Rome: A Short Levee Holiday
Bongiovi! Almost a week since I posted here and no-one’s missed me yet? Did anyone call Missing Persons? Ah well….
The Levee crew (as we don’t call ourselves) went for a wee jaunt to Rome last Sunday for a few days. We couldn’t find a decent pizza joint locally, so we decided to shop a bit further afield!
Great trip. We took an EasyJet to some out of town airport and used public transport to get to the place where we were staying. Great opportunity to see the real, present-day Rome, and I can recommend that Metro system! There was an old woman, standing alongside the rest of us. She obviously had a bit of a chip on her shoulder as she muttered Italian expletives under her breath. Anyway, at one point, she decided to move elsewhere and stumbled over Baby D’s pram. She erupted into rapid-fire nonsense, then a lady nearby started arguing with her (presumably in our defense). This altercation drew the attention of the rest of the train, who watched with smirks on their faces until the woman eventually left the train.
No Speaka Da Lingua
Whoops. It seems that when we were packing we forgot to bring any knowledge of the Italian language. Big bloody mistake. Imagine two groups of people steadfastly refusing to communicate with each other in the same language (and I’m not talking about Sinn Fein/DUP here).
We’re assuming that most Italians speak a bit of English. Most Italians assume that we’ve secreting a phrasebook somewhere.
So, much of the journey was spent pointing at menus and gesturing wildly at foreigners locals in order to get our points across. If you’re considering a trip, bring a phrasebook.
The Center Of Christendom
It was a truly breathtaking to wander in the shade of the columns that encircle St Peter’s Square and gaze toward the majestic Basilica. Such a large place that the Piazza almost seemed empty despite the thick queues that were thronging to get inside to pray and just experience the atmosphere of the place.
I have to admit, I was completely unprepared. I must’ve seen this place on TV during the election of Pope Benedict, but the magnificence of St Peter’s Basilica blew me away. Remember that I am experiencing this place as an atheist (formerly a Catholic). The significance of the place is not lost on me, but I also carry a wariness of organised religion too.
So, looking upon the basilica I found myself adoring the artwork and the amazing intricate detail that has obviously been invested in the place, the devotion and faith that must have existed to create St Peter’s in the first instance. But I couldn’t escape the feeling that I was visiting the HQ for some kind of evil multi-national organisation. Like I say, I’m wary of anything that encourages blind faith, and we’ve all read The Da Vinci Code, haven’t we? Were the tenets of Catholicism devised by men with hidden agendas? Are they divorced from the teachings of Jesus? Do we know the real story, or just what was deemed acceptable for us?
Anyway, don’t let the religious rant distract you. St Peter’s was amazing, perhaps one of the highlights of Rome for me. Religious art, even to an athiest, can be inspiring. If religion can move people to create beautiful works of art and to carry out acts of kindness and good, then it’s not all bad, is it?
Poste Vaticani
Before we left St Peter’s completely, I had one act of evil to carry out: I was going to send my mother a postcard from Pope Benedict. In fact, the idea was so good that Mrs Levee decided her mother deserved one too! The postcard went something like this:
Dear Granny Levee, Pope Ratzenburger here…I’ve heard about your recent troubles and just wanted to let you know that you’re in my prayers….anyway I hope things get better for you soon. Love, Pope Ratzy!
Of course, we’re standing in the Vatican Post Office filling these in, sniggering like schoolkids and I blurt out “Ha ha! Pope Ratzy!” I look to my right and standing beside me, busily writing on an envelope is a priest. Feel like a prick! But we sent the postcards anyway!
Bizarrely, the mother-in-law got hers, but so far my parents haven’t got theirs (divine intervention?). What’ll make the ruse all the better is that my mother didn’t even know we were away, so she’ll not twig. Hope she gets it soon!
I went to Rome in June, it was fantastic.
The Vatican was just something else
I never had any problem with communicating to the Italians. I found that bad English and bad Italian worked 100%.
Can I ask Levee what you thought of the females in Rome or will Mrs Levee slap your chops
Chris: She’ll probably slap my chops anyway, but there were a few crackers. Frighteningly most of them were to be found around the Vatican, so they must’ve been good Cat’lic girls. Not that I stand a chance anymore…..
The thing that concerns me is the occurrence of facial warts in almost every elderly European woman. What’s that all about?
Mr Levee: Its O.K. Ive just checked the news, the pope is still Catholic, so none of your infectious athesism has rubbed of on him. One question though, ” What was a God fearing atheist like yourself doing in a place like that?”
Ha ha! Casing the joint, since you ask….
I seem to remember Mr Levee commenting on how unattractive Italian women were … a ruse perhaps?
I noticed the complete lack of fashion sense (not that any of you men are interested) they all wore horrible long padded coats, narrow jeans with white socks and awful shoes. I felt positively Parisian ? we Belfastians definitely have a better fashion sense!!
Well, Sis, I did spot a couple - not that I would’ve pointed them out to you! I did however notify the DJ in certain instances, though…
You men lol
That was interesting…and evil with the postcards. Poor Granny.
The bit about not speaking the language demonstrates the implacable human quality of laziness, when it comes to either accomodation or assimilation. I am learning a little Gaelige to my credit beforehand, and somehow begin to understand where the Irish brogue comes from…at least. (I think someone once referred to it sounding as if someone Swedish were taking up Hebrew whilst suffering from a sore throat.)
Andrew, bizarrely I’ve spent a lot of time trying to learn Spanish. Turns out Rome isn’t in Spain!
I’d normally be one to have a go at speaking the language, but was lacking a phrasebook on the day. S’pose that was laziness in itself…
With regard to learning Irish (why?), I’ve always found it helps to have a good phlegm supply!
Why?
I suppose you have a point. Doesn’t look valuable on a resume’.
I want to know what some half-pissed old coot is yammering on about in a pub late at night somewhere around Lisdoonvarna.
I wanna feel something about songs sung in the old language. (My grandfather was Mexican…and it IS different to feel something in another language, sung other than in english). It’s like having an extra finger whilst playing piano or something.
Call it recreation.
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