Boston

One thing i miss most about Europe is spontaneity in it’s rawest, and most pure form.  This passed weekend, Eric and I were supposed to go to Fire Island to film some bizarre music video.  The only sketchy details he gave me were “space party,” and “fire island freak out.”  I asked few questions and when it came time to leave, my inaugural fire island freak out ended up being canceled.  My fluffy headed friend and I found ourselves sitting on my 20 year old blue leather coach deciphering what to do.  I have about had it with Jersey so I suggested a road trip.  I was cranky and looking for an escape.  Boston was mentioned and we were on our way in my car - Stefan.  

Brief side note, my first car was named Little Steven Van Zandt.  Not too sure why, but it happened that way.  My new car, of course needed a name because I’m a giant dork like that.  Eric actually came up with the brilliant name of Stefan.  My new Jetta is almost  identical to the old, just more sleek.  It’s got some stylin’ wheels, some leather, and some other feature’s that old little Stevie just didn’t have in him.  So - we arrived at Stefan, Urkel’s cool alter ego.

I grabbed my cute new Frye heels, a romper and some necessities and we were on our way.  Since I’ve been back in America, my google quota has resumed to it’s normal capacity.  It seriously irked me not to find a hotel before we left but I rolled with it.

We had no idea where we were going but we figured it out.  Between both of our iPods, there was a vast variety of dorky throwbacks, alternative, Frank Sinatra songs to get us from here to California.  Quite frankly, my favorite cruisin’ tunes when I’m with Eric are to put on his horrible past projects.  There’s something about scream-o high school projects that always get both of us to crack a smile (I think he dies a little bit inside though).

We got to Boston.  I’ve never been - ever.  It looks exactly like Philadelphia and nothing like my beloved New York.  It’s clean, Irish, and crawling with youth.  We meandered around and finally settled on a Holiday Inn.  

My Frye heels got stuck in every cobble stone that I passed by and the night was miserable.  The following day we parused the Quincy Market and got some incredibly fresh seafood and Italian goods at the Italian street fair.

Delicious!

Roma

Roma

Kelly’s been carrying her grandfather’s Italian guidebook around for the entire month.  Neither of us have looked at it, nor gave it much credit.  As we settled into our hostel, I cracked the bad boy open.

“There are hotels scattered all over the city, but bear in mind that nowhere is going to be quiet.  The centro storico is perhaps the best for its proximity to just about everything, and has a good selection of hotels.  The only area to avoid is around the Stazione Termini train station.”

We’re two blocks from the train station.  I wish it gave us a little bit more description then “Beware, avoid this place!”  Am I going to die, get raped, or even worse - get bed bugs!?  The Alessandro Palace is hardly a palace.  It’s impressive doors great you and a pair of foreigners at the front desk.  In our mad dash for finding housing last night, we must have overlooked that it was cash only.  I literally emptied my wallet and gave them every thing I had for our stay.  They also neglected to tell us that we can’t stay in the same room for four nights, we have to move tomorrow.

At this point we were both too hot and bothered to drag our luggage up 3 flights of stairs.  One of the guys helped Kelly and I was left to schlep my adolescent child up.  The room is decent.  Pretty small, but private.  There’s a flat screen TV that we don’t know how to work and a shower.  The key to the room is like our vaporetto passes.  It’s got some sort of keyless entry.  The man also told us that in order to work the electricity, you use the key.  I stuck it in and Kelly was in the bathroom.  There is also air conditioning which is a huge luxury at this point.  25 seconds into Kelly’s pee, the lights went off on her.  We took turns swiping the card to keep the lights on.  We were beyond frustrated.  Finally, Kelly figured out you have to leave the card in the port.  Talk about grade A window lickers.

After both of our snit fits came to an end, we began to relax.  The hostel is a bit more pricy then the typical.  I guess it’s worth it.  There’s free breakfast and pizza parties at night.  Woohoo?

My shower was refreshing.  I’ve yet to meet a shower head with low pressure.  This one blasted even the most pester-some dirt off.  Off to my pizza party...

I feel like I’m six again.

I’ve never been verbally assaulted in such a plethora of languages:

• “Ciao bay-be”
• “Hola mami”
• “Hi angel”
• “Buenacera mamacita”
• “Beautiful girls”

When in Rome-

I’ve let all my inhibitions go about being a tourist.  I even put my gigantic lens on my Nikon.  We woke up around 10 and after meticulously hiding our laptops in our luggage, we set out for a day on the town.  We purchased “hop-on, hop-off” bus tickets.  There are two lines that circle the city and you can come and go as you please.  It’s valid for two days and was worth the money.  I even donned the informational head phones.  We claimed our seats on the open air, upper deck and got off at the Colosseum.  Ay-chi-wow-wa.  What a sight!  

As we were meandering aimlessly, we were approached by a friendly face.  This girl was totally American.  I knew it before she opened her trap by her sun dress and Delta Phi monogramed aviators; sorority girl.  She was extremely friendly and asked us if we were planning to go into the colosseum.  Kelly and I both turned to each other.  We literally just stepped onto the property.  She was soliciting tours.  What an ingenious marketing ploy, she almost sold a salesman!  I kindly asked her where the nearest ATM was because I was more concerned about not having a single coin on me.  Wow, talk about doing your market research.  On the way back from the alleged ATM location (she misguided me,) we were approached by an attractive Australian man.  We both almost got sucked in but we were on our way.  We ended up not going in.  I had my super powered telescope lens on so I snapped some interior pictures through a gate.

Our next adventure was to the rear of us; the Roman Forum.  I have never had any previous interest in archaeology, but this was really cool.  The cornered off area was littered with about 20-30 people doing a dig.  They were sifting, digging, watering, and brushing.  I never would want to be an archaeologist, but it certainly would be an awesome experience to go on a dig for a few weeks.  The dig sight continued up this big hill that overlooked the colosseum and gardens.

Starvation and dehydration set in and we headed back down the hill.  As we were waiting for the bus, the Indian sales man asked me in Italian if I already had a ticket.  I’ve been doing extremely well managing this new found language but his accent totally threw me off.  I’ve been doing really well initiating conversation- but it’s the response that typically kills me.  For example, I’ll ask directions to a place but then I can’t comprehend what the reply is.

We got off in the neighborhood of Piazza Navona.  I really loved the comfort and quietness of Venice but I’m so happy to be back in the bustle of a city.  My nose lead us towards some cool fountains and lunch.  Our restaurant was in the middle of the square and a complete tourist trap.  They charged a service charge AND bread charge.  Hey, I guess one’s born every minute.  We immediately sucked down a litre of water and decided to order a litre of beer.  We didn’t quite know that litre translates to entire pitcher.  Here’s something totally disappointing.  When we go out to dinner, it usually takes us awhile to drink our wine.  We sip slowly and usually get into some pretty deep conversation.  Our shitty Carlsberg, we managed to suck it down relatively quickly and neither of us felt any side affects.  This means one of two things: 1. Our tolerance level is disgustingly high, or 2. They watered it down.  Our caprese salads were small and unfilling but the “beer” did the trick.

Sitting in this square was a great spot for people watching.  My favorite guy, upon first look, looked like a pirate.  He was wearing white flowly linen and black boots.  As he got closer, he was a jew!  Complete with curls and little prayer thing-a-ma-jig!  Lot’s of nuns and priests.  I was appropriately dressed today, so I didn’t receive any stares.  

We were in the neighborhood of the Pantheon so we decided to pay it a visit.  We stopped and got some crappy gelotti.  I had a strachiatelli and chocolate pepper combo.  The chocolate pepper was a deceptive little treat!  Upon first hitting my palate, it was a rich and bold chocolate.  Within 3 more bites, my mouth was on fire.  It was an interesting new flavor but I ended up tossing it out because it was too hot out to be sweating both externally and internally.  We turned the corner and found this building, the Pantheon.  It was swarmed with tourists, free, and neither of us were impressed.

We found our way back to the bus and were ready for the extended ride back to our 

‘palace.’  Somewhere in between sweat dripping down my legs and the Vatican, I passed out from exhaustion.  I awoke somewhere in the northern part of the city.  It was tree lined and beautiful.  The guided tour then took us through Rome’s 5th Avenue.  That’s on the agenda for tomorrow...

I was ready for a great nap once we got back to the hotel but I popped in my Angels in America DVD that I’ve been carrying around this whole trip.  We were totally sucked in and watched the whole first disk.  I read the play about a year ago and was totally enthralled.  I heard that HBO series was just as good.  My mom got it for me for christmas and I haven’t had the time to sit and watch.  Let me attempt to fill you in on the basic premises.  It’s about relationships and AIDS in the mid 80‘s.  There is a gay couple where one of them contracts AIDS.  He waits to tell his partner until he gets a few lesions.  The other couple, is a married Mormon couple.  The husband struggles with his dead end legal clerk job and the wife suffers from some neurological disease.  Husband seeks guidance from a pompous, prominent, and slimy New York City lawyer and politician - he’s gay too but closeted.  Lawyer also contracts AIDS and forces his doctor to tell the world that he has liver cancer in order to protect his “clout.”  The gay partner who is unaffected battles with the decision whether or not to stay with him.   After a bloody episode, he brings him to the hospital and leaves him.  Healthy gay guy also works under Mr. Mormon who is struggling with his lifelong homosexual desires.  They get it on while the wife is hallucinating on Valium and Meryl Streep comes in somewhere to save the day.  Are you following?  Go buy it.  It’s really great, now on to disk two.  Too heavy for my Roman holiday?

I patiently waited for the 8:30 hour to arrive.  Free hostel pizza and the Italia world cup match versus Paraguay.  We headed down to the hostel bar.  Pizza was free, but served in plastic tubs.  It was cold, slightly stale, and didn’t fill me up.  We booked it to the nearest place that had a TV.  I thought it was a bit peculiar that Italy doesn’t have very many traditional sports bars.  Now I know- they don’t need them.  Every trattoria, ristorante, and “pub” parked their flat screens on the street for all to view.  We layed our eyes on a crowded little restaurant but there were no seats.  The waiter motioned for us to come over and mumbled something to the affect that there’s always room for two beautiful girls.  Holy shit, if I was a narcissist, my head would pop off with all this flattery.  It’s getting to be annoying.  We sat and sipped on our house wine.  The score was still 0-0 in the first half.  Italia was maintaining possession beautifully but could not capitalize.  By the time I got what I ordered, I had forgotten.  What I got was spaghetti some sort of delicious greasy red sauce and something to the effect of pork fat.  Not sure, but it was good.  I just had to disguise the little Babe’s within a heaping forkful of pasta.

Paraguay struck first off a retarded penalty.  Hold on, let me set the tone of the restaurant.  Imagine about 40 or so chairs and tables on a street, packed on a monday night.  There were umbrellas, and a partition which separated the street.  On lookers watched from their mopeds and scooters behind us with great care and passion.  It’s as if you were to put all the Yankee fans in the world in one concentrated area, mix them with Red Sox fans and have them rooting for the same team.  The vibrancy and sense of passion that these people omitted was incredible.  The sighs for missed balls and plays as well as the exuberance for one good pass was unlike no other.  There was not macho grunting like American football.  The athletes were acrobatic in their dramatic falls and athleticism.  Even the most in shape person was envious.  Italia’s version of Gerard Butler struck back from a corner kick from #7 Pepe.  These two were insignificant to the grace and charisma of #3.  This left center is the object of my affection.  Since I’ve accepted my new sell out self, I will be purchasing a blue Italia shirt with this heart throb’s name on it.  I feel like I’m 10 again.  I wore my Derek Jeter shirt everyday in the third grade.  I even continued to wear it once it had holes in the arm pits.  My more adult fantasies are focused to Francisco Cervilli.  My best friend Samantha just started a job at MLB network television, I hope she can make dreams come true for me and my catcher.

We called it an early night - again.  I don’t know what’s wrong with me.  Party Kim must have died when she fell in the canal.  I have no energy to go out and experience Rome’s night life.  Hopefully tonight will be different.

Agenda today:

Vatican City and Rome’s 5th Ave.