Saturday, last night in Trastevere .....more randomness.
One of the things I like least about traveling is that once you have the hellish parts of a leg of your journey done--finding where you are going, which way is north, where there are public toilets for Kate--one has to pack up and start all over again.
This is especially hard when one has answered positively the essential question about the place--could I live here? To be truthful , the only place I ever concluded I couldn't live was Detroit in February , but the answer for Trastevere is a resounding yes...especially after experiencing a Saturday night in the Piazza Santa Maria. Apparently no one is home on a Saturday night in Rome--they all knot a scarf around their neck, slip into tiny black jeans and uncomfortable shoes, and head out to mill about, watch street performers (clowns!) chatter, smoke, and,of course, eat five course meals in the open air. I'm wondering if the alfresco part of their eating habits is responsible for the miraculous lack of avoirdupois on this demographic, Where do the pasta calories go... To the thighs of German tourists?
Anyway just when I have imagined every aspect of my life as a Trastaverian, (how thin I get!) it's time to forget important personal items and roll the luggage away to the next stop. Lost some sleep last night worrying about getting the horde to the train station needlessly early
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