Moving to the living-room sofa bed meant we only had to deal with conversations and scooter noise, and not thumping music. It was enough of an improvement that I slept better.
This was the day for our main excursion out of town, to Ostia Antica, the former port city at the mouth of the Tiber that was abandoned when the river changed course and malaria become epidemic in the area. I carried two large bottles of water, and N wore one of the daypacks that zipped off our larger packs, with sandwiches made from La Renella bread with Volpetti smoked cheese and prosciutto, garnished with rocket lettuce from the market.
We climbed up to the Lungotevere and caught the 23 bus heading south; unfortunately, it was crowded with people going to the Porta Portese flea market, and we had to stand most of the way. We got off at Ostiense station and were somewhat confused over tickets; all the automatic machines were out of order, and when we asked about tickets, we were directed to a little shop selling snacks, where we were given two regular bus/metro tickets. It turned out that these sufficed for the trip to Ostia, but since we had already taken the bus to the station, we could simply reuse our tickets. Since the woman had told us only two tickets were necessary, we started using only two tickets for the four of us from that point on (though much later I found a poster with the regulations, and they were supposed to only be free if they were less than a metre tall, so technically they were a few centimetres in violation).
Two stops past Ostia Antica is Lido di Ostia, the closest beach to Rome, and since this was Sunday, we knew the train would also be crowded. We had gotten up a little earlier, but it was still shortly after nine when we reached the platform. Trains appeared to run every half-hour, and one was waiting, though in no danger of leaving. We ran down the length of it and managed to find a car near the end with enough seats for all of us, though not together. Before it left, many more people packed into the standing spaces.
The trip was uneventful, lasting about half an hour, and we got off at a small station near a large highway (fortunately, with a pedestrian crossover bridge) that appeared to be in the middle of nowhere. A short walk brought us to the entrance, with a large parking lot. There was almost no one about.
We did not have a detailed guide, just a small map and a couple of pages of description in the small Rough Guide. The site was quite extensive, with signposts marking the "roads", labels on the more interesting sights, and periodic maps posted.
Much of the fun was in poking around back corners finding fragments of mosaic, wall fresco, or building structure. At the beginning was a necropolis (as in Rome, burials were forbidden within the city limits) followed by the fragments of a city gate, followed by some baths (remnants of mosaics on the floor) and then a whole block of insula (apartment buildings) of which some retained their second floors (originally they had three or four). We actually got separated (one child with each parent) and lost for a while. N and Z came across the firefighters' quarters, including a communal bathroom with marble seats set in a row. When we found each other again, we climbed up a story to a terrace overlooking a grand mosaic of Neptune in one of the pools of another set of baths.
Beyond that was a theatre, much restored; it was in use for plays and concerts during the summer season, and we climbed onto the modern stage and then down and onto the rows of stone seats. This faced out onto a large piazza that had originally been lined with the offices of naval outfitters; in front of each one was a mosaic advertising their business, some with a bit of Latin text, but most with illustrations of ships, dolphins, and mythical sea-creatures. It was quite delightful to walk along discovering each one and speculating on the business. Was that a cooking pot with steam rising, and if so, did they feed sailors and locals, or package provisions for sea voyages?
We moved into a warehouse district, with many hulking square rooms, and then a residential area, which included what seemed to be a cafe or restaurant with marble sinks and counters, an oven, and frescoes of food on the walls. Again, many of the buildings in this area retained their second stories; it was much more possible to imagine the complete city than from the overbuilt fragments we had seen in Rome.
We took a break at the museum, which was small, but cool and effective, with statues and sarcophagi sparsely laid out with a minimum of labelling. Outside, we found a small shaded bower with a marble table, a perfect place for our picnic, which turned out to be delicious (no surprise). I figured there would be ice cream bars somewhere, and scouted around the north end of the museum for a treat for the kids; we discovered a recently-renovated cafe. The food looked pretty pricey, but to our surprise they also had artisanal gelato. N and I indulged, while the kids took a break from it, A with a large white-chocolate ice-cream bar and Z with the type of conical push-up popsicle she remembered from Venice.
Refreshed, we continued into the open Forum, with fragments of columns lining it, and a large Capitoleum at the north end with a flight of marble steps leading up five metres up to a large space enclosed in brick on three sides with walls rising perhaps another five metres above. Again, it was a little easier to imagine the columns in front with pediment above, the marble lining the walls, and the ceremonial statues that must have stood there.
It was hard to estimate distances because of the meandering path we had taken and the frequent stops in the shade, but I thought we had come at least a linear kilometre and a half from the entrance, and there was still a kilometre of structures to the southwest. We did some wandering in that direction, finding a small courtyard lined with marble and sporting a marble basin; a temple with marble panelling and a detailed pavement; and some structures under excavation, beyond which stood grassy mounds that obviously were further unexcavated ruins.
The heat was building, and we were running out of stamina. As we strolled back to the entrance, stopping to refill our empty water bottles at a modern water pipe, we could see an increasing number of people heading into the ruins, and at least one bus parked in the lot which had been empty when we arrived.
We returned to the station, which afforded us some shade and a cooling breeze. It was about a half-hour wait for the train, and we couldn't all get seats. The kids could sit, though, and since we had been sitting for a while and the train was not excessively crowded, I didn't mind standing on the way back.
From Ostiense station we caught the 23 bus up the other bank of the Tiber, got off at the Ponte Mazzini, and went back to the apartment for a rest. After that, we crossed the river again for an early dinner at La Montecarlo, in an alley just north of Corso Vittorio Emanuele. This is a pizzeria owned by the daughter of the owner of Da Bafetto, at which we'd had pretty good pizza a few days previously. We thought we were getting there shortly after opening, but the alley was filled with people sitting at tables. They found us a spot close to the restaurant at what appeared to be one of the last few tables.
It turned out that all those other people were part of tours, eating a set meal. The ones nearest us all had badges strung around their necks on ribbons that said "People To People -- Student Ambassadors". I don't know what the motivation of this group is, but the teenagers in it were screaming and acting up as if they were at home (maybe worse than if they were at home, since they didn't have to live with the people they were annoying). Fortunately, they were almost done, and cleared out shortly after our food arrived. "This is why I don't want you to go on school trips to Europe," I told A.
A and Z had suppli al telefono (Z kept trying to convince me to make them at home, but I don't deep-fry) and we all split three pizzas: al verdure (with eggplant, zucchini, and peppers), frutti di mare, and quattro formaggi. They had dolci listed on the menu, so for a change we indulged; the kids had chocolate mousse (A wanted the more Italian panna cotta, but they were out) and N and I had crostata di ricotta, which came with an extra slice of crostata di pina. The pizzas were quite good, retaining their crisp to the last bite.