Arriving in Rome

    Via Marianna Dionigi 43, Rome

Rome! What can I say that has not been said before.

I'm on the train to Paris today, Saturday 24th June, and so have a few hours to reflect on the last four days in that ancient city.

My first impressions when coming on a bus from the airport to the central station, the Roma Termini, were somewhat mixed. 

Splashes of colour from roadside Oleander bushes promised Mediterranean gardens; weedy public spaces and graffiti promised something else.

The images one sees of Rome, naturally enough, show only its ancient beauty but, like every city, it has its less salubrious side, so my introduction to Rome was not as heart-stopping as I would have liked.

From the station I made my way to the Sightseeing Bus and jumped aboard to travel to Stop 6 beside the River Tiber, near my accommodation.

As the bus proceeded along its well-worn route the Rome of photo, film and reputation started to appear. The graffiti receded and history came to life. The Colosseum appeared, the Circus Maximus site of Roman chariot races and used, so my head set says, during the filming of Ben-Hur. We passed the ruins of the site where Julius Caesar was killed and to the right, the Pantheon came into view. This is the Rome that I've come to see

I left the bus at Stop 6 and crossed the river at the Ponte Umberto following Google maps into a warren of narrow streets and tall buildings until I came to my accommodation address, a truly wonderful wooden door, two doors in fact, with large brass studs and handles, and a key-code pad. What? What key code?

I rang the number on the booking and discover that a What's App message has been sent while I was flying through the air yesterday telling me the key-code. Right, what is it please, as that message hasn't reached my new phone number.

I keyed in the code and the bottom half of one of the enormous doors swung open into a marble-floored hall that led to an ancient and tiny elevator, all polished wood, brass fittings and glass panels. At the third floor I opened the two interior doors of the lift followed by the outer mesh one and squeezed out sideways with my bags. A sign says to be sure to shut the doors or no one else will be able to call it.

Running beside and around the lift is an impressive marble staircase with landings on and between each floor. I wonder who once lived in this elegant old building with its stone walls and window shutters, its little (and now neglected) courtyard on the ground floor and its heavy wooden doors on each floor, one of which I pushed open with great relief and found the housekeeper/cleaner. She spoke enough English to give me my room key and mention that I needed to pay the city tax of twenty-eight Euros for four nights for myself and Jo who was due to arrive on the train from Ravenna later in the afternoon.

What a relief to be here after twenty-four hours of travel. I kicked off my shoes and collapsed onto a bed wondering: am I up for nine weeks of this? Maybe, we'll soon find out, I guess.