Rome in July’s pressing heat….
Spent a lovely morning escaping the horrendous heat in the divine Galleria Borghese which is an ex-Palace for a bent Cardinal.
It’s packed with superb artworks and sculptures from 200 BC up to Renaissance and was the brainchild of Scipiano Borghese.
Scip became the No 1 Cardinal in Rome as he was the Pope’s nephew called Papal Nipote – hence the derivation of the word Nepotism.
Appropriate as Scip was a right sod.
He imprisoned people and bribed them to hand over their beloved artworks, had Vatican Monks swing down on ropes like SWAT teams to raid houses and galleries of art and sculptures and had people threatened and banished if he coveted something.
Bit of a perve too as he loved homo-erotic and just plain erotic sculptures and art as well as large Roman objects like feet.
I then spent an hour slinking from shady spot to seat in the huge park to avoid the searing sun for an hour. There were locals jogging for god’s sake in 38 degrees! How? I’d drop dead.
Anyway as I was descending some large stairs into the Piazza del Popolo I got all excited when I saw Leonardo Da Vinci’s museum and inexplicably slipped and fell.
The bloody stairs were cambered downwards and made of travertine with a lustrous buff that made the stairs like a water slide.
I womped down them with legs, bum and rude bits to the wind – emitting little “oh,o, o’s” as I rocketed down dress round my midriff looking like turtle on its back.
I felt so sorry for the young French couple who witnessed it.
How awful for them.
A Warning on the Adverse Effects of Heat
I have decided that big heat is no good for me. I change into a shat-off monster.
I loathe having my knickers, bra, hair and clothes stick to me with sweat.
I hate feeling slick and slimy with blockout. How on earth can people walk so slowly in 38 degree sunshine? Rome is full of wilting tourists lumbering around aimlessly staring statically at maps in this crushing heat.
You know what I loathe about Rome?
Their wretched footpaths. Every street is lined with cars parked cheek by jowl.
So one is trapped on footpaths that are exactly 3 people wide everywhere.
If you tracked my movements on a screen it would look like a crazed rat as all one does is weave round or climb over bumper bars onto the road.
1/. There is always either an over-padded tourist family forming a human wall barely moving or studying a gelati shop and blocking the path
2/.or there is a group of loud Italians blithely taking up the whole path in a rapid shouting match with each other
3/. Or there’s a stupid pot plant or cafe chairs and tables hogging the path
4/. OR some orange bunting blocking the entire path for path works that are never being worked on.
5/. Or there’s an Italian family taking an hour to get out of their car blocking the path.
After a day of this you just want to hack them all to death with a scythe.
Italians were all born with fags in their mouths.
Steve and I spent a leisurely few hours wandering up the Via del Corso yesterday. We were constantly stopped abruptly by Italian women HOGGING the path looking in shop windows and smoking like haystacks.
One gets to the monument or site one wants to see to find Italians sitting in front of it smoking fanatically.
GET THE HELL OUT OF MY PHOTO AND STOP KILLING ME WITH YOUR BLOODY CIGARETTES!!
Go to Rome in the cooler months I suggest……