Sunday 20111016. Slept like a stone, in one position. I think a sliver of light and the increased volume of city traffic and motobikes woke me Sleep as drug, it took time to shake the heaviness. After a very slow wash brush and dress, I went down to breakfast in a formal room that was paradoxically bright and intimate, with sparkling surfaces of mirrors, silverware and paned glass, lush with velvet upholstered armchairs and dense linen table cloths. The maitre d' gave me what I'm now taking as the Roman once over, an appraisal from my unpedicured toe that shrank in it's sandal to my too red for breakfast lipstick. The appraisal literally involves moving the head and eyes from the feet to the head, illustrating with no apologies the art of "being sized up" (no, not for a coffin, more like a credit check on style, elegance, money). But if that's the price of a marble bathroom, and all the time needed to people watch what was mostly an Italian clientele, then I'm buying. My guide book said something about clothing as an illustration of wealth, and the Italian propensity for conformity. Ack!
Today was about walking around the immediate area; the Spanish steps, villa Medici, the Trevi fountain, People's Place and via Condotti. The weather wasperfect, cool dry and sunny. So I walked up a hill, and down, and up stairs, and down. My heart hurt I'm so out of shape. I ambled blindly, without a map for a couple of hours, just to observe, window shop. I would stop in a cafe, order aqua minerale, and watch some more. I finally broke down and bought a map with the treasure coins Clive gave me. They were really intended for use in automated machines, because they're so pitted from sea water, but after yesterday's ripoff I have no embarrassment in using them with people. Of course map guy wanted to reject them, but a euro is a euro apparently. But not pretty, which is an Italian value. Daniela, at work, used to have a phrase to describe this value, something like "pretty for pretty's sake".
With a map in hand I finally knew how to get back to the hotel. Relief. Actually I didn't need any relief, somewhere between perspiring, walking and drinking, there was no need for the facilities. And anyone who knows me, knows that I like a wc close by at all times, and will avail myself often. But apparently that's only a north American thing, along with 24oz gulpies (no, i don't drink them!). So I walked some more, down those impossibly narrow streets, clinging to a small sliver of sidewalk when the big Smart car drove by. Real people live in these neighborhoods, walking dogs and carrying newspapers. The dogs I've seen are "pretty". No Mexican hairless breeds here, and they've mostly been purebreds; lots of boston terriers, jack russells, two long tail long earred boxers, a tall and lanky bloodhound, a Doberman, labs brown and yellow, a stiff old and grizzled golden retriever. I find it surprising that where there isn't a blade of grass that I could see that there were still dogs, and big ones at that, with mostly the bits still attached. How latin! I missed Edgar.
Stephanie would have gone mad with retail fever on via Condotti! Prada, Hermes, ?Burberry, every name that apparently this morning's matre d' thinks I should know was there. The window dressing was a treat in itself; minked and gilded, handbeaded and thick with luxe. The Italians really do dress beautifully. Men in fabulous suits, the little old lady with the short wool jacket discreetly trimmed wearing flowing palazzo pants bouncing a perfectly cut straight white haired bob, the young girls in tight short sweater dresses with over the knee puss'n boots. Scarves on everyone, wrapped and draped, limp with Colour or precise with architectural detail.
On my way back to the hotel, or lunch, i tripped on some paving stones. I think I've sprained my ankle. I initially was able to hobble off, working out the kink I thought. I stopped for some lunch, and when I got up I couldn't support my weight. I hopped and dragged myself as dignifiedly as I could back to the hotel, which was around the corner. In the past couple of hours, hot and cold compressions later, it's swollen and I can't walk on it. I'm really regretting not having had a pedicure before I left Toronto.
More tomorrow.
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