I don't know what's wrong with me. I have this awful tendency to love the parts of a city other folks hate, or are afraid of. Palaces and wide boulevards hold no appeal for me. I instinctively head for the narrow streets, the darkness under the portico, the alleyway osteria. I even enjoyed the Mario Kart taxi ride from the train station to the hotel--a video game you survive only by not flinching. Our driver didn't flinch.

He did tap the horn a couple times.

The next bit of enjoyment was pushing forth into the mass of humans to arrive at the Trattoria Campagnola. What, a plate of pasta for 5 Euros? Half liter of wine for 4? In a big city? Good wine? My kinda place.

The picture up there on the right is from one of my favorite mosaics at the Archaeological Museum in Naples. It's the Tambourine man in a street band. I took it this afternoon and posted it because it reminded me of the guy who walked into the trattoria while we were eating and sang a couple songs and played the tambourine like nobody's ever played it before. He made a mint.

Chaotic, romantic Naples, food, and song. What more can you want? It's good to be back.

Yes, today in Rome the feast day of Santa Lucia was celebrated. We thought we'd take a stroll down the Via Giulia to the Castel Sant' Angelo to see what might be there in this Christmas season. What we saw were sbandieratori warming up for the procession. Sbandieratori are known as "flag throwers" in English. These particular flag throwers were quite skilled. They are part of a cultural group from the Abruzzo called Il Mastrogiurato.

What followed was a parade down the Via della Conciliazione to the Vatican. Along the way flags were thrown to ridiculous heights and even caught. One guy--I've a suspicion he was the top dude--even did an exhibition throwing four flags. Yes, at once, and without killing himself or putting an eye out (Santa Lucia is the patron saint of the blind--just so you know).

The procession ended with the gathered throng singing carols in St. Peter's square right next to the Christmas tree that came from Belgium.

Off season? What off season?

If a better day for walking and exploring Rome was ever created, I was not aware of it. Today was crisp, brilliant and the air crystal clear.

After coffee and a brief glance at the Campo di Fiori, where cameras outnumbered buyers by a good 2 to 1, I sauntered off on my walk south along the meandering Tiber, armed with a sketch map that Context Travel's Petulia Melideo drew for us in a cafe last night featuring the treasures to be explored in Rome's "real" core, the Testaccio.

When I got there, the Testaccio Saturday market was going full swing with nary a tourist camera in sight. Oh, how I wish I could have filled my backpack with all manner of fresh fish, meat and vegetables. There's fresh puntarella these days, trimmed and lolling in buckets of water to be scooped out and dressed with anchovies and oil for a salad that is the perfect foil to the stewed offal and fried foods that old Rome knows and prepares well.

I then made the required pilgrimage to Volpetti, Testaccio's famous gastronomic shrine, and purchased some wedges of torta rustica, a pastry the size of a pie stuffed, in this case, with ricotta and artichoke. Before paying, I had to take one last look around. Volpetti's is not a place that's conducive to a quick spin to take it all in--not if you're wearing a day pack in any case. It's not only smaller than i imagined, it was packed with people--not to mention cheeses, sausages, breads, wine, and other goodies too numerous to list; one quick turn and ten people are likely to fall in your backpack's wake.

A tour of the enormous mound of Roman pot sherds that gives Testaccio its name was followed by a visit to the old stockyards, now remade to include a modern art museum as well as other artistic venues and schools. On one edge is the enormous complex called Città dell'altra economia, a fair trade, organic market and education center, which today was celebrating the new wine. My favorite poster: E giusto pagare ill pizzo! showing a mafia type holding a lace doily. (Lots o' Italian word play there, but get the hint and pay the extra you have to pay for fair trade goods. I've known too many folks in Nicaragua who are getting 50 cents a pound [production costs are almost twice that] for organic coffee that's selling for 15 dollars a pound in the US.)

Then I managed to find a restaurant that's not on anyone's "best" list, not an easy task these days. The only indication there was a restaurant on the corner upon which I was standing was a piece of paper taped to the outside wall, declaring the premises to be "Trattoria l'Ammazzatora" (with the "r" backwards). My kinda place. It was also downstairs, below street level, and did not have a written menu. Good signs. As I descended, I noticed the ceiling was padded. Good thing. Anyone taller than 4' 9" trying to pass without ducking would knock himself senseless. I didn't have much to worry about, but still.

When I got down into the narrow cavern that could barely fit two tables wall to wall, I could see there was no one else in the place. The cook came out, so I asked him what was good. I ate a delightfully light (!) rigatoni alla gricia, followed by trippa alla Romana and a plate of spinach with garlic, washed down with the house red. 20 Euros. A bit pricey for lunch, but an absolute bargain for Rome (remember that the price includes tax and tip).

When I returned to our little apartment in the Piazza Farnese the "100 piazze per il clima" or "100 squares for the climate" festival was going full tilt. I'm listening to the music now--and there's food to taste, too.

The moral of the story is this: Don't worry that there won't be anything to do if you plan a late fall or winter vacation; worry that there will be too much to pick from.

Learn More: Map of Rome

The erotic exerts a strong pull on humans. You'll find vestiges of erotic or sexual art just about everywhere and in every period. For example, as soon as the Romans discovered how to make cheap, molded oil lamps, the designs in relief that became instantly popular were of healthy folks modeling various sexual positions, many of them quite gymnastic. You find them everywhere.

In a puritanical culture, those signs of Eros are hidden; sublimated. Museum basements are full of things they wouldn't dare display. I know because I've been in on the discovery of some of of these finds in California and in Nicaragua--and no, I don't suppose you will ever see those sexual artifacts unless you get a degree in archaeology and special permission from the museum that hordes them.

But ancient Greek culture was far less about sexual shame and guilt. Which brings us to the Athens Museum of Cycladic Art's latest endeavor, which starts on December 10: Eros from Hesiod's Theogony to Late Antiquity. Gadling tells us that the exhibit "includes 272 artifacts from fifty museums in Greece, Cyprus, Italy, and France, and will run for six months." Read more about the exhibit: Laid bare: the sex life of the ancient Greeks in all its physical glory.

You can also see erotic art from Pompeii in the "Secret Cabinet" or Gabinetto Segreto at the Naples Archaeology Museum.

Heck, you can see sexual carvings in many Romanesque Churches in Europe as well. They're meant as moral warnings, but still.

And just when you're thinking, "Whew! I'm glad we're above all that!" along comes a gaggle of Scientists at the University of Montreal looking for (young) men in our time who had never looked at pornography before--and they couldn't find a single one.