roma

even though i don't know enough italian to order a caffe, i am having the time of my life in rome. living my life as a lingustic infant has never been so easy. the pizza here comes in small personal pies with a thin crust, there are indian men everywhere selling things i never thought of not wanting, africans hawking faux handbags, chinese women selling colorful scarves, women of all nationalities dressed in their finest revealery, children shrieking all the languages i can think of, enormous stone fountains with statues of luxuriously muscular roman men engraved into them, church after church after church, the gargantuan Pantheon which had all the gods replaced with Christian characters (including a Jesus that resembles an anorexic Biblo Baggins), the overwhelmingly decorated Vatican City and its gaudily painted Cappella Sistina full of brightly colored angels and demons and Jesuses, strange Mediteranean crows with gray underbellies and underwing spots, lots of pedestrian space flanked on all sides by cafes and gelaterias and pizza parlors, and lots of sunlight. the espresso here is only about $1.50. i spent a good deal of yesterday walking around a large park in the north, listening to the singing birds and watching fathers wheel past carrying seatloads of kids on rented bicycle cars. and every meal i've had has been exquisite, often to the extent of tearing with joy. i have not asked for salt once, for i have shed more than enough tears into my meals. after every meal i have smacked my lips in satisfaction, shouted "bellisimo! grazi signoire!" and kissed my fingers in a gesture of appreciation. the waiter would then slap my back and gesticulate wildly while singing some snippet of opera as i gathered my things to leave. laughter and wine drinking all around. how could anyone ever be depressed here? i saw a crazy old guy yetsterday. he had two words taped to his shirt, some kind of tiara in his hair, and was shouting with bestial anger at passers-by. he yelled at some kids on a motorcycle to fasten their seat-belts, and when they started to yell back, he pressed his finger into his cheek like Shirley Temple and swung his dirty body left and right, all the while smiling insanely. a small armenian boy was watching him from a fountain and laughed at his every action. then the old man ordered the boy to gulp some fountain water and spit it out like the statue above. he did it! what an unlikely pair! this made my day.