I think Rome once belonged to the land of the giants because every time I stand in front of a building that was built during the time of the Roman Empire I feel small and insignificant. And I never thought I would use the word insignificant to describe how I would feel either. When a friend visited Rome a couple years ago and used the word insignificant to describe how she felt, I thought puh. But it’s true.

So I take a photo of one of them because that’s what a tourist does. I hate being a tourist though; I want to visit these places like one who lives here and after studying the locals I think “yeah”. I still prefer Paris, but if the Parisiens were half as smooth as the Italians.

In the distance it looks like a two story building with tall columns but measuring the building beside one built just two hundred years ago, it is like five or six stories high. I need to move back, way back to get the shot.

The Italians are beep happy. They beep their horns and they are happy. Our taxi driver beeped his horn I don’t know how many times, but I learned from him. I learned that it’s a waste of time to yell idiot at someone when you can use the horn and flash a smile. I think I’ll try that one when I get back.

I buy Christian salami to put in his bread rolls while the girls and I buy different kinds of breads, some with green olives in them and others topped with sesame seeds. I keep forgetting the names of them; maybe because there are too many to remember. We buy bottled water too and cold slices of pizza. This is our ritual each day for lunch and for snack. We begin each day with a bag of food that we take turns carrying and at the end return, tired from all the walking, with an empty one.

Edited to say that I can’t upload any photos until we return to Biarritz. And I have lots.