June 9th from Nice to Rome

The trains in Europe are well organized.  The cars and the seats are numbered both inside and outside.  On the platform a display shows where each care is aligned on the platform:  We went to area W for car numbered 17.  The train was on time.  It had little compartments on the land side, not on the sea side.  This train to Italy runs along the Riviera and is a good ride because of the scenery:  the sea on the right, hills and mountains on the left.

Steep Riviera hillside

Occasionally tunnels cut the route through peninsulas. The area is densely populated along most of the way. Two Russians chatted with us on the way from Nice to their daytrip destination, San Remo.

The approach to the Genoa station where we were to change trains goes through a very extensive port area - not very pretty but certainly different from the earlier scenery.  We had a two-hour layover in Genova . . . after I fell when I left the first train.  A station attendant and two woman rushed to make sure I was okay.  And I was, other than having dirt on my trousers and embarrassment on my face.  The waiting room was air-conditioned, a good thing because Genoa was very hot.  The station entry has Roman temple features:  columns, pediment, white stone.

Facade of Genoa's train station.

Inside we talked with an information agent (with difficulty because of our language deficiencies) about Nice-Genoa-Rome vs. Nice-Milan-Rome.  He explained that Milan is farther to the northeast than Genoa, but it does have a TGV to Rome.  But that entire trip is longer than the one we chose.

The Genoa-to-Rome train passes through a very large stone-cutting area.  We passed many stoneyards with huge rectangular blocks, and some that were cut into thin slices (perhaps for the facing of buildings, or stairsteps, or piazzas and patios?)  There was white stone, red-pink stone, black-dark grey stone.
We also passed many hayfields that were recently cut and full of hay rolls, like the ones we see in Virginia but smaller.  I didn't see pastureland with cows or sheep or horses  . . . well, one or two farms with horses.  But they looked to be riding horses.  Neither did I see mules or donkeys.  And no sign of a hog-pen.

Two Candians joined our cabin from Pisa to Rome and told us scary tales of how dirty Rome is, full of graffiti, and gave us warnings about thieves, pickpockets, and gypsies, especially near the train station, called, appropriately, Termini.

So we were apprehensive on exiting the train, and being after 8:00 pm, night was coming on soon.  Joe insisted that he knew what he was doing from his 1964 visit.  It was very odd:  all of the exits from this enormous station were closed except for one.  The huge crowd had to slowly funnel through it.  I was nervous the whole time, and wanted to stop and get my bearings.  Joe wanted to plow forward to avoid the rumored pickpockets and gypsies.  He prevailed.  We shuffled toward and then through the one exit.  There were cops everywhere (polizia and carabinieri).  The reason:  President Bush had been in Rome for the day and there had been a huge anti-Bush demonstration (what French and Italians both call a "manifestation").  But why did the cops want to scan the people who were leaving the Termini?  We'd all been somewhere else. 

Note the police buses on the left side of the plaza.

Outside the station is a huge area for buses and taxis, but it was completely empty.  Not allowed.  Joe set off walking straight away from the station.  We soon flagged a taxi and learned that the Corso Vittorio Emanuele was closed, blocked off because of the demonstrations.  We rode as far as the large monument to Victor Emmanuel, thanked and paid the driver, took some photos of the cops standing around, and hauled my rolling suitcase over the very bumpy cobblestone streets, got lost, went here and there and, it seemed, everywhere.  Finally between my figuring out the map and Joe getting direction from a passerby, we arrived at the Hotel Pomezia.  And I had a large meltdown, crying that I hate Rome, I hate the dark streets and the crowds and the hotel without air conditioning.  But Joe saved the night - - he asked the desk clerk and learned how to se the air condition.  My hero!

Hotel Campo Dei Fiore

So it's a little late to be wandering out in the scary city full of thieves, pickpockets, and gypsies, maybe 9 pm --  But there were plenty of police, and so we went out to find the Campo dei Fiore.  Joe was so happy to find the Hotel of that name where he'd stayed 43 years before.  However, it had been sold and the new owner had renovated it, and so it looked a little different. 

Still, we went up to the roof terrace for a great view over the evening sky of Rome and all of its domes and church towers.  It was a great view, but soon my old nasty fear of heights came on, so I had leave. 

On to the Piazza Farnese, and we found Camponeschi Ristorante.  That was for Joe Camponeschi who works in my office - - some far distant cousins own it.  It's a very nice looking, classy place, not a cafe or bistro or tavola calda. I talked with an elderly, well-dressed, well-groomed man, the maitre-d' or owner, I don't know.  When he found out I had no reservation, he wordlessly turned and slowly walked away.  Still I took a photo of the entrance for my colleague. 

This large piazza is very lovely.  Two large basins that catch the waters of the fountains were taken from the Caracalla Baths.  They do resemble giant bathtubs.  The Palazzo Farnese is now the French embassy.  It's a graceful three-story Renaissance building along one of the long sides of the piazza, painted yellow, with a heavy cornice.  And in the corner between the Palazzo and the Camponeschi were parked three buses marked "Polizia", being loaded up with cops who were obviously happy to go off duty.

Palazzo Farnese, now the French Embassy