(Not Much) Labor Day

"Labor" Day in the U.S.A.; for us in Italia, not so much where lavoro is an impolite word.

It is a good thing that I do this, as possible, daily.  As it turns out , I'm typing this up at a day's remove and were it not for the photos I probably couldn't remember what happened as a result of the incredible variety of life here and Alzheimer's. I am pleased to say that I got a note of complaint about this delay which is rather nice.

"Prayer bags" that Nancy has completed in Rome

So much for the pleasantries,  what happened? As I recall I got up early and went to the cafe in my swimming trunks, functioning in lieu of a bathrobe. On the way back I met Nancy on the way out to meet me. We traded places in the cafe and I met her there in a bit having cleaned up and transformed the outer crust into a vision of grandeur somewhat in contrast to the lime green trunks.

A window at Sant' Agata dei Goti

The courtyard thereof 

We charted out an extensive walk and got about a hundred yards into it when a church, Sant' Agata dei Goti (Saint Agatha of the Goths, i.e. Germans) up a side street caught our eye.  This was a quite peaceful and "normal" parish church, i.e. one passed over by The Great Art Treasures of Europe. Very pleasant and quiet, we spent a few moments in contemplation and left.

In the neighborhood, the courtyard of the University's School of Urban Design.

In the neighborhood, a shop to repair brass musical instruments

Views of the forums et al. from the street

After this Nancy returned to the room but I went on to pursue the original course.  It was my recollection that you got a pretty good view of the forums from the Via dei Fori Imperiali just a few blocks behind our apartment. While this started out pretty good, construction on Metro line "C" had twelve foot high plywood walls along the street and the few things left visible swathed in protective struts and bands.  And the swarms of tourists.  Back up the hill on the Metro.

After this we really did little until dinner time.  As usual we had grandiose ambitions until it became time to actually put them in train at which point local, easily reached, restaurants had unchallengeable appeal.  This actually worked in our favor as the restaurant that drew the short straw, as recommended by the landlady, turned out to be very good. We got chatting with a neighboring couple from the U.K (although originally from South Africa) and enjoyed ourselves so much that we invited them to join us at the piazza for a final cafe.

They were staying near the Vatican, a pretty good hike away, and were prepared to hoof it back when we pointed out the readily available Metro.  After some talk we convinced them and even escorted them to the station.  Where the station was closed.  And guarded by Army personnel carrying fully automatic weapons. These latter I gather were simply because they would have otherwise be standing inside giving us a false sense of security but since the line segment was closed for maintenance they had to stand somewhere.  We convinced, I think, our friends that they would still do better simply walking up the hill to Termini rather than trying to walk back to the Vatican.

So with a cheery farewell Nancy and I went on to have an ungodly good gelato combination, melone e limone.

And to bed.