Lost and Found

BY 9am we were out the door, flying down the stairs, and through the narrow alleys to meet Uber at the top of Garibaldi street. Made it to our appointed tour of Le Domus Romane, di Palazzo Valentini, Piazza Foro Traiano, 85, with eight minutes to spare, and promptly walked off in the wrong direction. We hit a dead end created by massive construction. We circled, re-entered the address in both of our iPhone maps, asked passersby, poliziotto, and construction workers, all in vain. A hustler pestered us until Robert snapped, “Shut up!” “What are you, her bodyguard?” the tout jeered, and we kept circling. We’d ask “Dove Domus Romane?” and people would smile, point and reply, “Colosseo.”
Fifteen minutes later, after we’d missed the start of the English tour,  it occurred to me to go to the website. There I found directions on a map linked to Google, and a photo of the entrance. The construction guy whistled to us and pointed to a businessman, who gestured with his briefcase. We realized it was tucked in a corner behind the tout that we had hurried past. “Karma for being mean,” Robert muttered.
We ran in, apologetic, sweaty, and distraught. The desk clerk guided us across a courtyard, through an iron gate, down multiple stairs, lifted a curtain and handed us off to the guide of the tour in progress.
I was instantly blind. Could not see even the faintest outline of anything. Not a photon. I could hear the recorded tour voice, but when urged to go forward I froze, unable to move in the utter blackness.
Sadly, I was too freaked out by being late and blind, to enjoy the experience. The floors were transparent over the archeological remains of a once grand house. The site was in a prime location with a view of Trajan’s Column in the front yard. The virtual reality effects educated the eye; delineating strata of time, and filling in remnants of a mosaic floor, defining columns, balustrades, stairs, and doorways. Short videos recreated entire furnished rooms, complete with sound effects.
Only eight people in this English language tour, a plus, but the gloom necessary for the laser effects gave me the unfortunate sensation of falling. I shuffled across the glass, unsure when to step up or down. The dialogue was super cheesy, with zings of Tinkerbell sounds and self-important trumpets. I would have liked it better with earplugs.
The environment of the rich and powerful Romans was interesting, But I couldn’t quite erase thoughts of the slave economy that made that life possible. Blood and misery of the defeated, human beings made slaves to build the grand stone roads and marble walls, to cook and clean and mind the kids and provide sex and keep the machinery humming. It tarnishes the whole grandeur that was Rome slant. The bodies and souls crushed to juice every domus of the empire were as intrinsic to Rome as her military prowess.
Feeling slightly dismal, we tackled the next part of the day with a certain grimness. I was setting off in search of an ATM, trusting Google, when Robert spotted one a block away. My ATM card worked like a charm. Paydirt! We high-fived each other.
After waffling about where to go next, we decided to keep to the original plan. Instead of Ubering, we jumped in one of the white taxis lined up at the curb and headed for the New Testaccio Market, Via Aldo Manuzio, 66C . The taxi was cheaper tha Uber, though the driver scowled and drove like a man possessed. Into the market and found the place Katy Parla’s blog recommended, Mordi e Vai. Things were looking up. We took a turn around the market, taking it in. I found a lovely periwinkle violet scarf for Julia and a canvas tote with a stylized graphic of Maddy for Robin. Eureka! Both claimed to be Made in Italy and I hope it’s true. I saw a woman getting a bright purple rinse in a one-chair stylist shop, stalls that sold cheap yarn and notions, shoes and handbags. Multiple greengrocers, a juice bar, suppli (fried rice balls), coffee bars, rows of chickens complete with heads, skinned rabbits, a fish monger. We returned to Mordi e Vai purveyors of Roman street food. I ordered from the posted English menu and the man behind the counter sighed, “You come to Rome and you order sausage?”
I asked which was his favorite, and it wasn’t tripe, so I went for it. When he floated the freshly cut bread in the sauce created by the slow simmered beef I knew I had chosen well. We sat at a table provided for diners in the center of the market. Followed our sandwiches with espresso shots and a pastry so uninspired we chunked it.
We walked to the Centrale Montemartini, Via Ostiense, 106. It’a bold mix of classical statuary, mosaics, and grave markers from the Capitoline Museum with massive industrial machinery. It’s housed in a former electrical plant.
The walk there was a reward in itself.  We passed a small memorial cemetery for British military who died in WWII. Tucked into the shelter of an aqueduct, it felt like a small park, tended, green and tranquil, except for the forlorn rows of white crosses.
We spotted a house built on top of a truck. Two stories pieced together from trellis material and scrap tin, with pinwheels whirling away.
There was this striking black and white street mural, that Robert couldn’t resistInside of a pedestrian tunnel were more pointed political graffiti, like this nod to the ladies.

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Both appropriate and ironic, considering it was International Woman’s Day. Thanks for the 24 hours, boys!
One entire block of buildings was a rainbow of gardens and giant heads. We bought delicious cream puffs from a random coffee bar. This area felt like a neighborhood, very different from the tourist-saturated streets of the center.
The museum was housed in former power station and smelled like a cross between Robert’s shop and an abandoned stone quarry. A distinct cool metal, old machine oil, and marble tang. It reminded me of home.
The juxtaposition of scale and eras and materials really worked for us. The elegant lines of white marble bodies dwarfed by the complex bulk of massive machinery. Robert loved this place. Here he is, in action.

I recognized a funerary monument from the Mary Beard documentary Meet the Romans, tucked away in a back corner. Watching that series has enriched every aspect of my trip.
The venue was all but deserted. I saw three other people besides a pair of guards fixated on their iPhones. I don’t think the impact of the iPhone on modern times can be overstated.
Back via an Uber Mercedes van that careened through the tiny streets of Trastevere with unerring accuracy. How do they do it? Drivers must have invisible whiskers like cats.