Shoe fetish

We haven’t had pasta in three days. When will we begin to experience withdrawal?

Anyway, tonight we vow to eat pasta again. Shall I have pasta con vongole, my favorite, or a cacio e pepe, the local specialty, or maybe I’ll go crazy and order a creamy risotto.

Yesterday I led Steve on another marathon walk across the river, past the Piazza Venezia and all the way up the Via Nazionale to the Piazza della Republica in order to see what remains of the Baths of Diocletian. What remains of a facility that could once accommodate 3,000 hedonists at one time isn’t much. In the mid 16th century, the vast main room was turned into a church with soaring, vaulted ceilings designed by Michelangelo. As with the Baths of Caracalla, most of the statues and wall decorations were removed by later popes and placed in their palaces for private ogling.

This afternoon, while Steve lazed on the terrazzo recovering from yesterday's excursion, I headed uptown again to the Palazzo Barberini which has just reopened after extensive restoration and boasts a collection of i capolavori of Italian art—Raphaello, Carvaggio, Bronzino, etc., etc. etc. There was hardly anyone there so I could feast my eyes on the incredible artwork without jostling for position.

I walked home through the Piazza di Spagna and, I must confess, I bought an amazing pair of shoes—veramente un altro capolavoro del arte italiano. This brings to a total three pair of shoes that I have purchased in the two and a half months I’ve been here—not a bad weekly average. But I make a silent but solemn oath not to even look at another pair of shoes for the four weeks I have left here.