is his memorial. I understand Italy less and less every day.
• Spanish Steps. Placed in Rome, named for the spanish, and paid for by the french, the Spanish Steps have a lot of history, most of which I don't know. :P In fact, I didn't even realize what they were when I first saw them. They were just a busy stairway covered with pretty purple flowers. By the time I overheard a tourist call them by name, I'd already walked by the windows of all the world famous fashion designers. Prada, Armani, and whoever else have their incredibly overpriced stores on the street in front of the steps. Fashion is a segment of the arts I definitely don't understand. The woman is always the pretty part, not the dress. And the suit never bears any designer's mark enough to be meaningful. Regardless, I've seen more crimes of fashion in Italy than anywhere else. They almost always wear pants instead of skirts here, but I guess they wear them low to make up for it. I've seen more whale tails and plumbers cracks on the women here than I ever needed to see. And to whoever made that clingy frilly short skirt in sizes large enough to be worn by the woman I saw it on today: If I find you, I will hit you until candy comes out.

It seems to be clearing up a bit outside. I may brave the hordes and hit the Vatican just to have it out of the way. Or I might jump on a double decker bus, now that I won't get soaked. Ah the freewheeling life of a tourist. ;)