11.24.16 - This is not the way we celebrate Thanksgiving!

11.24.16

“This is not the way we celebrate Thanksgiving!  Everyone is supposed to be happy!  We eat turkey!”

We started today right with some hot showers after I fiddled with the boiler and got it fired up first thing this morning.  The girls were clean until they used themselves as human napkins later in the day.  

I found an English speaking doctor near the Spanish Steps, and S was able to get an appointment at 1pm.  However, I started eating cold Bonci pizza this morning and S joined in, and amazingly, she could taste for the first time since hitting Rome.  

Being creatures of habit whenever possible, we headed over to our normal bar at the request of the girls (who were more excited about running in circles playing tag on the sidewalk than eating - although they did eat half a muffin each), and S (who was pumped about tasting coffee).  

We tore through some cappuccinos and cornetti, then headed to the taxi stand while H2 whined that she wanted to see that neighborhood dog again.  

Public street means public naps.

Our taxi driver this morning was decked out in sweatpants and stubble and was angry at everyone who tried to cross the road or drive alongside him.  He would honk the horn - not just a little toot - a full on HONK - if anyone even approached the curb.  Then when the street was wide open, he would drive ridiculously slow.  

The plan was to head to the Trevi fountain and walk through the streets of Rome to the Spanish Steps where the doctor’s office was located.  He got us to the Trevi, and we found it cordoned off with barriers so that viewers couldn’t get on the steps.  The metal railings with orange and white reflective banners on them didn’t do to much for Bernini’s fountain, but at least it kept it clean.  

I didn't realize I was holding H2 so that it looked like she was on the toilet.

Of course, we needed to toss in some coins, but now there was a 20 foot length between us and the water.  Over the shoulder, a coin tossed by one of the girls was more likely to end up dinging someone on the side of the fountain.  Both girls tried and managed to get it on the lower level of the stairs; does that mean they go back to a lesser Italian city?  S and I both managed to hit the mark, so I guess we get to go back sans-kids.  I helped/threw it in for the girls and they were pumped.  

Cutting through the Centro Storico district was an exercise in dodging restaurant pimps and selfie sticks.  As is normally the way, we bumped into a store that had princess dolls and we walked out with two of them which I ended up carrying for large swaths of the day.  

The doctor experience was great according to S.  We ran into a family from Texas and had a nice political chat as we waited.  The girls harangued me for chocolates while S got sorted out.  Turns out it is most likely a severe allergic reaction to all the pollution and cigarette smoke in the city, which seems pretty reasonable since it only started getting bad on Tuesday after arriving in Rome.  

S was pumped because he had treated a Victoria’s Secret Angel 2 days before for the same thing (S says this basically makes her a VS Angel too….) and even more pumped that he gave her steroids so that she could add some muscle mass.  But seriously, she’s mostly stoked to be able to taste the food that was the whole purpose for the trip.  

Everyone was sort of dragging at this point - gelato was needed.  We walked past the steps and to a place called Pompi, famous for Tiramisu, but sweet turducken, the gelato was outrageously good.  Definitely the best I’ve had in Rome.  The girls and I had…

ICE CREAM #1

H1 has pretty much only gotten lemon and strawberry for every one of her 49 gelatos

On our way down the street, we passed a place I’d read about that does two pasta dishes a day for 4e take away.  Today they had tagliatelle with mushrooms and gnocchi with marinara and sausage.  GEE WILLIKERS.  They used to do wine but don’t anymore but it didn’t even matter because the pasta was so good.  

These two fine ladies are hand fed.  

H1 began to throw the usual I’m not hungry fit, but with some seriously cajoling and bargaining on how many she had to eat, we got one in her.  I told her she had to eat five, but she (unsurprisingly) liked gnocchi and didn’t count, so I just kept stuffing them in her.  I think I probably got 15+ gnocchi into her.  Definitely a proud moment.  

The girls desperately wanted to go up the steps, so I took them to the top while S rested at the bottom.  There isn’t a whole lot going on at the top of the stairs, but it was a beautiful staircase and a great view of Bernini’s boat in the square below.  That too was barriered, probably due to the soccer hooligans that broke it a few years ago.  A lot of the main squares had police and barricades to limit ingress and egress, causing people to have to go through narrow openings.  

Why walk up stairs when you can run?

Sneflie halfway up!

H1 at this point said she didn't want the "PO PO to bust her"

We sat on the steps for awhile while the girls played with their dolls.  Then, as soon as H2 wanted to set up the scenario, H1 declared she was done and didn’t want to play.  What started as a conversation turned into a lot more on the Spanish Steps, and bottom line, H1 learned a lesson about playing fairly.

Heading back to Pompi, we all got…

ICE CREAM #2

Last time we were in Rome, we didn’t go inside the Pantheon, so that was one of my key foci this trip, so when everyone started declaring their legs were tired, I got a little snappy myself and had to have a talking to.  I put H2 on my shoulders and we charged through the city to the dome.  

As we entered the square, the Pantheon looms over it all, regal and timeless, beautiful against the sky as an old dude shreds “Stairway to Heaven” on a guitar with no headstock and transitions into “My Heart Will Go On”.  Playa knows how to play.  

Inside, it was incredible to see the repurposing of an ancient building - a place whose dome wasn’t matched until Brunelleschi in Florence figured out how to build his own.  

H2 wasn’t too impressed and instead started dragging me outside to watch the guy shred that guitar.  He was wrapping up and a younger guy with an acoustic was taking over.  H2 was in love.  He played some jams and on Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah” the POLICE tried to bring him down and mid song asked for his documents and messed up his flow.  Then they made him TURN DOWN HIS AMP.

There was almost a riot in the square, I swear.  We came to rock.  

He got back to it, and it was incredible to watch the crowd gather and when he asked us to come closer, everyone actually moved in and came together to watch and sing.  Clearly a smart guy, he picked crucial jams from Lennon, the Beatles, Marley, and more and had the crowd singing along.  

H2 was in heaven.  H1 fell asleep.  I guess I know who is my music spirit animal.  

It was a powerful juxtaposition to be in an old square in front of an ancient temple, while a young man played modern songs for a crowd made of everything from high school age Romans to grandmotherly Japanese tourists - all of them entranced.  It even started raining a bit and no one left.  

We had some tired girls on our hands at this point, so we started trying to find a taxi stand without much luck.  We cruised through Piazza Navona with its Bernini fountain (clearly, it was Bernini day) and finally, we found a big street with a taxi stand.  

This driver liked slamming the brakes hard, but he got us home fast, so I’m okay with it.

Now, we are hanging out, waiting for Roman dinner time as I shove left-over pizza, gnocchi, and cookies into my ever expanding gut.  It is Thanksgiving after all.  

Which leads me to H2 announcing with tears in her eyes that this is not the way we celebrate Thanksgiving!  Everyone is supposed to be happy!  We eat turkey!

I thought we had a pretty solid day, but I guess after your sister slams your fingers in a pocket door, you’ve got a lot to be upset about.  

Currently, both girls have headphones on.  H2 is watching Netflix, H1 is playing a pony game with headphones on as well narrating the whole thing very loudly.  “Don’t be sad - if I win, you will probably be zero place.  You get to go to HELL!”

People, I can’t even make this stuff up.  

Don't judge me. 

...  

We just finished dinner and decompression.  Thanksgiving this year (and all years) is something to be truly grateful for.  We rallied and got our shoes back on and headed down the twisty little medieval streets to see which of the three restaurants Francesco recommended had room for our team.  

We passed the first and they had a 40 minute plus wait and had been open for 23 minutes.  Turning the corner, we saw that Trattoria Da Teo was empty (at least outside).  S tested the waters to see if they were open and sure enough, they were.  They promptly sat us outside which we figured was a special place for tourists so that the Italians didn’t have to hear our heathen language.  

They sent out our server and we couldn’t have been luckier to have been seated outside.  He was funny, kind, and warm and we felt incredibly well taken care of.  For Thanksgiving dinner, we had tagliatelle al cinghiale (boar), fettuccine with lamb bolognese, cacio e pepe, artichokes both in the Jewish and Roman styles, and zucchini flowers stuffed with mozzarella and anchovies.  

Peacefully eating.  

Smile through the tears, kid.

It was so good.  

I know I don’t really need to write this, but H1 started acting weird the minute the food arrived, even after trying the zucchini flower!  (I didn’t tell her it had fish in it!)  

We tried the “don’t eat then” strategy and S in her infinite wisdom told her she had a choice to be happy, and sure enough, H1 ate a plate of cinghiale and tried all the other pastas.  She declared cacio e pepe to be her favorite.  

The girls then did ballet in the piazza while S and I finished our wine, and then we polished off our day of feasting with tiramisu and mascarpone cream with the most adorable tiny strawberries.  

Yet another reunification for the Geil girls.

The really wonderful thing about eating outside in Rome is that you get the honor of being accosted mid-meal by someone selling something.  The first was a guy selling dancing stuffed animals, and the second, my personal favorite, was the woman selling flowers who placed it inches from my face and then left it there as I continuously said NO.  I have kids so I know what it’s like to have someone do the whole “I’m not touching you” game while they hold their finger a millimeter from your eye.  

I don’t flinch, homie.

The rest of dinner was spent recalling stories of S’s parents and my family to the girls’ rapt attention.  They love hearing about the olden times, especially when Uncle Dan has been bad (don’t worry Dan, I didn’t tell them about that one time when you…)

Most likely, we will be back tomorrow night for more deliciousness.  

This is where S and I stayed 8 years ago!

The girls then refused to put on sweaters and bounced through the streets of Trastevere on their way to get a gelato.  

It was closed.

It’s a tradition that we go around the table at dinner and say what we are thankful for this year.  H1 is still thinking of something beyond chairs that she is thankful for, but I’m thankful for meals like tonight - with my family - on an adventure - experiencing the magic of life together.  

Happy Thanksgiving!

Our apartment building in Trastevere.