|If you go to St. Peters, exit the piazza to the left as you're looking at the church. Turn right at the end of the wall and look for the Italian Ice stand about 50 meters ahead, a permanent fixture with a long line of locals there every night. They're not there for the social scene alone. The real fruit and syrup ices are amazing. We went back for more, very sad that we'd found them only on our last day.|
|On the other hand, if youre looking for something warm exit the piazza to the right. About two or three blocks down on the left in the basement of a building is a 24 hour bakery. Its a tiny places jammed full of just about any baked delight you could desire mini-pizzas and sandwiches, cookies, pastries, candies, everything. In my trips to Roma (Rome) I sampled it all and it was all delicious. But be nice to the grumpy man behind the counter. No matter what time of day Ive been in the place breakfast, lunch, dinner, midnight snack, 4 AM drunken munchies, the same guy was there. We couldnt figure out when he slept, which probably explains his mood.|
If youre looking for
a tasty, cheap lunch hit a pizza stand somewhere off the beaten path.
In Roma pizza is often cooked in long, almost rectangular sheets. In the
mornings the cooks go to the market and whatever looks good that day is
what goes on the pizzas that afternoon. At my favorite parlor they usually
had a dozen or so pizzas to choose from, with toppings including spinach,
pepperoni, sausage, fresh mozzarella, basil, garlic, fresh tomato, potato,
just about anything. Its good stuff.
After trying my best "Hello there" stare for 6 days I finally got my first double-take. Rumor had it back home that Italiano women were difficult to pick up. I couldnt even get a wave out of them thus far. I suspected the woman that finally noticed me was a tourist, though I was taken by such surprise that I didn't even get the chance to confirm. I just stood there with my mouth open as she turned and walked away.
That evening we retired to the hotel, weary from walking more hours in a couple days than Ive walked cumulatively in my entire life. I discovered my roommate, John, had a girlfriend on the trip and he spends much of his time in her room. Im envious and wonder what her roommates are doing with the extra body in the room. I have a vivid imagination and I already hate him for the adventures I imagine hes having.
I headed down
to Heathers room and found her wiped out. She had some tendonitis
in her legs and was generally sore all over from the excessive hiking
wed been doing. I offered to massage her feet and legs and she jumped
at the offer. I got the lotion and started rubbing. Her roommate was piddling
about getting ready to go out or something but I hardly noticed her. Heathers
groans of appreciation drowned out all other sensory input. I could feel
that same rage I felt on the boat in the bay of Napoli, that feeling
that I could walk through a biker bar and kill every last one of them
and walk out, covered in blood and none of it my own, the same feeling
the Vikings felt when they got low on food or women and went about raping
The tension I hadnt even realized had built up in my shoulders slowly faded and I couldnt stop the smile spreading on my face.
That’s the end of Act 1. You should head to the lobby, have a glass of wine and some light conversation with the other patrons about what might be next, or what a loser our hero is, or how nicely the beautiful backgrounds and sets contrast against the action on stage.
Time for a little
Manic Depression by Jimi Hendrix, from Are You Experienced?
Manic depression is touchin' my soul
I know what I what but I just don't know
how to, heh, go about gettin' it
Feeling, sweet feeling,
drops from my fingers, fingers
Manic depression is a-catchin' my soul...yeah
Woman so weary, the sweet cause in vain
You make love, you break love
its-a all the same
when its, when its over, mama
Music, sweet music,
I wish I could caress, caress, caress
Manic depression is a frustrating mess
Cry on, guitar
Well, I think I'll go turn myself off,
and-a, uh-huh, go on down
All the way down
Really ain't no use in me hanging around
in, uh-huh, your kind-a scene
Music, sweet music
I wish I could caress, and-a kiss, kiss
Manic depression is a fustratin' mess
Music, sweet music, sweet music, sweet music, ah
music, sweet music, sweet music, yeah
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cannot be used without our permission. We have lawyers for friends
with nothing better to do than cause trouble (no kidding), so play
nice. Copyright © 2002, All Rights Reserved
All original content on this site is owned by Degenerate Press and cannot be used without our permission. We have lawyers for friends with nothing better to do than cause trouble (no kidding), so play nice. Copyright © 2002, All Rights Reserved