Our last meal in Rome was famous, really. The pizzeria we’d chosen from my guide book (Da Baffetto), which looked dodgy to me, was a pizza hotspot, and a line had formed around the corner before it opened. Once inside – I’m glad we got inline before it opened because the line got really long- we were seated in front of the brick oven and the pizza making station. My eyes were mesmerized by the ease with which they spun the little pats of dough into perfectly even circles, then layering the top with copious ingredients, and finally tossing them deep into the oven. I saw no measurements, no timers, no mechanical devices of any kind, and yet every pizza came out perfectly done and perfectly portioned. For the second time on the trip, we finished entire pizzas by ourselves. The red house wine was perfect with our yummy food too! At the end of our meal, while Martha escaped to the restroom, our waiter taught me how to say pizza makers or pizza champions or pizza experts ----actually I’m not sure what he taught me since he spoke no English. He simply pointed to the two cooks, said a phrase and pointed to me. I repeated the phrase a few times and, when I got it right, he stopped another waiter to hear his new student’s progress. I was congratulated by both waiters and smiled at by the two cooks, so I guess whatever I learned was a compliment. Two little postcards were the memento gifties given to us by the owner as we left. It was a good, good meal indeed.
Perfectly located next to the pizzeria was a gelato shop. We’d traditionally been given the option of whipped crème on top of our gelato whenever we bought it. This time, we were given the option of having it dipped in chocolate. Of course we chose to have ‘dipped gelato’ which turned out to be SO yummy. I think that Old Bridge near the Vatican gave us more for our euros, but this place offered the chocolate dip – if I visit Rome again I hope to grab gelato from both again, lots and lots of gelato.
We certainly didn’t have to walk all the way across the city back to our hostel, but we were headed to the Trevi fountain anyway so it wasn’t too long of a walk in the end. Incidentally the midway point, the Trevi fountain, provided us with great last memories of Rome. We ended up meeting a super cute couple from Houston and three girls from the US on Spring Break from their study abroad program in Belgium. Right off the bat we were all old friends, and spent a good while sitting at the fountain drinking wine (graciously provided by the sweet young couple). Little stories were traded back and forth, antics were had, photos were taken, hugs and names were traded, but finally Martha and I needed to get to bed for our early morning. The little American group at the Trevi fountain broke back up into parts, Martha and I headed east toward the hostel. The walk took a while and included the mistake of climbing the Spanish Stairs only to find we needed to descend them again straight away to get to the right road. Then we were back at the hostel and packing for the next morning. Rome was over but it had been great! Granted, I left with a limp and a cold, but Rome had been good to me otherwise. I can’t wait to go back again someday. I have faith that I will because Martha and I threw coins into the Trevi fountain and wished it so!
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