Well I think it's safe to say that I've "done" Rome - perhaps done it to death! The river of energy that has carried me along the last few days seemed to flow a little slower last night, as I started to feel very tired. I went out in the late afternoon to do a little shopping, and my feet were dragging like those of the shopped out ladies sitting the next bench over. For the first time, here, I felt really drained.

Late afternoon near the Corso

I didn't feel that much more energetic this morning - I'd have loved to be able to sleep in, but construction noise outside made that impossible. After I got myself going later in the morning, I quickly had to stop for a sit-down and a cappucino next to the Pantheon. A group of about 30 men blowing whistles and flying flags came through the square suddenly, escorted by police. Could this be the World Pride 2000 march, I wondered? But no, I think I'd read that news report incorrectly the other day, and that event is in July, not June.

Your intrepid reporter on the scene followed the demonstrators to a nearby piazza where there was a much larger crowd of men, chanting what sounded like "Police...Police".It could even have been "Henry....Henry" - I have no idea what they were chanting about really. Some of the flags had rainbows on them, so I assumed it was some sort of gay rights demonstration, but I couldn't find anyone who spoke English who could tell me what was going on (so much for the "intrepid reporter"!) The guy standing next to me had an English flag embroidered on his vest, but since he also had a skinhead haircut and was carrying a rather nasty looking blunt instrument while murmering angrily under his breath, I didn't think I'd get any good answers from him. In the end, a flag that read "Guarde Giurate" and an attempted explanation by the concierge of the Crowne Plaza Hotel, led me to believe it was something to do with a prison guard, but I'm not sure.

A demonstration about something or other

Afterwards, I walked through the quiet institutional neighborhoods of Monte Quirinale, with their imposing buildings, and large squares.

Walking the back streets up to the Monte Quirinale neighborhood

I was heading for the Palazo delle Esposizione to see an exhibition I'd read about a few weeks ago in the New York Times, that cosmopolitan paper (with its stories bearing breezy titles such as "What's Doing in Uzbekhistan"). The exhibition was titled "L'Idea del Bello", which sounds nicer in Italian than in English - "The Idea of Beauty". It was a collection of paintings and sculptures from 17th century Rome, when an influential patron of the arts, Giovan Pietro Bellori, cultivated a revival of classic artistic ideals by insisting that great art must imitate nature, using, as models, ancient sculpture and the paintings of Raphael.

Palazo delle Esposizione

The exhibition might well have been called "The Idea of Male Beauty" - there were some voluptuous paintings and sculptures of men. Jeez, but what a time that must have been, when so many great painters and sculpters were working in Rome, trying to outdo each other, inspiring Kings and Popes to plot theft, imprisonment and murder for the sake of possession of the works. There were some simply gorgeous paintings by 17th century masters such as Domenico, Carravagio, Rubens and van Dyck. All that creative forment in one city - it made me think two things; what is the equivalent now - there seems to be no art form that inspires that kind of excitement today - is art dying? The other thing that I realized is how culturally impoverished San Francisco is in comparison to Rome. The Esposizione is only one of at least ten museums of similar size here.

The taped commentary that I listened to on one of those handy portable devices they give you at art museums really helped me to understand the works, and provided some details I'd have never realized otherwise. For instance, most of the statues in the exhibition were ancient Roman, and they formed the influence to the painting movement of the time. But the statues were mostly copies of older, lost Greek statues. Moreover, the 17th century owners of these statues often chopped off heads and limbs of the statues, and replaced them with something more to their liking - even with parts from other statues!

Downstairs in the museum was an exhibition of wall painting by Sol LeWitt, an artist whose work I'd been trying to make time for in San Francisco for weeks before my trip!

After I came out of the museum, it felt very hot outside, and I almost felt as if I could fall asleep on my feet. I'd bought a post-card of a magical, luminous painting of a beautiful youth and his girlie, by a guy named, I think, Guidi, and sat in the shaded portico of the museum to admire it. I somehow misplaced the card later in the day, dammit!

Tired out again - maybe too much art!

When I retraced my steps back towards my hotel, I soon started to hear the glorious sounds of a military band. In one of those large, governmental plazas, a long line of soldiers stood carrying flags and guns, while the band struck up some wonderful, rousing marches. There is something so exciting about hearing this kind of music live, I'm discovering, like I did in London with the Coronation Day salute.

The soldiers and the military band

Soon they marched off, the sounds of the band fading into the distance

So my first visit to this beautiful city, a city that somehow fuses magnificence with intimacy, is almost over: tomorrow morning I'm taking Eurostar to Florence. It's been a great few days, with a few unbeatable moments that I'll always remember: the first unexpected site of the Forum spread out before me; the moment when I understood the almost touching fingers of God and Adam in the Cistine Chapel; and the tiny people caught by sun rays across the vastness inside St. Peters. Remember, I did throw a coin in Trevi Fountain; so there's no doubt I'll come back to Rome again some day.