The Rain in Rome

So for the next few weeks, this space will be filled with photos of Rome. It’s never been a huge regret, because I’ve always been too much of a realist or something I guess, but Rob and I have always wanted to know what it would feel like to live in another place for 6 months or a year. The thing is I continue to be a realist, and so three weeks in Rome felt quite decadent when we booked it. There are a ton of easy-ish day trips we could be taking from here if we so wished. But what we’re trying to do is slow things down to a crawl, revisit favourite pieces of art, look longer, feast. This morning, for example, we sat for ages just looking at the three Caravaggios in the Doria Pamphilij. We’d been last year, and we’d been on our honeymoon, and Rob had been previously before I met him. But we just sat and looked and watched the people come and go, and looked some more.

It rained off and on while we were out, and then on the way home we bought sandwiches for lunch, and groceries for dinner. We spent some time this afternoon writing, sketching, working on photos, looking out the windows at the rain falling down, and as I worked I glanced at the lit window across the street where there is someone working in an office of the pontificate biblioteca. Yes, I also posted photos on Instagram, as one does. And right now I’m sipping on a glass of wine, because you know the saying, it’s five o’clock somewhere, and as a matter of fact, it’s 5 o’clock in Rome….The church bells are ringing and all seems right in the world. (Which I know is absolutely not true, but still, part of it also, is true).

We’ve been listening to Max Richter and Yo-Yo Ma while working on our creative endeavours, companionably, as we always do, though in closer quarters than we do at home. I find I’m pinching myself a lot.

I’ve never been able to write much when away from home out of my study, but I’ve already been taking notes this trip toward an essay or two. And I’ve been reading about angels and looking at angels. And just generally thinking and contemplating. Normally, I’m too nervous about pretty much everything to do any of this. So who knows, maybe it’s getting older, or this slow vacation concept, but it all feels good, so far so good.

I’ve been reading also, The Recovering by Leslie Jamison which is I think her first book of nonfiction. She’s becoming one of my favourite authors, for sure. It’s not a subject I would have probably sought out, but her last two books were so amazing, it seemed silly not to read this one, too. Her engagement with the work of Jean Rhys, who we all read in university days in my small circles, is worth the read alone. And it’s made me want to go home and re-read all of Jean Rhys, too.

Is this boring? I hope not. Otherwise, as they say on Miranda, “bear with.” Because it feels weirdly lovely to be blogging from Rome and just sharing these things that I’m basically almost crying about when I see them. Rain on a windshield. And then if you head over to my instagram, you’ll see photos of puddles, artichokes, tiny elephant sculptures, lemon trees, flowers, and pink bicycles. Thanks, as always, for following along.