I have a friend in Rome. He and his wife live in the southern end of the city, near the Appian Way, the ancient Roman road that led south to Brindisium, now called Brindisi.

The first day I was in Rome the three of us went for a walk in the park nearby and then drove over to the Appian Way, which on Sundays is closed to vehicular traffic until 6 pm. I took a picture of the two of them sitting on the steps in front of some old building of some kind (I can't keep them straight anymore, there're so many). You'd swear he was American. In fact, you'd swear he was Southern Californian. He even has a baseball cap from the California Angels baseball team.

I suppose it is not really so strange that I, an American who'd rather be European, would somehow latch onto a European that would rather be American.

I'd spent the previous weekend in Munich visiting some other friends and he and I discussed some of the more obvious differences between the two countries and cultures. Traffic laws and behaviour is always a good one for me, especially since we were in their car driving to the Appian Way.

"I like driving in Germany because I know that everyone knows the rules and follows them, " I said. "In Italy, it is harder because no one is following them and so I have no way of knowing if what I'm doing is OK."

"Yes, but in Italy we are flexible!" was the reply.

We then had a long discussion about parking meters, the great lengths some cities go to to write parking tickets even if you are just 2 minutes over, ways of defeating the system, things like that. We pulled up to a pair of municipal police, who are more like the aforementioned parking ticket officers than what we in America would consider "real" police. One of them was wearing a pair of white heeled pumps. A conversation ensued wherein it was clear that while we may be flexible in Italy, we would have to park here and walk half a kilometer to the Appian Way. All of this was fine with me. I like to walk. But it was a problem for my friend who was grumbling a little bit, no doubt peeved that his flexibility declaration was being ignored by the municipale.

However, he would soon be proved right. At about 5:50 pm, the cars started to flow along the Way, even though it was supposed to be closed until 6 pm. "That's close enough" must be the national motto of Italy.

As part of our walk we visited the Circus of Maxentius, who was one of the two emperors Constantine defeated to take control of the entire Empire in 331 ACE. This circus was also the stand-in for the Circus Maximus in "Ben Hur". It was convenient because the Cinema Cità, the Italian movie industry headquarters, is just a few kilometers from my friend's house.

I also apparently impressed the "museum ladies" selling admission tickets to the site. On the ticket office wall hung a poster showing the layout of ancient Rome - actually a photo of a model of the city. They liked the fact that I was able to point out the more obscure buildings. At least, that's what my friend's wife told me.

We went back to the car and drove up the Way into the city. We ended up on the Aventine hill, which is dense with churches and has some great views of the city. They coincidentally met a couple they were friends with who were looking for a church in which to be married and we all exchanged pleasantries for while. We ended up driving out to Frascati, in Castelli Romani for dinner al fresco in a little piazza.

When we returned I met "La Signora", my friend's mother. I was to stay with her in her flat for the duration. She is a truly grand lady and we had a great time together. Even though my Italian consists of nouns and usually incorrectly conjugated verbs, we communicated quite well. She is a retired Latin and Roman History teacher. In addition to myself, La Signora had her niece visiting as well, who spoke enough English to allow her to be the translator when my friend was not around.

One afternoon he called the house and we talked.

"What's going on there?", he asked.

"Oh, your mother and I are having a nice conversation." I said with a chuckle.

"Oh, OK..." and we proceeded to make plans for the evening.

I later learned he had then immediately called his wife and said, "We must get home as soon as possible!", as if all hell was breaking loose and I needed help with his Mom.

I received the full "Italian mother" treatment from La Signora and her assistant, Signora Giovanna. They did my laundry for me one morning and ironed my undershirts for me. Signora Giovanna even wanted to iron my nylon travel pants, but I insisted she not. I had taken them off the line and put them somewhere in the bedroom. I went into the bathroom for a few minutes. When I had returned, the pants were gone. I looked all over for them until I had a flash. I called for Signora Giovanna and sure enough, she had them laid out on the ironing board.

Later, she made me lunch. I had requested that she make only a small lunch, which she interpreted to mean a large pan full of cheese tortellini and several pan fried chicken breasts. I ate most of the pasta and one chicken breast. I felt really badly that I couldn't make her happy by eating everything, but on the other hand I can't imagine how I'd ever be able to eat two pounds of pasta and 4 chicken breasts. I hope she ate some of it, too, later that day.

La Signora herself made me breakfast every morning; dark, rich Italian coffee, fresh fruit, acqua naturale and toasted prosciutto and mozarella sandwiches. I told her later through my friend's translation that I felt as though I was her son. She seemed pleased with that.

She and I had many very nice conversations. I taught her a little English and she helped me out with my Italian. One afternoon I told her about some of my personal details; I was divorced, we had no kids, stuff like that. She understood everything I told her. When my friend came home I told him we'd had that conversation. He was dubious that we had actually communicated this to each other.

"Go ahead, ask her. Make sure she understands that I am divorced, I have no kids, (blah blah)."

He asked her and she just nodded and said, "Si, si!" to everything.

"See?! She understood what I told her!" I said.

"I cannot understand how you could have had this conversation!" he cried in amazement and frustration. It was hilarious!

I am truly grateful to my Roman friends. They were extremely generous with their time and their space. I enjoyed every minute I was there with them. They are truly gracious, intelligent, insightful and charming people and I hope I can someday help them they way they helped me. In Italy we are flexible, but they and La Signora were truly flexible and hospitable. Thank you!

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