Eternally yours, Roma

I knew that I wanted to travel to a major "bucket list" type destination this year. When the gloom and gray of August began to depress me in a major way, I decided it was time to bring out the big guns. Thus our mid-September trip to Rome.

Rome proved me wrong about quite a number of things. I thought mid-September would be cool enough to get just a bit of sun without crossing over into debilitating heat; I was wrong. I thought it would be hard to find a great, non-tourist menu meal; wrong again. I thought I wouldn't do any shopping, having not factored it into our four-day itinerary... hah! Finally, I'd heard a lot of complaints about how rude, chaotic, touristy and overcrowded the Eternal City could be, and thought I might hate it; again, I was wrong. 

I really loved this trip, and this city. I've realized that I'm no longer a big fan of big cities, and almost booked a trip to Cinque Terre instead. But Rome was so worth it.

I had booked our accommodations via AirBNB in Prati, a residential, middle-class district north of Vatican City and (by choice) a fair distance from the big tourist hotspots. Marlon and I got up at nine on the first morning and set out on a leisurely meander to the historic center. This long walk was when I first started to fall in love with the city.

To get to the Centro Storico (historic center), we had to walk a little over 4km and cross the Tiber River. 

One of the first, most vivid images of Rome I ever saw was in a Childcraft encyclopedia when I was about six or seven. (I still remember it was Volume 10, Places to Know.) It was the Castel Sant'Angelo, Hadrian's tomb turned papal residence and fortress, connected by an covered passageway to the Vatican. So I was thrilled to learn that we would be crossing the Tiber River at this historic landmark. I couldn't believe I was actually seeing this vivid image from my childhood—I was so excited, I actually ran towards it. And I don't run.

That morning walk was pretty awesome. I wish I wasn't so shy about taking photos of people, because I now really regret not taking more photos of the super fierce and molto chica locals we saw that morning.

The Romans struck me as positively petite (short, yes, but super skinny) and classically stylish. Think men in crisp, perfectly fitted suits in 35℃ heat, tanned women striding across uneven, gappy cobblestones in five-inch wedges, and aristocratic-looking grannies buying vegetables in sleek updos and linen dresses. I particularly recall an architectural, electric-pleated black linen dress that I would have killed for. If there was ever a time in my life when I seriously considered becoming a mugger, it was every time I saw a Roman dressed in some achingly covetable article of clothing. It was a crime of fashion, Your Honor!

Heck, in Rome even the doors are fierce. Check out these metal studs:

The doors may be fierce, yes. This cowardly lion, not so much. Lions seem to be a popular Roman motif; I lost count of how many lion door knockers I saw in those four days.

After a couple of hours of meandering (punctuated by some Sicilian-made gelati), we reached the Piazza della Rotonda...

... where the Pantheon is situated. Formerly a temple to the ancient Roman gods, the Pantheon became a tomb in the Renaissance period. Moving around the walls, we saw the burial places for the first and second kings of Italy, Vittorio Emanuele and Umberto, as well as the artist Raphael (Raffaello Sanzio), one of the master painters of the Italian Renaissance. Today, the Pantheon serves as a church.

The most recent theory is that the oculus (read: hole) in the ceiling was built so that the Pantheon could serve as a kind of sundial. When we arrived, a brilliant ray of sunshine fell right at the entrance, making for some celestial studio lighting. Cue choir of seraphim.

Just off the Piazza della Rotonda, serendipity reared its lovely golden head in the form of the Oficina Profumo-Farmaceutica di Santa Maria Novella. Established in 13th-century Florence by Dominican Monks, this is one of the oldest pharmacies in the world. Stepping into the store felt like sticking my nostrils into the Garden of Eden—it smelled absolutely divine.

Seeing my wide-eyed wonder, Marlon graciously authorized a splurge.  I was momentarily dazzled by the signature Santa Maria Novella scent, which Catherine de' Medici herself used. But in the end I was won over by the clean, powdery fresh scent of Pomegranate.

Next stop was the stunning Piazza Navona, famous for its Fountain of the Four Rivers by Bernini.

We missed two stunning fountains by Giacomo della Porta at the north and south ends. But we did see this very old Italian couple driving the cutest little car through the piazza!

After seeing the Roman arena at Nimes this summer, Marlon and I very nearly decided not to enter the great granddaddy of them all, the Colosseum.





Buti na lang nauntog kami. How could we go to Rome and not see it? Because the Nimes arena dwindled to Matchbox dimensions after seeing the real thing.

Guess who was really happy to have his gladiator fantasies come to life?

The Colosseum is where the sheer glory of the ancient Roman civilization will really grab you by the neck, lift you off your feet and throttle you. I'm not just talking about the architectural know-how needed for construction on such a massive scale. While our ancestors were hacking at roots with stones, the Romans were feeding the public's thirst for art and entertainment with complex sets, visual effects, even hydraulics (which is what the underground chambers beneath the floor of the arena were for) nearly 2,000 years ago.

Part of our Christian history lies in the Colosseum as well. A large cross commemorates the early Christians who were persecuted and martyred here, and by the Roman empire in general. Payback came centuries later when marble from the Colosseum "mysteriously" found its way into the construction of St. Peter's Basilica. #ohsnap

Fragments of pillars and ornamental blocks of marble lie strewn about the ruins of the Colosseum, like a giant's forgotten baubles. Even lying in pieces, the magnitude of this place and of this empire are impressive.

After closing time, we watched the sun drench the ancient stones in hues of yellow, pink and orange.

Then we crossed the Tiber to the district of Trastevere for dinner. The sunset sky simply cried out for us to stop on the bridge for a while. That's the dome of St. Peter's Basilica in the distance.

In Trastevere, I had the most sinful pizza of my life. But that deserves another post.

black or beige?

from ASOS

can't make up my mind..

Fun finds

In between all the trips we've been taking lately, Marlon and I have somehow managed to squeeze in some time to pick up some nice new things for the house. 

For the living room, I picked up this clean, graphic-print yellow and purple thistle cushion at Mikkili, a webshop with a lovely collection of Nordic design goods. 

My photo-printed lampshade from Pictureprint was delivered shortly after. I eventually went for the yellow Joya painting to add a bit of color to our mostly neutral living room. Now all we need is a cozy armchair and the living room will be all set!

I did a last-minute bathing suit run a few hours before we left for the Algarve. On the way back to the tram, Marlon and I spotted this wineglass chandelier by Leitmotiv in a little design shop tucked into the Nine Streets. We've been in search of a lighting fixture for the dining room since we found out that the Muuto Unfold lamps we wanted are sold out both here and in Denmark, where they're produced. We were pleasantly surprised to find out that the chandelier in the store was the owner's very last piece... and was being sold at a 50% discount. Deal!

Installing this fixture was hell on the nerves. It was Marlon's first time to wire a light fixture. And I was almost afraid to breathe until each of the 32 wine glasses were hanging safely on their metal perches. 

It's been up for nearly a month now, and so far no accidents or clinking glasses. Just soft light and interesting shadows... just what I wanted!

The change in lighting also prompted a reevaluation of our dining chair strategy. We decided to move the two Tolix chairs out to the balcony and bring in the two white Eames chairs from outside. From "vintage industrial", the brief has now changed to "clean and modern." So one sunny Saturday, we paid a visit to the Kartell store on Westerstraat. 

We agreed on a pair of transparent Frilly chairs by Patricia Urquiola, whose designs I've always liked. Eventually we can save up for another pair.

At nearby Noordermarkt, we discovered De Weldaad, a store with a great mix of vintage, industrial and vintage-inspired things for the home.

I got a cast-iron trivet to replace the grotty Ikea cork ones from Marlon's bachelor days.

I can hardly ever go to Noordermarkt without picking up a little trinket for myself. I spotted these adorable teacup and milk jug ceramic rings that reminded me of all my tingaling tea-and-crumpets friends (you know who you are).

For daintier ladies, there were crepes and coffee... 

... and heartier fare for those with a bigger appetite. The little salmon slices and steaks are just too cute.

I got myself a little breakfast plate of toast, coffee and a hardboiled egg, which is pretty much what I have for breakfast. 

To paraphrase Beyonce: if you like it, you shoulda put it on a ring.

Orange fever

Here in the Netherlands, the biggest holiday of the year is Queen's Day on April 30 (I can't believe that was nearly a month ago! I have so much blogging to catch up on!). Marlon and I were so excited to be getting back from the Algarve just in time for our very first Queen's Day. 

On Queen's Day, Amsterdam turns into one huge flea market. Anyone and everyone can set up a stall on the sidewalk to sell... well, pretty much anything and everything. Around a week before Queen's Day, people start staking out their spots on the sidewalk with chalk. 

Our Dutch friends from our beginner's running group told us that our neighborhood is one of the best places to start exploring the flea market. "Wake up early, all the good stuff is usually gone before 8am," they warned. So that's just what we did. I'm not an early riser, but few words can rouse me to life the way "flea market" can. 

Sure enough, at 5am, people were setting up their wares along the sidewalks. 

By 7am, the flea market in the Oud Zuid was in full swing and there was a bright-eyed, cheerful party atmosphere everywhere.

There was definitely a lot of junk. Mostly old clothes, which I didn't care for.

But we managed to score quite a few bargains later in the morning, such as this virtually unused wicker picnic hamper with a four-piece set of plates, cutlery and cups for €5 (Php 300)...

a large green glass jar for €2 (Php120)...

and a set of vintage crystal champagne glasses for €8.

We carted our purchases home and caught up on our sleep. After lunch, we decided to head out towards the city center on foot. On the way we saw the public library selling books...

Some little boys hooked up to a mic singing Katy Perry's "Firework"...

And bars overflowing with orange-clad revelers.

To start getting into the swig, er swing of things, we got some beers to drink while walking.

As we walked, I realized that dolling up for Queen's Day entails more than just wearing orange, the national color (after the House of Orange, the Netherlands' ruling family). My cutesy splash of orange just didn't cut it. Head-to-toe and nutty is the way to go. 

 

What a tragedy. Cute pa naman sana siya.

Ridiculous head gear is also a must.

This conehead gets plus points for improvisation.

So we picked up some orange headgear along the way...

 

 and decided to be king and queen for a day.

Heading into the canal belt past Museumplein, the general patronage atmosphere of the South gave way to party central. Police presence was noticeable, but there was nothing much going on apart from serious drinking, dancing, and yes, most probably drugging.

Okay pa ba kayo diyan?

Something like 800,000 tourists come to Amsterdam every year for Queen's Day, and most of them don't make it past the canals. So to say that the canals were packed is an understatement. Both on land...

... and in the water.

Partying on a boat is another great Queen's Day tradition. I had been thinking about renting a boat with some friends, but when I saw this mad crush of orange, I was glad I didn't. It was way more fun to watch.

After boatwatching for a good hour or so, we headed to a friend's apartment right on the Prinsengracht, overlooking the canal. Outside, some dude had marked off part of the street with some "crime scene" tape and started his own street party, which had been well under way for a good six hours by the time we arrived. "The only crime here is white people dancing," I observed.

At nine the police came, all Miami Vice-like, to break up the party. 

I think the party people tried to invite the police to stay for some booze and Eurotrashtronica. Alas, this is not Manila and the Amsterdam police appear to have some dignity. So after about half an hour of begging and bargaining, the party began to die a natural death as people flitted off in search of a new and un-policed dance floor.

I guess even orange fever has to cool off at some point. Same time next year, Amsterdam.