Differences - and the beauty of bottomless iced tea

(Finally - got the other pix loaded!)
Here, on my last day in Rome, I find myself far from anxious to return, and before I explain myself let me clarify... I'd be happy to return to a quieter place in Italy, but probably not Rome unless the siren call of the Sistine beckons again.

Rome is harsher than Paris in the way that New York is harsher than LA. The traffic is ceaseless: a green light on the crosswalk is an invitation to sprint because the opposing red light is merely a suggestion. Scooters abound, zipping in and out with a frightening confidence that reminds me of race car drivers who delight in squeezing through a tight spot with a scant inch to spare.

To quote my friend, Bradley, who was here in January, Rome is dirty. They are struggling with horrendous pollution problems that make me grateful that California is tough on emissions. The buildings are grimy, and the trash bins on every corner are overflowing. We went to the Forum and Colosseum yesterday, and were frankly shocked to see garbage amongst the ruins, crusted cigarette butts in the walkways, and evidence that the area was occasionally a crash pad (and frequently a urinal) for the homeless. Perhaps it is because they have so much here - countless structures dating back to the first century of Christianity, more than a handful from the centuries before - that they can be cavalier about what they have. Maybe they are over it, maybe it has been here so long they think it will still be here longer. In California it seems that we seldom revere anything before it hits the 100 year mark, and if it makes it that far, we then put it on a nostalgic pedestal and create laws to protect it. I'm guessing that if we owned the Forum it would now be hermetically sealed in a theme park bio-dome with an exorbitant entrance fee. On second thought, that would be a different kind of tragedy.

I also have to remember that I have the eyes of a tourist, and that if I were to visit LA the way I am visiting Rome, I would likely find myself equally appalled at the carnival of aggressive parasites at every attraction, hawking cheap trinkets and expensive bottled water.

One of the great things about being away from home is garnering a new appreciation for what you take for granted. After countless meals of pasta and pizza, accompanied by $2 bottles of water or $5 cans of Coke, we decided that a Hard Rock Cafe burger was needed. The Hard Rock, like Starbucks and McDonald's, is hardly the best of its genre, but the consistency of product across the world is predictable and comforting. They even had a ceiling of painted angels, playing rock instruments. We had big, juicy burgers with fries and rings. And I had iced tea... an unlimited supply. Bella!