How To Rome The Onstad Way

Rome.

Arisen, eyes ringed red

Displeased but not abusive WhatsApp

Sent to rental manager

Massimo will check the A/C

While you are out

Maybe make a video

Of the controls

No video was made

Owing in perhaps equal parts to my day-slaying outfit (vintage 90s Italian designer polo shirt, green neck bandana, flat cap, unusual tennis shoes, dark sunglasses) and my don’t-try-me demeanor, an older Italian woman gave me a lovely gift this morning: she stopped me in the street and asked for directions, going on and on, in Italian. I scared her off with an apologetic mi dispiace that probably sounded to an Italian ear like Frankenstein’s monster choking on hot caramel, but her gesture could not be retracted, and my day picked up immensely.

We breakfasted on cappuccinos and croissants, then remembered we needed protein for the big walking day, and had a second breakfast of prosciutto and cheese panini at another place half a block further down. Eating every fifty feet is not a bad way to see the city.

The crowd in line for the Parthenon (what I can’t help but call the Pantheon) was about the size and shape of a football field, and plus we heard it was just more boring Catholic statues, so we went shopping instead. This is a trend I hope we continue, because frankly I’m a bit over ancient weathered things at this point. And statues? Sorry, seen one.

History Chasm Is Real

It has been difficult for me to have a connecting moment with all these ancient ruins. I need some kind of humanizing detail that bridges the gap of millennia. It could be period players in accurate garb, speaking ancient dialect, with faces and gestures identical to ours. It could be VR goggles showing the streets and buildings as they looked when in original use. It could be a smelly bowl of fish soup, served by a man in a shroud who looks like Nick Tortelli.

Here’s a trick I used to try and connect in any relevant way with all the two-thousand year-old pottery shards and crusty amphorae: I imagined a dirty fragment of an Oh No It’s Today painting, sitting in one of the glass cases, being observed by a human in the year 4024. They would see the signature and the edge of Roast Beef’s mouth, and then numbly shuffle off to the next exhibit: a thermostat interface which could not be used by anyone other than the person who designed it, and whom I hope will still be choking on the greasy, telescoping boy penis of a hydraulic crane.

This trick didn’t really work, and it made me sad.

Shopping in Rome

We saw a cool jacket in a severe-looking boutique window, compelling enough to warrant a trip inside.

“This is either going to be $150, or $1,500,” I said to Lauren, sotto voce.

The severe, natty older gentleman attending the store received but did not acknowledge my understated nod. (“Now that’s some Italy shit, right there,” I thought to myself.) I walked over to the rack where the coat I wanted hung. I examined its details before looking at the price, in the manner of a man who can afford things.

Satisfied that the garment and I shared sufficient affinity, I fished the tag out from within. My eyes grew confused as the amount of numbers on the price line seemed to go on and on, maybe even around the back. After letting things settle for a moment, I realized that the jacket was €5,990, which is about $6,700, or the same price as a first-class ticket back to the chump factory I call my house.

It’s been a while since I realized I was on public display in full hillbilly mode, so I did the correct thing, and left the store with the same coldly unreceived nod I had delivered upon entry. Then I texted several friends and family back home about the crazy price, and we all agreed it was so crazy, and dumb.

There was more to the first day, but that will come subsequenly. This has gone on quite long.