It's humid and hot and I am immediately happy. Having lived so many years in dry climates, to me humidity says, "vacation," causing a perceptible shift towards relaxation.
But then we have to drag all of our stuff through the interminable termini station and down six blocks to the hotel. I wear my backpack and carry an extra bag of books while rolling my giant suitcase behind me. John wears his backpack, carries another bag of books, and rolls both his giant suitcase and our smaller shared suitcase. We look like people who don't know how to pack. We constantly tell anyone who will listen that we're here for months and that's why we have so much luggage. Nobody cares, but it makes us feel a bit less embarassed by our bulk. We want to start shedding stuff, but we've been warned that the Cotswalds might be cold already in October, so for now we still need to hold onto our sweaters and we travel with an entourage of baggage.
Rome was magnificent, as always. Coming down a small street into the Pantheon struck wonder, as it always does. Piazza Navona was full at 10:30 at night with street performers, vendors and people eating gelato. We passed a short traffic block (all the Italians standing outside their cars having a cigarette or arguing with the traffic cop) while the cross street was cleared for a motorcade- probably Berlesconi, we were told.
Strangely, John and I, both independently, felt a bit exhausted by it all: the noise, the traffic, the smog, the hustle and bustle. In our minds this was our year to get out of the City, and as much as we love Rome, it is, at the end, a City. So we will head to Passignano sul Trasimeno and see if we actually even like the small-town life.
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