If your waiter is wearing coat tails, and you’re wearing cargo shorts and sandals, it doesn’t matter how daintily you sip your 8 euro cappuccino, you’ll still have an odd sensation that you don’t fit in. But then again, with Brahms playing in the background and the decor of a 5th avenue apartment, this place didn’t really fit in. So it seems only perfect that in the least Roman Cafe I’d been to all week, I sat down to write my “first impressions” blog post.
My first impression of the Caffe Greco: this place was here before America was a country. Stuck halfway between a tourist trap and a living monument, the cafe is a must see for some. I went specifically because I read somewhere that the likes of Goethe, Keats and Stendhal all had Coffee there. And if you venture towards the back of the cafe, you’ll notice a large picture of Sitting Bull sitting at a coffee bar identical to the one you passed on the way in.
I sat across from the picture of Sitting Bull, and daintily sipped my cappuccino. It was the longest amount of time i’d ever spent sipping a cappuccino. I found myself wishing the experience to never end, and I’m not sure the waiter shared my sentiment. He didn’t rush me though, and I’m sure he would’ve let me sit there all day if I wanted to, but we all must move on. So I paid my bill and made my way to the vatican to send postcards.
My first impression of Rome is embodied by my experience at the Caffe Greco. Rome makes you feel like never getting up from your seat, and that no matter how much time you spend in that seat, you will never comprehend the volumes of importance and history that immediately surround you. Time is one thing I have yet to attain a full appreciation of, especially if I still think 1760 is old. But I’m working on it.
