Today is our 9th wedding anniversary. Originally, we planned to get a babysitter and go out for a romantic dinner in a picturesque restaurant down some charmingly narrow Roman street. But, Nico felt offended that we would celebrate without him. So we decided to cook at home tonight and that the three of us would go out on Saturday night instead.
I went out early this morning to go to the fish market. I decided to buy anchovies because Nico loves them and I’ve always wanted to fry them in an egg and flour batter. I asked for half a kilo, and while these kind men were busily gutting the little creatures:
I went off to the bar for a cappuccino and a tiny cornetto.
On the way back to pick up the fish, I stopped to buy some lemons for the anchovies and saw the first cherries of the season. These are from Sabina, just north of Rome. We’ll have them for dessert.
All was going well. I thought I would have some time to work on some writing before I had to run to the dentist. Every year something happens to prevent us from celebrating our anniversary. Usually it’s because James is travelling for work, once we were on a plane heading to Canada with a squirming toddler, another time a friend from Toronto arrived unexpectedly. This time it threatened to be a broken tooth. It happened last night. I’m a nocturnal tooth grinder. Still I took a few painkillers and thought I’ll be fine after the dentist fixes it. The dentist is a half hour bus ride from my house. But, in the market I overhead people saying there was a transit strike.
I dropped everything off at home and headed out on foot. It would take me 1 hour and 45 minutes. And, though I was sorry to lose out on my writing time, I found myself enjoying the walk past Trastevere:
Over the Tevere:
Past Beppe’s cheeses, but no time to stop:
Through the Jewish Ghetto:
Down narrow streets:
Crossing at the crosswalk where traffic flows around you like rushing water in a fast moving river:
Past Piazza Venezia and a million tourists:
I don’t know why I thought the dentist would take away the pain. Of course, I’m in more pain now after he’s fixed my tooth. And I probably shouldn’t drink champagne with Ibuprofen. Our celebration this year might be a little muted by my whimpering. But there’s always next year to look forward to …