When the sign at the station says Villa Borghese you would expect that just a short stroll away is the Villa Borghese. In Rome, however, what they mean by the Villa Borghese and what I mean by it is two very slightly different things.This slight misunderstanding led, this morning to a very long walk.

As you come up out of the station tunnel there are signs that point to Perchegio Villa Borghese so that seemed to be the most logical way to go, not only to me, but also to a small group of fellow travelers. They took a fork in the path and I followed but after only a small way they turned around and came back. One of them asked a man walking a dog and he looked rather puzzled and waved vaguely off into the distance. Another five minutes more walking and another one of the group asked at a snack stall and we were sent across a major road and onto a much grander path through the parklands.

A little way along the path we encountered a parade of carabinieri mounted on some very large horses. None of use were prepared to ask them but I approached some gardeners who were working by the side of the path. They had no English and were rather puzzled at my question about the Villa Borghese. 'Dove? (Where)' I asked. I think that he said that we were in it and then I realised that the whole park is known as the Villa Borghese. That was when I decided that 'Dove il museo?' was probably a better question. This time I got the right answer and the right directions because 5 minutes later we were there.

All I can say at this point is that it was a very good thing that I made my reservation before leaving Sydney because the Villa had mounted and exhibition that showed Caravaggio canvases along side Francis Bacon. I can't for the life of me imagine who decided that they should be compared and I didn't buy the enormously heavy exhibition catalogue to find out since I have no real interest in Bacon and no more for having glimpsed some. What I did achieve today was to tick off a vast number more Caravaggio canvases of my must see list than I ever imagined that would be possible on this trip. There were a total of fourteen of them in all brought from not only galleries in Italy but from elsewhere in the world. The only thing that could have made me any happier today would have been to have Alan here to share the experience with me.

I made a list in my scrap book of all of the paintings I saw -
The Conversion of Santa Paulo
The Raising of Lazarus
The Penitent Magdalene
Boy with a Basket of Fruit
Self Portrait as Bacchus
Madonna of Loreto
Judith Beheading Holofernes
St Jerome Writing
Portrait of a Knight of Malta (Fra' Antonio Martelli)
The Denial of Peter
David with the Head of Goliath
John the Baptist 1610
Madonna dei Palafrenieti
The Martyrdom of St Ursula

Since you only have 2 hours allowed in the Borghese before they send you out and then allow the next limited number of visitors in for their 2 hours, I had to go and sit on a park bench under the trees to take in all that I had seen. With the sounds of what must have been an inter-schools cross-country carnival, with its colourful banners, explosions of a starters pistol and shouts of happy children, released from the drudgery of the classroom, surrounding me, I sat an pondered the beauty of those canvases and how much better I like them than the chocolate box prettiness of the Renaissance art works that abound in this city.

Without any firm plan in mind, I wandered off along the paths of the Borghese Gardens, idly watching locals and visitors enjoying the green spaces, trees and ponds in a city that has otherwise covered everything with roads and terracotta stucco. It must be relief to get up here onto one of the hills of Rome out of the noise of traffic and the heat to enjoy the quiet calm.

After another adventure on the buses - Gina isn't the only one who can get on one going the wrong direction - I decided that an afternoon spent with my feet up on the couch reading a book is another worthwhile use of holiday time. I am ashamed to admit that my evening meal was had in McDonalds using my now accessible connection to their Hot-Spot to tidy up my enormous, long neglected email and to upload previous diary entries to GetJelaous.com. It made me feel a lot less alone being able to reach out to family and interested friends.

By the way, Italian MaDonalds meals a little nicer than those at home. The Italians know more about a good bread roll than we do.