The Easter weekend has seen us flying to Rome. To get some sunshine, eat some pasta, get some culture and history. We should have known better. We should have known that Rome gives not in “some” measures like a frugal Scandinavian, but in the passionate manner of a Latin lover. We, the locals of Norway, got at times overwhelmed by this generosity. Along with the sun – the storm was given to us. Along with some life – the crowds were given to us (it was, maybe, a stupid idea to go there for Easter. But I am the kind of person who better regrets what I’ve done than what I haven’t done :)). Along with some pasta – the almost religious food experience was given to us. And along with some history – the whole city gave itself to as like a living museum. On every turn and every corner there would be: another beautiful church, another ancient monument, another glamorous shop and another tourist ice cream parlor. Really, Rome was not saving on its welcome gifts.
As I am still full of different emotions and few eligible stories to tell – I will share pictures. Another word can be said about taking photos. I took some thousand of them – and it was just a tiny fraction of what I could take. Next time, if I want to take all the photos I want, I need to go there at least for a month – and spend it walking alone some hours a day. I wonder: how can you live in such beauty? In the end, you must get used to it all and stop noticing, no? Anyone here with the experience of longtime living in a beautiful Italian city? How does it feel?
Today I will be sharing doors. Rome has so many beautiful doors, that coming back to Oslo feels like going to visit a poor relative in a village (sorry, Oslo). To be honest, I had to refrain myself from taking a million door photos. I know, some here would love it, but I was trying to spare the nerve of my fellow explorer. Once, as we were climbing the stairs behind Vatican to go over some hill, I stopped midway and asked for a photo with this green door. While I was shooting my photos of it, a girl came and said hi and started opening it. Oh, hello, neighbor. Sorry, we gonna take some photos of your door. She was saying something nice with a laugh, and I wondered: how is it to live behind a door that is, maybe, photographed many times and is spread over Instagram or blogs (and stay sane about it)?
Enjoy my little door collection and let me know if some door has stolen your heart (among some here or any other place). While I will turn on Eros Ramazzotti (which Spotify proposes to me in Spanish. No, I want Italian!) and cook a home-made ratatouille, trying not to cry over the humble ingredients I got here at my poor farmer relative’s (sorry again, Oslo). Today we are not talking about Italian food, so get over it, girl!
May you walk in beauty!