Hidden Along the Tiber

You may be wondering where they build their sports facilities in a city that constantly builds on top of itself. The answer lies on the banks of the Tiber, color coordinated and all.

C'era una volta...

Once upon a time..

I descended the stairs that lead down to the biking and walking paths that hug the curves of the river. (This can be a dangerous place depending on which neighborhood you're in. Wear suitable walking shoes and watch your step, lest you find yourself with a dirty needle through your foot.)

It was midday and a few bicyclists passed as I photographed a few of Rome's 27 bridges. After a good stretch, I found a ramp leading up to the street level, steep enough that I couldn't see up it. Halfway up I caught a whiff of cigarettes and a few steps later felt the fight or flight of adrenaline and my heart speed up. A man and woman reclined in dirty sleeping bags, opened beers on either side of them, speaking an unintelligible language made husky by tenor voices. Fear has been such a foreign emotion. I let myself be overcome by it and quickened my pace, staring ahead and pretending great purpose. I know better than to ignore that panic inside of me. There's no point rationalizing fear within a person who's generally fearless.

Something was not right.