McDonald's toilets or the Colosseum?

On arriving in Cittavechia we had considered two options - sight seeing in Rome or heading to the Island of Giglio to see the Costa Concordia. My thinking was the Colosseum's been there since 80AD it's not going anywhere. On the hand the sinking Costa ship may not be there by the end of the month. Our interest in the Concordia isn't that of click happy tourists but of former emergency personnel keen to see how the disaster is being managed (or so I tell myself). In the end sightseeing wins; it is Rome after all. We take an hour long bus ride from Cittavechia into Rome.

What strikes us is that the city doesn't start becoming built up until about ten minutes before we reach the centre. We get off the bus in St Peter's square and look around St Peter's Basillica (note: the Christmas tree is still up).

We got a little lost looking for the Vatican (D'oh right behind the Basillica) but delightfully so; lost in the sights and sounds and people of the City.

Rome is clean and the streets are wide and it just works. We hop on the Roma Christina bus, taking in the sights (even Frank is impressed by the buildings). We hop off to have lunch at stop 6, as advised by the tour guide.

Ahh...Italian food...one meal in Rome is not enough. The pressure is on to find the 'right' place for lunch. It has to be authentic. Preferably no tourists. We stumble around down narrow streets and alley ways in search of it. Many times we look at a place and then shake our heads no...then, in the distance, we spy the awning of Borocco and make our way toward it. Like many local Italian restaurants part of it is a stand up Cafe. We see militarily personnel, in full uniform, walking in and out. Being hungry and on a time frame we agree that this is it.

We walk in are whisked, by a very friendly waiter, to a table near the back of the restaurant. I say 'Ciao, do you speak English'. He squints his eyes and holds his thumb and forefinger very close together and says 'little, little, little'. Excellent! We order scallopini, pizza, spaghetti and mixed salad. Our waiter suggests a white wine for us and asks if we want a bottle or carafe. I ask if we can have a little taste before deciding. He squints, 'Ah, little, little, little'.

A minute later a small carafe of white wine is delivered to our table. Frank says, 'Oh he must have misunderstood but the taste'. Who cares, we tasted it, a full glass each, and it was good. As we are sitting there the scene that unfolds is incredible. Military personnel walk in indiviually with full trays looking for somewhere to sit. A very stern man walks in wearing full military regalia with shining buttons. What seems in contrast is the tall, silver topped sparkle reaching out of his fruit salad. Our waiter then indicates at our glasses and says, 'bottle or carafe?' We thought we'd had the wine but okay 'carafe'. Dishes start arriving at the table that we haven't ordered but wish we had (like spaghetti with fat, juicy clams). Before I can protest (and ask them to stay) they are whisked away. When our dishes arrive the food is incredible. Pizza so thin you could post it, pasta al dente with thick, tomato rich bolognaise sauce and the scallopini. I'd talk about it but, in respect, it was a baby cow. We all eat until we can eat no more.

The Chef appears and greats almost everyone in the place with slaps and kisses. He knows them all. I say to him that the Pizza is the best Rocco has ever tasted (true) and he gladly poses for a photo.

Our waiter asked if we would like dessert and we order icecream for the boys. He says and for you 'Tirrimusu'. He must see my eyes light up because he squints, 'little, little, little'. 'We couldn't fit it in' I say. 'Then Lemoncello complementary of the house', and he slips away. The Lemoncello arrives in tumblers and it is stronger than anything I have ever tasted (except Grappa). When the bill arrives it is in Italian and looks like a Doctor's prescription. The price is very reasonable for what we had and the meal is just what the doctor ordered. We say our goodbyes and depart happily. On the way back to the bus stop we pass McDonald's. Frank turns to us and says, 'Do you want to go to McDonald's toilets or just to the Colosseum?' We pick the Colosseum.

Outside, a group of 'Gladiators' ask us if we want a photo. They say to Rocco, 'You can kill your brother for 5 Euro' then he turns to Frank, 'for one more euro you can kill your wife.' I'm not impressed, 'and if I want to kill him?' The Gladiator doesn't miss a beat, 'Madame he is a big man, you can't kill him...spaghetti kill him.'

When I first saw the Colosseum it looked a bit (well a lot) broken. That was 25 years ago and while I have aged, considerably, the Colosseum has undergone a facelift, Extreme Makeover style. Most of the the broken bits have been fixed and there have been a number of improvements...including a partial deck over where the gladiators used to hang out, bookshops, souveneir stores...actually I'm surprised I had to decide between McDonald's toilets and the Colosseum. Judging by the rate of McDonald's global takeover their franchise manager in Italy is a bit behind the eight ball.