La Tazza d'Oro

La Tazza d'Oro is near The Pantheon. When you leave the ancient and imposing doors of that building all you have to do is walk out of the top right-hand corner of the small piazza. There, in front of you, is La Tazza d'Oro. When I was there in February 2007 this cafe served fine coffee at 90 cents a cup. That was the price if you stood at the bar and, as standing at the bar was the only option, that was the price. There were small notices, in English, informing patrons from other traditions of the need to purchase a ticket from the cash desk before ordering one's coffee. Some of the English-speaking patrons did not appear to read their own language; but the staff remained polite and patient.

In The Sistine Chapel

"Have we seen enough?" asked a middle-aged woman with a strong Scottish accent. Her companion, a stout woman with a similar accent, decided that they had seen enough and that they should leave. They then began, with some difficulty, working their way through the tightly-packed crowds and out of The Sistine Chapel.

For the information and correction of those of us who remained in the chapel an attendant standing before, and somewhat below, Michelangelo's depiction of flayed flesh called out, "Silenzio!". Most of the visitors chose to ignore this instruction. They continued to look up at the ceiling or the wall and to discuss the paintings amongst themselves. This prompted the authorities to play a recording in a number of languages asking us to be respectful and to maintain silence whilst in the chapel. The voices on the recording were all those of women. I was struck by how pleasant and attractive the English voice was. In the first place, it really was an English voice (ok, maybe I am Xenophobic), and not the American one which I have come to expect in Continental Europe; and, in the second place, it did have hints of the BBC's Radio 4 about it. Were the other voices I wondered: Madrid Spanish, Left-Bank French, Operatic Italian, and Honda-Corporation Japanese? But these speculations only left me with the further thought: why couldn't I think of some way of describing the admirable and bell-clear German on the recording? Could this be yet another example of my Xenophobia?

After grappling unsuccessfully with this thought for several minutes I found myself in agreement with the Scottish ladies and left.

Queueing for The Vatican

The queue grew longer by the minute and snaked its way around the ancient walls of The Vatican. So many people had come, as they do every day, to visit this special place and to marvel at the works of Michelangelo. Amongst these polyglot crowds, of mainly young people who queued so patiently, it was easy for me to think optimistically about our shared European, and World, heritage. For even on that damp February morning, with nothing to do but to wait, I felt a real sense of identity with all those around me. One of them, an American woman in her thirties, I suppose, was explaining the history of Rome in general and of The Vatican in particular to a group of young people who all wore hearing aids. She was so absorbed in her impromptu tutorial - constantly praising her pupils for their every answer to her frequent questions - that she seemed to care nothing for the essential skills of queueing. Maybe she was just absent-minded, or maybe she was a gentle soul who thought it wrong to jockey for position. Whatever the explanation she was nowhere to be seen behind me by the time I reached the head of the queue some ninety minutes after first joining it.