Monday 17th July 2006

Although it was a late and tiring night and I really did need to catch up on my sleep there's a certain guilt about lying in bed until lunchtime in a foreign city, what with there being so much to see outside. But then I suppose there's no point dragging yourself around feeling like you should be in the local cemetery, and there's only so long you can walk anyway, so when we did eventually step out into Rome at about two O'clock, there was still plenty of time for Sarah and I to make the most of the day before leaving for home early tomorrow morning.

This is the first time I've done a mini-break, normally I consider it necessary to have at least four days anywhere, but two days is fine to get a taste for a place. And clearly that means it's far less expensive and you don't miss out too much time that should really be spent at home trying to get things done, so the guilt is reduced too. The initial plan was to see Moz last night, then get on the plane this morning, but I think if we'd done that I'd feel like we'd almost wasted a trip - no matter how good the gig was. Europe is so accessible now, but even so it's silly to fly 1,000 miles only to see a show and then fly back again, and so today was our tourist day.

Rome is smaller than you might imagine. If you were imagining it to be big. If you were imagining it to be quite modestly sized then it's not smaller than you imagined. But I imagine that most people imagine it to be a sprawling metropolis. Don't imagine that. Imagine it to be like, say, Birmingham. But now stop imagining that literally, just think about it in terms of population. I don't know what the population of Rome is, so I can't imagine if I'm right or not, but don't go imagining it's the same size of London or New York. Hang on... I imagine I can Google the population, wait a second. About two and a half million. That's actually more than I imagined. Alright, stop imagining Birmingham - that was a silly idea in the first place - and now imagine somewhere a third the size of London. Right, there we go. You imagining that? I don't know why I even brought up Birmingham, what did I imagine I could achieve by that? It's like when Renata asked me if LA is like Stoke - there's no comparison except both places have gravity.

So anyway it's not as big as I imagined it would be, lets but it that way, and the city centre is walkable and fairly easy to navigate because you've got a river, The Tevere, running through it and plenty of landmarks to steer yourself by. You can walk for a good two hours and not make it nearly all the way through (so try to imagine that's the sort of size we're talking about - go on, imagine) but generally speaking you can lay out your map and decide which direction to set off in without the need for The Metro which makes it great for visitors. And there are thousands of them. Heaps of Americans. Japanese. But it's not a relic of a city, it's a working place, and so as long as you have selective hearing you can loose yourself in a purely Italian wonderland. Which is what we did.

I felt underdressed in a black T-shirt and jeans. Romans have a very admirable preoccupation with style and generally look immaculate. So I stopped at a shop selling Italian shirts and came out looking far more civilised - feeling now I could easily hop on a Vespa or sit around drinking coffee leering at women, which is something of a national pastime here. No, that's a bit of a cliché. Only certain men leer at women. The others are asleep.

I like the stylishness of Rome. You see people standing around in an immaculate grey suit, white shirt and black, well knotted tie for seemingly no reason. They're mannequins. And sat in a square, such as The Piazza Cavour as we did this afternoon, men ride past on their Vespas without a thread out of place whist equally perfect women ride pillion. It won't be true, but you can almost imagine destitute people in Rome have three items of clothing in their wardrobe, all of them immaculately maintained and hand stitched.

We went to The Spanish Steps, which were slightly too full of tourists to be the peaceful and graceful place they would be in autumn, and from there along Via Del Babuino to The Hotel De Russie, one of the best in all of Rome. It's quite a legendary place this, and I make no bones about the fact Sarah and I were interested in seeing it because Morrissey lives there, but we weren't being nerdy stalkers because we knew he'd be in Milan for a show tonight. Depeche Mode were in the bar though. It's a lovely place, we sat in the courtyard having Grey Goose and tonic, making friends with a charming waiter called Paulo. "Ah, Morr-is-say, ci. He's very nice. He's very nice. He invite all the staff here to the show. Very nice." You know I have a sickness for the world's best hotels, even if I can't afford to stay in them, and that's the beauty of them - you don't have to. You can just enjoy their hospitality and make believe.

We strolled for a while longer and were going to go to The Vatican and see St Peter's but then decided we'd leave it for another time - and there will be other times - you can go to Rome for a fiver on Ryan Air, instead went back to our hotel to get ready for dinner and found a restaurant at The Hotel Majestic on Via Barberini. The staff there were lovely too - everyone seems so friendly and funny. We sat on the veranda and watched a group of men with taxis celebrating wildly before driving off into the night - clearly the month long strike is over. I'd asked Paulo is The Russie how they could afford to not work for a month and he said "Because they are all so rich. The strike was against regulating them, because there is no regulation. Licences for driving a taxi cost about 150,000 Euros and get passed down through families like a house. They control everything." Clearly the Government have failed in making this system fairer.

A few late drinks, finishing in the early hours, and to sleep. I really like Rome. New York is still my spiritual home, as I said earlier this month, but Rome has something very special too. I love the language, you have to speak it with the accent. Take the word 'Bellissimo' for example. You can't say it flatly in an English accent 'Bulliesimoe'. No-one would understand. You have to say it like an Italian; "Bell-ISS-i-MO." It's really expressive.

I don't know if I've been anywhere in Europe as sure of itself as Rome, and that's even with the influx of tourists mid-summer. I imagine it's even better off season. It will be a shame to leave and evil Sarah tried putting ideas into my head to change the flights but I'm going to be stern with myself this time and get back to the real world. There's lots to do - as I've been telling myself for too long.

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