Make reservations.

Andrew Zimmern and David Kuller recommended the restaurant Roscioli. Andrew wrote “you’d be hard-pressed to find a better griciathan than at Roscioli.” Honestly, I had to look up “griciathan.” Turns out it’s pasta with three ingredients: Guanciale (pork cheek), pepper and Pecorino Romano cheese, and that appealed to me. So we went downstairs to the concierge and announced we wanted a reservation.

And they pooh-poohed the restaurant. This makes me crazy, like when the guy at the shop said there are better skis than Peaks. Well, Peak is direct to consumer only and you can’t sell them… But I stood my ground and said we wanted to go anyway.

No problem, we could get a reservation on June 19th.

Well, that took us aback. But the concierge said he knew an even better place around the corner and…

The fact that the place was empty should have been a heads-up. But it was after one and…

The salad was substandard. And the pasta… Was oversalted.

This put me in an extremely bad mood. I know my food, it was one of my father’s priorities, if I’m paying I want the best. Yes, I’m that person, I need the best. I want the iPhone 15 Pro, not the one with last year’s chip. Sometimes the best is the same price as the also-ran, usually it’s just a little bit more. And you do your research and…

Most people just ask their friends. Our world runs on misinformation. Everybody thinks they know the most and have got the best spot and it drives me crazy.

And I was beyond frustrated over our meal. I mean with just a bit less salt the pasta would have been agreeable, but I’m wasting all these carbs and eating something substandard? Put me in a really bad mood.

And then Carrot said there was going to be thunder, lightning and rain. (You can’t trust Apple Weather, it’s worthless, somehow Cupertino bought the best weather app, Dark Sky, and positively ruined it. The worst thing is it never says it’s going to precipitate…and then it does.)

So we got our rain gear and entered the Borghese Gardens and it starts to sprinkle and then the thunder claps and Felice gets reluctant. The day is going from bad to worse, she doesn’t want to be out in the rain, but I’m in ROME, I don’t want to waste any of my precious time.

So I say let’s go into the Gallery. But Felice is anxious that I’m going to spend too much time there…

Yes, I’m that guy. As in a quick walk through is not enough. I just don’t want to say I saw it… No, I want to consume it, I want to explore every nook and cranny, I want to drink up the experience…and most people don’t want to do this.

So we parted ways. Maybe not a bad idea after a week together with her family. And I go to enter the museum and…

It’s sold out. There’s a waiting line, but the information desk says I probably won’t get in. So I pop my umbrella and go out into the rain and ponder my next destination. And for some reason the Piazza Navona comes to mind. I remember sitting in a metal chair at the end of the square on a Sunday back in ’72 and at least I can connect with that.

So I start walking and…

What kind of crazy, f*cked up world do we live in where Apple Maps is better than Google Maps? Remember when we used to argue over cell phone providers, over which map apps to use? My default has been Google, I remember when Apple Maps launched and took you far from your destination.

But in L’Aquila, Google Maps steered me wrong, very wrong. And wasn’t so comprehensible. Furthermore, the blue dot wasn’t always accurate. But when I switched to Apple Maps? Everything was hunky-dory.

So I fired up Apple and started walking to the Piazza Navona.

And I was in one of those moods where I wasn’t sure who I was anymore and how I fit in. I could have taken a cab, or even an Uber, but I’m walking half an hour… Do I still have college values, have I not grown up? And others don’t even bother with the sights, that’s not what travel is about for them. But that’s what it’s all about for me. I don’t want to lie on a beach, I want to be stimulated. I could go to museums all day long, every day.

And I’m feeling so alienated. Thinking about how different I am. I mean did you read that “Wall Street Journal” article about the high end confabs? Do I really want to hang with a bunch of rich people and feel fabulous? And to tell you the truth, I’ve done that, and it’s all about networking and that’s not who I am. I’m not looking to use you, and I certainly don’t want you to use me. And lifestyle is not everything.

And my feet are hurting on the uneven pavement and I’ve got no idea where I am, but I’m just following the blue line and then…

I arrive. And it’s crowded. The opposite of the empty plaza from half a century ago. They keep making more people, but they are not making more sites.

So I find a spot on a bench and sit down and…

My pants get wet. That’s why I could find a space.

So I end up finding a railing where I park my ass and start researching on my phone.

And that’s when I read about the Fontana dei Quattro Fiumi, known in English as the Fountain of the Four Rivers…

Wait a second, this rings a bell. Doesn’t one person have their face covered because they didn’t know the source of the Nile back then?

Is this even the same sculpture?

Meanwhile, I’m looking at the nearby fountain and it’s not resonating.

So I stand up and walk to the center of the Piazza and…

There it is. Straight out of the 1600s.

Bernini didn’t want to do it. But at the last minute he was convinced to send a model to the Pope, who immediately green-lit his vision.

That’s how it always is. There’s a level of talent above the rest, and too often the rest don’t like it. They want you to believe they’re just as good, even though deep down inside they know this is not true. And the most talented are often mercurial, anything but warm and fuzzy.

So there it is, the river god of the Nile, with his face covered.

And suddenly there was a spark, a connection to college, to who I once was, and my mood changed.

And under the god representing the Americas, there was a stack of coins, because the new world was seen as the land of riches.

But it was the feet that truly impacted me. I noticed the second toe of one god was longer than the first. And it rose above, just like a real person. There were all these nuances. Bernini had to get it right, every little thing. He wasn’t making it for a price.

Yes, Bernini was better than the rest. Just like the right restaurant and the right phone, it feels so good when you experience it. It’s not about status, but an inner mounting flame, a good feeling inside. You feel whole.

And nothing else matters.

Bernini has been dead for nearly half a millennium. He’s not bitching about Spotify payments. All that’s left is the work. This is the opposite of Gene Simmons saying that it’s all about money. It’s not. When it’s art.

So what is art?

I don’t want to define it, I’ll just say on the opposite end of the spectrum is commerce.

Now when I went to college there was no commerce. No business classes. College was not seen as a career prep, but an enrichment of the individual, of their mind. This was back before being an art history major made you a pariah.

Yes, I was an art history major. And I never wanted to work in a museum, I didn’t want a job in the art world, but there was a sensibility…in the art, in the art department, that was different from the usual subjects, that impacted me.

I’m all about splitting hairs, trying to reach the zenith, whereas too many people say good is good enough.

And this makes me feel alienated.

But in truth the great musical artists were all alienated. Bob Dylan? John Lennon? These were outsiders commenting on a world they were not a part of. They couldn’t sell out, even if they wanted to, they constitutionally didn’t know how to. They were on their own journeys.

And people don’t like it when you go your own way. Especially now, when it’s all about groupspeak. Reviewers are afraid to say anything negative about the new Taylor Swift album for fear of backlash, or appearing a hater.

As a matter of fact, you need to read the comments on the Swift articles in the WaPo and the NYT. Readers are APOPLECTIC! Can these outlets stop writing about Taylor Swift! The readers are maxed out, and they have no intention of listening to the music, they’ve checked Swift out and she’s not for them. What’s interesting is the blowback is more about the press than Taylor or her work. Dedicated readers wonder who these papers think their audience truly is. But Taylor Swift has been anointed the biggest story in the land and if you don’t agree…

What if you don’t agree? What if you’re not part of the mainstream? What if you want to go a different way?

Be prepared to go it alone. But know that you have forebears.

Fontana dei Quattro Fiumi centered me, made me feel whole and good. Maybe not connected to society, but I could feel the thread back to college and Bernini and his fountain. There was meaning, there was elation. And it wasn’t about money, but it was truly inspiring.

Funny how your mood can change on a dime.

But that’s the power of greatness, that’s the power of the long ball. It’s not about hype, it’s about the work itself. It may need to be interpreted and explained so you can understand it, but the penumbra is irrelevant, the trappings don’t matter, the art stands on its own, makes its own statement. And greatness lasts while the rest fades away.

So I didn’t feel closer to society looking at the Fountain of the Four Rivers, I felt closer to myself. Yes, this is who I am. This resonates, engenders a feeling inside that makes me whole. That explains my life. That makes me feel I’m o.k.