of roman weekends
Jun. 3rd, 2002 03:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fictionalso, after late night phone conversations on friday evening, i finally fell asleep at about six thirty in the morning. i was awakened by someone shaking me. at nine am. i had forgotten of course, that we were going to wake up early and go to the beach. at that moment, i really just wanted to put pillows over my head and descend back into snoreland, but mindful of wasted time in italy, i struggled out of bed. after a tram ride
(no. 8 to Trastevere, no. 3 to Piramide (a medium sized pyramid surrounded by apt. buildings) ) , and then a train ride from Roma to Lido Centro, we were told the beach would be right in front of us. in point of fact, it was actually a sizeable walk, during which we only got lost twice.
after paying 3€ to get onto the private beach (the public ones were unbelievably crowded), i had my first glimpse of the Mediterranean. It is blue-green and incredibly flat. not a wave in sight. no surfers here. the water was warm bathwater on top, as i'd expected, but only a little deeper, it got pretty chilly. the beach was rocky, and the vendors trod up and down it, hawking amond other things silver jewelery decorated with american flags. they were dressed in long sleeved sweatshirts, and long pants, leading me to wonder how it was that they did not die of heat prostration. i picked daisies from the waters edge, wondering how flowers manage to flourish here amidst the salt.
after returning from the beach, i thought i might simply fall asleep, but instead i was convinced to go party in Testacchio, the big clubbing district. we walked down the sketchy alley of the universe to get there, and i saw among others an italian goth club, blaring depeche mode, and a warehouse where they throw raves (i might attend one next weekend, it's free) and a ska place. we ended up in a place called El Charro, of which the guidebook had to say, "So, you wanted to end up in Tijuana, but got stuck in Rome, well, weep no more, just go to the Charro". There were posters of popes wearing sombreros, and the dj would pour tequila into our mouths as we danced by in the "worm" (a haphazard congo line). we danced all night long and closed the place out. i'm still really sore. italian men rubbed up against us, skeezy style, and we would rescue each other with clever dance moves.
i slept all day sunday, and then woke up, still groggy and we headed out to an arabic hookah bar, and ate rice pudding and drank mint tea and mango juice. everything in there was blue ceramic and there were low chairs next to little fountains. the tobacco was strawberry flavored and tasted to me like the fake fruit scented air fresheners that adorn the gypsy cabs in new york.
i slept like the dead last night, and will probably do so again shortly.a
(no. 8 to Trastevere, no. 3 to Piramide (a medium sized pyramid surrounded by apt. buildings) ) , and then a train ride from Roma to Lido Centro, we were told the beach would be right in front of us. in point of fact, it was actually a sizeable walk, during which we only got lost twice.
after paying 3€ to get onto the private beach (the public ones were unbelievably crowded), i had my first glimpse of the Mediterranean. It is blue-green and incredibly flat. not a wave in sight. no surfers here. the water was warm bathwater on top, as i'd expected, but only a little deeper, it got pretty chilly. the beach was rocky, and the vendors trod up and down it, hawking amond other things silver jewelery decorated with american flags. they were dressed in long sleeved sweatshirts, and long pants, leading me to wonder how it was that they did not die of heat prostration. i picked daisies from the waters edge, wondering how flowers manage to flourish here amidst the salt.
after returning from the beach, i thought i might simply fall asleep, but instead i was convinced to go party in Testacchio, the big clubbing district. we walked down the sketchy alley of the universe to get there, and i saw among others an italian goth club, blaring depeche mode, and a warehouse where they throw raves (i might attend one next weekend, it's free) and a ska place. we ended up in a place called El Charro, of which the guidebook had to say, "So, you wanted to end up in Tijuana, but got stuck in Rome, well, weep no more, just go to the Charro". There were posters of popes wearing sombreros, and the dj would pour tequila into our mouths as we danced by in the "worm" (a haphazard congo line). we danced all night long and closed the place out. i'm still really sore. italian men rubbed up against us, skeezy style, and we would rescue each other with clever dance moves.
i slept all day sunday, and then woke up, still groggy and we headed out to an arabic hookah bar, and ate rice pudding and drank mint tea and mango juice. everything in there was blue ceramic and there were low chairs next to little fountains. the tobacco was strawberry flavored and tasted to me like the fake fruit scented air fresheners that adorn the gypsy cabs in new york.
i slept like the dead last night, and will probably do so again shortly.a
