“Honestly, I don’t know what Italy has that we don’t,” Rudy remarked when I got back from Rome earlier this month. “You realize you’ve been gone the equivalent of…”
Where Romans roam
I spaced out while he did the math—7 over 1 times 12, multiplied by 2 meals minus 3 weeks—and then presented me with some number so high only dogs could hear it.
“Well for starters, there’s the Villa Doria Pamphili,” I said. “Four hundred acres that function like the lungs of Rome. I saw some of your people there.”
Buon giorno.
No leashes…
Nice backdrop for walking, biking, running…
“Hmmm, let me see if I can paint a picture,” I said. “Not that I’m trying to convince you or anything, but there are some pretty great markets, like the daily one at Campo de Fiori.”
Campo de Fiori’s daily market
“I do like pigeons,” he said, zeroing in on the bird conspicuously catching some late-morning shade.
“And lots of outdoor cafes.”
Santa Maria in Trastevere
He yawned and feigned disinterest.
“Granted, there are occasional hindrances,” I paused, thinking of the sign posted inside the Sant’Agnese in Agone church, in Piazza Navona.
“I can’t enter.”
“Ma perche?” Rudy looked offended. “Maybe they just mean big dogs?”
“Not to worry,” I interrupted. “You’ve still got the rest of Piazza Navona to explore, and it’s huge.”
The loooong view
He was quiet for a moment.
“Wanna see some more pigeons?” I asked.
On the Castel Sant Angelo’s Bridge of Angels
“I do like birds,” he hedged. “But what about cats?”
In Trastevere
“Ah, i gatti,” I nodded. “Plenty of those, too. Some of my favorites are in the Trastevere neighborhood, along the Tiber.”
La Dolce Vita
A dreamy Tiber
“You’d like the gelato,” I said, after a moment.
In the shadow of the Pantheon
He nodded. “I see they have cold drinks, too?”
“And the smells,” I said. “Roman smells. Ancient Roman smells.”
Smells?
He tried to look away.
“Do they have bacon?” he asked abruptly.
“Yes, and it’s used in a delicious pasta dish called Carbonara.”
But in the end, it was the Dolce Vita attitude that really spoke to him. Rudy can be a little wired, as he’s the first to admit.
High noon…
Break time.
Cat nap.
So tyud.
“I could use un po de relax,” he said, slipping into Italian slang. And in the end, he concede that Rome might have possibilities, and he’d put it on his bucket list.
“I thought you’d never come back to me,” he sighed.
It was hard.
Rome. Roam. Home.
Dog parking
Annie Graves . . . travel, home & garden writer 
That Rudy……he’s a tough sell! Especially love the kitty and canine photos!!
Welllllll…you’ll just have to take Sr. R along for the ride next time, no??? Then he can write his blog al fresco. :-} (That is, if he’s not napping or lounging or otherwise imbibing in some sunny spot…) Love the journey, thanks for sharing, and glad you’re back in the swing!!!!! xoxo
Love: “A number so high only dogs could hear it”! and Cat with Je suis Ping Pong…??
Glad you are back by Rudy’s side where you belong, or so he says. But even more glad the muse woke up and you could share this fun story and gorgeous pix.
Grazie!
Lovely………….was just thinking about your blog the other day and wondering when another would appear. xo
The muse woke up…