Vomit, Sweat & Beers

We made it safely to Singapore after an uneventful but sadly sleepless flight from Rome. One of the aircraft cleaners will have made a fairly unpleasant discovery by now in the shape of a paper bag filled with the ex-contents of Sam’s stomach, but at least our little hero got it in the bag.

Jen, Sam and I have only been in Singapore for two days, but already we’ve swum in the hotel pool five times, visited the shopping mall four times, consumed two enormous breakfasts, wolfed down two awesome Japanese dinners topped off by a couple of bottles of Tiger beer, and caught a cab out to the amazing zoo where we wandered sweatily for two hours.

We have another full day tomorrow, then fly out the following morning. We’ll have no web connection before that, so this will likely be our final blog. It’s been good fun. See you on this blog page again in February!

Jenny, Chris & Sam xxx

Arrivederci Roma

It’s our last day of a brilliant month in Rome. How miserable. But as long as there are new adventures on the horizon then we’re good.

They say it never snows in Rome, but yesterday we had the magical experience of a seriously heavy snowfall for around an hour. Here’s a shot from our apartment window. Note the polar bear down on the street…

Jen, Sam and I ran outside and had a ball.

But that’s not the biggest news. The really big news, and we know everyone will be thrilled to bits to hear this, the news that we’ve been wanting to share with you all, is that Jen and I are, wait for it … proud parents of another Lightning McQueen car! That’s right, here he is, the new Lightning McQueen, who was discovered at a Disney store in Rome. We also bought King’s racing truck, but that will be a Christmas surprise for Sam.

Old Lightning McQueen is the light-red one, new Lightning McQueen boasts a classy, deeper shade of red

The family (at least the ones we brought with us) – L to R: Tim Rimmer, Leaky, Nitro, old Lightning McQueen, RPM, new Lightning McQueen, Chick Hicks, King

So we fly out tomorrow morning and have four days ahead of us in Singapore which will be spent splashing around a hotel pool with Sam, no doubt, with small breaks in between swims spent in Karen’s favourite coffee shop, Starbucks. Then we head home.

But it won’t be long until we’re back in Europe. In fact we’ll be landing again at Heathrow in nine weeks, on February 20, and who knows what new adventures that will bring!

Until next time Roma, farewell from the Trevi Fountain…

A funny thing happened on the way to the cake shop

On Tuesday, as we sat in the sunshine eating our lunch (the world’s best pizza from Pizzeria Franco & Cristina), Chris, Sam and I were annoyed by the whirr of a police helicopter circling overhead. The chopper continued to buzz around during our afternoon siesta and was still an irritating presence when we left for our afternoon walk. We had decided to stroll Via Veneto, a street lined with Rome's most expensive hotels. On the way home we would collect dessert at a pasticceria we had reconnoitred the previous day.

Enough pizza, yet?

Around the Pantheon many streets were blocked by police. As we crossed via del Corso (the main street through the city), which was completely blockaded by heavily-armed riot squads, we spotted a massive plume of black smoke rising from Piazza del Popolo (the city’s main public square). Streets around the Trevi Fountain, and in fact a large part of the inner city, had also become no-access zones.

By the time we reached via Veneto, via a very round-about route, the city was a ghost town. A voice on a loud speaker, evacuating people from Villa Borghese Gardens, broke the eerie silence and a genuine feeling of menace hung in the air. We were still unaware of what the problem was, but I had my fingers crossed that whatever it was would result in the closure of the airport for several weeks, leaving us stranded in the city. Something strange was afoot so we chose to head back to the safety of our apartment – via the pasticceria, of course.

Our craving for a cake had become an obsession. We artfully criss-crossed the bizarrely-quiet and deserted city, avoiding police and military barricades. When we reached the Pantheon (the pasticceria was very close now) we were confident our mission would be a success. As we rounded the corner onto our pasticerria’s street a massive police truck was parked across the road directly in front of the shop, barring our way.

Although the heavily-armed policemen were turning people back, we still endeavoured to get through. Surely they’d understand that unlike everyone else we truly needed to pass. We could see the front door of the shop, we could smell the delicious dolce urging us ever closer, but the lawmen were as unbending as the muzzles of their M-16 assault rifles.

That evening, over a two-course meal, we discovered there were widespread riots in Rome, including burning barricades, over the allegedly corrupt and totally sleazy Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi’s narrow victory in a second no-confidence vote.

We are nearing the end of our time in Rome and we’ve been relishing our final week. Yesterday was brilliant. We returned to the Parco delgi Arancia (the park with orange trees, high on the Aventine hill) and played an impromptu game of football using oranges as balls. Sam loved it and couldn’t stop laughing, especially each time one of us accidentally stepped on and squashed the ball. Even though the temperature stubbornly sat at three degrees we all managed to work up a sweat. In the late afternoon as dusk began to draw we took a return visit to Castel Sant’ Angelo. By the time we climbed to the top of the fortress night had fallen and the view over the river and city was unforgettable.

Night view from Castel Sant’ Angelo, with St Peter’s in background

Blessed are the bogans

When Sam made a new little friend in the square in front of St Peter’s Basilica, he couldn’t stop talking about Mario. After weeks spent in the company of his boring parents Sam had finally played with someone his own size, someone who brought his own trike with him! The next day, a Sunday, he begged to go back and see if he could find Mario again. On Sundays at midday the Pope makes his big, weekly appearance at a window high in the papal residence to bless the souls gathered below, so we thought we’d check it out. It was quite an event.

Tens of thousands gathered in the spectacular piazza to hear the big fella pontificate. Tears stained the faces of many in the crowd during the service. Large groups had travelled together from all over the world to be there, which took Jenny and I by surprise as we’d simply gone for a wander to help our little boy find his Italian buddy. But of course it’s right that people consider it such a special moment – it’s the Christian equivalent of a trip to Mecca. For many it was the realisation of a lifelong dream.

That’s him … the guy in the window!

When he speaks in Latin the Pope actually sounds wonderful – quite charming, comforting, caring and gentle. His sermon, although understood by only a few, washed warmly across his faithful audience like sunshine and, even to irreligious people such as ourselves, actually felt like a blessing. They were welcome words. Even Sam, from his perch on my shoulders, was transfixed (despite our lack of luck in tracking down his mate Mario). It wasn’t until Pope began preaching in other languages – yes, speaking in tongues – that the Catholic CEO began sounding like a voiceover for Satan. There’s something about his English that is very creepy…

Sam & Daddy sleep off their blessing

Yesterday we took Sam to a park, where he climbed all over a few statues...

Sam tests for tinea…

We also wandered to the Spanish Steps because they’re close to our favourite cake/gelato shop, and to the Jewish ghetto which is the location of our new favourite pizza shop, Pizzeria Franco e Cristina.

Pizza and beer for lunch in the ghetto

Today it was time to get out of our comfort zone. I’ve always wanted to travel to the Rome suburbs to see how the real people live, Sam has always wanted to travel on a tram and Jenny is happy to do anything that stops Sam whingeing for more than a minute or two. So we combined our wishes and took Rome’s only tram line to its far end, had a wander around, then returned.

The most interesting and somehow-comforting outcome from the morning adventure is that, despite the fact that we all believe Italians are naturally incredibly stylish and beautiful, Rome is full of bogans, just like every other city – you’ve just got to look a bit harder for them. At the far reaches of the tram line I saw track-suit pants matched with faux-leather jackets, white jeans worn with white boots, a man with a front-mullet and several middle-aged women sporting cigarettes behind their ears. It wasn’t nearly as shocking as any given Saturday morning at Tuggeranong Hyperdome – after all, the Italians were wearing shoes, had showered in the last 24 hours and could probably read – but it was interesting all the same.

We’re now back in the historic centre surrounded by Vespas, culture, flavour and the odd skinny, rich idiot wearing Prada. The world is full of fascinating people – bless them all.

Second Helpings

When we arrived in Rome we re-instituted a daily custom from our last holiday in the city. The three of us set out for a long walk each afternoon and en route purchase something decadent and delicious to eat. Since day one on this trip we have consumed a heart-stopping count of calories. When we leave our apartment in the mid-afternoon we have no idea of what the day’s sweet treat might turn out to be. Sam always campaigns for gelato, Chris prefers an indulgence of the shortbread variety but on most days I insist on trying something new.

Last week on via Cola di Rienzo in the Prati district I chose an unusual cake from the display cabinet at a beautiful pasticceria. While all the other offerings were pretty, delicate and lady-like, this was a man-size tart – a burly outsider. It was lacking any adornment of icing sugar or fruit and it was brown. I was convinced that such an ugly specimen could only be a traditional favourite.

I was rewarded with a deep, robust shortcrust pastry shell filled abundantly with sultana-studded rice pudding (who would have thought of that?) that sickened my male companions. As I hoovered up the last crumb from my palm I vowed to find my way back to the Prati before the holiday ends, solely to eat another.

On a different occasion Chris and I devoured what I can only describe as a totally evil shortbread sandwich - two biscuits of about 10cm in diameter, bonded by a generous amount of velvety chocolate mousse. The top was iced with a glossy, thick chocolate ganache. It’s another taste sensation I must revisit. Likewise, the green apple gelato from a little gelateria near the Spanish Steps, the sickeningly gooey chocolate slices from a hole-in-the-wall bakery in Trastevere and the torta al formaggio we found in the kosher pasticceria in the Jewish ghetto … so much to eat, so little time.

With only seven days left in the Eternal City it seems there is an eternity of food to get through. But enough of my Nigella-ing, Rome is more than just the sum of its dolce. There are a few sites and experiences we’re planning to revisit, too.

1. Castel Sant’ Angelo by night. Although I had come to Rome six times, I had never ventured into the infamous fortress before this visit and it was brilliant. Sam loved the spooky tunnels and dungeons and was amazed by the cannons and pyramids of cannon balls. Chris and I were gobsmacked by the views. Visitors can also enter the castle in the evening, which will make for stunning night-time views over the city and super-spooky tunnels for Sam.

2. The Aventine Hill is a rather posh and leafy area of Rome. At the summit is the Parco Savello with its dozens of orange trees and spectacular views. Sam loves running along the paths and amongst the trees. Further along the road lies a magical keyhole in the door of the priory of the Knights of Malta. Peek through for a telescopic view of St Peter’s dome.

3. Four-wheel biking in the Villa Borghese gardens. Chris and I have little interest in reliving this particular experience but Sam is obsessed.

4. The Vatican and St Peter’s Basilica. This afternoon, after stopping for a luscious tart filled with while and dark chocolate ganache, we arrived at the Vatican at about 4pm. With not too many people around, Sam was able to run freely around the piazza in front of the Basilica. He made a friend called Mario, a three-year-old who lives with his parents near the Vatican. As the sun set, the lights came up and the Basilica and the Christmas tree in the piazza created an awesome atmosphere.

Pics Of The Day

Family photo…

In a park above Piazza Venezia

And views from our evening walk…

Looking from Ponte Umberto I to Ponte Sant Angelo

St Peter’s Basilica, Vatican City

Castel Sant’ Angelo

Ponte Vittorio Emanuele

A statue on Ponte Vittorio Emanuele

The Pope, a balloon and an immaculate contraption

Outside of chaos, not a lot is organised well in Rome, and that is a very large part of the city’s charm. But one thing the Romans do well is Christmas lights, and in an amazing feat of organisational brilliance they turn them all on around the city at dusk on the first Sunday of December. That, of course, was a few days ago, when we wandered out with the rest of the city’s population to see what they’d come up with this year. Jen, Sam and I were totally charmed by the magic of it all. To me, this is what Europe is all about – a cold walk on crowded streets, pitch black by five o’clock, and a sense of Christmas all around. In London it centres on Regent Street, in Paris it’s all about the Champs Elysees, and in Rome the sparkling-light action is at Via dei Condotti – the street that leads away from the inexplicably-popular Spanish Steps. Anyway, here’s a pic that does the scene no credit at all, but gives some idea of the crowds…

Since all thoughts and decorations turned to Christmas, helium balloons of all shapes and sizes have begun appearing all over Rome. Sam has been constantly asking for a balloon of his own, but as the balloons are criminally expensive we have refused, instead attempting to keep him happy with experiences.

For instance, the other day we braved the rain and took him to the gardens of the Villa Borghese for a two-hour cycle on a four-wheel bike, which he loved. These are quite amazing contraptions, as they have an electrical assistance system – meaning riding up the steepest of hills requires minimal exertion. They’re almost as good as a Vespa.

But that was not good enough for Sam, he still begged for a balloon, so we then took him into Castel Sant’ Angelo, a foreboding building created by Hadrian for his own protection and utilised since by a series of Popes (via underground tunnels from the Vatican buildings), most of whom have been targets of assassination attempts. Amazingly, despite five previous visits to Rome, we have never entered the Castle which is nestled so handily and locally on the banks of the Tiber, near the entrance to Vatican City. We had assumed it had little to offer, but what fools we were. We now realise it boasts the very best views over Rome from its highest battlements. Here are some pics…

Despite the constant entertainment, Sam still petitioned for a balloon. So in a last-ditch attempt we decided to have the little devil exorcised. Back on Via dei Condotti this morning we saw the Pope (yes, again – it’s our second run-in with the caped crusader) blessing the crowd as part of the celebrations for the Feast of the Immaculate Conception – a public holiday today in Rome. He was rambling in Latin when he looked our way, deep into the crowd, then paused. “Is it really you?” he asked in the evil Germanic English accent that he does so well. Everybody in our part of the audience pointed at their own chest hopefully. Then he thrust his crooked finger crookedly at me, as if he was about to announce that Christ had come again. “You? Is it you? Could it be? Chris from TV HITS? Whatever happened to Baby Spice? And what about those lovely, Christ-fearing Hanson brothers – do they still get together to sing Mmmm Bop?”

Strange, the things that happen in Rome.

Pope-a-dope completely ignored poor Sam, who completely ignored Pope in return and once again began screaming for a balloon. So this afternoon, before our nightly carousel ride and after our nightly gelato, Jen wandered into a store and bought a four-pack of fancy balloons and a ball of string for a whopping EUR$1.50. Sam was finally satisfied, and Jen and I have a little peace and quiet as he sleeps and we sip red. Until tomorrow…

Vive La Difference

Italians love to talk and they love to talk loudly. As they stroll along a busy, gridlocked footpath, deep in animated, musical discourse, dramatic gestures punctuate each of their thoughts. Then they pause, stopped still in their tracks, the crescendo to their conversation fast approaching, completely unaware of the three Australians about to ram them from behind.

Fortunately Chris, Sam and I have become gifted in the sport of dodging and weaving. Romans on foot never seem to be in a hurry or, if they are, they keep it extremely well hidden. Whereas the Sheedy/Bonds, even in holiday-mode, find the pace of the average Italian frustratingly slow. We artfully side-step tourists and locals and skilfully run the gauntlet of North Africans spruiking umbrellas, pashminas, bubble pistols and a seemingly inexhaustible inventory of indefinable toys.

At times, as we walk, the noise from the crowds and the traffic combined make it impossible to hear each other talk. Sam’s constant narrative and questions dissipate before they reach our ears. He has taken to carrying a super-hero action figure when we go out, someone on his own level who is more likely to hear him.

The streets are as crowded as the sidewalks and crossing the road is a leap of faith. We have become adept at stepping out into the oncoming traffic. This is what separates us from the average curb-hugging tourist. When we come to the occasional crossing with lights and are given safe passage by a benevolent green man, cars, buses, Vespas and trucks still rocket by either side of us, ignoring their own red light.

Chris and I have pondered why this might be so. “Perhaps at peak hour traffic is allowed to ignore the red signal,” I venture. But there is no logic. There are no rules. This is Rome. We return to our apartment each evening feeling exhilarated but exhausted and lock the door on the crazy world outside.

My husband has taken to wearing earplugs to bed, especially on Friday and Saturday nights (those who know me well will be acquainted with the fact that I have been wearing earplugs since 1994, the year Chris and I began cohabitating). The Campo dei Fiori area (where our apartment lies) is the equivalent of Norton Street in Leichhardt or Oxford Street in Paddington. It is noisy at most times, but on nights when people party, the din makes Chris’s snoring pale into insignificance.

As I lay in bed early yesterday morning, awakened by the hoards heading home after an evening in the Campo, I wasn’t cross at being rendered wide-eyed. Everyone sounded happy, there was laughter and singing. I actually found the melody of the chatter soothing – more relaxing than a 747 coming into land over the Inner West or a tricked-up Lancer roaring down the Monaro Highway.

Having written all that, I wouldn’t have it any other way. This is just one of the reasons why Chris and I keep coming back to Rome – for the difference.

However, when we do long to escape from the madness, we have discovered some serene places of respite.

1. The Botanical Gardens lie in Trastevere, at the foot of the Gianicolo – one of Rome’s seven hills. While not the largest or most picturesque of gardens I have visited, they are peaceful and green. There are many meandering, shadowy paths and hidden nooks that Sam enjoys exploring.

Sam, Mummy and ducks in Rome’s Botanical Gardens

2. The Via dei Fori Imperiali is closed to traffic on Sunday. Stretching between Piazza Venezia and the Colosseum, this is one of Rome’s most significant thoroughfares and was built by Mussolini. In order to lay this grand boulevard in honour of himself, the dictator paved over much of Rome’s ancient past. As a consequence, the road is despised by Romans today who would like to see it destroyed and the long-buried ruins brought to light. As removing one of the capital’s major arterials would cause even more traffic chaos, the people are appeased by the token gesture of opening the road to pedestrians on Sunday.

Sam jogs on the Via dei Fori Imperiali towards the Colosseum, in the distance

3. Churches are a wonderful sanctuary. We have no religious urges but Sam knows he must be quiet and is happy to sit in between us and look at and softly comment on the statues, mosaics and beautiful ceiling and windows. He always lights a candle, but he assumes it is like a birthday candle. While he doesn’t blow it out, he does make a wish – his last two wishes were for: 1) Chick’s truck (from the movie Cars); and 2) a dog. My favourite church is the Santa Maria in Trastevere.

Inside Santa Maria in Trastevere

Chris’s World Records

So here’s a bit of a poor excuse for a blog, a list of bests and worsts and other superlatives, fitting as a blog topic only because the trip, now half over, had as its original purpose a series of meetings with Guinness World Records. But nevertheless it’s just as annoying as one of those episodes of Seinfeld that is filled with flashbacks.

BEST THING IN OUR BACKPACKS
This one is a bit of a surprise. Jen and I are ‘experience’ people, not ‘technology’ people. We prefer real life memories as opposed to RAM memory. In fact, we think most technology – like expensive cars and wide-screen TVs and iPhones etc – ultimately makes people feel bad about themselves as it is so quickly out of date. Wonderful experiences, on the other hand, only become more valuable with age as the memories and learnings are constantly re-used, re-lived, utilised and discussed.

Anyway, enough philosophy. I annoy the hell out of my brothers with this argument every time we try to come up with a gift idea for our parents. So they will laugh when they hear that the winner is our netbook, a lovely little Toshiba NB305 that not only allows us to blog and check the weather reports etc, but also provides us with great jazz music over dinner, allows us to check out and back-up our photos each evening, gives us the opportunity to work on our next book and offers us many half-hours of sanity as Sam watches his films and TV shows. Best $500 we’ve ever spent.

BEST 16 EUROS WE’VE EVER SPENT
A bottle of Jack and a commemorative metal container. Enough said.

BEST CLOTHING IN OUR BACKPACKS
Our Gore-Tex jackets from The North Face. Not only do they laugh in the sad, sodden face of rainy days, allowing us to get out and about in any weather, but when paired with our Keen waterproof walking shoes they also stop us from looking like Australian tourists. Instead we look like Australian tourists disguised as German mountain climbers, which is so much more chic.

 

BEST PICTURE OF A HORSE’S ARSE
I don’t mean Sam, I mean the actual horse’s arse … this is taken on the carousel in Piazza Navona. Pick a night, any night.

WORST KITCHEN ITEM
We were fascinated by this when we first moved in – a built-in dish squirter. It’s for people who really want an item in their kitchen that is, in the real world, only ever operated by illegal immigrants who are being paid a quarter of the award wage. Or you could use an electric dishwasher…

FIRST PHOTO BY SAM
Okay, so I know a ‘first’ cannot be a record as it is, by its very nature, unbreakable. But this is the first ever photo that Sam took completely on his own, which is pretty exciting. It’s even a tiny bit abstract.

SECOND PHOTO BY SAM
He’s a fast learner. And just four years old…

FASTEST 100 METRES
Performed in Piazza Del Popolo, this classic record was achieved in a time of 42.13 seconds.

BEST XMAS TREE
It’s unusual and completely non-traditional, but we love it. We found it in a piazza today, very close to one of our favourite cake shops.

AND SPEAKING OF CAKE SHOPS … BEST CAKE SHOP
Oh yummy, a walk worth doing every afternoon. And we do.

Maximus Jr

As I made my way into the Roman Forum through the bone-chilling mist and fog, all of my senses were on high alert. Although I could see no one, I could feel the enemy around me. Without a weapon I was completely at their mercy.

For eight days I had been asking my commander for a sword. Her response to my constant requests was, “No, they’re too expensive. I don’t want to hear you mention swords again!” The previous day she had purchased a new pair of boots and a bag, but a three-Euro sword was somehow too expensive. But this was a life-or-death situation. She could not fathom the danger.

With only my loyal and trusted companion Spiderman at my side…

…I trudged though the mud and hoisted myself atop broken pillars and the ruins of ancient buildings. I was vigilant and always on the look-out for the barbarians.

Then I was down. Hit from behind. Splayed in ankle-deep Roman mud. Cold, desperate and yearning for the warmth of home, I turned to my commander for help as a tear sprung to my war-weary eye.

“Saaaaaam! It’s wet and slippery and muddy. I told you to be careful. You were just getting too cocky, weren’t you? Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” In her tone was more than a hint of exasperation, especially when the Huggies wipes failed to remove the filth of the battleground from my clothing.

With our patrol of the Forum complete, we marched into the Colosseum. Still caked in mud, I climbed the many steep flights of stairs until we reached the top of the massive arena. Unlike the Forum, the Colosseum was heaving with spectators, many dressed in lurid-coloured rain jackets. From on high I had a spectacular view of the pits where lions, bears and gladiators alike were caged, waiting to do battle.

Tired and hungry, having cheated death for yet another day, I rode back to the barracks.

On the way I was rewarded by my commanders, for a successful campaign, with a glistening new Roman sword. Now I am ready to face any enemy, be it Barbarian, dragon or Green Goblin.

Blogworthy

Jenny bought a new handbag and pair of boots today. The handbag was discovered in a lovely shop called Mandarina Duck (I’ve seen this shop before in Paris and Singapore, but always thought it was a Chinese restaurant) in the very civilised Prati district just north of Vatican City, where we’d gone for our morning stroll. The proximity to the Vatican was quite fitting, as when Jenny finally found a handbag she loved, I knelt down on one knee, made the sign of the cross and thanked the Lord.

The boots were more difficult to find. Not that we had to walk far, they were actually in a shop around eight steps from our apartment’s front door. But when we entered the shop we found no staff. They were eventually located in the back office, hiding from a pigeon that had flown in the front door and got itself into a flap when it became disoriented and trapped in the shop’s window display. I was fascinated, as I’d never seen pigeon-phobia in action before.

“Get it out for them,” Jen whispered, her eyes on the boots she had spotted in that very window display. I moved a few mannequins and reached in tentatively (I mean, I’m an Australian bloke and all that, I wrestle sharks and strangle snakes and dodge leapin’ lizards, but this was a man-eating, Roman bloody pigeon) and surprised myself when I was able to grab it gently from behind, lift it out of its high-fashion prison and release it out the door. You’d think this would be an act worthy of a 10 per cent discount but no, all I got from the boot babes was a cool, “Grazie”…

Here is a pic of Jen’s purchases, casually splayed on the lounge after a day of shopping.

Then again, I’ve done a bit of shopping in the last few days myself. And when I say “a bit”, I actually mean “a bit”. Those who know me well know that I only buy t-shirts at Ben Sherman, mainly due to the fact that the last two times I’ve been shopping for clothes in the last three years, I have been in a Ben Sherman store. I actually bought two more Ben Sherman shirts in London a few days ago, but I’m now the proud owner of three more t-shirts (aka “business shirts”) from a brand called Jack & Jones. Here’s one in a pic – I’m the one in the Batman shirt, Sam’s the one in the Spiderman shirt…

I bought these shirts because Jen, Sam and I were recognised by a local, very gay clothing shop owner. “Ciao,” he squealed as we walked by his shop. “You bought those jeans from here two years ago.” And indeed I had. This man-hungry master of mannequins obviously had a good memory for short, stubby, hairy, part-Lebanese Australians with huge noses, or possibly he just knew a sucker for good t-shirts when he saw one. The problem, of course, was that mummy immediately began referring to said shop owner (let’s call him Bruno) as “Daddy’s boyfriend”. So now, every time we walk past the shop, which is quite often as it’s around 20 metres from our apartment, Sam looks into the shop and, if he sees Bruno, yells out, “There’s DADDY’S BOYFRIEND!”

Anyway, it’s been a fun day. Sam had a big cry after pulling Batman’s leg off whilst waiting for mummy in Mandarina Duck (see Batman and his mates, below), but that’s now fixed, thanks to the wondrous power of Super Glue.

The very good news is that the Christmas Markets in Piazza Navona, about three blocks from our place, are now open. See pic…

And of course,the Christmas Markets have a carousel, which means we now go on a ride with Sam every night. See pics from tonight and last night…

The better news is that we’re all now 100 per cent settled in, literally suited and booted, and I get to dedicate all of my attention to my stunning wife and our awesome little man. And all it took was a handbag, a gay man, a pigeon and a pair of boots.

Bussolini

Since we arrived in Rome six days ago Sam has harassed us constantly for a trip on a double-decker bus. He fell in love with them in London then spotted a number of hop-on/hop-off, open-top tour buses on our first day in the Italian capital. There are approximately 11 such operators in the city and after an evening of extensive internet research we chose the company with the stops to suit our purposes.

Armed with a video camera, snacks and a very excited four-year-old we rolled up to Piazza Navona (stop #5 on the route) and were perplexed when three buses failed to stop. Unsure of how to proceed we chased the next bus along Corso Vittorio Emanuele for about 2kms and finally discovered a bus stop near Piazza Venezia (stop #4).

We were happy when a large sign on the bus read, ‘PURCHASE TICKETS ON BOARD’, but our high spirits were soon dampened by an extremely glamorous but stern conductor who refused to give change. What followed was an awkward stand-off as the sexy conductor refused to give Chris ten Euros in change and my principled husband simply stood his ground and said , “Well, we could just get off and give you nothing.”

Fearing this face-off would result in a screaming child, I frantically rummaged through my wallet and found the appropriate money. All was well … we thought.

We hoped our 24-hour tickets would enable us to travel pramless to sites that were a little further afield, such as the zoo at the Villa Borghese Gardens (stop #12). But once we read the map that the angry conductor had supplied we discovered half the stops on the route had been wiped. The bus went past them but didn’t let passengers on or off. The 24-hour nature of our tickets was now useless as most of the remaining stops were within walking distance of our apartment. We completed the round trip back to Piazza Venezia without hopping off.

While Chris and I were disappointed with the experience, Sam’s hunger for a double-decker adventure had been satisfied and, having thrown our 24-hour tickets in the bin we instead did the long walk with pram to the zoo and back via the Spanish Steps today – with plentiful stops for coffee, gelato and pizza.

Cat nap

Jungle Jim

Damn those Spaniards for all of those steps…

A cafe a few doors from our apartment