Stopped for a quick espresso on our way. I asked GoogleTranslate for a cappuccino with two shots of espresso. A very nice man beside me at the bar explained, “oh no, Google is good for one word, more, it’s too much.” The American phrase ‘shot’ does not translate. Google had me requesting cappuccino with two slugs of booze. The correct request, which he kindly wrote down for me on a post-it, is ‘Doppio café nel cappuccino.” And it was just the rocket booster fuel I needed. Dashed into Santa Maria Della Scala, said my morning prayers under the festoons of crystal chandeliers, and put a few euros in the candle slots.
Walked through the crisp and partly cloudy morning to the Palazzo Corsini. There’s a Caravaggio and a Raphael, said my notes. Oh, and so much more.
They only accept cash at the ticket counter. I saw a Fra Angelico straight away, morphed into my art-by-osmosis daze and drifted through the grand halls plastered with grand art. So much to love.
I’ll return with my sketchbook after Robert goes home. I could sit here for days. Bonus; there are numerous hassocks to sit on while you soak in art
Some stand outs:
A ceiling painted like china. Just smack you in the eye, unapologetic beauty. 
A room with an exhibition detailing what x-rays reveal beneath the surface painting.
A window with portion of the glass bracketed by a pair of picture frames. Instant landscape.
A pair of cupids wrestling – Romulus and Remus, the preschool years.
An excellent copy of Raphael’s Pope Julius II.
A portrait of someone’s elderly nona that showed her true age, wisdom, and good humor.
A wall of still lifes, including two Bruegels, a pair of swags representing Spring and Fall.
A sculpture of a reclining God, bearded and scowling. Very Robert-esque.
The aforementioned Caravaggio – his portrait of a young man. I can’t decide if the youth looks dissolute or if that’s Caravaggio’s reputation talking.
A portrait of Margherita Luti, La Fornarina herself, by a different painter than her lover, Raphael. A beauty, but not the smoldering minx his brush portrays.
This is a wonderful place to visit – a steady stream of visitors but no swarms. Multiple soft places to sit. Excellent sight lines.
Next we walked across the Tiber and on impulse whipped into Roscioli for an early lunch. The soup was so delicious my toes curled; chickpeas, scallops, salty bacon, pumpkin seeds. So simple. 
Next destination was the Crypta Balbi. It took more than one try to find the entrance (beneath the scaffolding, next to the crane.) This museum plunges beneath city street level, multiple strata of brick, stone, and marble marked by fire and earthquake, that date back thousand + years. 
When you thought you were done, there was another corridor below ground in the depth of early Rome, or another flight of stairs to a museum of artifacts above. It was sweltering hot above ground and shiveringly cold below. It reeked of antiquity, something we Americans have no notion of.
After Balbi I was toast, but foolishly kept going. Paid my respects to the tomb of Fra Angelico, a painter who soul was said to be as beautiful as his work, beneath the blue and gold ceiling of Santa Maria Sopra Minerva. 
After a brief detour to buy art supplies (a small sketchbook and red chalk) Robert wanted to visit the Pantheon, so we wove our way through the streets straight into a heaving throng of tourists. I stood in one spot and looked up at the oculus, while Robert circumnavigated the interior. It was a mosh pit of hands waving cell phones, like someone had kicked over an ant hill of tourists. I couldn’t wait to leave.
By that time I was limping. Sucked it up and carried on. Robert took a photo of me as we crossed the Ponte Sisto bridge because the afternoon light was pretty. Me, not so much. 
Another a great day. Tomorrow, the Baths of Diocletion.
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