Yesterday morning I got up and accidentally put my slippers on the wrong feet.
Well, not exactly the
wrong feet. I mean I didn't put them on someone
else's feet.
I put them on mine, but contrary-wise to the manufacturer's recommendations.
I realized my error immediately. Who wouldn't?
But, just before automatically making the switch, I decided not to.
I left my left on my right and my right on my left and went in to make coffee.
It felt funny and made me want to giggle, but I didn't mention it to The Man.
This was just something between me and my own two feet.
They've been good to me and I felt like giving them some attention and appreciation.
I wanted us to spend some quality time together.
I wanted to be aware of them for a while instead of taking them for granted.
We had a good time.
Later I dressed them in
Fluffy and Muffy and took them for a walk. First, we
rode the 116 Electric bus up to the Villa Borghese Park to the
Piazza di Sienna,
a small track near the
Galleria Borghese, one of my favorite places in Rome. This
huge park is so beautiful, a tranquil oasis in an otherwise congested, chaotic city,
full of wide, shady walkways, ancient statuary, mossy fountains and large monuments.
It was chilly at first, but the sun shone brightly and we soon warmed up. I was
working up to a good pace when I became aware of the screeching of birds. A flock
of parrots, descendants of domestic birds who escaped their cages or were released,
flourish in this section of the park. There were about fifteen perched in trees above
my head, easy to spot with their long green tails and bright orange beaks. I broke
my stride to stop and watch. They were lucky birds.
Each lap took 4-1/2 minutes, so after seven laps I left the track and made my way
out of the park and down onto the Via Veneto, which is an avenue I love not because of
it's elegant hotels, upscale shops and cafes, but simply because it has the widest sidewalks
in Rome, an extravagance to someone used to the medieval center.
Rome's sidewalks are often nonexistent or, if they do exist, are miserable afterthoughts
usually blocked by illegally parked vehicles or people too intent on their conversation to
step out of your way. It's normal to walk in the street with cars speeding all around you
simply because there's no where else to walk. But, on the Via Veneto it's completely
different. Built recently, in the late 1800's, it is a street much more like Paris, a more
modern city who's architects and builders had the good sense and vision to include nice,
wide sidewalks in their designs.
After winding down the Veneto my feet indicated to me that they were tired. So, we
caught another 116 for home. Remember the taxi driver in the film "Scrooged," the one
that takes Bill Murray to meet the Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present and Future? Well,
that guy is alive and well, terrorizing unsuspecting commuters in Rome.
I got on the bus at the "capolinea," which is the last stop and a rest point for the driver.
I was the sole passenger aboard and after waiting for about eight minutes we took off.
I swear we popped a wheelie. A lot of Rome's bus drivers are insensitive maniacs, but
this guy was special. He was an entity in and of himself, taking sharp corners at 35 km.
It's lucky I was the only passenger because that way I could avail myself of all the
handholds and poles to keep myself upright and I was sitting down! However, I found
that if I kept both feet firmly planted and spaced about two feet apart, and if I clung
to the bright yellow ticket stamping machine, I was fairly secure.
As we whisked past a bus stop without bothering to stop, I noticed the astonished faces
of people who may have wanted a ride. It was amusing because, even though death appeared
imminent, the careening bus I was on must have made quite a spectacle. A mad driver
at the wheel, the bus turning on two wheels and a lone woman flailing around in the back.
Then, near the Spanish Steps, we suddenly swooped up onto the left curb and came to
an abrupt stop. The driver opened his window, reached out and grabbed the hand of
a man standing there. They shook hands, kissed cheeks, shouted greetings and started
a conversation. This break gave me a chance to unclench my hold on the ticket machine
and rub some circulation into my fingers.
After five minutes of listening to these two paisans chit chat, I thought of interrupting
to inquire as to whether or not we might reach my destination by nightfall, but I nixed
the idea because, seriously, I didn't want to make the guy mad at me.
In all my experience in this city, I've never had a bus driver stop and talk in the middle
of a run. I've seen them talk to friends IN the bus riding, I've had them honk and wave to
acquaintances on the street, I've watched them drive with one hand on the wheel and
the other holding their cell phone to their ear. But stopping and parking the bus to talk,
never! Another "first" for me. Which is really what Rome is all about, surprises.
We finally made it to my stop in Campo Dei Fiori, the "field of flowers," and they were
there, bright and colorful along with the vegetable market in full swing. I bid the driver
a good day, and stepped off, fell to my knees and kissed the ground...not really. But, I
was really happy. Happy to have survived Mr. Toad's Wild Ride; happy to have had the
adventure; happy to be here, on the planet Earth, in Italy, in Roma, walking along
on my own two feet.
