Isola Sacra and a Damned Monday



We're near Rome's main airport, in Isola Sacra, or, more commonly known as "Fiumicino". We are missing my niece by just handfuls of hours! We should've planned better, as she would be a trip within a trip (I mean this in the best way; she's electric).

After a good night's sleep in a cute and comfy B&B (Zefiro), we're finally carving out enough time to visit the scavi as intact as Pompeii: Ostia Antica. I've wanted to get here for years, and have never had time for that one little side trip. Well, now we're staying in the land of the side trip!

Ostia Antica is only 15 minutes by car from our B&B. A veritable ancient marketplace, trading post, sites of the first purveyors of 'fast food,' with still-standing thermal pots set up like modern-day banquet steamers. On the beach. And it's a beautiful day! What could be better?

If it were open.

It's Monday, so as with many museums, including outdoor ones, it's closed. This is a recent (and by recent, I mean within the last 25 years) situation. At one time, you could come here with your picnic basket and truckload of children, let them clamber all over the ruins while you set up your eating spot and potential path from it for swimming in the sea. I'm sure some hoodlums ruined that liberty, or they just figured a lira or two could be made, but it's now gated off and you must pay to enter. When it's open.

I had a minute of sadness (does muttering "F--k!!! F--k!" count as sadness?), before realizing we're still in a vibrant wharf area worth exploring.

Which usually means food.

We went to the commercial port side (vs the beach side) of the river, where there are some incredible restaurants that even die-hard Rome city dwellers gather for a meal. We settled on Ristorantino di Giorgio, a well-run, pretty but not "fancy" restaurant, where Giorgio himself greeted and talked to us.

Our very business-like waiter had no compunction telling me (when I asked his advice) which of my two choices were the better one to order.

The food was incredible. Starting with a tuna tartare so fresh you could taste the sea, served with paper thin pear slices, giving me all new ideas about that food combo. Explosion of taste.

Next, I had a Tonnarelli Con Spada, Cernia E Crema Di Pistacchio (Tonnarelli with sword fish, grouper and pistacchio cream), and Joe had the seafood risotto. My pasta made me crazy with delight.

Full but not stuffed, I ordered the calamari fritti, and I'm so glad I did. HEAVENNNN.







Leah's hotel


As we ate, I was texting with above-mentioned niece, who told me where she was staying... a 3-minute walk from the restaurant where we sat!

Pleasantly full, we walked around for a while, watching the bridge lift just after people begged to first quickly scurry across it, and saw a sailboat come through. As we walked further, fishermen were fanning out their nets, some making repairs, others folding them up.





Eventually we went to the B&B to systemize our packing and catch up on info, including the tragic news of Rob Reiner & wife's deaths and the hideous response from the buffoon some people refer to as our president.

I went through photos and plans for tomorrow's departure.

Checking in on Nikos' adventure to Taipei (which I keep hearing as "Type-A"), I couldn't find word of him anywhere. I saw @justincredible mentioned a storm in NYC set back the "Huandao" — the cycling trip around the island — and I texted Nikos on the chance he was still stateside. Yep! Got ahold of him, which was a relief, but I'm so sad this happened. To make things worse, I worry about him reuniting with his checked luggage (aka his bike) after the ordeal we went through ourselves, leaving for Rome. I put positive energy about it into the airwaves. 

In the evening, we took a walk along the lungomare on the beach side, stopping into a cocktail bar for a Negroni (or two). I didn't get the name of it, but we saw a beautiful cocktail bar and restaurant on the way back! Next time.





Tomorrow, an early departure to return the car and get all this damned luggage checked. Then it's home and hitting the skids running, for as my sister says, "Christmas just happens for [the guys, kids, etc]".

I'm looking forward to it, anyway... my favorite holiday!

A presto!







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