To Rome, on business. Above is the view from the Deputy Mayor's office. Then the joy of the expense account stopover. I left the hotel I was staying in near the huge central railway station,
Roma Termini, and had a wander around some back streets. I came across
this trattoria. The walls were covered with framed photographs of the well-fed owner with a series of B list Italian slebs. Perfect.
A smooth, fruit-laden Sangiovese from Tuscany accompanied a bottle of sparkling mineral water and some decent nosh.
I do so enjoy eating alone, especially in large cities away from home. It's the anonymity I think. The pleasure is, of course, doubled when you can claim it back on exes.
4 comments:
A man after my own heart...!!
That cheese sandwich has rather fallen apart. Haven't they got a Pret-a-mager in Rome?
Oh I do know what you mean about eating alone in a strange place. I once ended up in Mende after a beautiful lonely drive over the Cevennes. I queued for half-an-hour outside a cinema to see Germinal, only to have the doors shut on me. "Complet" the usherette told me through the decreasing gap. So I went skulking off down a dark alley to a wonderful dark candlelit room. All alone, apart from one very pretty waitress, I tucked into l'escargots and a full bodied Borgogne. Very happy.
This all looks so delightful, yum! I love Rome...what else did you do there?
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