Instead of bagels and lox

It’s Sunday afternoon. The sky is blue, the sun is shining and it’s time for Romans to to go out walking with family and friends. We‘ve arranged to meet a new friend, Christine, an Australian woman who’s worked here some 20 years and lives just across the bridge near the Campo dei Fuori. Her apartment, on the second floor of an old palazzo, is charming with beamed ceilings, tiled floors and windows overlooking a sunny, plant filled courtyard. The rooms are filled with books and art and artifacts from her travels as well as a huge fat cat, the usual companion of single women in Rome.

One of Christina’s many jobs is preparing podcasts about important Roman sights so she is full of arcane information about the city. With her leading the way we head to the Piazza Navona, awash with pedestrians and bikers, and then on to the Pantheon where our job is to listen and critique her latest lecture. Despite the crowds of smartly dressed Italians, often in furs, and foreign students dressed in the universal uniform of jeans and sneakers, we are once again impressed by the majestic simplicity and age of the building. And now, thanks to Christine’s research, I can tell you anything you ever wanted to know about the Pantheon.

Afterwards, it’s time for Sunday lunch, an important event on the Roman calendar. Christine takes us to a tiny restaurant specializing in fresh fish. Tables are crowded with multi-generations of Roman families—squalling babies to doddering grandparents. The family behind us has even brought the dog—a tiny, hairless thing with big brown eyes. It sits on its owner’s lap, perfectly behaved, and is fed bits and pieces from the table.

We start off our lunch by sharing a plate of assorted crudo, the Italian version of sushi followed by pasta with seafood and the requisite bottle of wine. Then, it’s a slow walk back to Trastevere so Steve can watch some of the All Star hoopla on Sky TV and I can read a book.