DAY 61: "What's that smell like?"

Waking up with a hangover and blurred vision only inspires movies quotations, specifically from The Hangover…

Ann: “There’s a tiger in the bathroom!”

Whit: “Close the curtains Ann, its just Rabbit…”

Ann: “What do tigers dream of when they take their little tiger snooze?”

Whit: “They chase Rabbits…”

Rabbit, exiting the loo: “Rrrrooooaarrrrr.”

Ok maybe not direct quotes, but you get the jest… we were NOT functioning on all 8 cylinders… or 12… EXACTLY. Anyhoo… After some Big Gulps of Italianized American style coffee and cornflakes, we gussied up and ventured to the Bourgese Gardens… I took them to “swan lake” while we bended our ignorant eyes (and tummies) around hotdog and gelato wagons posting up on every corner along the way. After bountiful breathes of fresh air and sunshine, we walked along a “fancy” street above the Spanish Steps, moseyed down through the hordes of adolescents playing hooky to feed their significant other McDonalds French fries, orally mind you, and conveniently found the resto L’Enotec Antica (second offender). We shared a bottle of Aglianico while I enjoyed a chicken Caesar and my present company… we later joined the weekend crowds along Via Del Corso (main shopping street) in a revolt or revolution for some pardon or passing… sounds like a bunch of bowel movements to me…

“Cause we're the 3 best friends that anyone can have and we'll never ever ever ever ever leave each other”… Onto the PANTHEON! Mass was in session… had to kill some time to get inside with 700 other people, so a-samplin’ we went to a great little shop that gave us Lemoncello, Meloncello, Almondcello, Orangecello (of course they aren’t spelled or pronounced like that in Italian…) and globs of tapenade and pesto slathered on toast. With another 30 to spare, I took the animals to the church of St. Francis to see some Caravaggio’s… I proclaimed with a sigh, “I love Caravaggio.” Rabbit asked me, nose in the air, “What’s that smell like?” Laughter ensues as I explain, “Caravaggio is an artist, not a naughty church stench.” We took in 2,000 years of blood, sweat, cement and those 700 cameras (people walk in holding their Cyber Shots in the air, without looking to see where they’re going… they just click away. “How was your trip?” “I don’t know, I haven’t looked at my pictures yet.”) We devoured some gelato (banana & coconut) in Campo di Mairzo while watching a woman beat the snot out of a man at a table in the square… he literally walked away carrying his bloody blazer, plugging his snout trying to stop the pain/embarrassment that he just got whooped by a woman.

I picked up some “highlighting tools” to mend the reverse skunk stripe located down the middle of my scalp… Euro-trash has taken on a whole new persona- I’ve become lower than low maintenance, but this has gone too far. On the way back to the hotel, we stopped (accidentally) at the Trevi Fountain and picked up some wine at a nearby Ma & Pa shop- Ma was crocheting and singing her lungs out to Broadway Hits while Pa reminded us to never travel without a corkscrew. We found ourselves in the lobby of Hotel King, cordially welcomed by Huey, Dewy and Looey and up four flights to our humble abode with Sicilian rosso and laughter so genuine and pure you could eat it with a spoon… recounting a myriad of hilarious, serious, but mostly ridiculous memories over that past 8 years. 2 hours later we agreed that getting our poop in a group was in order, so we slapped some skirts and lipstick on and trotted across town to Campo de Fiori to a fab little resto you are all familiar with (if you’ve stayed up to date with B.V. that is) Cul Da Sac… again with the yummy Australia Shiraz, and triple pate' platter comprised of (again) sweet & sour boar, hare with truffle oil and liver with cognac… For le entrée, I went with wheat pasta with potatoes, spinach, broccoli and of course, cheese. What is Cul da Sac without dessert? Almond tart and a mini chocolate board (I love being back on the “Cuisine Tour-o-Europa”). After forcing down our last sweet morsel and drop of vino from down unda’ we “found” ourselves at the very place I thought I’d NEVER return to… yep, that ramshack that does everything BUT put you in the MOOD. Luckily “Roberto,” the owner, remembered me (and hearts me apparently…) and bought us and our new friend from Anchorage, AK who went to school at U of MT a round- small world… we took turns dancing on tables (in the classiest way possible of course), literally elbowing creepers out of the way so we could have dance-offs with each other and impossing hooker-heel stompin’ bitches… Around 4 a.m. we agreed it was a good idea to see ourselves out, after “Roberto” (who resembles Rosanne Barr with a ‘stache) gave us the sloppy Euro, double air kiss.

Now comes the tricky part… last time I stayed in Rome, I was a trip, slip and stumble away from my hotel. This time, we were clear across town, and although we agreed one of us would stay coherent enough to distinguish our ass from our elbow, no designation materialized, so instead we found a tent with THE BEST veggie sando I’ve ever hovered (‘Chokes, sun dried toms, spinach, mushrooms and gouda. Grilled. I know, right? It was probably tripe...), with the entertainment of Italian young guns, whom Animal stole a beer from after labeling them “D-bags.” We picked a direction while licking our fingers and after 10 minutes decided it would be smarter, safer and saner to grab a taxi ride from “Herman,” whom I am now BFF’s with. We happened to wake “Looey” around 4:50 a.m. and he happily unlocked the door while rubbing his eyes like a baby… speaking of, the 3 of us babes slept like babes… after swaying up the stairs in fits of laughter. More from Roma tomorra, ciao!