After almost missing our Alitalia connection at JFK, we arrived in Rome at around 11am armed with 1.5 hours of sleep, a knowledge of maybe a half dozen words of Italian and our modest American affluence which had us in the back of a Mercedes sedan to whisk us efficiently to our hotel and just a efficiently, relieve us of our first€55.
The Campo dei Fiori is set just off of the big square of the same name on of the many charming little Piazzas that Rome's narrow streets widen into and narrow back out of. Much of Rome consists of womb like piazzas and larger campos, connected by narrow streets.
We emerged from our car into a charming, sunny, high noon cacophony of a Friday Italian lunch on the Campo dei Fiori, which we later found hot is one of hotter outdoor eatery hang-outs in all of Rome. They take long lunches here, you know. The Farmers market was buzzing, the cafe and ristorante by our hotel were bustling and nearby a brass brand was playing what sounded like Italian mariachi music.
Our room in the Campo was laughably tiny by our our vulgar American size expectations but exceedingly well appointed in very fresh decor and technology, including a wall hung flatscreen TV imbedded in a massive gilt frame. Yet one feels the true antiquity of this genuinely old little building surrounded by many other buildings, all centuries, some thousands of years old.
Tourists and locals mix freely in our little piazza and on the Campo. The locals are evident by their characteristically and tastefully understated continental dress. Men wear jackets, slack and dress shoes. Woman most often a dress of some type.
Americanos stand out to with an inevitable shlumpiness that is tolerated by the natives to degree somewhere north of disdainment.
Another tolerance factor in Italy is a virtual abandonment of tipping! This took your loquacious and overly generous scribe by surprise to the extent of identity crisis and her nibs was delighted by the custom's ease on the household pocketbook as well as the opportunity to chide me when I oafishly tipped the bell boy four euros to "roll our bags a total of 8 feet". I am always being castigated for over-tipping but Italy presented an occasion for utmost strictness in matters of tipping. More about this later.
After a stinging nuptial spousal rebuke, I was almost compelled to retrieve the two coins from the lad who was by then, no doubt delightfully bragging about his good fortune in chancing upon the uninitiated.
Lunch was in the understated but excellent outdoor cafe just across from our hotel in the Piazza. Panini sandwich caprese and desperately needed caffe latte served before the meal, grazie mille!! The bill was €18.40 and we left a 20 which was probably excessive. :-). In an exception to the "no tipping" or "tipping included norm of Italy is the custom of rounding up. One hardly ever sees denominations smaller than half a Euro. One and Two Euros are coins. The smallest bill is a five.
"Tap or sparkling, signore?" A feature of Roman streets and piazzas is the is the innumerable free flowing water fountains that abound. Tourists and locals alike carry plastic bottles and refill them one handed at will by merely holding under the flow. Only the truly negligent or paranoid are dehydrated in this town.
Dinner on this first full day in Roma was at the wonderful Ristorante da Pancrazio just across the piazza. It looked very buttoned and attractive from our room window, although it was closed until dinner and the patio chairs were not yet set out. Being exhausted and not in the mood to restaurant hunt, we planned an early dinner at Pancrazio.
We arrived at dinner unfashionably early at 630. By 715 the place was full, including two large tables of about a dozen each of locals, seemingly families of locals who dine together regularly at Pancrazio on Friday night. Big crowds of locals certified this ristorante as a "keeper" that we would return to twice more.
The wine at Pancrazio, from nearby Lazio, tasted like a $60 cabernet and was only 20 Euro at the table.
She had saltimboca which we thought was a tad tough and I had a true spaghetti, thick very al dente noodles with a bacon and mushroom tomato sauce. Our first Italian tiramisu was creamier and more delicate than anything we've ever had in America. It was served in an inverted glass bowl that is typical of elegant Roman design innovation and allowed your greedy recantour to scoop every last morsel of its sweet delight.
Pancrazio showed us that Rome is a place where a couple can feel intimacy and charm among the noisy hustle that is everywhere as the evening descends, local and tourist alike come out for "the stroll".
