Now, Rome has three-wheeled cars and that, in my mind, puts it a rung above many others on the ladder of originality. Couple that with the fact that the city is bursting with puffy mounds of ice cream and you’ve got a winner.

The reason we went to Rome was to see the sights; to look at with our own eyes some of the most famous structures ever built. We didn’t have any hipster galleries or clubs to visit, nor were we looking for any. Our plan was to step out of the hostel each day and let the city take us where it may. The problem, if you can call it that, was there were so many old and important-looking buildings at every turn that sometimes we’d find ourselves unsure as to what we were actually looking at.

One place you’re sure of when you arrive is the Vatican City. Although you’re not pulling out your passport you are still in fact crossing into another country. At 0.2 square miles it’s the world’s smallest independent nation state. It’s enclosed by a high wall, separating it from the rest of Rome. You can freely walk in and out, but if that big gate swung shut and closed me in I’d seriously rethink every sin I’ve ever committed. Now I wasn’t raised with the Bible in my hands and I’ve never been involved with Catholicism, but here I was in the center of their world. While the architecture was beautiful in a grandiose way I also found it a slight bit scary and unsettling. The fact that they’ve built themselves up inside those daunting walls spooked me just enough to give me the chills a few times.

Now, onto the food…and the conclusion.

I’ve wondered how Italians eat their pasta. Do they use a fork and roll the noodles up with the use of a spoon as a stabilizer? Someone once told me that’s how they ate. And do they eat their pizza with their hands or opt for the safer and less messy fork and knife combo? Last week I found this out, and more! First, there are no spoons on the dinner table in Rome. You get two forks and a knife. Second, they use their hands to eat the pizza even though the pizza is quite thin and at times juicy (so tasty!). Here in Sweden you use a knife and fork to eat your pizza; that’s what I’ve been doing for the past 3 months. I ate my pizza in Rome with a knife and fork without the slightest care that someone would accuse me of being a tourist. Based on appearance, daypack and unfolded map or camera obscuring my vision I was a tourist in the truest sense of the word from the first second I stepped off of the plane. Obnoxious? No, not in the least. Eased back and taking in a beautiful city at a steady pace? Natch.

Oh, at a restaurant a group of Italian women sat down at the table next to us. We wondered what they’d order. Couldn’t be something so common like spaghetti or pizza; it was probably going to be a dish not even on the menu that only the locals knew about. We waited patiently for the waiter to return with the appetizer. The first item to come to their table: a basket of French fries.

However, I did taste the best pasta I’ve ever had and realized how a thin little pizza can and should taste. Anyone can throw some sauce onto dough and hope for the best but I had a feeling some of these recipes actually were passed down from many generations ago. I’m so hungry right now after typing this.

Finally, an admittance: in Italian a piazza means a square within a town or city. There are signs that read “Piazza this” and “Piazza that” all over. I swear that 90% of the time I saw these signs I thought they read “Pizza”. I’m sorry but I admit it. Is it dinner yet?

Ciao, chow

This entry was posted on Sunday, January 29th, 2006 at 10:37 pm and is filed under a slice of life. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.