Dem bones, dem bones, gonna rise...

The bones did rise. To the ceiling, and along the walls. Thousands and thousands of tiny little bones. Human bones.

We didn't sleep well the night before. The rain continued all night, but the rain got bored and extended an invitation to the wind, and they partied all night long.

We lost one of our shutters, which Emma heard clatter into the courtyard around 2am. Weird drippings and clicking and banging all night.

Emma was too tired for breakfast, but I find it hard to pass up a free feed. I saw the cop from Michigan, who said they'd had a fabulous time yesterday in Florence, which is our target for tomorrow.

Today was the Church of the Immaculate Conception, a Capuchin church not far from the Savoy. Simon told us about it yesterday, so we had to check it out.

What's so great about this church?

The ossuary.

Bones.

Human bones.

In pretty patterns. Stars made out of vertebrae, arches constructed out of thigh bones, columns of human skulls.

I thought it wa fascinating. It creeped Emma out.

The Capuchins are one of the three orders of Franciscan monks, and the crypts below the church are where the monks were buried. Well it seems around 1760 someone decided piles of monks were a bit of a bore, and that arranging the bones would be a spiffing way to smarten the place up.

There are six crypts, all with different themes: 

The Crypt of the Resurrection - my favourite, with a scythe-wielding angel of death on the ceiling.

The Mass Chapel - I don't recall the detail of this one.

The Church of the Skulls - featuring, surprisingly, lots of skulls.

The Church of the Pelvises - yup, pelvises.

The Church of the Leg Bones and Thighs - no prizes for guessing the feature here.

The Crypt of the Three Skeletons - three slightly-mummified dead monks standing around doing something monkish.

No one knows who arranged the bones like this, or even why. It made me think of Zen or Tibetan Buddhism, about the impermanence of life, and not taking it too seriously. Fascinating stuff.

Weirded out we went wandering into town, and saw the Tritone Fountain, which was closed for renovation last week, was being reopened. Interesting, but not anywhere near as cool as the bones.

Then a quick lunch at a totally unpretentious restaurant well off the tourist path, and another trip back to the Trevi Fountain and Pantheon. They never get old.

Out goal for the evening was dinner in the Jewish quarter of Rome, the old ghetto. I managed to guide us in a near perfect circle around the distinct, which turned out to be a fortunate diversion as it brought us past the Theatre of Marcello, and the church with the "Mouth of Truth" that was in Roman Holiday with Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck. 

Personally I thought the Mouth of Truth was a bit of a yawn, but the tomb of Pope Hadrian underneath - that was interesting.

We walked across the Isola Tiberina (eh), then found a Roman Jewish restaurant, La Taverna Del Ghetto. The chopped liver was hot, which was unusual for us, the best thing being burik, a sort of fried pancake stuffed with potato.

By now it was freezing, so we taxied back. I wanted dessert, and popped next door to the gelato shop.

Emma's response: "Let me get this right. We've been here for a week with hot weather every day. On the coldest night of the trip you go out for gelato."

Me: "When you put it like that it is kind of daft."