ciao, Italia. again.

Yes, it's true. We did, in fact, go to Italy for the third time in two months when my parents came to visit in early October. They decided both that this would be their "big trip" to Italy, and that they were happy to go wherever we wanted to take them (brave souls!), and so off we went for a crazy-pants whirlwind of an adventure.

First stop: Milano, which is pretty much where you have to stop if you're headed to Italy on a Friday evening. (Yeah, I just said that. Living in Switzerland definitely has its perks, I'm not going to kid you.) We arrived a bit late-ish, had a sadly mediocre meal at a restaurant that used to be pretty decent (sigh), and then hit the trail the next morning for some very-brief sightseeing. (We didn't budget much time for Milano, since--despite the fact that it has a castle full of museums and Da Vinci's 'Last Supper' and a great view from the cathedral roof--we had an actual appointment to keep in the afternoon, but more about that later.)

One cannot stop in Milano, however, without seeing the cathedral. (Oh, that old thing?) It's one of those places that has lots of "largest cathedral in [insert country/continent/planet here]" claims, but it is, as a fact, one of the largest churches in the world. As such, it is truly spectacular, and it doesn't ever disappoint.

An illicit photo I took inside before we got yelled at, and then found out that you now have to purchase wristbands to take pictures in there. (Lame. It most certainly was not that way the last time we were there.)

We also ducked into the archaeological site beneath the church, which I think is fantastic: among heaps of other interesting things, it contains this 4th-century baptismal font (where St. Augustine was baptized, supposedly), and, on the wall in the back here, some 13th-century frescoes.

And then, we were off to Firenze (Florence, to the layperson), both to meet up with my Dad's sister Kathleen and her husband Lynden--yay!--and to see Michelangelo's 'David'. That, friends, was our appointment. We arrived in town with just enough time to check into the absolutely amazing apartment Mike found for us (just off the Piazza della Signoria--he is winning at airbnb!), and then to walk-jog to our designated 4:15 meet-up time with Aunt Kak and Uncle Lynden. (I have just realized that I failed entirely to take any photos of my beloved aunt and uncle together, and I feel terrible about that. So amazing to get to meet up with them in Italy!! However, as always, the sheer number of pictures I took of everything else was quite overwhelming. Brace yourselves. Florence is gorgeous and amazing.) 

Yeah, yeah, yeah, the 'David' is why you go to the Accademia, but I also love that you get to walk down this large hall full of Michelangelo's unfinished sculptures to get to it. 

These things are so full of motion--it looks like they're clawing their way out of the marble by themselves. Love these.

The man himself. Always riveting. You could easily spend a half-hour just staring slack-jawed at this guy...it's no wonder he's so famous.

We also ducked into the music museum at the Accademia, whereupon I figured out that we've actually seen a real-live hurdy-gurdy in action! (These two are from 1775.)

The world's first keytar...? (It is actually labeled as a "piano-guitar," ca. 1793.)

Oh, yeah...and then we walked by this little place on the way to dinner. Another landmark cathedral that is, frankly, mind-blowing both in size and in ornamentation (well, at least on the outside). 

Dinner our first night in Florence was at Acqua al 2, a fun little place whose entire menu you can order as sampler courses. Which means that between the six of us, we split four bowls of different pastas, three types of meat, and a couple of dessert plates, all of which were excellent. (In particular, though, they had a black-truffle pasta that was quite lovely [not too overwhelming, as truffle is wont to be], and beef with a reduced balsamic sauce, which was spectacular, as was the sliced beef on flatbread with arugula and parmesan slices--my favorite).

Day two began with brunch from what turned out to be Tripadvisor's number-one-rated restaurant in all of Florence--which, naturally, was a sandwich shop.* (I will admit that I was quite proud that we'd found it organically, however. And that I foisted it on everyone first thing in the day.) We'd noticed All'antico Vinaio--a hole-in-the-wall sandwich shop just big enough for a walk-up counter--the evening before, due to the line out the door and the dinner-plate-sized paninis people were eating with great relish (pun intended...? I'm not sure) on the curb outside. Fair enough, Tripadvisor. Those were some sandwiches. We took them and ate on the steps of the Loggia dei Lanzi on Piazza della Signoria, and silently thanked our ability to plan these things for ourselves as we watched the ginormous tour groups swirl about in confusion and chaos on the square below. (Well, at least, that's what I was thinking.)

Here, Mom looking a bit incredulous at the sheer size of her sandwich, and Dad going for it.

The ol' Loggia. Did I mention the crowds...? And this was October, people.

Next, we thought we'd try to get into Santa Croce...

...but it turned out to be closed, for some unknown reason...

...so we headed to Ponte Vecchio ("old bridge"), which was built in 1345 and is lined in tiny jewelers' shops. (Starting in 1593, it was goldsmiths' shops, but I get the impression that there are far fewer craftsmen than importers and salesmen there now.) Notably, this was the only bridge across the Arno River that the Germans didn't destroy in their retreat from Italy during World War II. 

On our way back to meet up with Aunt Kak and Uncle Lynden at the Uffizi Gallery, we wound through some narrow little alleys and found this amazing one full of buttresses way, way above the street. (Do these count as being of the "flying" variety? I'm not entirely sure.)

And then, the Uffizi! I think this was my fourth time there, and frankly, it was just as amazing as ever...but with more people. (Ugh. I really, really like Florence--it's truly special--but I don't think they have an off-season anymore.) At least they still have a room full of Botticelli.

And this 1st-century marble dog. Which is actually a copy of some sculptures from the 3rd century BC. (Interesting note about the Uffizi: they have tons upon tons of sculptures like these, which are super old themselves, but are actually copies of even older pieces. It's kinda bizarre, actually.)

Madonna and child with angels, ca. 1493, Botticelli. This guy was an extraordinary talent.

A lovely view from the Uffizi overlooking the Ponte Vecchio. Cripes, this city is picturesque.

What I now call the "Room of Action Sculptures." (It's a far more fun way to think of a room full of sculptures of the children of Niobe, yeesh. Thanks for the uplifting tale of morality, ancient Greece.)

Roman altar inscribed in both Greek and Latin, 1st-century AD, demonstrating (yet again) the Romans' utter enthrallment with the ancient Greeks.

A little cupid that Mike has determined is hearing "Simply the Best" in his head.**

A rare easel (i.e., not on a wall or ceiling) painting by Michelangelo, the Holy Family with St. John the Baptist, ca. 1506-1508. Michelangelo designed the frame, too...and I think it's utterly bizarre, with the wee heads sticking out. But, you know, good for him.

So for reals, this 14th-century painting of the Madonna and child (Andrea di Vanni, 1370) has actual gems in it. Mmmmmm, real gems... 

Towards the end our afternoon in the Uffizi gallery (3-4 hours, and sadly, the Dutch Masters' rooms were closed, or it would have been more), Mike and I stopped for a beverage in their rooftop cafe, which has stunning views and tons of wee little adorable finches begging for crumbs. (I'm not a big bird person--HA, HA, BIG BIRD--but I really dig finches, for some reason. Must...feed...)

They're so dang little and hoppy! And, as far as I know, exponentially less pestilential than those gigantic, creepy, pushy, orange-eyed pigeons. This little guy actually took some crumbs from my fingers. I wanted to take him home.

Not to say that the highlight of my Uffizi visit was this little finch--the Botticelli room is, and always will be, incentive enough for me to brave the crowds--but he was awfully cute.***

Ahem...returning to non-finch-related events. Dinner that evening was at an absolutely fantastic restaurant that serves traditional, seasonal food, and was recommended to us several years ago by a local--Trattoria 4 Leoni. For once in my life, I actually didn't bother to write down what we were eating, and just enjoyed my meal...but I can tell you that Mike and I split our first-ever osso buco (ok, so it's not so much for me...), and that when I ordered a plate of some sort of pasta I'd never heard of before, it came with a scoop of Castelmagno gelato (cheese!) on top. (It was weird and delicious.)

On the morning of Day 3, we returned to Santa Croce, and this time it was actually open, so in we all went. (Just FYI, Santa Croce is maybe one of the more art- and history-packed places I've ever been: pretty much every famous Florentine is buried there, or frescoed something there, or designed some part of the building.)

Just outside, though, we saw this ridiculously small one-seater, three-wheeled car. And...THE DRIVER'S SEAT IS A PLASTIC CHAIR THAT LOOKS LIKE IT CAME FROM AN ELEMENTARY SCHOOL. Utterly spectacular. Mom included for scale.

Anyway. On to serious matters. Despite the 19th-century facade, this church is really old. Construction began in 1294 and it was completed somewhere around the end of the 14th or beginning of the 15th century.

The interior of the church is fairly visually overwhelming, full of sculpted tombs and frescoed walls. Here, the Cappella Bardi, frescoed by Giotto and his students.

And--oh yeah--among others, Michelangelo is buried here. (For the rest, see this.)

The Arno overflowed its banks in 1966 and flooded the church up to the level of this plaque (about 5 meters). It took decades for the building and its collections to recover, although some of the archives and absolutely priceless artworks were damaged beyond repair (not to mention those at other historic institutions, plus the property and human costs as well!). Somehow, this was a wee detail about Florence that I'd entirely forgotten (or maybe even overlooked...?), and it was quite jarring to learn about it again.**** 

Fresco of scenes from the life of Christ, in the sacristy. Painted by the school of Giotto in the 14th century.

The sacristy also contains a 15th-century terra cotta bust of Christ by Andrea della Robbia (from a prolific family of terra cotta-ers!). Polychrome terra cotta: another artistic detail about Florence that I may have previously overlooked. (Maybe it's 'cause they're not as flashy as sculpture or big wall-sized frescoes that I didn't remember them being there, or being such a common artistic medium in the city. My apologies to the della Robbias.) 

Look, more terra cotta! Small dome outside the Cappella de' Pazzi, attributed to Luca della Robbia (Andrea's uncle) in the mid-15th century. (I just really like the colors and fancy patterns, myself.)

Second cloisters, and a nice surprise--this place was totally quiet and devoid of tourists (well, other than me, obviously).

I know this angel is probably supposed to be sad--I'm sure this is someone's tomb or memorial monument--but he looks resigned to me. "As always, I'm the only one ready on time. Guess I'll just wait on top of this lion. Sigh."

After Santa Croce, we called an audible and decided to visit the Casa Buonarotti, which was included in our ticket price and turned out to be a tremendous idea--where else can you be more-or-less nose-to-nose with Michelangelo sculptures and designs in utter peace and quiet? (There was no one else there, people!) It's actually a collection of Michelangelo-related miscellanea (ok, and just some miscellaneous miscellanea) in the house of Michelangelo Buonarroti the younger--the original's great-nephew--but the building itself is stunning. Even better--and, frankly, entirely unexpectedly--there are lots of small and early pieces from the man himself, and even a few paper sketches and designs, which (apparently) are quite rare, since he regularly destroyed his designs and even entire finished works, and, later in life, burned most of his remaining papers. The place was utterly fascinating and well worth the visit. No photos allowed, naturally, but there are some decent ones here and here.

Next, we decided to hit the Duomo. Despite its intricate and candy-like exterior...

Just...wow.

...the interior is fairly spartan. With the exception of the crazy designs in the marble on the floor, and Brunelleschi's dome, of course.

Yeah...it's pretty special. (Super interesting architectural-history-nerdery article here.) Paintings by Giorgio Vasari and someone named Zuccaro (sorry, buddy, you got a bit overshadowed there) in the 16th century.

Then, as we are wont to do, we went under the cathedral for a little explorin' of their archaeological crypt, which contains the remnants of a previous church on the site called Santa Reparata (built in the 5th century, demolished in the 14th).

Among other things, it's got lots of fancy mosaic floors.

Here, a mosaic list of the donors who contributed to the aforementioned mosaic-ing of the floor, in order of how many feet they funded. (HAH. Some things never change.)

Plenty of medieval tombstones down there, too...

...as well as some really remarkable fresco remnants (this one's from the 14th century)...

...and even the tomb of a Medici. Giovanni de, deceased 1352, to be specific. Apparently, he was buried with his sword and his spurs.

We also managed to fit in a visit to the octagonal Baptistery of St. John (probably dating to the 11th century), one of the more famous buildings both in art and in Christendom, and, of course, entirely covered in scaffolding while we were there. Thankfully, the interior was still accessible.

The entire ceiling is decorated with these incredible, intensely detailed mosaics from the 13th century.

Walls and niches: also super fancy.

Afterwards, I made a seemingly stupid decision and followed Dad, Mike, and Aunt Kak into the ridiculously long and slow-moving line to climb the dome. I've climbed it before, mind you, but that was several years ago and I couldn't really remember what sort of staircases they had in there. Which might not seem terribly important, but it is to me. In my (relatively limited) experience, it's safe to assume that when climbing any sort of old tower or dome, there will always a series of tight, narrow, seemingly endless stone spiral staircases, the ascension of which I don't seem to mind...but the climbing down is the Worst. Thing. Ever. I think it has something to do with my propensity for motion sickness, but getting into that plodding stepping rhythm and spiraling downwards in a tiny, tight, dark circle for more than a few minutes makes me feel like I need to pass out and to hurl, in no particular order. Anyway. We survived and triumphed, and the views weren't too shabby.

Santa Croce on the far left, Piazza della Signoria on the right.

You can't tell this from the ground, but climbing the dome puts you higher than the top level of the bell tower. Neat.

Did I mention that you get to walk around the inside of the dome twice on the climb? Yesssss.

After the climb, we celebrated with a few aperitivi nearby, then said our sad goodbyes to Aunt Kak and Uncle Lynden. (They were off to Venice, though, so it was all right.) Despite the presence of some really amazing-looking dining establishments near our apartment--this one, for example--everything seemed to be closed or fully booked (Monday nights in Italy, bah!), so we grabbed a quick (and, sadly, unremarkable) pizza and called it a night. It was ok, though, because the next day, we were headed to Genoa, the birthplace of pesto, and home to all the delicious squiggly seafood you care to eat. (In my case, that's a lot.)

Next up: surprise! It's Genoa.

*Have I mentioned how completely and utterly obsessed I am with the sandwiches in Italy? I think, perhaps, I have. Recently, even. I'm fairly certain that in Italy, I could eat a sandwich for every single meal and have no regrets or complaints. Best meats, cheeses, breads anywhere, hands-down. Also, have you ever noticed that the number-one restaurants in any given city on Tripadvisor are either pizzerias, ice cream shops, or sandwich places? It's universally true. People can't be trusted to eat and then rate anything else, apparently.

**A song which I will forever hear in the falsetto of Alec Baldwin. Thanks, Mike and '30 Rock.'

***And brought to mind the last time a wild animal ate out of my hand: I was 12 years old and at the top of Horn Peak, near Westcliffe, Colorado, and a chipmunk took a peanut out of my hand and licked my fingers. Sadly, there exists no photographic proof, but I, my Dad, and that chipmunk know it happened.

****And also, did you know that in the process of "modernization" during the Counter-Reformation, Giorgio Vasari--quite the artist himself, an art historian, and the designer of none other than Michelangelo's tomb--destroyed and/or painted over many of the original frescoes in Santa Croce? The existing frescoes have been painstakingly restored, some only as recently as the mid-19th century. Insanity.

that's amore.

Warning: this one's a bit lengthy, kids. No apologies, though: it's Rome, for crying out loud.

People, I'd forgotten two things about Rome: first, how ridiculously grand everything there is, and second, how much I love it. The magnificence (amazitude! spectaculocity! overwhelminess! and other words that should be invented to describe it!) of that city just does not stop. Back in the middle of September, we were very fortunate in that Mike's brother Bobby and sister-in-law Anastasiya invited us to meet up with them there, and, as Rome is one of the places in the world to which I'll never say no, off we went. Mike found us an absolutely glorious apartment right in the middle of the city, and our apartment hostess was kind enough to make us late reservations at her favorite local osteria, Il Sostegno. Folks, the food there was nothing short of tremendous--in fact, it might even have been my favorite meal of the trip. (In particular, my cacio e pepe [pasta with pecorino and black pepper] and radicchio salad with walnuts and parmigiano were just plain killer, and Mike's bresaola-arugula-parmigano plate and carbonara--the bacon was crispy, for crying out loud!!--were genuinely awe-inspiring. If that place were in my own neighborhood, I'd A) never eat anywhere else; B) be intimately familiar with their entire menu; and C) most likely, be as big as a house. A happy, happy, pasta-filled house.

Moving on, though...here's what we woke up to the next morning.

Excellent cappuccino and pastries in this somewhat-famous little coffee shop, which was about 3 minutes' walk from our apartment, and 5 seconds away from this:

The Pantheon. Built by the Emperor Hadrian sometime between 118 and 125 AD...still standing!...

...and now the burial place for--among other historically significant Italians--Vittorio Emanuele II, one of the prominent unificators (heh) of modern Italy, and its first king post-unification in 1861. Trust me when I say that you see monuments to this guy everywhere in that country, and so it was pretty interesting to see his final resting place. (Which, obviously, we've seen before, but just now figured out that it was important. Duhhhh.)

Next, we headed for the Colosseum, by way of Trajan's Forum (which is literally across the street from the Forum). 

Trajan's column, carved in 113 AD to commemorate the Emperor Trajan's victory against the kingdom of Dacia (roughly, modern Romania and Moldova) in 106. 

This thing is about 35 meters (115 ft!) tall, made of 20 32-ton drums of Carrara marble, and is absolutely packed with detail along the entire length of its 200-meter frieze. (They had an exhibition running along the Forum with photographs and descriptions of the entire frieze "unwound". It was super long and really interesting.)

Trajan's Forum (completed 112 AD) with 13th-century tower in background. Mmmmm, layers of history.

And then, this!

We took a guided tour of the Colosseum and learned about a few details new to us--for example, the carved numbers over each entrance, which serve the exact same purpose as numbered entrances in modern-day stadiums (your seat: this way). Neat.

View of Constantine's arch from the Colosseum.

Interior, complete with insane crowds. It always amazes me how much bigger this thing looks on the inside than on the outside. 

Another nifty little detail: marble seats belonging to senators and other various wealthy parties, inscribed with the seat owner's name. Which was then "erased" and carved over whenever the seat passed to someone else. I think this is one such seat.

Next up, an evening tour of the Vatican Museums! Naturally, they don't let you take photos in the Sistine Chapel (although most people try, and get loudly chastised by the guards, who have seen every single trick there is when it comes to covert photography, so don't even try it), so you'll just have to take my word for it when I say that it's probably more spectacular even than you envision. The colors and the artistry are unequalled by anything I've ever seen, frankly, and it's worth braving the crowds every single time. If it's interesting to you, check this out.

In the mean time, here are a handful of the photos I was allowed to take inside the Vatican.

The Vatican Museums are positively rife with rooms such as this (the Room of the Animals, in this instance)--mosaics on the floor, marble sculpture perched in every niche, fancy ceilings, etc., etc. The building itself is remarkable, and would be even without all of the art (and there's a lot) inside.

My favorite part, the Gallery of Maps. The maps (on the walls--the ceiling is its own crazy frescoed-and-plastered thing) were painted between 1580 and 1585, and show the extent of the Italian and papal territories under Pope Gregory XIII.

Ooh, look, the Piedmont! All those wee tan dots are villages/castles, and the largest one in the center is, naturalmente, "Turino."

I thought this ceiling fresco in one of the Raphael rooms was particularly striking. The central imagery, not entirely subtle, represents the destruction of the old (pagan) gods and the triumph of Christianity.

Hadn't realized it, but the original of Raphael's 'School of Athens' (1509-10) is actually on a wall in the Vatican. How philistine am I??

St. Peter's at night. The sheer size of this place is mind-boggling.

After the Vatican, we caught a late dinner on the piazza in front of the Pantheon at Di Rienzo--admittedly, not my first choice, as that square is packed with tourists day and night, and so one might assume that their food is neither the best, nor the cheapest--but I was pleasantly surprised, as their suppli' (very Roman street food--basically, a ball of tomato risotto stuffed with mozzarella, then breaded and fried) and my pasta with tomato and basil were quite nice. A lovely way to end a busy day.

Day two began with a fantastic cappuccino and the most addictive sandwich of my life--just plain prosciutto and mozzarella on ciabatta, grilled on a panini press--and I have no qualms about confessing to having eaten this same sandwich for breakfast on each of the following three days. (Thanks, Giolitti. I will return someday for the rest of your sandwiches, all of which are belong to me.) Then it was off to see the Vittorio Emanuele II monument up close and personal. Friends, that thing is massive. And it has an elevator that you can take to the very top, for some decent views of the city.

Il monumento.

Also massive: those bronze statues on either end of the top. Here's one with a few people thrown in for (at least a bit of) scale.

View of the Forum and Colosseum from the top.

Next we headed for the (Imperial) Forum, which I think is my favorite ruin (at least, of the ones I've seen!) in Rome. Slightly less insanely crowded than the Colosseum, it really gives you a sense of the awesome scale of Rome at its peak. Plus, it's littered with prettily carved marble and bits of Roman script, two things for which we all know I'm a huge sucker. Also, this time around, we got to see a bunch of places--previously under restoration--that we hadn't seen before. Excellent.

Carved things and script, all in one shot! (And the arch of Septimius Severus--sadly, surrounded by scaffolding-- in the background.)

The Forum, with columns from the temple of Castor & Pollux in the foreground.

Looking southeast, lengthwise, through the Forum.

Temple of Saturn, with various pieces from 42 BC and the 4th century AD. This thing is hugely impressive, and really, just huge. Imagine an entire temple built at this scale...!

Reconstructed piece of the Temple of Vesta (this iteration of the temple dates to 191 AD).

Something we'd never seen before: the courtyard of the House of the Vestals, from 191 AD. 

Remnants of a medieval portico within the Forum. Not much of medieval Rome still exists, so it's pretty fascinating to see something like this, smack in the middle of all of these much older ruins.

Not far from here, we had a really delicious late-afternoon lunch and lovely service at L'Invincibile, which, considering its location, was a shockingly good find. 

As in, this was our view from lunch. And an old Fiat 500 (turquoise!) drove by, and made the whole scene look like something out of an old movie, for a brief moment. Seriously, this city. (There's no way the food this close to a major tourist attraction should have been that good, or that reasonably priced--they had a 2-dishes-plus-drink lunch menu for 15 Euros!--and yet, there it was. I kinda feel in retrospect like it might have been some sort of group hallucination, but we all agreed Mike's cacio e pepe stole the show, and Anastasiya's bruschetta was excellent, so it probably was real.)

Post-lunch, we headed over to Basilica San Clemente, which I suspect might be one of the most interesting buildings in the world. The present-day church dates to the 12th century, and contains some perfectly-preserved original mosaics and a massive marble choir--impressive enough--but one floor lower is an intact (and surprisingly large) 4th-century basilica containing several tombs, lots of inscribed stone remnants (even one giant stone with a Roman inscription on one side, and a pagan inscription on the other!), and some remarkable frescoes...and one floor lower still is a 2nd-century temple dedicated to the pagan god Mithras, as well as a few Roman buildings and streets. Around and through most of which you can stroll--it's that well excavated and preserved. It is an astounding place to visit, especially if you're into history at all, and you really shouldn't miss it, if you're in the neighborhood (it's a 5-minute walk from the Colosseum). Sadly, the bane of my existence--"No Photos"--struck again, but you can find tons of pictures online.*

In the evening, we got to do something really unique: we met up with Jill, a friend of Anastasiya's from college, whose husband Austin is an Episcopal priest right in the heart of the city, and who now works in the refugee center that they run out of the church. They have a lovely daughter who absolutely charmed us all and gave us a tour of their antique-filled apartment (no, really, they have Napoleon III's desk...) attached to the church, and they were kind enough to host us all for the evening. We had prosecco and antipasti on their balcony, the view from which looked like this:

It was pretty surreal, actually, to know people who live in a place like this. (Later, their daughter, Aja, convinced Mike, Bobby, and Anastasiya to climb that bell tower [which is not as leany as it looks in the above photo!]. Me, I decided to keep my feet on solid ground, thank you very much.)

Here's the side of the church building, which isn't all that old, but is pretty spectacular nonetheless.

Then we went out and had a tasty dinner in a super-traditional little osteria in a fantastic neighborhood, the names of both of which I completely failed to record. (Gigantic fail: I loved that neighborhood.) Thanks, Jill and Anastasiya, for the lovely and inspirational evening.

The next day, we went to visit the most amazing place: the Capuchin crypts, or, as I like to call them, the Bone Church. Because it's a sacred space, naturally, they wouldn't allow photographs, but you can find plenty online (sheesh, recurring theme here, especially in the most interesting places). Essentially, the space is six little chapels, all in a row, that are entirely decorated with the bones of something like 4,000 Capuchin monks, a few of which are intact (and partially mummified) skeletons, standing around or lying in niches, dressed in the robes of the order. Most of the bones, however, have been used to form surprisingly artistic designs around each of the chapels. I thought it might be creepy, but with the exception of the guys in robes, it was really more beautiful than anything else (and also maybe a little bit poignant). Who knew scapula could look so much like butterfly wings, and that you could make such pretty little floral patterns with ribs and radii? The place was entirely unlike anything I've ever seen before, and utterly worth the visit.

The Spanish Steps weren't too far from the Capuchin crypts, so that's where we headed next. We found them just as I'd remembered: entirely covered in people.

Meh. Unlike most other things in this city, overrated.

At least we had the lovely walk to Castel Sant'Angelo to make up for it. (This here's the Vatican, FYI.)

And about 5 minutes' walk from the Vatican is this, the castle itself. Originally built to serve as Hadrian's mausoleum in the second century AD, it was converted to a military fortress around the year 400, and then into a papal residence in the 14th century. This place got some history.

View from the castle walls of the aqueduct-like-passageway that runs all the way to the Vatican--built in 1277 so that the pope could escape to the castle, in the event of an invasion. Sweet.

View from the top of the castle back towards the Colosseum and VEII monument.

There's some pretty paintin' inside the castle. (Lots of 16th-century frescoes in the upper floors.)

Then, since we had some time to kill before dinner and we were (quite literally) in the neighborhood, we decided to head back to Vatican City to check out St. Peter's from the inside. That place, my dears, is positively monumental--one of the largest churches in the world, or so Wikipedia (and my own eyes) would have me believe. Ooh, and something I just learned, in tracking down that little factoid: the early selling of indulgences to finance the building of St. Peter's was one of the factors that led Martin Luther to write the 95 Theses...and to kick off the Reformation. Maybe not exactly the direction one might want to head, perhaps, when one is building the largest Catholic church in the world.**

Anyhoo. St. Peter's. Huge.

The papal balcony, from far, far below.

The nave, with Bernini's famous baldachin at the end (and--I just learned this--that sparkly gold thing behind it, also by Bernini, contains the relic of a chair on which St. Peter himself supposedly sat--although it really only dates to the 9th century, get a grip, people).

The main dome over the baldachin. And also, one more bit of architectural-history-super-nerdery, and then I'll stop, I promise. See that niche in the wall, to the left of the canopy, with the two little columns in it? Get this: those things are 2nd-century Greek marble, and there are nine of them that survived the demolition of the original St. Peter's basilica--to which they were donated by none other than Constantine himself in the 4th century. Wow.

The tomb of Pope Alexander VII, also designed by Bernini, with creepy face-covered skeleton in the middle. There  are monuments everywhere in the basilica, but I love the drama of this one. It's really unusual.

Some Swiss guards outside. Those uniforms...honestly.

That evening, it was dinner at Caffe Propaganda, for some modern Roman cuisine. Cute little place, with some really good food: I started with some eggplant croquettes with ricotta and candied datterini tomatoes, then had a plate of pumpkin ravioli with herb butter sauce, and then Mike and I split a plate of crispy octopus with green beans, potatoes, and zucchini cream. And a dessert of hot chocolate cake with caramel sauce. Not too shabby, and have I mentioned lately how obsessed I am with octopus? YUM.

At no point during the first 33 years of my life could I have imagined digging with such gusto into a plate featuring chopped tentacles. Who knew cephalopods were so darn tasty?

The next morning, we hauled our cookies out to the baths of Caracalla, which were just as impressive the second time around. I love this place because it's genuinely spectacular, and yet almost entirely devoid of the Rome crowds. Amazing. 

Just to spare you a few details, I've talked about the baths before, as my dear, loyal readers might remember.

Yeah...it's still pretty big.

Ooh, pretty floor mosaics. So much detail just in these vines.

Some nifty little marble remnants I hadn't noticed last time.

And finally, we launched into what has quickly become my favorite form of tourism: THE FOOD TOUR. Yesssss. Bobby and Anastasiya were good enough sports that they let me sign us all up for an eating tour of Trastevere, which is a far-less-touristed neighborhood of Rome rumored to have the best food in town. And really, having not done the appropriate leg work (...although I'd like to try), I can't contest that. I can, however, tell you that what they do there is genuinely wonderful.

First stop: Da Enzo al 29 for prosecco and artichokes alla giudia, which means Jewish-style--it's an ancient Jewish neighborhood--and also, apparently, means that they're double fried. Yes. You're even supposed to eat the stem, and boy, did I. (Note to self: return someday for the rest of their food. All of it.)

Only artichokes I've ever loved.

Next stop: the wine cellar of what I'm thinking is a tremendous little restaurant I will have to visit someday: Spirito di Vino, which not only occupies part of a building that was an ancient synagogue, but has a wine cellar that's older than the Colosseum. Kid you not.

Srsly, the synagogue here most likely dates to the early 12th century. (There are still Hebrew characters carved into that center column.)

The wine cellar: 160 years older than the Colosseum, and one full floor below the level of the synagogue... so really old. You get the picture. Here we ate wee snacks consisting of amazing cheese (marzellino), tiny beef meatballs, hunters' salami, crispy rye crackers with fennel and cumin, and a little orzo salad with barley, tomatoes, and peas. Accompanied, of course, by some really good wine from the Le Marche region (Il Casolare). All terrific, must eat there for real sometime.

Next, over to the Innocenti biscottificio--family-owned since 1920--for some crazy-good cookies: limoncini (lemon cookies with apricot filling!), brutti ma buoni ("ugly but good," essentially amaretti made from hazelnuts), and some sort of shortbread topped with chocolate, whose Italian name I failed to catch. 

Then, to Antica Caciara, also family-owned since 1900, for some genuine Pecorino Romano, and for some amazing spicy salami that Anastasiya was nice enough to buy and share with Mike and I. (It was weird...other than at the cookie place, no one in our little group bought anything additional except for us. That's no way for supposed food enthusiasts to behave, people.)

Mmmm, the real thing, which is WAY better (read: less of a slap in the face, taste-wise) in Italy than anywhere else. Obviously.

Next stop: street food in the street. Piping hot suppli' from i suppli'. So crunchy and melty and tomatoey and awesome.

Then, La Renella, whose oven is older than the country of Italy itself (it's from 1860). Here, giant shelves of their pizza rosa and pizza bianca.

The margherita pizza we got to try. Holy wow.

I realize that one more shot of pizza could be considered excessive, but it was so pretty! We also tried the pizza bianca and that little guy with prosciutto for ourselves. Worth it.

Next came the actual "dinner" portion of our tour--as if we hadn't had enough already, we stopped at Enoteca Ferrara (in a cool little outdoor dining room area) for some pasta: tonnarelli pasta, cacio e pepe style; spinach and ricotta ravioli with tomato sauce; and gnocchi alla sorrentina (tomato sauce, mozzarella, and basil). All delicious, as was the Le Maestrelle wine. Sadly, I was too busy stuffing my face to take any photos, but it was a lovely place with a super warm atmosphere and terrific pasta.

Last stop: dessert. Fancy-schmance gourmet gelato, to be specific, at Fatamorgana.

Nothing artificial here. I went for the peaches-in-wine and blueberry flavors, and Mike opted for the plum-in-green-tea and some sort of vaguely cheesy flavor, which certainly tasted better than it sounds. Reading their website, though, there are about 30 more flavors I'd like to try.

Not a bad way to spend our final evening in Rome, rest assured. Mike was up and out early the next morning, headed to San Francisco, and I had a leisurely start in which I purchased my customary sandwich and cappuccino at Giolitti, then headed past the Pantheon to see Piazza Navona, just 'cause it was right there. 

Forgot how pretty this piazza is. Jam-packed with people, of course, but just lovely. (And also with a few more fountains 'n things by Bernini--who also did all of the sculptures around Vatican square, as well as those on the bridge leading to Castello Sant'Angelo. That guy was prolific, man.)

Let me just reiterate: I had forgotten just how spectacular Rome is, and how much I really, really enjoy it, and so I was sad to be leaving.

However.

This was in line at the airport ahead of me. It suddenly became difficult to remain sad.

These people are just lucky this thing didn't come home with me. I assure you, it's a real dog, and not a Muppet on a leash. Seriously. There might not be anything cuter.***

Next up: our victorious return to Italy--this time with my parents in tow. Epic adventures to come.

*They also have a "no tank tops" rule, of which I was aware, of course, but--naturally--forgot to carry my covering-up scarf that day, and that's how I came to own a "University of Rome" t-shirt. Way to be prepared, Springer. Sheesh. You'd think I'd never visited a church before.

**Also, I'm sure I probably knew this somewhere back in the deepest and darkest recesses of my brain, but Michelangelo--in 1547, in his 70s--became the chief designer of the building, uniting positive elements from preexisting plans and drawing up a Greek cross-shaped (as in, all four arms the same length) basilica, the lengthened nave and grand facade of which were added roughly 50 years later.

Essentially, Michelangelo envisioned a square building, and Carlo Maderno, by order of Pope Paul V, turned it into a Latin cross-shaped rectangle (the Latin cross has one longer arm). Apparently, the Greek cross shape had vague implications of paganism, according to Counter-Reformers, and they also wanted the new building to encompass the entirety of the ancient sacred site on which the original St. Peter's, with its heaps of important burial sites and chapels and shrines and altars (and, of course, ridiculous wealth) had stood. (That basilica was built by Constantine in the early 4th century, eventually fell into disrepair, and was demolished in the 16th). Yes, I know this is a bit lengthy, and probably packed with unnecessary information for some of you, but the history of this building is super fascinating to me.

***This puppy was right up there with the pandas--both giant and red--and this wee swimmy baby otter. WANT. NOW. ALL OF THEM. CUDDLES. FUZZIES. The cuteness is too much.