Stone upon stone: an Italian sojourn: In slow transit, again

We are enroute, again; overnighting in Incheon, again; staying at the Grand Hyatt, again. In transit to Italy this year, but taking a couple of days to get there, enjoying the travel.

This trip to South Korea the outside temperature is -7°C. The hotel grounds are twinkling with hundreds of hanging white electric snowflakes, and tall Christmas trees laden with yellow lights and lit presents making it look like a fairyland. Inside looking out, it is warm and warming.

Korean Air has fast become our current favourite airline. Again, we sing its praises. We are able to leave home at a reasonable hour, enjoy a nine hour flight with so much legroom that others can cross without us needing to move; lovely old-fashioned service and a glossy granite, glass and marble transit hotel with charred seafood for dinner and fresh pain au chocolate for breakfast enroute, along with a comfy bed and soft pillows to fall into at a regular time, with no sleep disturbance at all. All part of the airfare. What more could one ask for in transit? We love it. And find ourselves planning our travel so that we can come this route each time now, just for the sheer comfort of it.

So much money some countries have to spend on such frills and fancifulness, when so many others have so little. It does make one mindful of that: but be appreciative, at the same time.

Our Rome leg was a little delayed and a little bumpy early on, but the Korean crew were so hospitable that the air crowding over China that caused the delay, and the bumps, dissolved to a minor irritant and the flight was pleasant, albeit long, at eleven and a half hours, filled with frequent food and drink breaks.

Immigration and customs were friendly and fast, but we had no luck outside finding our airport shuttle with ease, but, as is the way in Italy, a stereotypical Italian entrepreneur soon pulled up, took us under his wing, and quickly popped us into his tour group van for taxi rates topped off with liberal doses of charm, smiles and guile. We were dropped off first at our Rome beachside hotel, about 15 minutes drive from the airport, and as it was so dark with no real view of the sea at this hour, we had only to trolley our bags across the road to the hotel entrance where reception, despite the late hour, was still kindly waiting for us.

Only to advise us that our detailed plans for tomorrow to visit the vast archaeological site of Ostia Antica, just 10 minutes away was not going to happen. The site is closed Mondays now. So, too tired to make alternative plans for the day, we took ourselves off to bed and slept soundly in the lovely cool of the 10°C evening with the heating off, a light blanket on at times, and the smell of sea salt in the air. Our hotel faces the sea though it is too dark to appreciate that when we arrive.

We have a full day before we fly off to Malta now to fill.

A change of plans may happen in dreams, we hope.

We are so disappointed still when we wake up about not seeing the ruins of Rome's ancient seaport, Ostia Antica, that we are playing with different options of when we might return to Rome this trip to spend a day, or so, there. So that may yet happen.

We decide, in lieu, to walk Trajan's Rome. It is winter and we are in shirt sleeves, though the locals do have jackets, and some have scarves.

We have done this before during a longer stay, but I don't think one can ever get enough time to really appreciate how extraordinary the Romans were. Particularly under Trajan.

After a brilliant breakfast of delicious ham, eggs, croissant and many cups of the most delicious coffee we found our way to the local station with the help of a friend of the folk in the hotel who had first seen us at breakfast, but later found us on a corner not far from the hotel wondering in which direction to go. He spoke no English, but knew where we might be going and led us but a hundred metres or so to an assuming portico which turned out to be the railway station entrance. The trains are fast and frequent and we changed once to get into the heart of Rome, Termini Station.

A few hundred metres walk and we were right in the thick of Trajan's Rome. Trajan's Market towers over the vast Roman forum, while further down the hill to the east is the vast Colosseum. Most of it built, as far as the eye can see, around 2000 years ago. And much of it rich booty from Emperor Trajan's victories abroad.

A skilful soldier and brave administrator he grew the Roman Empire eastwards bringing modern day Romania into the fold. The taxes he extracted from his new citizens paid for much of the construction in this heart of ancient Rome.

The construction for much of his rule must have been constant. The entire area would have been buzzing with slaves and hired labourers skilled in all areas of engineering, construction and architecture, with their wheel barrows, carts, load bearing animals, ropes, pulleys, clanging and shouting.

Most of it would then have been occupied by a vast team of administrators and consultants who worked out of offices in the building that is now called 'Trajan's market' that climbs Quirinal Hill in a massive multi-function, multi-level, multi-story sea of small red brick. The mass of building, as large as a mountain itself, doubled as a centre of government and justice decision-making, surrounded by a huge shopping mall. Public servants had to the money to shop well even 2000 years ago.

And the streets and alcoves would have been filled with traders selling everything from exotic rugs from the east to ubiquitous fast food for the thronging hoards, locals and tourists who found Rome irresistible, even then. Much as today, in truth.

We walked down to the Forum, which is something like a massive public park and palace of justice. It is a vast pillared and porticoed public space surrounding smaller parks, gardens, statues, and open areas in the heart of the city that would have been crowded with robed lawyers, judges, accused and accusers together with locals socialising, or moving to and from work, home, gym and play.

Trajan's column spires up as a focal point at one end of the Forum, in pure white Carrara marble its diameter 4 metres across, its perimeter an ornamented sculptured spiral tale of Trajan's victories and achievements. His image in bronze, once topped the tall pillar. His ashes lay in state beneath his column when he died from a heart attack returning from one of his victories. He was just 64, and deeply mourned. He was one of the good emperors. His building legacy has given us so much joy.

We took a late afternoon train back to collect our luggage at the hotel, but had time to take a walk along the beautiful Lido before taking the hotel shuttle to the airport for our evening flight, an hour trip to Malta, which was smooth, fast, and comfortable and where, amazingly, in the short hour, we were served a local fast food snack that the Maltese love: tuna ftiri made from dense, tough, crusty bread or roll slathered with what tastes like fish paste, but is more mashed tuna mixed into a tapenade with olives, capers, garlic, seasoning and oil. I didn't hate it. I didn't love it. I would probably not go running for more: tho' I love most of those flavours: just not enamoured with tuna.

Malta's weather is perfect for us. Even though the hour is late, it is winter, and the evenings are supposed to be cool to cold we are comfortable, again, in just our shirt sleeves. Days around 17°C are the ideal for us while travelling.

We were collected at the airport by a sign-bearing transfer chauffeur organised by the absent home exchange owner whose beautiful Sliema apartment we are staying in, overlooking the stunning city of Valetta.

We packed Miss Bec off to bed and sat long and lazily staring in wonderment across at the lovely lit ancient structures of the city of Valetta, built by the Kights of the Hospitalers. Local limestone on top of limestone.

Which we will learn more about tomorrow, we hope.

Our sojourn has begun.