Thanks. I needed that.

Originally my opening line was going to be something along the lines of “Truth be told, this ex-pat  business isn’t  always everything it’s cracked up to be” but that sounds really petulant, not to mention naïve, so let’s just say that while it has a lot of highs, it can hit some real lows, which doesn’t exactly qualify as a news flash either. Last time I wrote I was coming off of a really great trip through Turkey. It was a remarkable experience, a real high, but by the time I was writing about it, things had already started to slip a bit.
It started when I took the evening shuttle bus to the Istanbul airport only to discover that my 11:50 flight had left at 11:50 AM (as scheduled, I might add). Now, in my defense I would like to point out that Pegasus Airlines has only one flight daily from Istanbul to Rome and that when I made the trip in August we left a few minutes before midnight, but that’s a weak excuse because over here the airport follow 24 hour time and a flight leaving ten minutes before midnight would be leaving at 23:50. Regardless, there wasn’t a hotel near which meant I was going to be spending the night in the Istanbul Airport.
That actually isn’t that bad of a deal. Heck, when you consider I spent the previous night on a bus, it could even be a step up. The drag was that for the previous couple of days, I’d been trying, with progressively less success, to ignore a burgeoning toothache which was suggesting that here was a root canal in my future. Add to that the realization that the orange tabby that had been hopefully eyeing me while I ate my final Turkish meal had apparently retaliated for my refusal to share by spraying the day pack which, under other circumstances, would have served as my pillow. Sleep was going to be hard to come by.
Anyway, I got through the night and back to the Rome, where, after tossing my pack in the washer, I got re-acquainted with my bed… so, things were looking up, right? Well, not exactly because within the next week I caught some nasty upper respiratory mess, met with a very accommodating Italian dentist who wanted to pull all my remaining wisdom teeth (I think he has some new equipment he’s dying to try out), and ( and here’s the kicker) had my pocket picked in Naples (I don’t really want to talk about it but let’s just say, if you go to get on the commuter train and it’s way too crowded, don’t squeeze your way in, just wait for the next one. Oh, and if you have a money belt, use it fercryinoutloud!)
Now I know it’s unseemly to be complaining when one’s living in the Eternal City, even if winter here can be a cold and rainy thing, but there it is. Any city has the potential to become a just another city from time to time I suppose. At least it does for me. Usually, the antidote for that is a little exploring but sometimes the motivation can be hard to come by. (Have I mentioned that the winter months tend to be cold and rainy?)
Of course, then a touch of homesickness creeps in. I start longing for a big cup of drip coffee in a “to go” cup, speculating what Christmas will be like without the lights of Hampden or Darlene Love on Letterman, and wondering what’s happening on this season of Dexter or 30 Rock or Treme (Is there even a new season of Treme?). I even got pretty close to going to McDonald’s the other day (but I blame that on a scene in Laura Lippman’s latest book.) Anyway, you get the idea. Put it all together and it’s a funk. Nothing clinical but not of any value either.
So, here’s what happened. A couple of days ago I was futzing around the apartment ‘cause it was cold and damp outside but when I looked out the window and it was snowing. Not hard, mind you, but it was more than flurries. This is not a common occurrence over here. Last February a couple of inches fell one morning and the city ground to a halt because no one had seen that for 25 years. A number of friends of mine mentioned that they had taken pictures of St Peter’s dome covered with snow but I had already decided on my destination in case of snow- the Pantheon.
Now it’s a half hour walk from my apartment to the Pantheon and as I set off I’m hoping that I get here before this stops. By the time I get to the Colosseum, just a few flakes are coming down but things start to pick up again as I’m head by the imperial forums. Some even seems to be sticking in the Piazza Venezia which holds the city’s largest Christmas tree. (Great lights on this tree, by the way. In addition to your basic white lights, there are these long (18 “) hanging strips that have a series of small bulbs firing in sequence. The resulting effect suggests shooting stars. Never seen that before.)

Thankfully, it’s still coming down by the time I get to the Piazza della Rotunda. Inside a small crowd has gathered as, apparently, I’m not the only one with this idea. It’s subtle but snow is drifting down through the oculus. I snap a number of pictures but I doubt that it will translate. That’s ok. (It’s gonna have to be). I put my camera back in my pocket and just watch for a bit. Somebody calls my name and I turn to greet a couple of friends of mine who had come down as well. (I’m still surprised when I run into people I know on the streets of the city.) We all just stand there looking up. It’s actually not all that dramatic, I mean you really have to look to see it but, then again, I’m living in Rome, and standing in the Pantheon with friends, and it's snowing. What are the chances of that happening?
(This didn't start out to be a Christmas post but for the last four days, this program hasn't let me load pictures.  So, on the off chance that it works today, I'll close by saying...)
Buon Natale, everyone.