[title type="h5"]Easter Sunday, April 20, 2014.
Missing Dal Toscano. Finding Dinner.[/title]
Is it necessary to describe in detail what Easter Mass is like at St. Peter's in the Vatican? The only uncertainty is whether the word "million" must be employed.
Pope Francis is there, and so are Mary Ann and her sisters. The girls are all in great pain. It's the classic women's neurosis, which forces them to wear uncomfortable shoes in order to feel as if they are looking good. The problem is compounded by the fact that Italy is the only place in the world where most men actually pay attention to women's leatherware.
On these impractical shoes, the girls stand in the enormous cobblestone Vatican piazza for somewhere between two and three hours. The rainclouds of yesterday are gone and the sun is glaring down with full force. At least it's cool.
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Looking up through the roof of the Pantheon.[/caption]
After that glorious achievement, the sisters meet me at the Pantheon. A thoroughly Greek building whose architecture was far ahead of its time, it predates the birth of Jesus. It was originally built in honor of the Roman gods--Jupiter and the rest of them. It later became a Catholic church and still is. The Pantheon is a major archeological site, yet it's fully functional, with a tremendous stream of visitors walking through it.
A woman stepped up to a microphone every few minutes and, in several languages, admonished all present that this is an active church and we should be silent. I stepped over to her after one of these advisories and asked her when the next Mass would begin. "Silence," she said.
In this part of Rome, one can wander aimlessly for many hours and never run out of amazing places and sights. That's what we did, stopping in this magnificent church or that gelateria, walking through this narrow passageway onto that wide-open piazza.
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Trevi Fountain.[/caption]
Mary Ann's sisters tell her that I have been a great host, and that she should be more grateful to me and more amenable to my interests. In that regard, without asking she steers the group to Trevi "Thee Coins In The" Fountain, one of the most visited sites in Rome. Last time we were here, MA and the kids went through a near-fatal attack of embarrassment when I sang the song while flipping coins with my right hand over my left shoulder, facing away from the splashing waters. This time, they not only let me cut loose with the song, but stand there watching. As did many of the crowd, all of them smiling at me. Why not?
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The Church of St. Ignatius in Rome.[/caption]Among the many churches we visit is a very large one dedicated to St. Ignatius Loyola, the founder of the Jesuits. The place went up in the 1600s, its walls and ceilings covered with frescoes depicting scenes from Ignatius's life. He is always the smallest figure. Logically, since the other images are of Jesus, the Apostles and angels. This gives rise to a game no doubt played by attendees for centuries. Find Ignatius!
We have two Eat Club gatherings tonight. The first is a cocktail party in the lobby of the hotel. After that, about half the group of thirty or so was to have dinner at Ristorante Dal Toscana, not far from the hotel. I have been there before, and was intrigued by the polished-wood-and-glass cabinets throughout the dining room. Each of them holds large roasts of beef in the aging process.
A couple of weeks ago, I made reservations for tonight at Dal Toscana. I made a point of saying that this would be Easter Sunday. The person I spoke with said they were always open on Sunday. But someone else in the chain said (but not to me) that Dal Toscana indeed is not open on Easter Sunday.
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Gnocchi and vegetables at Barchetta.[/caption]Two dozen people now have no plans for the evening. With the help of the hotel concierge, we nail down a big table in a warm trattoria a few blocks from the hotel. The concierge must have said something nice about us, because Trattoria della Barchetta gave us an over-the-top welcome. Three passed appetizers and glasses of sparkling wine come and go before the meter starts running. Lots of little fried things, then the usual pastas, then several kinds of fish--the house specialty. Mine was swordfish, grilled to alarming stripes, over crunchy vegetables. It is all so pleasant that any doubts the Eat Clubbers had about my ability to plan a dinner didn't surface. At least not here in the restaurant.
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Swordfish at Barchetta.[/caption]
It could have been worse. As far as I know, it has not come out that my family and I are staying in a different hotel than the one where the Eat Club is quartered. This is entirely about Mary Ann's hotel-collecting hobby. As for me, I would have loved to be with the Eat Clubbers at the Visconti, whose tariff is €115 a night less than our room and its magnificent vista at the Cavalieri.
I walk to the Eat Club hotel with my fellows, then take a cab back to MA's hotel. On the way there, the cab driver apologizes for having to take a circuitous route, saying that there was a landslide on the direct way. I wonder if he heard about a driver who tried to go the wrong way up the road, then told his passengers they had to walk.
[title type="h5"]Trattoria della Barchetta. Rome: 35 Via Giovanni Pierluigi da Palestrina. +06 320 45 03. [/title]
[title type="h6"] Yesterday || Tomorrow[/title]
Written by Tom Fitzmorris April 14, 2014 22:01 in
