So near yet so far. Located in the community of Isola Sacra at the mouth of the Tiber (Tevere) river, Porto Romano is a mere stone's throw from Rome. OK, maybe 30 km is a bit more than a stone's throw, but it's still pretty close. And since Aisling was at the dock at the Yacht Club Tevere in Porto Romano for nearly three months beginning in early June, you might think we were able to spend lots of time exploring the Eternal City. Not so. There were two problems. The first was is that the Rome train system does not reach Isola Sacra, so getting into Rome involves either a 65 euro cab ride or a lengthy journey via the local buses, the schedule for which remains a deep mystery to us. The second problem was that Rick's mother became very ill shortly after we arrived in Porto Romano in June and we had to fly back to Nova Scotia earlier than planned. So our time in Porto Romano mainly involved packing and working on the boat, with occasional breaks to have a swim and a beer at the yacht club pool. Which wasn't so bad, really. The boat was also tied side-to at the dock, just steps away from the toilets, showers and laundry, so there was no need to climb up and down the anchor as we usually have to when we Med-moor. Until we got the news about Rick's mother being sick, it was kind of like being on vacation. At one point I commented that the Yacht Club Tevere was the nicest yacht club we've ever been in, although later I realized that it is actually no nicer than the Royal Nova Scotia Yacht Squadron, our old club in Halifax. It must be said that the food at the Yacht Club Tevere is far better, but the camaraderie at steak night at the Squadron is hard to beat.
You'd probably like me to get to the point. The point is that when we arrived back at Porto Romano at the end of August, we were highly motivated to spend some time in Rome. But we only had a few days before our contract at the yacht club would end and our daily rate would soar into painful territory. So we booked a room for a night at the Relais 6 near the Villa Borghese, and made reservations to see the Galleria Borghese.
Although up to now we'd not gotten around to writing a blog about Rome, we'd already been there twice during the past two years. Rick had even spent some time in Rome during this long-haired-hippy tour of Europe in a Volkswagen van back in the 70s. In spite of that, the experience of driving into Rome still knocked our socks off. Just as well, since even in September Rome is far too hot to be wearing socks.
During our first visit, in June 2012, we spent only a few hours in the historic centre. But we made good use of our time and managed to see a lot of the highlights, like the Spanish steps, the Pantheon, the Trevi fountain and the Vitorrio Emanuele monument. We even had a drive-by sighting of the coliseum on our way back to the train station, and had spaghetti carbonara at a sidewalk trattoria. The spaghetti carbonara was pretty bad, which I suppose was predictable given that we were deep in the heart of tourist territory.
In August 2012, we spent two nights and managed to see a bit more. We went inside the coliseum and did the full audio-guide tour. We visited the church of Santa Maria del Popolo, to see the two incredible paintings by Caravaggio, the Crucifixion of St. Peter and the Conversion of St. Paul. We spent a morning rubbing shoulders with the crowds at the Vatican museums and the Sistine Chapel . We stood for 45 minutes in the security line-up at St. Peter's Basilica, but seeing Michelangelo's Pieta made the wait worthwhile. We took photos of obelisks. We shopped. We found better restaurants. We drank good wine. It was hot. It was wonderful.
This time, we decide to focus on a few things we hadn't seen. We peruse our guidebooks over a pasta lunch and then jump on a bus that will take us across the river to Trastevere (not pronounced TrasteVERe as I had always thought, but instead TrasTEVere, meaning across the Tevere, the Italian name for the Tiber). There, we visit the church of St. Cecilia, apparently a favourite spot for weddings, although why anyone would choose to be married in front of an effigy showing a beautiful young woman with her head severed from her body is anyone's guess. Next, a walk through light rain to the church of Santa Maria in Trastavere, memorable to most people for it's beautiful mosaics but memorable to me as the place where I dropped one my guidebooks squarely on top of a pile of dog poop. Ugh. A gallant young backpacker retrieves it carefully for me. Luckily, I have an antiseptic wipe in my purse and no harm is done.
After some time spent simply wandering the streets of Trastevere, we walk over the Ponte Sisto to the Campo di Fiori. This large square, the name of which translates to "field of flowers" hosts a large market in the mornings and a lively bar scene in the evenings. In the middle of the Campo is a statue of Giordano Bruno, a monk who was burned at the stake for heresy here in 1600. A bit grim, but apparently it is now a rallying point for atheists and free-thinkers.
We wander around the corner trying to decide where to stop, and stumble across the French embassy, where a group of children are playing an impromptu game of soccer under the watchful gaze of the armed guards. We take some photos, and an elderly woman who is enjoying a drink and a cigarette at a bar facing the piazza strikes up a conversation? "You're French?" she asks (in French) and explains that the French government paid the Italian government 1 euro for the use of the place. In case we didn't understand, she repeats the story in Italian, but corrects herself. "Not a euro, a lira." A sweet deal.
We finally settle ourselves in a bar overlooking the Campo Fiori for an Aperol Spritz and a plate of antipasti from the "happy hour" buffet. We linger until dusk, then catch a bus back to our hotel. We have eaten too much to want dinner, but don't want to end the evening, so we head around the corner to a small funky bar where we have a glass of wine and eventually share a pizza.
Our reservation for the Galleria Borghese is for 9 a.m. the next morning. The villa, which was built by Cardinal Scipione Borghese (or Borgia) houses a large part of Cardinal Borghese's collection of stunning masterpieces. (Some of the collection is in the Louvre, having been purchased by France at below market price during the time of Napoleon Bonaparte.) We leave our hotel at 8.30 thinking we have allowed lots of time, but we have a long wait for the bus and don't arrive until the stroke of 9. Unfortunately, the museum does not even open its doors until 9, and everyone stands in the same line-up whether they have tickets or not. It's 9.30 before we finally get inside, and we have just lost half an hour of our 2-hour allocation.
We do manage to see everything, although we feel a bit rushed in the art gallery, where you are permitted only a half-hour visit. We have come mainly to see the six Caravaggio paintings (which are not in the art gallery but are housed in a separate room on the ground floor). In David with the Head of Goliath shown below, Caravaggio used his own face for the face of Goliath. He was doubtless feeling disturbed at the time that he painted it, since he was on the run after killing a man in a street fight.
But the highlight turns out to be the Bernini sculptures, especially the Apollo and Daphne, which is unforgettable.
In spite of the delay in getting through the doors (which surely the museum is partly responsible for) everyone is told to leave at 10 minutes before 11. One Italian woman is furious and makes her feelings known very vocally. The guard, in turn becomes indignant and shouts "Basta!" (Enough!) But we leave feeling that we have gotten our money's worth, and pleased that we were permitted to take photos, which is unusual.
We walk through the park to the Piazza del Popolo and then shop our way down Via del Corso to Via del Croce, where we have a delicious lunch at Fiaschetteria: ravioli for Rick and steak slices drizzled with truffle oil on a bed of arugula for me. I think I'll try making that at home.
Our last stop is at the beautiful church of Santa Maria Maggiore, a peaceful place to sit quietly and contemplate life. A young nun is making her confession to an elderly priest at a confessional on a side wall and unusually, they are both in full view. What sins could she have compared to the rest of us, I wonder?
We arrive back at our hotel just on time to meet the taxi driver who will take us back to Porto Romano. In spite of the fact that this is our third visit, we have not even scratched the surface. We'll be back, I promise myself. And hopefully soon.
Cruisers Notes
Porto Romano is a beautiful yacht club, frequented mainly by wealthy Romans who own very large and expensive power boats. The club has an excellent but expensive restaurant. There is a well-run yard, where we had Aisling pulled from the water, the bottom pressure washed and put back in the water all within less than 2 hours. Very nice showers and washrooms. One washer and dryer, which seem to be rarely used but were in good working order in August 2014 (buy tokens from the office). Chandleries and Olympic Sails nearby. Bread, milk, cheese and deli items available at a small shop called Antici Sapori about 1.5 km walk away. Larger supermarkets at 2.5 km. There is a local bus to Ostia Antica, and from there it is possible to catch the train to Rome.