A man alone in the city of Rome… summertime, when men and women dress for comfort rather than modesty. Yes, a fella could get up to a lot of hijinks if we were disposed to doing so. On the other hand, a fella might just be disposed to hiding in his air conditioned lodging and watch movies for a couple of days when he’s all by himself, in his 50s, and it’s hot as hell outside. So, with an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other… actually that sounds like two devils; typical… anyway, with two whispering critters on my shoulders, what exactly did I get up to in The Eternal City? What wonders of the ancient world did I partake of? What fabulous adventure could possibly roust me from the coolth of steady air conditioning?? You guessed it!

Hop-on, Hop-off.

I know I/we are a broken record at this point, but we are total converts to the hopping way of life. If you’re on a mission or tourism they serendipitously go exactly where you want to go. There are several different lines of these buses in Rome; I went with Green Line Tours but I’m no expert as to which are better or worse. Green Line did just fine for me, but honestly it looked like most of the stops I saw had signs indicating that several different companies stop in identical locations. Thanks to our perfectly located accommodation (good job, sweetie!) I had about a 4-minute walk to the piazza, then on to the bus and into the center of the city.

However, before you roll your eyes at John and another one of his all-bus-all-the-time posts, stay your fury! This time, I was using the HOHO as actual public transportation. After riding for a half hour or so I scooted back on to the pavements for my key destination of the day – the Capitoline Museums. I’ve been to them before but it’s been quite awhile and the place is just stuffed. Even on a second visit I’d likely see things I missed the first time (or, to be perfectly honest, forgot I saw it) and some things are worth a second look anyway, right? Especially baby Hercules. This unforgettable piece of work (on display to the left) seems to be an artist’s attempt to reconcile two different inspirations – one, that Hercules is reputed to have displayed feats of great strength when he was just a baby. And two, shouldn’t a strong person look like a big strong man? Thus the compromise: a full grown, somewhat muscular man who has been mushed together with, you know, a baby. It is unsettling, but in a way that I can’t look away when I’m anywhere near it. And to paraphrase my sister, if I have to look at it, you have to look at it.

Behold!

The strange thing is that it is a total outlier. Baby Hercules is the only “oddity” like this in the place. It is otherwise a trove of art collected by the leading lights of Rome for nearly six hundred years, starting out with a gift from Pope Sixtus IV. He wasn’t the last. The ways of the rich and powerful are inscrutable, but on an irregular schedule over the centuries a pope or other richie rich type would drop off some portion of their accumulated wealth; I’m not Catholic but I have my suspicions. In any case, that much wealth sluicing through over that much time is going to yield a heck of a museum.

After a lovely few hours tromping through the Museums I pondered getting a meal, but there are bizarrely few dining options a quick hop from the museum, and I didn’t feel like longish walk in the heat, so instead I took my trusty HOHO back to my neighborhood for a nice spot I’d spotted right around the corner from home. Ristorante Rossini doesn’t seem to have much of a web presence, although it does seem to be attached to Albergo Ottocento hotel. The restaurant had a whole submenu featuring truffles – in the risotto, in the salad, on your steak… many styles. I went for a salad (a promise to wife to not eat *only* meat and pasta on the trip) and then the truffle-sauced beef tenderloin, because who doesn’t try that once? It was one of the best pieces of beef I have ever had.

One day down, I’m feeling righteous about not just being a lump, and the next day brings the whole reason for the trip – Senor Caravaggio.