With only two days remaining in Italy before our departing flight to Bulgaria, we opted to make brief one-day visits to Genoa, the hometown of Christopher Columbus, and Rome. A three-hour plus train ride from Florence conveyed us past the stunning cliffs of Cinque Terra and the inviting beaches of the Italian Riviera before concluding in Italy’s northwestern city of Genoa. A crowded local bus ride from the Brignole railway station eventually delivered us to our upwardly-aspiring business hotel on the eastern outskirts of the city.
We unceremoniously dropped off our luggage before catching the same local bus back to the city center. We soon alighted on Via XX Septembre where Kaberi excitedly located the red neon sign of H&M peaking out from behind Piazza de Ferrari. While Vik waited patiently, Kaberi replenished her threadbare wardrobe with much needed lightweight wear. From the store, we began a leisurely meandering of the narrow streets and alleys near the old port, content to happenstance upon a number of prominent churches (conspicuously marking the territory borders of long ago ruling clans).
After strolling briskly through the underwhelming port area and seedy nearby red light district, we finally managed to locate a Rough Guide-recommended dinner spot. The complementary glass of sparkling white wine offered as soon as we were seated served as a harbinger of the excellent meal to come, though we were both slightly disappointed to learn that there were three sister locations in Manhattan. Upon finishing our dinner, we weaved our way through the cobweb of streets before catching the bus back to our hotel. Although Genoa, with its charming Baroque edifices and seaside nooks, easily warranted a longer visit, our one-day visit at least gave us an introductory appreciation of the city’s offerings.
The next morning, after harried transfers involving three separate buses, we arrived at Genoa airport for a scheduled morning flight to Rome. While waiting in the departure lounge, we caught a brief example of the famed Italian indulgence of one of its youngest native sons. We witnessed a tantrum – involving wailing, punchthrowing and carpetclinging – that would have made John McEnroe blush. As punishment for his indiscretions, the peacedisturber in question received separate affectionate embraces from each of his parents.
Upon arriving in Rome, we hopped on the Leonardo Express train to Termini station before walking a few blocks north to our boutique hotel. After settling in, we walked down the block to Via Veneto, the street immortalized by Fellini in La Dolce Vita. Continuing on, we arrived first at the Spanish Steps which offering distant views of St. Peter’s Basilica and then Trevi fountain where we congregated near the pools with 20,000 of our closest American friends. With a few short afternoon hours to see Rome in all of its glory, we briefly contemplated boarding one of the city’s conspicuous double-decker tourist buses before deciding otherwise.
In the evening, we dined with Vik’s Stanford friend Antonio at Al Moro, a restaurant of his choosing situated near Trevi fountain. Antonio ordered for us a number of house specialties accompanied by a red wine from Campagna, his native region of Italy. With the benefit of local market knowledge, we enjoyed spectacular and flavorful dishes that would have ordinarily eluded our reach. Vik and Antonio caught up on life in general, shared news of several classmates and reminisced about past Stanford antics (Antonio promised to e-mail Kaberi a Halloween picture showing her husband and Antonio as part of a group of five men dressed as “unofficial” Stanford cheerleaders; Vik still holds out hope that the picture has been irretrievably misplaced).
The next morning, rejuvenated and in good spirits, we caught a cab to Ciampino airport for our early afternoon flight to Sofia, Bulgaria. Finding a second straight day of brilliant blue skies, we lamented our decision not to board one of the tourist buses the day before. To Kaberi, in particular, it seemed a shame that Vik had seen so little of Rome. As if on cue, our taxi driver took a scenic route that brought us alongside the Colosseum and Roman ruins. Hardly able to contain our enthusiasm, we struggled to keep up with the sights speeding past one window or another. As the city landmarks finally faded from view, Vik flashed a grin and declared that he had just seen Rome at exactly the right speed.
Thursday, July 12, 2007
La Dolce Vita
With only two days remaining in Italy before our departing flight to Bulgaria, we opted to make brief one-day visits to Genoa, the hometown of Christopher Columbus, and Rome. A three-hour plus train ride from Florence conveyed us past the stunning cliffs of Cinque Terra and the inviting beaches of the Italian Riviera before concluding in Italy’s northwestern city of Genoa. A crowded local bus ride from the Brignole railway station eventually delivered us to our upwardly-aspiring business hotel on the eastern outskirts of the city.
We unceremoniously dropped off our luggage before catching the same local bus back to the city center. We soon alighted on Via XX Septembre where Kaberi excitedly located the red neon sign of H&M peaking out from behind Piazza de Ferrari. While Vik waited patiently, Kaberi replenished her threadbare wardrobe with much needed lightweight wear. From the store, we began a leisurely meandering of the narrow streets and alleys near the old port, content to happenstance upon a number of prominent churches (conspicuously marking the territory borders of long ago ruling clans).
After strolling briskly through the underwhelming port area and seedy nearby red light district, we finally managed to locate a Rough Guide-recommended dinner spot. The complementary glass of sparkling white wine offered as soon as we were seated served as a harbinger of the excellent meal to come, though we were both slightly disappointed to learn that there were three sister locations in Manhattan. Upon finishing our dinner, we weaved our way through the cobweb of streets before catching the bus back to our hotel. Although Genoa, with its charming Baroque edifices and seaside nooks, easily warranted a longer visit, our one-day visit at least gave us an introductory appreciation of the city’s offerings.
The next morning, after harried transfers involving three separate buses, we arrived at Genoa airport for a scheduled morning flight to Rome. While waiting in the departure lounge, we caught a brief example of the famed Italian indulgence of one of its youngest native sons. We witnessed a tantrum – involving wailing, punchthrowing and carpetclinging – that would have made John McEnroe blush. As punishment for his indiscretions, the peacedisturber in question received separate affectionate embraces from each of his parents.
Upon arriving in Rome, we hopped on the Leonardo Express train to Termini station before walking a few blocks north to our boutique hotel. After settling in, we walked down the block to Via Veneto, the street immortalized by Fellini in La Dolce Vita. Continuing on, we arrived first at the Spanish Steps which offering distant views of St. Peter’s Basilica and then Trevi fountain where we congregated near the pools with 20,000 of our closest American friends. With a few short afternoon hours to see Rome in all of its glory, we briefly contemplated boarding one of the city’s conspicuous double-decker tourist buses before deciding otherwise.
In the evening, we dined with Vik’s Stanford friend Antonio at Al Moro, a restaurant of his choosing situated near Trevi fountain. Antonio ordered for us a number of house specialties accompanied by a red wine from Campagna, his native region of Italy. With the benefit of local market knowledge, we enjoyed spectacular and flavorful dishes that would have ordinarily eluded our reach. Vik and Antonio caught up on life in general, shared news of several classmates and reminisced about past Stanford antics (Antonio promised to e-mail Kaberi a Halloween picture showing her husband and Antonio as part of a group of five men dressed as “unofficial” Stanford cheerleaders; Vik still holds out hope that the picture has been irretrievably misplaced).
The next morning, rejuvenated and in good spirits, we caught a cab to Ciampino airport for our early afternoon flight to Sofia, Bulgaria. Finding a second straight day of brilliant blue skies, we lamented our decision not to board one of the tourist buses the day before. To Kaberi, in particular, it seemed a shame that Vik had seen so little of Rome. As if on cue, our taxi driver took a scenic route that brought us alongside the Colosseum and Roman ruins. Hardly able to contain our enthusiasm, we struggled to keep up with the sights speeding past one window or another. As the city landmarks finally faded from view, Vik flashed a grin and declared that he had just seen Rome at exactly the right speed.
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