The Ups and Downs of Rome

Things were going so well. On the first day of my holiday I was having fun seeing some of the lesser known sights of Rome:

An ancient Roman contemplating a large ice cream…

A 'living statue' of Tutankhamun assembling himself…

…and even when posed, what with all that gold plastic not likely to fool anyone. And what is Tutankhamun doing in Rome anyway?

A felt chicken…

A stray cat in the ruins where Julius Caesar is supposed to have been assassinated.

I couldn't resist him as he was the spitting image of my dear old cat Theo who, whenever he was on top of a wall, would roll over to have his stomach tickled and fall off. And he couldn't catch mice but once he proudly brought a jam sandwich to lay at my feet…

This striking sculpture which I later found out was of the poet Carlo Alberto Salustri who wrote under the pen-name Trilussa.

I'd never heard of him but one of his poems was carved on the plaque:

It's written in Romanesco, the dialect of Rome and a friend has since translated it for me as:

     While I read my newspaper

     lounging in the shade of a hay-rick

    I see a pig and I say to him, 'Goodbye, pig!'

    I see a donkey and I say to him, 'Goodbye, ass!'

 

    Maybe these animals don't understand me

   but at least I have the satisfaction

   of being able to call things what they are

   without fear of ending up in prison.

Salustri was a satirist and this was written in the nineteen twenties when the fascists were in power – a brave criticism of the ruling powers and their suppression of free speech.

 

And finally in my sight-seeing I came across this large stone foot:

 

Which I should have taken as an omen because, on the second day of the holiday, five minutes after arriving at the Colosseum, my friend fell over…and couldn't get up again.

There followed an exit by stretcher from the amphitheatre, a spectacle enjoyed by all the tourists queuing to get in, but not by my embarrassed friend; a ride in an ambulance with flashing blue light and siren; a long wait in whatever is the Italian equivalent of A& E…and the result?

A broken ankle…

…and the end of our holiday.

Eventually we were 'repatriated' – a complicated business involving a nurse, a wheelchair, a flight to an airport miles away from the one we set off from, more rides in ambulances…but we made it.

So here I am home earlier than expected. Sadly, we didn't get to see Umbria or hear any of the lovely music. And I didn't Generic pharmacy even have one ice cream.