These shoes were made for walking

Roma, Italy, Saturday 26 September

I wanted to leave the best till last so this morning I headed down through the park and to Pincio and the Contemporary Art Museum. Unfortunately it was closed for restoration. I hadn’t really planned to do anything else so, disappointed, I decided to walk in a completely new direction, up to the top of The Barberini taking in the sights on the way to the train station to get my ticket organized for Pisa. Usually one to leave travel to the last minute, I became rather pleased with myself for being so organised as I would never had allowed the 40 minutes of queuing it took to buy the ticket, I also had the relief of air conditioning from the heat of the day.

For the first time I saw a thermometer, it was 33.5. This made me feel even hotter and bought on an undeniable thirst so I had a Peroni in the shade entertained by two nervous looking North African boys, sweat pouring off their faces as they rapidly stuffed hand bags with newspaper which they were pulling out of very large blue plastic bags carried across their backs. They would then lay a few bags smack bang on the pavement for immediate sale. Suddenly there would be a scurry of collecting up the bags and running for it, then five minutes later they were back doing it all again (reminded me of a certain DVD stall in Bangkok) . I guess they were watching for the Polizi. I ended up feeling a little sorry for them, it looked an uncomfortable way to make a living.

As I left I was mistaken for an Italian by a guy collecting signatures for an anti hard drugs petition, I suspect an indicator of too much shopping here it is certainly not my language skills. He was pretty aggressive I have to say until I managed to find the words ‘non Italiano’, then he was all smiles. These Italian men are a trick.

One last stop. I had change on me today so went back to the Trevi Fountain. I have now approached it several times from every direction possible; nothing beats the first time though. I ‘scusi-ed’ my way through the ten deep Saturday crowd and with one hand protecting my handbag from the infamous Fountain pickpockets, tossed a coin over my left shoulder and into the water to make sure I return. Back to Piazza Spagna, up the Spanish Steps and I was 25 minutes from home. I have walked for miles this week, I am almost feeling like a local except I could never take on this town in heels.

In the park and the Gelati man was all smiles. At E4 (over 8 bucks) for my limone gelati, it was too hot to care.