“I have to say, wherever we go for dinner tonight is going to have a tough act to follow with that lunch,” I said as we moved through the city.
“I know,” Char gushed. “Serving the pasta in those little skillets? I love it. I’m going to have to start doing that at home.”
“Really?” I asked with a smile. I admit it was a nice touch in the restaurant, but I didn’t know how it would translate for home. Maybe if you cooked in one skillet and had another set dedicated to just being dishes?
“No, you’re right. That would never fly with a toddler,” she admitted with a sigh. “I’ll guess we’ll just have to come back.”
“You’ve got yourself a deal,” I said, squeezing her hand lightly. “I know I keep saying it, but I think that was my best meal to date in Italy.”
“The Italians do keep outdoing themselves, don’t they? It’s not so easy to get consistently terrific food back in the States.”
“Unless we’re at your mother’s table,” I quipped.
“This is true.”
“I was able to get us tickets for entrance into the Sistine Chapel at four, so that gives us a few hours to wander around a bit beforehand.”
“You need tickets? I thought you could buy them at the door.”
“I guess you used to be able to,” I replied. “But now you have to schedule a time. I’m glad I checked, it would have been a bummer if we got there and couldn’t get in.”
We walked through Piazza Navona, stopping to watch street performers and check out the local artists’ wares as we moved leisurely toward our next destination. When the Pantheon came into view, Charlotte gasped and stopped walking.
We got out our phones and took some pictures with one of the best-preserved Roman buildings behind us, then went inside to check out the famous dome.
After we’d looked our full, we went back outside. I studied my walking map and asked, “Do you want to head straight, toward Trevi Fountain and the Spanish Steps, or that way toward the Roman Forum and Colosseum?”
“Oh … the Colosseum!” she said, bouncing on her heels. “I’m dying to see it.”
“The Colosseum it is,” I said, turning us in the direction we needed to walk.
Charlotte’s pace got quicker in her excitement, and I couldn’t help but laugh as she practically skipped down the street.
When the Roman Forum came into view, she started tugging my arm harder.
“Oh my God, can you believe how amazing that is?” she asked me, looking at me briefly over her shoulder before turning back to the sprawling ruins.
And it was … awe inspiring even, and I found myself itching for my sketchbook and pencil.
After a good thirty minutes of exploring, we were finally on our way to the Colosseum and Charlotte’s reaction when she finally saw it in person was priceless. Her jaw dropped and her eyes filled as she took in the architectural masterpiece.
“This was built in the first century and it’s still standing,” she whispered almost reverently. “The history in this structure alone is mind blowing. And is it just me, or is it so much more gargantuan than you thought it would be?”
“It is massive, and very impressive,” I agreed. “I’d love to paint you here, right now, with that look of wonder on your face and the Colosseum behind you.”
She glanced over at me with a small smile playing on her lips.
“You want to paint me?”
“I do. And I will,” I promised. “Just not today. We still have so much to see. Come on, let’s go inside.”
She nodded eagerly and led me inside.
Once we had our fill, we moved to Trevi Fountain and the Spanish Steps, and finally, the Sistine Chapel. The last of which took up the rest of our day. We both stood, mesmerized by the glory, taking it all in as the majesty of Michelangelo’s masterpiece fed our souls.
It was a long day filled with plenty of stimulation and tons of walking. By the time we made it back to our B&B, I didn’t know if I’d be able to walk the last few steps it would take to get to our room.
“How does wine on the terrace sound?” I asked Charlotte as I held the door open for her.
“Wonderful,” she replied. “Almost as wonderful as getting these shoes off will be.”
“Amen to that. I’ll go check with David on the bottle and meet you outside.”
“Perfect. I’ll just slip into something more comfortable.”
My eyebrows winged up and my pulse jumped at the look on her face, and I found myself rushing through the house in search of our host and that wine.