Dispatch from Roma

Ah ROMA! - it may be the eternal city, but it did not pass on such longevity to my faithful Mac laptop.  After bouncing and banging though dispatch posts far and wide, Ol’Mac decided that the latest taxi, plane, train and metro ride in a backpack was too much to ask.  The screen awoke from its transatlantic sleep to display a rainbow of streaks and stripes.  No amount of re-boots or giggling (and even a whomp) would make Steve Job’s smiling face pop into view.  A tragedy of some importance because not only would you be excused from deleting my dispatch drivels, but the digital photo collection from my first and maybe last trek through Italy would be limited to the amount of memory inside the camera.  And this place is, at the very least, photogenic.

Salvation did not come from the nearby Holy See nor from the flocks of collared clergy flocking to the Vatican in this Jubilee year.  It came from a truly “catholic” (meaning for everyone) tool whose only connection to the Pope is his Swiss Guards in their striped uniforms (designed by Michelangelo during the rein of Extravagance III or Flamboyance IV, I think). 

Anyway, it was only right that the little computer store on the busy Via in front of our rented apartment, was staffed by not a soul that spoke English.  Yet one young man, named Massimiliano, who like me, has never been afraid to ignore the dire warnings displayed on a product’s instructions.  I am sure, as a baby, he crawled across his crib to rip the “Do not remove under penalty of law” tag (or the Italian equivalent) off his first stuffed toy.  His computer tool consisted of just one - the un-curled paper clip. (This tool is as dear to Mac owners as a hammer is to those who own old Fords.)  With it, he knew a secret way to pop out the keyboard while the Mac was still running, an act so forbidden that the latches to remove it normally are reached only by removing the battery effectively killing all power.  With the keyboard off, the screws marked “Do Not Remove” were easily accessed.  Alas he did not have the special screwdriver necessary to delve deeper into the electronic bowels of Ol’Mac.  (This is were the Swiss Guard connection comes in.)  Out of my backpack came my Swiss Army knife with plenty of pointy things to try into the screw slots.  The second one did the trick and he popped off the cover. Some simple pushing and prodding of this thingy and that thingy did the trick.  Ol’Mac smiled up at us and was joined by smiles all around. 

My new smile will be maintained, and this dispatch sent, only if my attempts at installing the Italian Internet software and connecting to the Italian phones prove to be successful.  If not, watch for black smoke over the Vatican.

 - Santo Rodericicco