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Prolific Writer
Join Date: Apr 2007
Location: Stuck in the United States of Bush......for now.
Gender: Male
Posts: 443
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Guadare la mia bici a la Via Appia Antica
I rode my bike along the Appian Way, today. Not the new highway they call
the Appian Way, La Via Appia Nuova, but the "real" one, La Via Appia
Antica.
I rode my usual morning commute, usual for the past week that is, past Il Vaticano, down La Corsa Vittoria Emanuele, past the huge monument to Emanuele II, down the cobbles of la Via dei
Fori Imperiali, around the walking-only area in front of the Colosseum,
head south for a couple hundred metres along Via de San Gregorio which
comes to a huge piazza near the east end of Il Circo Massimo.
Had to feel my way a bit, since I was off the maps I had and was going by
memory. I found the first road- cobbled, quiet, sun streaming into
shadows, ancient walls on either side growing moss and vines. An
incomparable, stereotypical image of Italy. Perfect. Several kilometres
later, after winding my way past old fortifications and under a couple
huge arches, I began climbing a hill and came to an old castel. It was
built during the Roman Empire but had been used by many since. For a few
euro I was able to go inside and walk about a bit. Chilling to think of
all the history even in this one little out of the way place.
I continued up the road and passed a small caffe that I noted for my
return trip, which would likely be around lunch time. The road had started
to become increasingly rural and when I heard the bells of the goats on
the other side of the stone wall, I knew I was finally out of the city.
The first section of ancient roadway still intact was amazing. Stones too
big and far apart to ride my bike on, I walked. There are literally ruts
worn down into the stone from centuries and millenia of wheeled carts
being pulled over them. Roman, barbarians, Christians, fascists. For
almost 10 times as long as my country has even been a country, peasants,
knights, emperors, slaves, popes, people from all over the world have set
foot on these exact same stones as I was wheeling my bike along.
The sun dappling the roadway warmed not only the air and the land, but my
spirit as well. I didn't care how long I went, I just wanted to keep
going, to see what else was up ahead. Dirt tracks on either side of the
ancient stones allowed me to roll along, then long stretches of the more
modern cobbles allowed me back on the road. I stopped often, as the sides
of the road are littered with mousolei, roman idols and statues, ancient
Christan inscriptions, and driveways. Yes, driveways.
People live here. Villas line both sides of la via, usually with sings
that warn of vicious dogs (cani feroci), closed circuit cameras, automatic
gates, etc. But it's all so well hidden, surely not by accident, that the
illusion is almost total. I got far enough that the villas stopped and the
farmland began. Goats abounded, literally grazing among downed columns of
ancient Roman buildings, the smell of manure was thick in the air and that
is a smell that, to me, always brings comfort and a sense of understanding
as it is the same smell I grew up with on the farm.
It was a perfect morning.
I returned the way I came. How many chilometri along the road I don't
know. At least 15, maybe more. It took me several hours at my slow pace to
go out and back. I has no place to go but right here, why should I rush?
I returned back by the castel, stopped to flirt some more with the
incredibly beautiful ticket agent who graced me with her smile and
laughter at my corny jokes, and returned to the caffe I noticed earlier.
The eggplant sandwich was a simple concoction, but the fresh ingredients
blended with the fresh afternoon air and bright, Mediterranean sunlight
made that sandwich a spectacular culinary event. I sat for nearly two
hours, watching i touristi walk up and down and complain that there was no
taxi service this far out, sitting with my head resting on a statuette of Diana still ensconced in the wall of the ancient building the caffe now resides in, the sun lightly kissing my forehead with it's warmth, and I felt so perfectly content, so utterly at peace with the world at that moment, it was like a baptism, a new beginning. I felt the stress leave my shoulders, the tightness leave my face, and a smile stretch across my lips like one has not in so long I can not remember. It was a smile simply there for its own sake. Because it could.
It was a perfect day.
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Are you kidding Velo? Even Malone won't touch this one-adrianhayter
Carpe diem, quam minimum credulo postero -Horace
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