ROME, AGAIN

"It has been said that man is a rational animal. All my life I have been searching for evidence which could support this."  - Bertrand Russell

It's probably a good thing that old Bertrand is not around to observe American politics at this moment in time, or he would probably give up the search altogether. No matter what side of the aisle you inhabit, there is no denying that the state of the United ones, if we can still call them that, it getting weirder and weirder by the day.

So what do you do when your country goes insane? You go to Italy, of course, and you go by way of Rome, where all roads (and flight patterns) lead.

I love lots of cities. Really, I do. But if you put a gladiator sword to my throat right now and said choose one city in which to live the rest of your days, there would be no contest. It would be Rome. No matter how many times I go, and I’ve been there more times than I can count, I never tire of it.

Actually, I can count the times. Twelve. I think.

This time, almost by accident, M. and I  had the best Amatriciana ever because we were too tired and jet-lagged to go out to dinner on our first night at the Hotel Vilòn (which we highly, highly recommend). Room service produced the dish you see above, which, at first, I admit, I thought looked a bit over-engineered and fussy. I was wrong. It was flawless. As was the breakfast table the next morning. And the bowl of fruit on it. As was time spent with friends.

People, Dianne and I have known each other since the sixth grade.  Eternal friendship in the eternal city. That’s how we roll. Or how we pastry.

Go to Rome. Go immediately to Rome. And do not watch the US news while you’re there.