We had delayed breakfast on the deck this morning until 9:00 am with the plan to get up early and walk to “Nero’s Caves”, an archeological dig site just on the other side of old town Anzio. It is thought to be the beach side home of the emperor Nero (37-68 AD). The digging is still progressing. Hopefully, enough artifacts will be found to verify the identity of the site. We knew it would not be open early, but we knew enough was visible from outside the fences and down on the beach that we would get a look, enough to satisfy us.
We had set the alarm for 6:00 am, but we were both awake at 5:30 am and the alarm rang on my phone as we walked northward down the street toward downtown Anzio. Our walk took us through the piazza that is so alive in the evenings. This morning, it was deserted. We found the caves and the brick foundations left after 2000 years of weathering by the sea, then turned around and headed to the Villa Borghese, a large estate just south of our B&B.
We walked up the road to the large acreage that makes up the grounds and found a large gate blocking the road. Checking Google maps, we found this to be the only road that accesses the estate. We walked up the highway fronting the grounds, but found the undergrowth so extensive we could not see the building. We returned to our B&B, showered, packed and prepared for breakfast.
The other room of the house had been rented by a archeology student from Carnigie Mellon University named Parker. He was about 23 years old. He joined us for breakfast on the deck. We discussed his work in a small Italian town, digging ancient ruins.
Our train left for Rome at 10:10 am, so we bid Liana goodbye and walked to the station. Once at Termini station in Rome, we caught the Red Line to our familiar stop, Ottaviano, and walked to our hotel for the night. At the address, we did not find a hotel, rather an apartment building. While standing in the open doorway trying to figure out where we had gone wrong, a kind, tall 60’s something German man inquired what we needed and helped us to sort out that the “hotel” was on the 4th floor, the same side of the building where he had his flat.
We rode the elevator up and found the “hotel” was really a B&B and would not be open to register us into our room until 2:00 pm. Bummer! We had specifically chosen a “hotel” so we could drop our bags at the front desk and get into the city in the early afternoon. It was now 12:15 pm. We had an hour and 45 minutes to kill. I called the number of the “hotel”, but only got voice mail. I emailed, but got no response. We decided to find a restaurant and eat lunch while we waited. We were familiar with this neighborhood, as we were only 3 blocks from the B&B we had stayed at way back at the beginning or our adventure in May.
We had lunch, and lingered in the restaurant for well over an hour, as good Italians do, until a little before 2:00 pm when we journeyed back to the “hotel”. About 2:10 pm a young man of about 26 opened the outer door for us and began sorting out who we were and what room we had. He spoke no English-no problem-but treated us as if we were boxes that had just been delivered by the post office and he had to trouble himself to find a storage spot to put them in. He did not make eye contact nor did he respond to any of our attempts at conversation. It took two phone calls to the owner to get us settled out. We were in camera #1. It was wonderful. Clean, roomy and full AC, something we had missed in our first 5 days in Rome.
We cleaned up, rested a bit, then headed out to get our shopping done. We started by walking the street leading to the Vatican. We knew it was lined with tourist shops. We each had specific items we were looking for and it was a matter of finding which shop had the exact item we sought. It took a little while, but we found most of what we were looking for.
I suggested Kebab sandwiches in a shop we had eaten at 5 days earlier. Sally consented, so we walked to the metro and took it one stop to the west, Cipro. When we emerged, we realized I had been mistaken. The Kebab shop was at the Ottaviano. We rode the subway back, found the shop and shared a sandwich. I grabbed a gelato at the shop next door and we rode the subway to Barbarini stop, the closest stop to Trevi Fountain. I had a specific gift in mind that could only be purchased from the immigrant street vendors wandering the piazzas hocking their wares.
We walked down the hill, past Trevi fountain, past the Pantheon and over to Piazza Navore. Along the way we searched for a shoe shop we had passed with Bill and Pat that had just the shoes that Sally had been searching for these past 46 days. Alas, although I thought I could remember where it was, I could not find it. I should have taken a picture of it as Sally had suggested at the time.
In the piazza, we enjoyed the crowd and awaited the evening light to dim. This brings out the immigrants selling the item I sought, a rubber band launched missile that flys up when shot, yet spins to the earth like a helicopter. They have a small LED bulb on them, so they glow as the fly. They really are quite fun. I eyed the vendors, looking for one that I could dicker price with. When I spied my prey, I asked how much for one. He said €5.00. What?!? I exclaimed. Too much. I will give you €1.00. He came back with 3 for €5.00. Then it was 7 for €10.00. I had talked them down to €1.00 each before, but I told him €6.00 for 5. He said no. Sally and I started to walk away. He suddenly agreed and I purchased my 5 helicopters/missiles.
We wandered back through the city to Barbarini, hopped on a train and were back in our room by about 10:00 pm. We had super good internet here, about 40Mg/s, so I finished a movie about Hitler returning to modern Germany called, “Look Who’s Back” on Netflix while Sally slept. Our travels are over.
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