Rome, Italy
There are all sorts of ways to see Rome. Walking tours, open top buses, coach trips, taxis, bikes and horse-drawn carriage are all available. But they're far too straightforward. We need excitement and danger in our sightseeing goals! So when our friend Stuart suggested that we don crash helmets and hop aboard a Segway tour, I got straight on the internet and booked the four of us - in some cases with a certain degree of trepidation - on to the upright two-wheeled go karts before the ladies could talk themselves out of it!
So here we are in blazing sunshine and, in Shellie's case, leopard-print high heels, strapping helmets to our heads and being taught how to mount a Segway. With the Emmanuel Vittorio monument beside us, looking like a huge great wedding cake, Dario our instructor guides us through the procedure. I try first, stepping gingerly on to the platform and within a minute am sailing up and down the cobblestones with relative ease. The scooters move with the weight of your body and are a breeze to negotiate. But not it seems for everyone.
Clodagh goes next and is a natural born devil, whizzing round like a formula one race car driver. Coman however crashes straight into a motorcycle courier who swears in fiery Italian and gestures impolitely. Finally a reluctant Shellie gives it a go. She's the least enthusiastic about this adventure and would cheerfully have waved bye bye to the lot of us, but gamely gets to grip with the beast. No damage done we all file off, looking like prize eejits as we plough through the huge crowds on the pavements in our way.
First stop is the Trajan Market, one of the ancient Roman sights, where hordes of traders sold their wares back in Imperial times. We all listen to the audio commentary on our ear pieces before Dario shows us a little video of how it would look reconstructed on his iPad. We then remount and sail along in single file, ringing our bells to prevent unsuspecting tourists being mown down as we head towards Nero's palace, the Domus Aurea and then on to the Colosseum.
By now we're dab hands at this Segway lark, and although Shellie looks like she'd be having more fun strapped to the back of a bucking bronco, Coman, Clodagh and I are grinning like lunatics as we dodge traffic and weave our way past staring pedestrians. Obviously those are looks of envy and not ridicule!
After the Colosseum and the Arch of Constantine we trundle down a road and then need to mount the pavement. With potholes everywhere and huge puddles from last night's rain, it's the worst possible time for Shellie to lose control, but all of a sudden there's a crash and a splash and we turn back to see her lying in the middle of the muddy water, the Segway on its side and Coman dismounting to help her. Unfortunately his machine doesn't stop and sails off by itself almost knocking over a man on his mobile phone before it comes to a halt.
Shellie slowly gets up, dripping wet, assures everyone she's fine and watches as Dario manages to restart her soaked motor. It's not a look of relief that flashes across her face once the Segway is working again but with a fixed look of enormous stoicism she gets back on board, with a soaking wet ****, and off we go again.
After the Circus Maximus we come to the Aventine Hill where the crowds have thinned out considerably. Clodagh and I charge up the hill as though we're in a chariot race, whooping with glee, and on we go past the Garden of Roses right to the top where we stop at the huge doors of the Priory of the Knights of Malta. Dario gestures for us to dismount and tells us to look through the keyhole. Amazingly there is a miniature view of the dome of St Peter's in the far distance framed by a tree-lined avenue. It's really quite extraordinary and we all take looks, marvelling at the sheer skill of the architects who created this trompe l'oeil.
Further down the hill we stop at a viewing spot and look out over the whole of the city with St Peter's below us, across the river Tiber, and the Emmanuelle Vittorio monument to our right. On we go, down the steep roadway and all of a sudden Coman roars past us, ignoring my cries to slow down and hurtles on without stopping straight into a parked car and a lamp post. Fortunately there's no damage done to either man or vehicle (not so sure about the post) but it seems his speed limiter failed and he couldn't stop.
Undeterred, he gets back on and we all climb the hill overlooking the Forum laid out below us and listen to the commentaries about vestal virgins, emperors, commerce and conquests before finally we return to base and hand back our Segways. It's a resounding thumbs up from most of us and even Shellie has enjoyed herself towards the end so, kids - if in Rome, seek out a Segway. Fun for all the family!
To recover from the experience Shellie declares wine is required so we discover a little cafe, Rucola e Pachino, where we can sit al fresco in the gorgeous sun and have a well-deserved lunch. Despite our waiting staff having teeth from the dark ages and stomachs that should grace a Sumo wrestler, the food is lovely washed down with copious glasses of chilled prossecco to toast our valiant adventure.
After a couple of hours we decide to walk back towards the Colosseum to check out a building recommended by my mother. Basilica de San Clemente is a beautiful domed church with typically ornate paintings throughout but unique in that it's three churches built on top of each other, "like a sandwich" explains Dario when I asked him about it earlier.
En route we stop off at a gelateria for ice creams, slurping away on tiramisu, blueberry, banana, chocolate and more as three huge scoops are forced onto each little cornet. We greedily consume it as we walk along the street ending up with sticky fingers and in my case a five year old's chocolate smile until Coman gives me a tissue and tells me to wipe my face!
At St Clements we examine the church and then buy a ticket for the excavations below. Down into the dark, damp interior we go wandering around the enormous early medieval church that predates the renaissance basilica above it, and then down again into the Roman pagan temple to Mithras that's buried deep beneath and was the original building two thousand years ago. In the dwelling next to the temple we wander through various rooms until we eventually come to the spring water that gave the original inhabitants clean, flowing water. It still gushes into the well today.
Back above ground and into the hot sunshine we jump in a cab to the Trevi Fountain, a must-see for Clodagh on her first visit to Rome and each of us toss in a coin to ensure we'll be back. It obviously worked last time for Shellie, Coman and me. A meander through the streets takes us to the Spanish Steps, where this time Coman and I do buy some paintings for the house. Beautiful black and white watercolours, they're sophisticated, elegant and remarkably cheap. Framing them will cost three times what we've just paid to buy them though.
It's late afternoon so we all retire to recharge the batteries for a Friday night in Rome. We leave for dinner at 9pm and walk down to Ristorante Al 34 in Via Maria de Fiori. Shellie has been recommended this place by a friend and reserved us a table. When we arrive it's bustling and very full but they have kept us the best table, in a corner by the window with a full view of the whole restaurant.
The food is magnificent and very reasonably priced, both of which are rarities in Rome where tourists are regularly fleeced for substandard fare. But Al 34 proves itself to be a fine establishment. Prossecco is served almost before we've sat down and then a very tasty dish, compliments of the chef, of pasta and chickpea broth with cuttlefish appears. Our orders come thick and fast - sweet melons and parma ham, plates of charcuterie and shellfish, the tenderest ossobucco Genovese style, calamari stuffed with parmesan and pine nuts, baked salmon, fillet of bream with crispy potatoes and lardons, mashed beans in truffle oil, spinach and bacon salad and far too many bottles of Gavi de Reservado.
The restaurant starts to empty out around us - so much for Italians eating late - but we're in our element, especially Coman when the restaurant playlist turns to Barbra Streisand belting out something from Andrew Lloyd Webber followed by a string of Shirley Bassey's lesser numbers.
We forego dessert but our hosts insist, bringing us a melting chocolate and iced cream meringue with glasses of limoncello on the house. By now we're the only ones left and are told we can stay "til one, two o'clock!" but seeing as they're putting chairs on tables and pulling down shutters we take it as our cue to leave and stagger our way back up the Spanish Steps towards the Splendide Royal.
It's gone midnight by this point and Shellie is leading the charge, persuading us all that a Baileys nightcap is essential, so we head up to Mirabelle's. Unfortunately we take the wrong lift which only goes to the sixth floor so we climb up the back stairs and emerge into the Michelin-starred restaurant with great clattering steps, bursting through the fire exit.
After having explained to the Maitre D - who we've not seen on our previous visits - that we're residents of the hotel and not random, tipsy tourists, he informs us that they're about to close. He's obviously not used to the Irish though as that leads all of us to sit down anyway and order two Baileys, an Amaretto and a port.
A long-suffering waiter brings over glasses filled to the brim and we giggle and chat raucously, until we remember that we're actually booked in for a very sophisticated dinner tomorrow night and will have to talk to the poor staff again, pretending our sozzled behaviour never happened. We decide there and then, based as much on the outlandish prices of the wine list as our creeping sense of mortification, that we'll cancel and find somewhere else instead. After all, we've been up here three times now... *hic*
Glasses finished we roll off to bed and the inevitable hangovers to follow.
