A Rosie Life In Italy 4: Potatoes, Pizza and Poteen by Rosie Meleady

Author:Rosie Meleady [Meleady, Rosie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781915519047
Publisher: Envy Publishing
Published: 2023-01-05T22:00:00+00:00

24

CIVILISATION?

With an hour to spare, the women in Puglia have done it. They queued at the administration office and got my Green Pass. With a racing heart, and a lot of relief, I am on a train, with Luca, for the first time in two years.

Ronan offered to drive us to Rome, but the car has started to beep a loud warning alarm, like someone has not fastened their seatbelt. And the oil light is glowing, so he’s going to bring it to the mechanic to get a check-up. Anyway, I love travelling by train.

I am enjoying watching the scenery trundle by; ancient ochre towns melting into hilltops, tilled hills showing the first greens of life. A flock of sheep outside Rome with three huge black dogs walking amongst them, ready to protect the woolies from wolves. I’ve missed absorbing Italy.

It will be another eight hours before Rob and Jenny arrive, so we go for a stroll around Rome, traversing by the Trevi Fountain.

"Do you know over €3000 per day is thrown into the Trevi Fountain?" says Luca, who, as always, is a mine of information. "They vacuum up the coins every night and then give it to a charity, helping to feed the homeless of the city. It’s looking much better than the last time we saw it."

He’s right, the fountain has been beautifully restored to its travertine calcium white and aquamarine waters with the restoration funded by the fashion house Fendi. Not a brand I like, since an ex-girlfriend of my brother’s boasted of her Fendi handbag made from 40 different types of frog skins.

But I liked what the big designer brands were doing—taking the amazing landmarks of Rome under their wings and funding the restoration of them to their former glory.

I booked tickets for Luca and I to see a visiting Klimt exhibition, an exhibition I have been dying to see. He’s one of my favourite artists since school and I’ve seen none of his work in the ‘flesh’. I’ve even written a murder mystery around one of Klimt’s paintings in the book I dedicated to my dad called, ‘A Brush With Death’, which he ironically read the week before he died.

The exhibition was planned and advertised before Covid started, and I didn’t think I would get to Rome before it was due to end in a couple of weeks. Our ticket was for a specific entry time.

With an hour to spare, we go for dinner at a restaurant beside the gallery. It’s nice to have some time away with Luca to chat uninterrupted, especially as he has been quite down recently.

"Mam, I want to defer my art course, I have fallen behind and missed too much because of the trip back to Ireland for the funeral and all that. Not being able to attend in person and it being all online... well, I am just on my own. I have no friends here."

"Yet..." I say. "No friends yet." I still live in hope he will feel Italy as home and I understand having friends here would play a big part in that.

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