Finally, I'm blogging again. And now I know why I came to Rome. It came to me yesterday while in Trastevere. I was meandering, as I am wont to do, and my nose took control. I sat down at a small courtyard restaurant and fell directly up into heaven. The freshest, reddest of tomatoes and olive oil on toasted panini. Pasta ala matraciata. 3 cutlets of white veal in a lemon sauce (now, finally, I know why people rhapsodize over veal). Salad. Fresh fruit in a mysterious orange-y liquor. With wine and sparkling water. 9euros.

Around the corner, lasagne forno - 3.65 euros. Melon, lemon (tangy!) and papaya ice creams falling off of a cone. Capucchino for .77 euros. Paradise on earth, with a few hundred churches thrown in for good measure.

Oh, yes, there are also the Roman columns, etruscan booty, piazzas, fountains, museums, 80 degree sunny weather. But all that pales next to the food.

Today I was rudely grabbed off of the street by Pizza Napoli - eggplant, mozzarella, olives, anchovies. Roughed up at 1.80 euros. These Romans are tough.

Tried following a Lonely Planet walking tour, but egads. Who needs tours? I may not always know what I'm looking at (well, not precisely) but the better way is to just go. Wherever. Eventually I'll see, or bump into, precisely what I want to see.

Oh, by the way, I'm going to ask il Papa to give back all the marble his predecessors stole from the Forum and the Temples and put it back exactly where it belongs. There are still all those square holes just waiting for just the right slab.

OK, guys, the weather's just too great to write anymore, but later. Then on to Paris.