mozzarella di bufala no. 1

[because I'm sure there will be another]

Well. What a 52-hour-long day it's been.
Or day, in general, regardless of length.

In the twelve hours I've been in Rome, I have visited enough palazzos that there's no way I'll ever be able to count them (Francese, Navona, Spada, Sant' Ignazio, Santa Maria Maggiore, and others).

I have seen more tourists thank I care to see for the rest of my life.

I've been mistaken on the street for exactly three people, the last of whom was "Christina", to a lady who stopped in her tracks with jaw hanging. Needless to say, I felt compelled to set her right, but my meager-fake-Italian-plus-jet lag-and-sleep deprivation only allowed a 'no', squeaked out as a mouse caught in the line of fire of a very hungry cat. Fortunately she didn't pursue it; as of that point I may very well have been easily convinced that I was, in fact, her long lost cousin Christina.

[As of 4pm] I was sitting on the steps of a monument to a dude I don't know and/or recognize, and I've grown tired of trying to translate Latin, which is, unfortunately, rather dead to me (though I wholeheartedly maintain it is NOT a dead language). I am in some piazza or another, which I would need to rise and walk the perimeter to find out, next to what appears to be the Irish consulate (unless the flag is just faded)  and a plaque stating "deipare virgini et S. Gregorio magno". Which, in my memory, translates to 'the beatific virgin and St. Gregory the Great.

I've had a lunch of mozzarella di bufala and violet artichokes and a glass of vino rosso at Obika, a mozzarella bar on the Campo de Fiori that actually just opened a branch in midtown (Manhattan). A lovely conversation with a British lady who lives in Paris, and her daughter, 13-ish, who goes to a bilingual school. It was great to overhear their conversation, as it drifted back and forth between French and English.

I made it to the Campo de Fiori just in time; after having dropped my bags and about fifty pounds of airplane dirt, I hiked it over there to make it before 2pm, when the stalls close. It's a big open-air market with fruits and vegetables, open Mon-Sat 8-2pm... just made it! The foods were exquisite, beautiful little berries and pesca, artichokes, lettuces, dried pomodori, peppers, and, since it was ridiculously hot, a granita stand.

Lounging in the shade of fountains seems to be a Roman pastime, and I can understand why- the heat simply won't go away, and even a breeze is seldomly cooler than hot and dripping.

Or perhaps it's just a pastime of  the Roman tourists. 

People are wandering around with 2L bottles of water and cones of gelato, cups of cold watermelon and granita. It's a glorious summer's day. I'm off to wander aimlessly, and see what I run into.

Since it's Rome, I'll probably run into quite a lot.