Lungo il Tevere
The Tiber seems impossibly low for one which carried a great empire on its back. Today it is not a place of history but of modern culture. Booths crowd the footpath lining the river, hookah bars and restaurants and souvenir shops and hookah bars. Their white tents glow strangely in the warm lamplight as American and Italian music swirl together in the air, their stands playing a duet across the river. We pass a stand selling Baileys in chocolate shot glasses but I don’t drink.
We walk further and further down the bike path, underneath pontes Garibaldi and Sisto, and the way toward the Vatican is dark. The music has all but faded behind us, clinging to the last few booths still open before they pack up for next year. A faint light can be seen in the distance as the path curves off. More booths or, as the rumors go, shady grifters to fight study abroads to the death? We do not go far enough to find out.
