Mesdames, Monsieurs le disc jockey ‘SASH’ est de retour…
We walked down to the train station and purchased a couple of return tickets to Rome. On the train, Corky met some more of his foreign friends. Three blokes and two French femmes fatales. I started conversing with the blond who hailed from Rennes in the Normandy part of
France.
Changing trains in Chiusi, along the way, I started an in-depth discussion with Élise. This lady was from the 15th arrondissement in Paris and told me that she was working in a perfume shop on the Champs-Elysees this summer. I told her that I would, indeed, be in Paris
this summer, to meet up with a lady from the United States who was coming on a trip.
Back on the overpopulated train to Rome, I was informed that today was a bank holiday and that the massive crowd were discipling to Rome for a concert with Sinead O’Connor and Blur headlining. We were left standing all the way from Chiusi to Rome and I started shrieking
“Mesdames, Monsieur’s – le disc jockey SASH est de retour” much to the amusement of my French belles.
Élise then took it upon herself to give me some of the best restaurants and hang-outs for my rendezvous in Paris later on this year. “Quai Ouest” and “La Plage” were two fab restaurants in the centre. Adding her phone number and address, I was delighted to have such a lucrative place to hang out whenever I’m in Paris. People think that I have all these French friends because I like them. Pas de tout. It’s just that I have friends well placed around the French countryside because of the World Cup Finals in the summer of 1998!
Arrived in Rome and had to walk all around the city after finding out that Rome was public-transport-free on a public holiday. So the two Celtic Warrior Brothers had no option but to make it around on foot. I wouldn’t mind, but walking with Shane is like running in a marathon. He takes off and treats it like a race. I jested him a few times but he said that he couldn’t help it.
The Colosseum was our first Roman stop. Built between AD 70 and AD 80, the Colosseum could hold over 50,000 spectators who came to watch the many Christians being eaten by lions or gladiators fighting to the death. I’d say you would have had to have been there back in the olden days to savour the ambience!
Walking for a couple more miles brought us to the Vatican City and St. Peter’s Square. This city is the spiritual centre for 630 million Roman Catholics and has it’s own stamps and currency. St. Peter’s Square is a 17th century masterpiece which leads up to St. Peter’s Basilica, the church whose incredible dome can be seen from all over Rome.
We sat outside of the Pope’s house and just brought up arguments about life in general, reincarnation, the afterlife, NDEs (Near Death Experiences), where it will all end (and we weren’t talking about
Hana!). Fell asleep and woke to find this old grey-haired bloke dressed in priest’s clothes, with one of his hands shaking from Parkinson’s disease inviting us in to his house for a cup of tea. However, I had to turn down his offer because, as everyone knows, I don’t drink tea!
The Trevi Fountain is the fountain of Rome but as it was raining, I took a photo and we vacated the large discipleship for the Spanish Steps. The rain was thrashing down on us as we took shelter, amid a throng of Japanese (they are everywhere!) and hailed a taxi back to the ferrovia.
Stopped off in Chiusi for about an hour and had an ice-cream so soothe my parched throat. Sat outside a caf‚ and aired my smelly, blistered toes as myself and Shane joked about the old lady who was itching scratch cards like there was no tomorrow. The oversized lady started off with a couple of cards, won nothing and disappeared back into the shop. Appearing, back at our sides, the burly female again proceeded to scrape ebulliently as if soothing her itch. No joy!
Met another of Shane’s friends on the train back to Siena. Paul (pronounced ‘Pau’) was from Barcelona and we chatted about the failure of trophy success of Bobby Robson and the brilliance of a certain Ronaldo from Brazil. The rumpus turned unnaturally to Ireland and the
IRA. Although the debate was in Italian, I could pick up various points of view. The Catalonian was surprisingly well-educated on the subject of Northern Ireland.
Back to Siena and after showering, Shane treated me to some of his super spaghetti bolognaise. Tried to find Stephanie in the Irish bar again but she was elsewhere. Decided to call Jarkko Riikonen in Helsinki. The
native of Finland was probably one of Corky’s best friends last summer and we caught Jarkko in jovial mood with lots of news. I only talked for a couple of minutes and he was in great form.
Read all eight parts of Seven Capital Cities in Seven Days
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five
Part Six
Part Seven
Part Eight
