"Who came up with the robe? Was some guy just like, 'Hey, I've got an idea! Why don't we make a coat out of a towel? You can have a little belt that goes around. You could dunk the belt in the toilet! Have a toilet belt."
While I am not proud of it, I went through a little bit of this sense of entitlement following my return from Guantanamo. I suffixed any unpleasant activity with "I just got back from a deployment!" While this false sense of entitlement precluded me from grocery shopping or doing laundry for the first 72 hours back in Las Vegas, it did have one unambiguously positive outcome. I was committed to do...something. After all, I just got back from a deployment. Spending a simply ludicrous amount of money at the premium outlet mall did not scratch the itch. Thankfully, fate intervened. "Tyler" over at Inklings of Wanderlust (the moniker is more or less by default as she is the only female character in Point Break and I am loath to break from this theme) is conveniently stationed over at Aviano Air Base, situated about forty minutes outside Venice.
I'm just now noticing they have identical haircuts. I hope Tyler does not hate me for having the more attractive Point Break avatar.
Tyler had leave planned following an impossibly convoluted General Court Martial while I was going to be back home in Chicago on my deployment leave. As appealing as gazing at the Bean in Millennium Park is, Italy as a destination became as inescapable as gravity.
I'm comfortable admitting that I still don't get it.
I flew into Venice and we immediately began on our novel approach to defeating jet lag. Step 1: Deny jet lag exists. Acknowledging it gives it power. Step 2: Copious amounts of red wine and 5 Hour Energy shots. Step 3: Profit. The unspoken fourth step and overall controlling principle: RAMPAGE!
Special Agent Sterling Archer, codename Duchess, captures the zeitgeist of my Italian invasion.
Following wine tasting in the middle of the afternoon (Italians are exceptional supporters of day-drinking which means I am a supporter of Italians) we set off to tour her impossibly picturesque town, Sacile.
I'm still trying to determine if all of Italy is objectively gorgeous or if I am simply highly impressionable and a fan of buildings with Spanish roof tiles. Probably somewhere in the middle.
Following the day in Sacile, we headed off to the also impossibly picturesque village of Moltrasio on Lake Como. This village, like everything surrounding Lake Como, has been the province of the ludicrously wealthy since the days of the Roman Republic. Utah and Tyler, however, were there off-season and were able to pass themselves off as high society, if only for 24 hours.
View from the hotel balcony
Having spent the majority of my life in flat Chicago, I rarely account for vertical distance when reaching a destination. Normally this is not an issue. When visiting a town built into a mountain, however...
Plus side of mountain town: waterfalls!
No matter how long it takes me, I will own a boat on this lake
What I lack in wealth, I more than make up for in handsome
A life of Chicago not only accustomed me to things being topographically homogeneous, but urban planning that follows a highly organized grid system. This also proved to be a minor undoing at Lake Como. We embarked on a walk that I expected to last 15-20 minutes. It ended up covering several miles, multiple jaunts across what I am pretty were private villas, randomly coming across a Church and area of grass that was unquestionably a green and not a sward, required a nap on the aforementioned green, and only ended after a 30 minute ascent up the mountain.
On the way back from Como, we realized we were going to pass Verona. Nearly every junior high student has had to suffer through the mediocre prose of Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet simply because the protagonists are similarly aged and teachers assume this will make iambic pentameter more palatable. Utah and Tyler were no different and could not ignore the opportunity to determine if "fair Verona," was, in fact, "fair." The enterprising residents of Verona in the 1930s, probably taking a break from contributing to the invasion of Ethiopia, realized they could make a buck by capitalizing on the Bard's decision to set his tale of impulsive marriage/suicide in their city. They created an actual fictional home/tourist trap for Juliet Capulet complete with a bronze statute of the 14 year old whackjob. In a rather questionable artistic move, they left this bronze adolescent with an exposed right breast. As if this was not enough to appeal to the always profitable pedophile demographic, they created the legend that feeling up this metallic teenager would mean good luck in the second base-ers love life. So, Tyler and I got in a line of primarily Italian teenagers to honk the boob of a fictional 16th century Italian teenager. It was...weird.
While I'm not terribly proud of this, I can use all the help I can get.
And boom does the dynamite.
Like everything in this country, Verona was gorgeous. After some debate, we concluded that that "fair Verona" was accurately described.
Wow. Quite a drink order.
Oh, well, when in Rome.
Yes? Please go on.
Uh, do as the Romans do? It's an old expression.
Oh! I've never heard of it. It's wonderful, though.
The train ride to Rome was uneventful. We continued the rampage against jet lag, pausing only to unpack and to allow me to discreetly hide a few more 5 Hour Energy shots in my messenger bag. As I am an individual that celebrates Russel Crowe's entire collection of period pieces, our first stop in Rome was obvious.
My name is Gladiator.
Despite the fact that the early Catholic Church absconded with all of the original marble long ago, the Colosseum remains an truly incredible edifice to behold. The scope and scale are something one can only appreciate in person (or if you have played the latest Assassins Creed installment).
The only thing missing was the thick as pea soup sexual tension between Russell Crowe and Jude Law. That was more intense than Mulder and Scully. Just kiss already.
For the lazy tourist, the Arch of Constantine is conveniently located a couple hundred feet from Il Colosseo.
Constantine, when not legalizing Christianity, had no issues having triumphal arches built in his name to commemorate successful battles. As someone that has had time to appreciate the reproduction of the Arc de Triomphe at the Paris Hotel/Casino on the Las Vegas strip, with the original Arc de Triomphe being based on this arch, I am a man that can appreciate a good arch. And this, ladies and gentlemen, is a nice arch.
Following Arco di Costantino, we endeavored to explore Palatine Hill and perhaps another triumphal arch should we be so lucky to stumble across one. A succinct way to explain what actually happened next would be to state that we got lost for the second time in three days. We were never actually lost though. We could see exactly where we wanted to go. It just so happened imposing fences blocked all of our attempted avenues of approach. An hour and several miles later, with no help from the bullshit map provided by our Rick Steves guidebook, we successfully infiltrated Palatine Hill. Like countless thousands of exhausted Romans before us, we took advantage of Palatine Hill's lush greenery and ample shade to pass out again on a green (not a sward). For those keeping track, this is our second outdoor nap.
The exact Palatine Hill nap location. Normally a mid-day nap is the province of the lazy or narcoleptic and a mid-day nap in a public park is the province of the registered sex offender. Napping internationally, however, has a certain je ne sais quoi about it. It is historical napping, and thus, acceptable napping.
According to Roman myth, Palatine Hill holds the location of the cave in which Romulus and Remus were raised by a wolf prior to the fratricide of Remus and Romulus' founding of Rome. It is a gorgeous area, looking over the Roman Forum on one side and the Circus Maximus on the other.
We then found our second arch, the Arch of Titus. Technically speaking, it is not a triumphal arch but it will have to do.
Next stop, the Roman Forum. The Forum was for centuries the center of Roman public life: the site of triumphal processions and elections, venue for public speeches, criminal trials, and gladiatorial matches, and nucleus of commercial affairs. The teeming heart of ancient Rome, it has been called the most celebrated meeting place in the world.
That evening, we found ourselves hopelessly lost in the Pyramid District based on the evidently fictional nightlife recommendations in Rick Steeves' book. First the map and now this? I'm coming for you one of these days Ricky boy. Despite this, we ended up at a phenomenal hole in the wall restaurant for dinner and then transitioned to a superb cocktail bar in the Trevi District. These fortuitous outcomes were a reoccurring theme of our trip - we could not lose. Throughout the week we were the unstoppable force Newton spoke of in his Second Law of Motion. Italy clearly could not conjure up the unmovable object with which to stop us.
For anyone that finds themselves in Rome, let me put in a plug for this cocktail bar: Salotto 42 - Piazza di Pietra, 42. It is a hop, skip, and a jump from the Trevi fountain. The quality of the drinks and bartending at this place cannot be understated. We polished off a fair number of expertly made Manhattans while rocking out to Italian/European techo and trance. #WINNING.
This is what Don Draper would look like if he smiled.
Much like napping in Rome, drinking in Rome has a certain added legitimacy due to the fact that one is surrounded on all sides by history. What might be regrettable drunken stumbling in CONUS becomes a totally acceptable inebriated historical exploration.
This was literally just outside the bar. Columns!
Where else does the walk home after last call take you past this?
Sunday was our trip to the Vatican, appropriately enough. Vatican City is simply incredible.
Our first stop in VC was St. Peter's Basilica. Architecturally and artistically speaking, the place is unbelievable. While the Church may state that charity, spreading the Gospel, and ministering to the poor are their priorities, clearly they are taking a lesson out of Don Fanucci's playbook in The Godfather: Part II. I'm no expert, but you can probably feed a whole lot of poor people with the value of all the stuff they have.
"Tell your friends I don't want a lot. Just enough to wet my beak."
That evening we had an exceptional dinner in the Trevi District and, like moths to flame, found ourselves back at Salotto 42. The next day, our last in the Eternal City, had us back to exploring. We started with the underwhelming Spanish Steps (just because it is Baroque does not mean I have to like it) and then spent hours wondering the phenomenal shopping district by the Steps surrounding the Piazza Spagna. Finally, the Pantheon and the train ride back to Sacile. Doing what Hannibal and his pachyderms could not, we bested Rome in three short days. Like Alexander the Great before us, we wept for not having anything left to conquer.
More like the Spanish Meh-ps
I am now back in Vegas and the countdown is on till my July PCS to Cannon. East New Mexico and West Texas, or as Tyler has taken to calling it, "Mars," will certainly be a change from Las Vegas but as we all know, it is the people - not the location. Rampages will be fueled by Applebess mozzarella sticks and Bud drafts. Cowboy boots and Texas shaped belt buckles will be procured. And there will be blood.
I...DRINK...YOUR...MILKSHAKE!
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