Moving Out, Moving In

Sunday morning was moving day all around. Someone was moving out from an apartment in the building. A vehicle about half the size of a UPS truck, with happy vegetables painted on the cab, was the moving van. Chairs, taped boxes, heaps of stuff were pilled everywhere in the vestibule, halls, and stairwells. It put packing my two suitcases right into perspective.

I got my cash deposit back from the landlord’s spouse and headed out to await Uber. I had some overflow but it all fit in a shopping bag, so I don’t have to buy luggage…yet.
Over the river and through the piazzas to the delightful 15 Keys Hotel on Urbana Street in Monti. I was put in a third-floor room that was filled with light. I could feel my happiness quotient rise as soon as I opened the door. It was cheering to see so many photons dancing around. I also had an instantaneous improvement in the clarity of my vision. The more light, the better my elderly retinas focus. I realized that being in dim apartments for the last four weeks has had an effect on my mood. Instead of Seasonal Affectiveness Disorder, let’s call it Second-floor Affectiveness Disorder.
The room was sleek and well designed. It was comfortable, functional, and reasonably spacious. The bathroom was large by European standards and sparkling clean. There was no funky smell from the drains, no dimness, no rickety extraneous furnishings, no weird light fixtures. The sound-muffling double panes on the windows and tall glass door leading to my balcony worked like a charm. Opened and I heard traffic, people talking, Vespa’s buzzing; your generic noisy city street. Closed, not a whisper. Brilliant! Genius! 5 stars.
After I moved in and unpacked, I headed over toward the Baths of Diocletian, stopping en route to eat lunch. I tried a likely looking restaurant I’d plugged into my GoogleMap of Rome, La Matriciana,Via del Viminale, 44. Boy, did I luck out. They found me a single chair and table near the front door. It turned out I was the last person they could squeeze in. I watched them regretfully turn away more than a dozen parties that did not have reservations. Within ten minutes the place was packed to the rafters, and rocking with the sounds of happy diners talking and laughing. There were two large main rooms, and a wide hall area. I noticed a row of other diners also eating alone, middle-aged men mostly. They all looked stoically homesick. Or maybe just lonely. Single ladies of Rome, take note.
I drew postcards while I waited for service and then for food. No one objected to me scribbling and shading away, for which I was grateful. It was homey but refined; dark wood, big windows, white linen, servers in white jackets. I had a delicious seared cod with artichokes and panna cotta with a strawberry glaze that looked like a crime scene but tasted terrific. I made reservations for the next day, that’s how much I liked it.
Walked to the basilica Santa Maria degli Angeli e dei Martiri. I downloaded the app guide as advised at the entrance (modern times!)  Noted mosaics of astrological signs that flanked a line that cleaved a section of the floor.

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It turned out to be a meridian line, 45 meters long and composed of bronze edged with yellow-white marble, installed by order of the Pope. I want to come back at noon and see where the sunlight that enters through a hole in the roof strikes the line.
Left the church for another wander through the Baths of Diocletian. (Adding an indecorous note to say what a PIA it was to find a bathroom. I had to ask a guard everytime. My only clue was an almost invisible, pale gray glyph on a door that looked like part of the wall, in a dark back corner alcove).

While I examined Etruscan funerary goods and admired the late afternoon light on the cloister below, I listened to I Shall Wear Midnight, the fourth novel in the Tiffany Aching series. No one is better company in a foreign capital than Terry Pratchett.
Took a walk around my new home base before I returned to my room and decided to try this gelato shop they all rave about, Fatamorgana. OMG! They are not raving, they speak the solemn truth. I gambled on the flavor Thumbelina.  It was so freaking delicious, it instantly replaced my all time favorite gelato flavor, coconut. There really is a difference between the everyday gelato and these concoctions. It’s at the end of my street, people. I must be living right.
Bought a pint of milk and lost my room key card – dropped it on the street.  It was turned in a few minutes after I had to ask reception for a replacement. Good for my humility. The staff was totally cool about it. I think I’m going to like it here.