🇮🇹🇻🇦 Scusi Scusi Scusi

Hello Adventurers, 

The last four weeks have been a whirlwind; there’s been some all-nighters, a few close calls, many late-night calls, loads of flights, twelve different counties, tens and tens of marathons, and probably close to 1,000 kilometres by foot…as I continentally boomeranged from Europe — through north Africa and western Asia — back to Europe (to see the missus).

It may seem exhausting — and maybe it is…like this whole thing could be wreaking havoc on me…like on a cellular level I can’t yet detect — but I honestly find the pace to be so energizing; just to physically-plow-through-place at like a million miles an hour, and be snow-blind by the stimuli that sticks to my mind’s windshield in said whirlwind.

But what’s the toll of all this toil? Dunno. I just try and eat healthy, and recover to the best of my abilities. And that wasn’t easy in Rome. Why? Because all of this past week’s pasta left me feeling bloated, and restaurant servers kept looking at my full belly and commenting ‘prego’ (as they cleared my plates). So I found myself frequently considering a Caesarian to relieve my existential stress…but returned the cutlery.

And like Rome’s Caesar — I did come to a deeper understanding about myself; that the knives of my passion could very well be that fateful blade that bludgeons me. And so be it. Because death by boredom in a knife-less, lifeless life has to be more dull…so I’ll stay sharp by marching on living my whacky ideas…in this Ides of March life.

Anyhoo, I am here / still kicking…and the deadliest part of the last four weeks have honestly been my daily phone calls with the wife. Like, I obvs enjoy them…as I do speaking with her (duh). But WTF? Well, at the outset of this project, I promised to call Christine daily at 7PM her time — which recently necessitated me rising between 1AM and 3AM (depending on where I’ve been in the world) — to speak with her.

Christine was willing to be flexible with the ‘call time’, but I’ve already asked a lot from her this year…so it was on me to be a man of my word…and because voicing words of longing for one’s woman is imperative (regardless of the hour or wherever I should find myself in the world).

Thankfully, Christine joined me in Rome this week…which is a blessing for the health of our relationship (and selfishly, for my health…since we’ve muted the daily calls…which — in turn — temporarily allows me to get a full night’s sleep). And while I’m more travelled than Christine, she’s a better research-the-place-first tourist than me (because I ‘wing’ everything…in life). So this issue of the newsletter is sorta collaborative (because Christine put some new stuff on my radar, and it informed the content).

This dispatch recounts four marathons I did — as well as some strolls with the missus — that combined to total 200 kilometres that I trekked by foot through Italy and Vatican City. Andiamo?

- Ben Pobjoy

P.S. The 'May Batch' of Pobjoy Postcards visited St. Peter’s Basilica before they were slid in a Vatican City mailbox (and sent from the smallest country in the world). If you want to receive a monthly, one-of-a-kind handwritten postcard from me on my Marathon Earth Challenge, you can subscribe here.

2023 TREK TRACKER

Where in the world...record am I?

• Countries visited: 31

• Flights taken: 36

• Kilometres flown: 58,483

• Marathons completed: 95

• Kilometres trekked by foot: 4,497.9

• Total kilometres trekked since 2015: 67,589

RAPID WEEKLY RECAP

A speedy synopsis for time-crunched readers

• The Wildest Thing: $100 dinners in Rome…and the restaurants can’t even afford toilet seats?🤔

• The Biggest Obstacle: Entering — or exiting — our little Airbnb in Rome…because it had 10 different keys for the five different doors as well as the numerous windows (and all the street-facing doors and windows had security bars AND mechanical rolling shutters). Basically, it is / was a safe place to die in…in a house fire😰

• The Lesson Learned: I am a privileged, well-traveled asshole that needs to better reel in my impatience, and extend more grace to in-awe, first-time visitors in touristy places that are new to them😬

FIELD NOTES: ROME, ITALY

Italians do it better…but tourists make things worse

If you’ve never been here, Rome is Rome. Like, it’s everything you imagine it to be and/or expect it to be…Roman ruins, Catholic churches, espresso, pasta, gelato, perfect public squares for people watching, honking scooters crazily driven like missiles gone AWOL, and aggrieved-by-everything locals — with such expressive hands — that you gotta ‘bob and weave’ when passing ‘em on the sidewalk…lest you want to lose an eyeball.

I’ve been here before — and ultramarathon’d it during a quieter season years and years ago — and I really liked it in then (and recommend autumn as a more optimal time to visit). But this time around…eesh…Rome in the springtime is a nightmare. Basically, it’s clogged with lots of turd-y tourists…which is mondo ironic since this place perfected the art of flow.

Now, I’ve been to / marathoned lots of dense places — New York, London, Tokyo, Cairo, etc. — where locals know how to move…but Rome in late May is full of tour group geriatrics, bickering families struggling with strollers on cobblestones, and social media sinfluencers obstructing heavenly attractions with hellishly cringe photoshoots. It sorta drove me insane the first few days…especially since Rome is now super expensive post-pandemic (we stayed outside of the city centre…which was cheaper but still costly…because everything central was like $400 USD a night…and I don’t have that type of loot).

And I don’t know if it’s worth it…but ‘value’ is such a subjective thing when it comes travel. Like, if you’re dead set on visiting Rome then I can assure you that the cost of admission today will kill your finances tomorrow. But if you just want to visit something similarly old and Europe-y, then there’s loads of other as-good-if-not-more-affordable places on the continent. And even if you just wanna hit Italy…I think Milan and Florence (as well as some of the coastal places) on this ‘boot and ball’ shaped country kick harder.

So did I regret my time in Rome? Nah, I was just glad to meet up with the missus. Plus, I fucking love Italians in Italy. They wrote the book on good living; smoking, drinking, eating, arguing, socializing…they do everything better than everyone else. And while next month’s credit card statement will be painful, these were this week’s joys…

Much like my Paris dispatch, I’m not gonna hyperlink Rome’s notable attractions ‘cause they’re common knowledge. But after my second veni, vidi, vici marathon conquest of Rome, I can confirm everything still slaps; like the Pantheon, the Colosseum, the Piazza del Popolo, Ponte Sant’Angelo, Piazza Navona, Isola Tiberina, Villa Borghese, the Monument a Vittorio Emanuele II, and the Spanish Steps (but mostly ‘cause of this). And obvs, there’s like a thousand other things that could be added to the list.

All you gotta know, is that you gotta bring some really comfortable walking shoes with you to Rome, and you gotta get lost in all its nooks and crannies as well as in the many markets and the spectacular side streets. And you gotta go deeper than just hitting the major attractions ‘cause they’re truly overcrowded (with people taking photos by the kilo for the ‘Gram)…and because this place has some super LULZ stuff like a pyramid and a Roman relic in McDonalds if you off-road off the beaten path.

Now, the Tiber does cut a mean squiggle through the middle of Rome, and while the green river waters are pretty nasty, the path along the western side of it is pretty convenient. Like, it has nothing down there (short of some great views of bridges it passes under)…but it is hella convenient for strolling or cycling (allowing you to get to places way quicker than the city streets allow).

I used Tiber paths daily as a means to get to Trastevere, Prati, Balduina, Della Vittoria, Municipio I and II, and so many other areas. So yeah, big co-sign from me ‘cause most tourists are too lazy to descend the steps down to it…and the path kept me sane and moving (which are two super interlinked things for me).

Antiquities as well as art from the Classical Era don’t often float my boat (it’s just a personal taste thing…like I’m pretty ‘meh’ on their aesthetics). But I do appreciate some of the precise techniques they employed (especially for the time, hundreds and hundreds of years ago) because the subtractive process of turning an unforgiving substrate like a rough, raw, rigid and prone-to-chipping-or-cracking piece of rock into a smooth sculpture by hand sans power tool is objectively impressive (especially ‘cause you can’t do anything additive or corrective if you fucked up).

Really though, I just find the traditional presentation of Classical Era busts in galleries as well as museums to be sorta boring; y’know the hunk of chunk and/or chunk of hunk on a pedestal under a light, and against a wall. The art is off-white in tone, the room is off-white in some neutral colour…and it’s collectively a lil bland for ya boi.

However, the presentation of said types of works at the Centrale Montemartini flips the script…because the busts are presented in a former power plant, and against massive pieces of modern machinery.

While the busts — in and of themselves — still didn’t make me bust a nut, I absolutely loved the nutty effect of how such intentional art placed in a truly unintended environment refreshed the viewing experience as well as widened one’s ability to imagine different interpretations of everything on display.

Personally, it just made me think about human evolution; from the Classical Era to the machine age to today’s fusing era and/or error where AI is all the rage (for huge nerds on LinkedIn), and where we could all be on the verge of some Kurzwellian singularity. Me? I don’t really care though…’cause no AI can compute my natural stupidity…so by default — as well as by my faults — I am human, and therefore irreplaceable (until I am).

H/T to my lil bruv for recommending I visit the Centrale Montemartini.

FIELD NOTES: VATICAN CITY

Extravagance through exploitation

“I thought it would be bigger.”

Ouch! Nearly four years into our marriage, and my wife chooses our reunion in Italy to obliterate my ego?!?! I’m kidding on the context…but that real quote was her honest-to-God reaction to seeing the Basilica di San Pietro for the first time (as we approached Vatican City along the Via della Conciliazione).

Good girl Christine is Catholic whereas I’m the atheist bad boy…which is proof that opposites can attract on earth. But in the afterlife? Man, if she’s right and I’m wrong…then I guess opposites eventually retract (i.e. catch me living out my infinity in hell’s deep south heat listening to Pantera while lighting darts off of ample fires). ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

My missus is a yapper — so I couldn’t put words into her mouth even if I wanted to — but I think it’s fair to say we both felt Vatican City was really something…albeit for different reasons.

Do I think the structures in Vatican City are superficially beautiful? Sure. But I’d probably feel the same way about visiting Mark Zuckerberg’s mansion-by-way-of-profitting-from-the-rage-machine or Jeff Bezos’ compound-by-way-of-trying-to-pound-organized-labour-into-submission. I presume they’re all disarmingly beautiful to mask the fact that they’re bad places that house bad people that hawk bad products for humankind.

And yeah, I differentiate between faith and organized religion ‘cause they’re apples and oranges…but the latter is a rotten fruit (e.g. Priests-called-Father with supposed family values diddling kids…and being protected by the institution…and often shuffled around it thereafter, and/or employees of God Inc. taking vows of poverty and living in the swankiest structures in the poorest of places where broke-ass believers pay tithe). The gull and the grift!

And I’m not even getting into the Catholic Church’s history of genocide and plunder, and it being an accomplice to countless atrocities. But real talk, this MLM enriched itself through much human exploitation…and there isn’t even free WiFi at St. Peter’s Basilica. Rather, it is password protected (I had to check). And sometimes you just gotta visit a billionaire’s gaudy digs to remind yourself that they’re all criminally cheap…criminals.

MEET-A-MAKER: SANDRO FIORENTINI

My wife and I make great travel partners. I’m more macro; I book everything and do all the logistics whereas Christine is more micro; just consistently great at heavily researching places in advance, patiently dissecting the nitty-gritty of everything, and then creating Google Maps with pins for the most amazing shops and restos and ateliers (that I’d never know of otherwise). I don’t have the patience to do what she does, and I’m grateful…even though I can be an ungrateful little shit in real-time.

Like in Rome, when Christine took me to La Bottega del Marmoraro — because she knows I love art and makers and weirdos — and I was too grouchy too appreciate it then and there ‘cause I’d recently done two all-nighters (and all the lost tourists standing around like statues-as-obstacles- to-slalom-around were harshing my impatient mellow).

Anyhoo, I passed the little marble workshop again on a few solo marathons thereafter — and no one was frequenting it — so I went in and commissioned Sandro Fiorentini — the sole proprietor and sole employee — to hand-chisel me a little marble plaque for €15.

Fiorentini’s always smoking cigars and mostly hanging outside his workshop in the alley chatting with his friends (who are like 270 years-old), and there were language barriers, so I can’t tell you much about him…other than he’s been hand-chiselling marble signs for over fifty years (he studied architecture but learnt the craft from his dad, and then took over the family business). And he has a fireplace in his workshop where he cooks himself lunch every day at 1PM…and it’s supposedly a big thing to get an invite to. And he let me poke around and photograph his workshop, and is a real mensch.

The plaque I commissioned is inscribed with an ‘I am here’ saying that’s my mantra. It came to me years ago on a marathon, and I wrote about its significance here…buried in a larger piece. But the saying is just a little thing I say to myself when things are going well and I’m grateful and should rejoice. And it’s something I say to myself when things are going bad and I should rejoice, ‘cause I’m there…and I just have to work through it in order to get to the other side.

Christine was perplexed that I cared to return to La Bottega del Marmoraro given I initially didn’t show much interest. And she was more surprised that I commissioned Sandro to make me something…for the same reason.

But she is always right, and I am always wrong…and that’s marriage, and what men need to better understand about marriage, LOL. I haven’t learnt the lesson per se, it’s more that I’m consistent in being an idiot, and great at earning the opportunity to fail and fail again!

BEST LOCAL THING-Y

People who eat a plant-based diet don’t get constipated…yet are nevertheless sometimes full of shit. How so? Well, because they often say crap like, “Any type of cuisine can be made vegan…and it’s just as good.”

Falso! Me? I’ll always give you the honest rundown versus the dishonest runaround…and the truth is that it sucks to be vegan in some places…and Italy is one of them! Obviously cheese and animal proteins are a huge part of Italian cuisine, and when you strip those things out of it…you end up like ya boi who has just eaten bland and basic tomato sauce on al dente pasta…for 422 straight meals in Rome.

And the kicker? I’m pretty ‘meh’ about Italian food in general…like, it doesn’t even crack my ‘top ten’ list of favourite types of cuisine. Controversial! I know!

That said, these Todis house brand ‘Rosmarino’ chips may be the best chips I’ve ever eaten. Firstly, they’re kettle cooked…which makes for a far more superior chip IMO. Secondly, they’re oozing with a rich olive oil taste which is a game changer (versus most other chips that are deep-fried in a neutral, tasteless oil). Thirdly, they’re perfectly salted…and the rosemary flavour is robust (and really natural tasting). And I’m indifferent to rosemary…like, I don’t love it or hate it, and never really cook with it myself…but these rosemary chips? They’re fucking eccellente…and only $1.62 USD for 130 grams!

POBJOY'S GLOBAL PRICE INDEX

This is an on-going documentation of how much things cost in different places around the world. Here are some of the things I bought in Rome (all prices converted to USD):

• Two mediocre slices of pepper and eggplant-topped pizza from a restaurant in Rome: $6

• Two bananas from a fruit stand in Balduina: $1.30

• Doppio espresso and four lil squares of Ritter Sport dark chocolate marzipan from a café near Prati: $3.22

MARATHON MUSINGS

Shush! Please don’t read this aloud

Short of daily phone calls with the missus — and being interviewed by this hunk — I have basically existed in near silence for a month (until I got to Italy). Yes, there have been some English words spoken my way…but the language barriers have been louder, and greater in volume. And, of course, lots of hand gestures; to communicate…like Esperanto physically pantomimed…and phew-fully / universally somehow understood.

And the silence has been interesting to navigate, being a type of quiet inside of me — when the inner voice lacks words — ‘cause it doesn’t know how to issue instructions for things genuinely unknown.

You see, I’ve been outdoors in some deep waters recently — and out of my depths — and man, just immersed in trying to be a buoy, and float over the friction.

I probably didn’t need to spend this much money to buy silence. And I don’t think I’ve ever really wanted it. Not because it’s lonely — I don’t miss small talk and I’m grateful to be linguistically hard-of-hearing to orbiting complainers — but because any help I need sorta falls on deaf ears. There’s few people to call, and even less people nearby to effectively call-out to.

Plus, silence is freely available wherever you are…or whenever you want to make space for it. But I am kinda enjoying it…at least for the time being. It is an interesting by-product of a different idea I bought into; marathoning far from home, and very much alone in — and with — my thoughts.

I wouldn’t have done this project if I wasn’t confident that I could do it…doing otherwise would be outlandish. But it has been so humbling to physically move through the world while bouldering some static anxieties and worries in my mind.

I don’t know if silence is golden. Or metal-like. But STFU’ing and figuring things out alone seems to be earning me some mettle medals. They’re unseen and not worth celebrating aloud, but will quietly hang on the mantle of my mind…to remind me about what there is to be said about going big — and loud — into the void.

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