ROMA AND QUARANTINE

ROMA

After our last day in Tunis, we caught a late afternoon flight to Rome - the closest connection to Israel, our next and last tour. Thoughts of a mezzo litro casa vino rosso and a simple pasta with green salad teased our imaginations.  Our stay for two nights was in Trastevere on the west side of the Tiber River opposite most of the tourist attractions.  Romans consider this the "real" Roma.  We arrived at our AirBnB at 9:30 pm and our excellent host Lorenzo recommended a restaurant around the corner, but it closed at 10:00. We hustled over and our anticipation was not disappointed.  

Robin in our first Trattoria with Casa Vino Rosso

Like Paris and London, we did not feel the need to see the sights, but only to walk around the city on our only day here.  That said, any walk in Rome will take you by antiquities and attractions.  Walking due north we entered Piazza St. Pietro in Vatican City, who's embracing arms designed by Bernini welcomes you in.  It was a fitting first stop because the large Egyptian obelisk placed in 1586, over 100 years before the colonnade and plaza, brought back recent travels.  

Piazza St Pietro, Obelisk, and Bernini's Colonnade. 
Usually packed with Tourists.

From there we walked across the river and south through Piazza Navona, the site of the Stadium Domitian, or Circus for athletic games from first century Rome.  It has a lovely fountain in the center designed by Rome's ubiquitous Bernini. 

Piazza Navona, Roman athletic field and race track

Heading east we passed another favorite building The Pantheon, suitable apolitical monument to all the gods.  Here we confirmed the return of the tourists.  You now need reservations to enter the fabulous domed building, and there was a long queue waiting outside.  I suspect this will remain after Covid due to the crush of tourists.  

Tourists queuing to enter the Pantheon

 The Pantheon is a sphere imbedded in a cylinder of the same diameter.  
The top of the sphere is the dome while the bottom touches the floor.

From the Pantheon we walked by Trevi Fountain, which during our last visit in 2015 was covered for restoration. Now gloriously restored in gleaming white marble, a police presence prevented people from acting out La Dolce Vita.  Amid the mass of tourists, we were reminded of a new phrase we learned from our Egypt companions: Boyfriends of Instagram.  Apparently, this website is where boyfriends of selfie-gals post photos of their girlfriends in pouty or provocative poses.   

Newly restored Trevi Fountain (Three Coins in the Fountain and La Dolce Vita fame.)

Whistles blow from the Carabinieri if you even lean on the edge.

This "Boyfriend of Instagram" is at least in the photo.

Checking out if the boyfriend did a good job before he posts.

We returned north but east to the Spanish Steps, this was also under restoration in 2015.  Another instagram moment.  Heading west we walked Rome's High Street with all the luxury brands and the "beautiful" people; ladies with filled lips and other body parts, designer bags, high heels, and men with waxed eyebrows and two-day old beards with neatly trimmed edges. I was reminded how outdated (old?) I am in ExOfficio and running shoes.

The Spanish Steps before their High Street.  

This is the model for Harbor Steps in Seattle. 

Turning south past the Pantheon again to the beginning of the Roman forum is one of the most miss-proportioned buildings in Europe.  Vittorio Emanuele II Monument is to first king of unified Italy.  I think only Nicolae Ceausescu palace in Bucherest exceeds its extravagantly grotesque design.  

Vittorio Emanuele II Monument

The road from Trajan's Column (east of the monument) south toward The Colosseum is planned for removal to unite the archeological wonders of ancient Rome; the Forum of Nerva and the Forum of Peace to the east (most of which is under the road) with the Forum of Caesar and Forum of Augustus to the west.  

Pano shot looking South.  On far left is Trajan's column.  In the center is The Forum of Nerva and of Peace. The road to the right will be removed. On the far right is the "Forum".  
The Colosseum is barely visible above the road and below the light post.

Most of this is under the existing road and will be excavated.  

The Colosseum is not named for the large size of the amphitheater, but rather from Nero's Colossus that stood in front.  The amphitheater was named Flavian Amphitheater and the Colossus was a 98' tall bronze statue originally located in the courtyard of Nero's Imperial complex Domus Aurea on Palatine Hill.  After he was deposed and committed suicide it was relocated to the Colosseum by Hadrian, and later modified by Commodus (of the movie Gladiator) to look like himself as Hercules.  After he was deposed it was configured to look like their sun god.  The Colossus probably came down during the sack of Rome in 410 CE and subsequent earthquakes.  Only the foundation remains.

The Colossus of Nero stood to the right out of the frame.

The Arch of Titus at the southern end of the Forum, the oldest in Rome.

The Colosseum is south and east of Trastevere.  Having walked a loop we crossed the river again back to our AirBnB. 

Recrossing the Tiber, birthplace of Rome where Romulus and Remus were suckled by the she-wolf.
As in so many foundation myths, one brother eventually killed the other. 

Our plans were to meet Teigan's good friend Tara, whom we met while in London.  She is a delightful young (aren't they all now) professional at Amazon on her way to becoming a sommelier - shared interest that spans generations.  We were so pleased when in London she told us she'd be in Rome the same time as us and wanted to meet up. 

Walking through Trastevere back to our AirBnB.
Fortunately, while close to restaurants, we were on a side street and quiet.

After dinner we got a good night sleep for our transit to FCO airport and noon departure to Tel Aviv where we'd be greeted by our guide in eight hours.  Having researched eight different countries' entry requirements for Covid I thought I had it figured out now.  Then there was Israel's website.  I completed their Green form online, which summarized all our vaccinations.  After submitting the Green form I received am email that it was accepted and when I arrived in Tel Aviv we'd need another PCR.  No mention of pre-boarding PCR. That seemed straightforward.  

In line for our boarding pass I see others presenting documents to the agents.  I opened the email again, and read past the initial instructions about getting a PCR after arrival, and at the very end was another paragraph "All persons flying to Israel need a negative PCR test to board the plane."  I said to Robin "gee I hope I didn't screw up".  Sure enough, less than two hours before our flight the agent informs us that they can't issue a boarding pass without the negative test.  She suggests there is a Red Cross testing facility at the lower level.  We hustle down, but no Red Cross.  We hustle back up. "Oh, it's in the next terminal".  Thanks!  We hustle down again and to the next terminal.  There's a line to get in line for a test.  Before you can get in line for the line, you need to fill out a form on an iPad in the corridor to save time.  Robin gets in the first line.  I start completing the form with passport numbers and other personal information.  I keep getting bumped out, operator error or fussy system I don't have time to figure out.  Fourth time's the charm - hit submit.  Robin is now next to meet the nurse who reviews what I submitted.  We get into the second line to wait for our number to be called.

When called, they ask when our flight departs and we tell them.  They are very polite and say they'll do what they can.  After the test we are guided to chairs and await the result.  10:45 - we can make it if they're fast.  11:00 - we can still make it if we can get through security.  11:10 - it's looking unlikely.  11:15 - it's not going to happen.  I'm in total problem solving mode. Maybe there's a later flight that day and still make the tour in the morning.  If not we get the same flight tomorrow and extend our time in Israel to see what we missed on the first day.  Options upon options are considered.  Except one.  At 11:30 the nurse comes out with a concerned face.  "William!  I'm so sorry, you are positive.  Ms Holt, you are negative."  The Ministry of Health representative guide us away from the others to a sequestered seating area and asks for our passports (to prevent us from running out I think - an option I briefly considered and dismissed).  Another Dr., this time in a Hazmat suit, asks for a throat swab.  I'm hoping it's a second test because maybe the first was inconclusive.  No, it's for a more detailed analysis to determine which of the various strains it is.  

I ask the health official what's next.  We'll be taken by private health vehicle to a nearby Sheraton Hotel to quarantine for seven days minimum.  There'll be no charge for the stay and they will provide all the meals at no cost.  Acceptance settles in and I'm now on the next problem to solve. What should Robin do?  Should she quarantine with me; go on the tour without me; stay in Rome; go back to London. My quarantine ends (if I'm negative) the day we were to return to London from Israel.  At least our flight home won't be screwed up.  Robin and I agree, she doesn't want to go on the tour without me and no need for her to stay in the quarantine hotel.  She decides she'd rather spend the week with Teigan in London than stay in Rome.  People in hazmat suits arrive in health van, we get in back with a plexiglass panel separating us from the driver and nurse, and drive the 20 minutes to the hotel.  It feels like the movies Andromeda Strain or Contagion.  And I feel fine!  

Covid Van

At the hotel we are given a white paper bag with lunch and taken to our rooms. Robin's is next door.  I suggest we talk in 20 minutes after I make new flight reservations for her to leave today.  I call and she's a mess.  Weeping about having to abandon me and that I'll be isolated for a week.  It's very sweet she's so concerned, but it's time to move on.  I remind her there's no reason to stay, I'll be fine, and she should leave now for the airport to make the next flight.  She heads out but calls from the lobby that they won't let her leave.  I tell her to just walk out, she's negative and they have no right to stop her.  Well, it turns out they do - and stop her.  Because she checked into the Covid hotel, even though negative, she needs a Dr's approval to check out.  It's resolved in about five minutes and she heads to airport.  

CELL #2854

Now I'm alone.  Having gone from walking five - ten miles a day, meeting new friends, and experiencing other cultures it's like going 60 mph into a brick wall.  Dead stop.

It's a 13' x 13' square cell.  It has two twin beds and a desk.  There's a 4' square window that opens with a view to a parking lot and distant trees but plenty of sky.  I realize the window doesn't have a handle to lock it closed, and assume that's to maintain fresh air. Scenes from previous movies or books about adapting to prison flash though my head.  Get into a routine, be present - don't count the days, be productive - don't sleep or watch TV all day, and exercise. Very quickly I decide I'm counting the days - there's only six.  Usually, in hotels I do not unpack, I just live out of the suitcase.  I decide to settle in and use the second bed as my dresser.   And exercise will be limited as there's no prison yard and I'm not allowed to leave the room.  But I can do some stretching and floor exercises. 

Cell #2854

I also decide I'm in Italy and would love a couple glasses of wine a night to go with my TV time.  But all the Uber Eats apps don't deliver that far out of the city.  I text Tara, Teigan's friend, and see when she plans to return to London.  She graciously agrees to drop off some wine on the way to the airport at 5:00 the next morning.  What a champ!  I don't want to spend my time in a drunken stupor for the next seven days so suggest she bring only three bottles, that will nicely regulate two and a half glasses a night.  She questions my decision.  I think I'll start a cleanse (in my mind anyway).  

Next morning deliver (surprised the nurses didn't take it)

I begin my routine that afternoon.  After laying things out on the bed, I put my shoes in a particular place, I set up my computer on the desk.  Late afternoon I get my first insight into how the week will progress.  Two nurses come to the door in hazmat suits to check my temperature, heart rate, and O2 levels; 98.6 deg, 72 bpm and 97%.  All normal.  With my mask hopefully covering my age (come on, some young people are prematurely grey), I flirt and banter a bit to extend their 60 second visit.  They are friendly and reciprocate.  They are my only human contact for a week.  Then they're on to the next door in minutes.

My twice daily vital sign team.

Dinner comes in another white paper bag with a knock on the door.  This will become very familiar.  Plastic container of pasta, some mysterious protein, a bread roll and a bottle of water.  In the evening I decide to binge watch Poldark for the week, a PBS Masterpiece Theater series about Cornwall in the 1800s.  Having just been there it will be captivating.  A combination of history, romance, geography and a bit soap opera-ish, but very enjoyable.

My first morning is like every other morning during my stay.  I make my bed (not my normal routine - Robin does that complete with decorative pillows).  A knock on the door delivers the already familiar white bag.  The contents are the same every day:  A couple ounces of lukewarm espresso, a half cup of lukewarm milk (supposedly for Cafe latte), a sweet roll, a bread roll, a biscotti, a little tub of jam, a foil of olive oil, juice and a bottle of water.  I toss the juice, bread roll and olive oil on a shelf to save for an afternoon snack. I toss out the biscotti.

Breakfast of bread, with some bread, and bread for desert.  Oh, and lukewarm coffee.

I choke down the sweet roll with the lukewarm coffee. Later in the day when picking up my lunch bag I spy a hot water electric kettle outside another room door.  Like scrounger in "The Great Escape" I escape my room and grab it.  Now at least in the morning I can add hot water to the espresso and make a semi-hot Americano with milk.  

After breakfast, the hazmat suits come again. We have our brief banter and all is still normal.  The days flow with time spent on my photo data base adding Keywords, and organizing photos into Albums.  I break that up with writing the blog and downloading appropriate photos from the data base to add to the posts.  I am behind by seven posts so this will be productive.

Lunch is the same most days: pasta, mysterious protein, a piece of fruit, bread roll, olive oil, and water.  The pasta sauce varies: pesto or marinara, and the protein varies: I think pressed ground chicken or some kind of sausage.  A couple days I get a soup for lunch; not a luscious minestrone chock a block with vegetables in a rich broth.  No, it's flavorless watery liquid that they might have boiled some carrot peelings in a week before diluting it.  Even salt doesn't bring out any flavor.  

"Soup" with potatoes and slice of pressed meat and a roll.

Afternoons I'll stretch and exercise and repeat the morning activities.  I also do some reading, correspondence and financial work (kind-of make work).  Keeping busy is essential I discover to make the time pass.  I am so glad I have the blog to work on.  

Couple days collection of food bags with unused sugar packets, rolls and olive oil on shelf

After the second hazmat visit of the day, dinner comes which is a replay of lunch with maybe a chicken breast instead of mystery protein.  I settle in for several episodes of Poldark, and my ration of red wine.  On Tuesday night, not even hump day, I failed the "Marshmallow test" for five year olds.  I consumed two nights of my wine ration.  Thus, my last evening on Friday I was cold turkey.  

Mid-week, I took an antigen test and was clearly negative, so I made a flight reservation departing for London early afternoon on Saturday.  On Friday I told nurse that I booked a flight and would like to be tested early on Saturday.  At first she only quoted their process which was not comforting "we'll call you when to come down.  We test all day".  I asked to speak with the Dr. and, understanding my situation, he assured me they'd get me in first at 9:00 am.  I waited until 9:20 before calling them.  They said I could come down in 10 minutes.  When I came down they weren't set up yet for testing and asked if I'd been called. I just repeated that I was told to come down in 10 minutes.  

Converted hotel lobby for antigen test the day I leave.

Testing was quick and easy and I was directed to go back to my room and they'll call me with results.  In a repeat of waiting at the airport I'm counting the minutes.  10:00 no call, 10:15 no call, 10:30 no call.  I call.  I let them know I need to get an Uber at 11:00 to make my flight (not true, but close enough).  Finally, I get the call at 11:00 that I'm negative.  When getting into the elevator to leave I meet a masked man exiting on my floor.  He calls out "good luck" thinking I'm getting tested.  I let him know I'm negative and leaving.  As the door closes he says he's still positive and has to stay longer.  Bummer!  In the lobby they are still completing my paperwork stating I've recovered.  My Uber is waiting. I'm at the airport 2.5 hours before my departure.  So I take myself out to lunch at an elegant restaurant at the airport.  

A fine Italian mixed salad with buratta cheese, anchovies, olives, whole grain roll, and white wine.  
Sigh! At last.

Enroute to London over the Alps.

EPILOGUE

We had three days in London before we departed for home.  While Robin stayed in Teigan's  apartment during my quarantine, we rented a hotel room at the NW corner of Hyde Park.  As mentioned in an earlier blog, London really doesn't have a cocktail culture.  But we found an Italian lounge at the SW corner of Hyde Park called Amaro.  I use that herbaceous liquor to create my own version of a Manhattan and asked them to make it.  I substitute Averna for the dry vermouth in the typical recipe.  It adds a darker character to the drink.  The very Italian and friendly waiters made my version for us and said they'll add it to their offerings.  We liked the lounge so much, we invited Tara on our last night.

Cocktail lounge Amaro near Hyde Park.

To reach Amaro, we found an elegant street along the west end of Hyde Park with a gated/guarded entry.  As we walked down the street in the gloaming we admired all the stately mansions and realized this was embassy row, thus the gate.  I reached my iPhone through the gates to take pictures of the various embassies; Russian, Norway, Israel.  When we reached the end gate of the street near our destination we saw a sign for anyone entering; "NO PHOTOGRAPHS".  Oops.

Gate to Russian Embassy

Tippy Toe photo over fence of Russian Embassy.

On our return to the hotel, we noticed extra Bobbies around the Russian Embassy - and all the security cameras.  I spontaneously gave the camera the "American Eagle".  Robin quickly walked away from me.  I must now be on their watch list.  On our walk back to the hotel, there were several memorials and protests to the Ukrainians.  A Ukrainian couple shouted in front of one house to stop the war.  We gave them a high-five.

Protest signs against Russian aggression in Ukraine on way to Amaro.

Statue of St. Volodymyr, ruler of Kyvian Rus 950 to 1015.
Vladimir (Putin), Voldomor (Zelensky), and Voldemort (from Harry Potter) are all from the same root.

While Britain didn't require a PCR test to enter, the USA still did.  So Robin got tested in London the day before we left, and I had my letter from Italy stating I recovered from Covid.  At check in for our flight home we had one more stress moment.  Robin couldn't get the app that showed her test result to download, and my Covid letter was in Italian!  During several minutes getting the agent trying to confirm my letter was valid, Robin kept trying to download results.  The agent was very reassuring to Robin as her anxiety built; "there's plenty of time".  Finally, Robin got on the airport's WiFi and successfully downloaded the results.  We checked our luggage through Iceland to Seattle, and got our boarding passes.  

Departing Iceland bound for Seattle.

After eight months homeless, a 12,000 mile road trip covering 22 states and four Canadian provinces in N America; and fourteen flights to visit eight countries, with six train trips, we were coming home - in Business Class.  The next adventure begins.

Next Post:  None planned. 

TUNISIA - PART TWO

 EXCURSION OUT OF TUNIS

There are eight UNESCO sites in Tunisia.  We've visited two on our first day, the Medina where we were staying and the ancient ruins of Carthage.  Our next day was an eight hour round-trip drive out of Tunis to visit the ancient city of Kairouan and the second largest amphitheater outside of Rome in El Jem.  

The city of Kairouan was founded in 670 AD and was the former capital of Ifriqiya (Africa) during the Muslim conquest. Its heritage includes the Mosque of Uqba.  It also has a bright Medina with white washed buildings, whereas they are usually quite worn.  As in so many buildings after the Greek and Roman period the ancient buildings were used as quarries and building parts for newer construction.

The Great Mosque of Kairouan, aka Mosque of Uqba.

Interior colonnade around courtyard.  
All the columns are from previous Greek and Roman buildings.

Interior of Mosque.  Note the variety of pilfered columns.  

Medina of Kairouan

Plaza in Medina of Kairouan

An old (probably younger than me) weaver in Medina.   
Robin bought a cloth from him and our guide was happy because he is such a small shop.

Camel led around in the traditional way of grinding grain.  

After our visit to  Kairouan we stopped for lunch in El Jem with a ring side seat of the amphitheater.  The owner/waiter was a chatty, rotund, jolly man who seemed to want to practice his english with jokes and anecdotes.  One of which was Hillary and Chelsea Clinton came to visit the ruin and security shut down the entire town. He couldn't even have his grille out in front of his restaurant.  "Ha, ha, ha" he'd chortle.  And of course nobody compensated him for lost revenue.  

Our restaurant facing the Amphitheater

The outdoor grill that had to be removed for the Clinton visit.  Quite the threat.

Lunch on the Barbie.  

I was glad this Camel was muzzled as he kept trying to bite me.

Interior covered with carved graffiti in Arabic, French and English from
various conquerers, explorers and tourists.
All the seating material has been quarried over the centuries so only some of the
exterior circulation remains.  

Reconstruction Roman house and courtyard of wealthy trader. 

One example of the extraordinary mosaics from the homes of the wealthy. 
Each room was covered with these tile "carpets".

When we returned it was evening and the restaurants in the Medina were closed.  Our guide told us that his father, who's muslim, likes wine and recommended a restaurant just outside the Medina.  Tunisia was a French Protectorate from 1881 until their independence in 1956.  The second language spoken after Arabic is French.  The name of the restaurant was Strasburg.  Considering we hadn't had any wine in weeks and that we visited the French city a couple months ago for the Christmas market, we thought we'd give it a go.  We left the Medina on our now well known path through the labyrinth (straight out the door, left at the dead-end, wind through the souk, right at the honey pastry shop, continue a quarter mile through the arch and emerge at the plaza with the Bab).  From the plaza walk down the main street, and turn down a side street.  The restaurant will be on the right.  All very comfortable but not a lot of other dining opportunities.  

Winding through darkened and shut-down souk.
Every evening all the paper and liter from the day's activity was cleaned up.

Entering restaurant we thought, "what did he recommend?" It was a smoke filled space occupied only by men.  The background music was a middle eastern favorite, electronica, with singing that sounds like a call to prayer.  Our table cloth was grossly stained and when they came to replace if (for the foreigners) the table surface was worse.  Behind Robin were four men quaffing their beers being very animated.  During some songs, one of the men, a short bantam weight fellow, would get up and start dancing while the others cheered him on.  

Without having seen any alternatives on the walk here we thought "in for a penny, in for a pound" and ordered "du glasses vin rouge".  The waiter didn't understand my pidgin French and called the manager over.  With many gestures on both our parts he finally left puzzled, but with complete understanding.  He brought us a bottle of red wine and two glasses of ice!  Glace is French for ice.  I understood what happened and we all had a laugh when I explained it (best I could).  I decided to give up on not getting a full bottle as it was only $9.  We tried the wine and it was terrible.  We thought we'd wait a respectful time and then leave.  But as we got used to the smoke, and the wine, we decided to stay and indulge on their free popcorn and enjoy the men dancing to the music.  The men behind Robin kept making eye contact with me (clearly a foreigner) and when leaving they all gave us round of hearty handshakes - and clasps on the back to me.

Robin being solo woman until later in the evening when another couple arrived.

On the final day before our afternoon flight to Rome, we just walked around the Medina.  I mentioned that our host, when picking us up, whisked us through to the Dar without pointing anything out or making recommendations on what to see.  Turns out there is a historic mosque right around the corner from our Dar.  

Plaza (just a wide street) in front of Al-Zaytuna Mosque, aka Ez-Zitonua Mosque.   

Interior of Mosque before I was politely asked to leave as it was prayer time.  
Robin didn't even get to enter except to a small walled off prayer room.

Copper pot maker in Souk.

Men drinking their tea (and looking at the iPhone)

Pastry baker rolling the dough to cut for sweets.

Entry to Souk from Bab plaza selling herbs and dried plants.

Mostly local, not tourists, shopping.

We were directed to a stair in back of a shop with a rooftop overlook of the Medina and city.  

Of course it was a rug seller who tried to entice us.  

Knowing the pattern we politely excused ourselves to catch our flight.

Selfie with Al-Zaytuna mosque in background. 

Next Post:  ROMA AND QUARANTINE