The ups and downs of roaming in Rome

During his preadolescent homeschooling days, our eldest son, Michael, promised his mother he’d take her to Rome someday. He fulfilled that pledge nearly three decades later, in October, inviting along his father and two teenage siblings for a six-day visit to the Eternal City.

Rome wasn’t built in a day, nor was it meant to be toured in its entirety in a week — that’s more than even the most ambitious and energetic could reasonably accomplish. But Michael, who once spent a semester in Rome and had visited twice more, set such an itinerary for us, and as I write this a month later I am still recovering. Perhaps he failed to consider that while his mother and siblings were in vigorous physical condition, his Old Man was quite past his athletic prime, which wasn’t all that impressive to begin with. At 61, it was my first travel overseas.

I was in trouble even before we arrived at our connecting gate in the Atlanta airport. My son and wife, both Fitbit fanatics, eschewed the convenient trains that sped through the concourses in favor of hoofing the distance in order to get their “steps” in. I lagged, trying to keep the foursome within eyeshot, pausing at intervals to catch my breath and check my pulse, or to ensure I still had one. It was almost a relief to finally settle into my cozy 18-inch-wide main cabin seat for the eight-hour flight in an airborne tin can across the Atlantic.

Once in Rome, we hit the ground running, and I do mean that literally. Rome is famously built among seven hills, and I soon learned this meant that no street or sidewalk was level for more than a three-foot stretch. Up and down hills we climbed, often on sampietrini cobblestones, with little respite for the weary. At least I was getting my cardio in; my doctor would approve.
 
Inevitably, my wife bonded with the pharmacist near our hotel during her daily visits to purchase new salves and bandages to wrap my severely blistered feet. Mercifully, we began taking the Metro and taxis more frequently, and I sat out an excursion or two. Getting pickpocketed in Termini station our final full day was almost providential, as the need to remain at the hotel to cancel credit cards and report the loss afforded me additional rest. When we touched down after a longer 10-hour flight (thanks so much, jet stream) home to the U.S., I wished I could kneel and kiss the tarmac.

My son was a knowledgeable guide, generous and gracious, and my wife and teenage kids enjoyed a journey they will always remember. And even at my less-frantic pace, I attended a papal Mass and general audience, visited the major basilicas and several other beautiful churches, toured the Vatican Museum and the Borghese, prayed at the tombs of saints and popes, viewed priceless works of art and antiquities, and sampled the finest gelato Italy had to offer. All things considered, that’s not bad for a six-day visit to Rome.

GERALD KORSON is editor of Legatus magazine.