Spanish Steps

It is a tough time to be a travel writer. As a baker needs flour, so does a travel writer need fresh sights, smells, sounds, experiences, inspiration. Of course, writing about past adventures is an option. For example, I could tell you about a brilliant day last autumn, cool morning, warm afternoon, mild evening, starting with a morning run along the Tiber, languid, flowing as it has for thousands of years. I could tell you about our apartment in Trastevere, our continental breakfast there, consisting of prosciutto, cheese, bread, yogurt, tasty smoked salmon from the night before, and assorted fruit, my daily cappuccino as we embarked on an epic walking tour of Rome. I could tell you about our visit to the AS Roma shop on Piazza Colona (resulting in the purchase of a jersey and one of my favorite training shirts), our walk up Via Del Corso, past the pantheons of Italian high fashion, before turning right on to Via Condotti and in a few minutes reaching the Piazza di Spagna, with the Sinking Boat Foundation as its focal point. Created by Bernini, due to low water pressure from the Acqua Vergine aqueduct, the fountain takes the form of sinking boat. I could tell you about the legions of Romans and travelers congregating in the Piazza, the 138 steps, the central terrace offering a temporary reprieve to tired legs on a warm October afternoon, and, alas, the top of the steps, and the Triniti Dei Monti, with its cool, centuries-old walls, offering a further reprieve from the heat, and a day of walking and running that totaled more than 30,000 steps. I could tell you about turning left at this church and continuing past the Villa Medici and a brief visit to the Villa Borghese, one of Rome’s, and the world’s, most famous parks, its many statues, under a rich canopy of oak, plane, and cedar trees, a street performer on a Segway, singing classic Italian and American music hits, while spinning and moving back and forth on his machine. I could tell you about exiting the park and traversing Piazza del Popolo, before grabbing lunch at Mama Eat Lab, a gluten-free eatery not far from Vatican City, before returning to our apartment for much-welcomed rest, and a short walk to our dinner in Trastevere, at Mama Eats, the sister restaurant, as we explored yet another terrific gluten-free eatery in a city as friendly to those with gluten allergies as any on this planet. It was our last night in Rome, as well as the last night of our vacation. Little did we (or anyone) know that it would be our last international trip for an indeterminate period of time.

This October, I ventured as far as Petaluma (California), nice, but not quite the trip to Paris I had planned to take. That said, it was a quintessentially clear and warm day in Northern California, our Indian Summer (post to follow).  The corn maze we visited was clever indeed, and finding the exit was more satisfying than anticipated.  I purchased a few pumpkins, before grabbing a gluten-free lunch at Amy’s, and visiting the Petaluma premium fashion outlets and purchasing a sharp Arsenal jersey at a deep discount at the Adidas shop, before visiting the Botanical Garden in Golden Gate Park (San Francisco) and driving home. 

It is a tough time for everyone.  We are mired in a pandemic, with the exit probably at least another 12 months away. Still, we need to keep writing, traveling responsibly (if only locally), connecting with those across the globe (whether by phone, email, Zoom, etc.), and planning for a brighter tomorrow. 

Comments welcomed.