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A Rainy Day in the Heart of Rome

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Before our trip, I had naively assumed that we would be able to just walk through the Coliseum but as it turned out, we needed tickets for it, too. If we’d had smart phones, we could have purchased the tickets online after visiting the Sistine Chapel and walked right in. But it was late in the day and anyway, we were cheap luddites who only had dumb phones, so we decided to come back later. This time we checked and double-checked our voucher before leaving Luciana’s place. Once on the metro, it was a short ride to the Coliseum. Vouchers in hand, we once again experienced the smug delight of passing the line of those who waited for hours, four deep, to buy tickets at the door. The steps leading to the upper levels of the Coliseum are steep, a challenge to my titanium knees, but I was too proud to take advantage of the elevator. When Gauss and I reached the second level, the sheer size and age of the place took our breath away. Gauss likes to picture how the bui...
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Turkey with Friends

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Spices in the background, pepper grinders in front Handled trays with sets of Turkish Coffee cups on sale at the spice market Piles of herbs, teas, and dates While we were in the spice shop, a runner, balancing his handled tray, came in with tea for some of the customers Piles of nougat and Turkish delight in the background, dried fruits and dates, and colorful tulip glasses for serving tea in front Just when I think Istanbul can't get any better, it does. Sue I began our day at the Bead Market. To get there, we had to walk through groups clustered behind their flag-wielding tour guides at the Spice Market. We stopped at her spice vendor, near the back of the market, so she could pick up some saffron for an American friend. The vendor pointed out which pepper grinders were made of solid brass, and the price was reasonable, so I bought a couple as gifts. From there we dodged the throngs and a few aggressive merchants to get to the Bead Mar...
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When in Rome...

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Gauss and I had been through Rome only once before following our ill-fated flight from Sri Lanka to Italy in 1982. My memories are hazy and few. Back then we landed at Da Vinci airport and had to get to Milano. Nerves jangled, we were not about to board another plane just then, so we took a bus to the train station. I recall rolling past the coliseum and being a little surprised that it was right there , although I was unable to muster anything resembling enthusiasm. This time we vowed to pay attention. I planned only one thing in Rome—a visit to the Sistine Chapel in the Vatican Museum. I made an online reservation a month in advance so that we would not miss it, printed the entrance voucher (NOT TRANSFERABLE printed across it in bold letters) labeled it with a Post-It, and added it to the folder of important travel documents. We had another aim for the day as well: to get Italian SIM cards for the cell phones we'd purchased in anticipation of the trip. Despite the seve...
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