Italy, sweet Italy. My love, mi amore. I want to live here, but only if I can have a personal driver. Just now I watched two guys on scooters run into each other and simply shrug. Apparently a little collision is no big over here. I am not quite sure where to begin, but I suppose I will start at the beginning and go on chronologically. This is a lot, so I expect no one to read this in its entirety besides my mother, who will probably get bored at some point and have to take a break. I am not offended. But, here goes…
Day One.
The ship docks in Civitavecchia, a small fishing village 45 minutes from Rome whose name I can neither spell nor pronounce. By 7:30 I was on a bus with my bags headed for a tour of Rome. We did the museum on Capitole Hill and saw the Roman Forum and were released to explore the city. After a day of exploring “The Origins of Rome” as the SAS tour was aptly named, Leah, Katy and I signed off to check into the hotel we had previously booked for four nights near Campo de’ Fiori.The Albergo del Sole on Biscione Street is the most charming hotel I could have hoped to book in all of Europe. No Internet, no air conditioning, but the raw beauty of this 13th century building is enough to make my heart melt. I’m sitting on my window ledge right now watching the world pass by on the alleyway and courtyard below. While I’ve stayed in some pretty swanky places, no hotel room I’ve been in has had a view as perfect as this.
That first day was a little scary at first. We were supposed to meet up with our friends from the ship but could not get in touch with them. We were not even sure if they were still staying in the same hotel and I had decided that it was probably going to be me Leah and Katy alone in Rome. We were walking down a random street when I heard our friend Kristen call my name from a taxi. In a city as HUGE as Rome, we still met up with our friends. Must be fate.After some delicious pizza, we all went to a highly recommended Gelato place near the Trevi Fountain. Before I go any further, let me please say that Rome is nothing without pizza and gelato. You will certainly notice an alarming trend in my enormous consumption of both, but when in Rome…
This place, Il Gelato Di San Crispino, has been widely recognized among native Romans as the best Gelato in the city since 1994. Luckily for us, this reputation has not yet reached the throngs of tourists only a few blocks away at the Trevi Fountain. The shop, like all good food places, is very tricky to find, and does not even have a full sign in the front. Once I placed my order though, I was in heaven. That first day I ordered Chocolate Meringue and was blown away by the pieces of homemade meringue and sweet chocolate that melted away in my mouth with the gelato. We came back several times during our time in Rome, and each trip our cups got larger. I really can’t put into words the goodness of this stuff, but let me suffice to say that if they don’t serve this gelato in heaven, I’m not so sure I want to go. I would later learn that this is the same Gelato place Elizabeth Gilbert is obsessed with in there bestselling book Eat, Pray, Love. This would also not be the only time our Italian food obsessions would inadvertently converge.
It had been a very long day at this point, so we headed back for our hotel.
Rome is very walkable. The streets here meander gracefully around ancient monuments like the Guadalupe creeps past the old stubs of cypress trees. Unlike most planned out cities like Dallas or New York, every walk here is interesting and often full of surprises. Another thing about Rome is that everything here is ancient. Even those monuments that did not originate in biblical times are probably relics of the Mussolini era and are still historically significant. Any given stroll might end at the entrance of the Coliseum or the front of the Pantheon. I know I ended up accidentally at both at some point or another during the trip. It’s a good thing the city is easy to walk because there are only two subway lines. Why, you ask, does a HUGE metropolitan city with so many summer visitors that every July its population DOUBLES not have an adequate subway system? Good question. This city is so full of mysteries and so rich in history that every time the city begins construction on a new line they run into some new series of catacombs or some ancient artifact that must immediately be explored, excavated and rushed to a museum. Archaeologists have it great in this town.
That night I fell fast asleep to the sounds of the street outside my open window. I love Rome.
Day Two.
This morning we all woke up-our group had grown to about seven, most of whom we snuck into the hotel nightly-with the best intentions of touring the Vatican. In true Italian style, we had a pretty tough time getting started. I couldn’t leave before exploring the market on Campo de’ Fiori. One of the most happening squares in Rome, this area is vegetable/fish/flower market by day, pub central by night. Still at least partially authentic, you can find loyal Roman customers every morning of the week here to purchase fresh tomatoes, berries melon, lettuce, spices, lemons, olive oil, pasta, fish, meat, cheese, and flowers. I was in sensory overload and after selecting a small tub of strawberries settled in at a coffee bar down the street. (Sidenote: “Bars” in Italy have two purposes. By day they are a place to grab a quick pastry or sandwich with espresso. At night, most morph into the type of bar Americans expect. They replace café with beer and turn on the game--it is World Cup time, by the way). The strawberries melted away in my mouth and the cappuccino quickly disappeared into my throat and it was time to see the Vatican.
Now, I am not myself Catholic, but I am the cousin of several hundred. Perhaps that is an exaggeration, but my mother’s side of the family is very large, very Catholic and very Czech, and sometimes I wish I shared Catholicism with them. I love being Lutheran, but rosaries are just plain cool. Regardless of faith, the Vatican is a sight to behold and entering its gates is a religious experience altogether. After our lingering breakfast, the group of us from SAS set off for Vatican City with no particular map or plan. As I have quickly discovered, traveling college students rarely do have plan and often reject the idea of booking ahead or making reservations with great passion. This ideology can be wonderful and exciting, or it can be terrifying and disastrous.
In this case, we suffered the minor hiccup of becoming quite lost. When in Rome and searching for Vatican City, follow the nuns. Almost without exception, that is where they are headed. We did not heed this advice and instead landed two miles down the Tiber River. Just a tip to tuck away for future visits. When we finally made it, the place was packed for Wednesday Mass. We took some great pictures, but I wasn’t going to stick around three hours for mass. I don’t want to be Catholic that bad.
At this point I had no idea that I would be back to visit the Vatican twice before I left Rome, so I thought it would be prudent to buy some souvenirs. If I got nothing else from this first trip to the Vatican, at least I got the plastic pope snow globe with real white snowflakes. Can’t wait to post a picture of it. After the disappointment of not being able to enter the Sistine Chapel or St. Peter’s Basilica, it was time for Gelato at San Crispino’s again. This time I went down to the Trevi Fountain and performed the obligatory coin toss-one for a future trip to Rome and two for love. Three is a secret toss for money, and I did that too. More than any other monument in Rome, the Trevi Fountain is just as I always imagined it. It surprises you because it is not on a main street, but like so many of Rome’s ancient treasures is tucked away in a tangle of unassuming streets and alleys.
Soon we were back at the hotel and getting ready for dinner when four more friends from the ship checked into the hotel for the night. The whole group of us went out for pizza at a small, hole in the wall place called Buffetos that came highly recommended from a friend of a friend who is a Roman native. The pizza was amazing, but even better was the cheap house wine they sold by the liter. I love Italy. By the end of dinner everyone was full and happy, and everybody paid less than 10 Euros each. Soon after that the group stopped by the general store across the street from the Sole and purchased wine and liquor from the shop owner’s 10-year-old son. We were most definitely not in America anymore. The Sole has a lovely rooftop garden with sweeping views of neighboring squares and cathedrals where we sat and drank and talked until it was time to go to the nightclubs.
Day Three.
Today began with a mission to see the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. Nothing could stop us, and luckily by this time we had figured out the trick of following nuns to the Vatican and had no trouble finding it.
No, the trouble only began when we reached the impossibly long line. I’m not exactly a line person, and I generally despise all masses of sweaty people all desperately trying to fit into the same confined space. You probably don’t want to hang out with me at Disneyworld. But we made it through and once we were inside, everything was worth the wait. The Vatican Museums were breathtaking and words simply cannot do justice to the beauty, history, and magnificence stored in this place.
No, the trouble only began when we reached the impossibly long line. I’m not exactly a line person, and I generally despise all masses of sweaty people all desperately trying to fit into the same confined space. You probably don’t want to hang out with me at Disneyworld. But we made it through and once we were inside, everything was worth the wait. The Vatican Museums were breathtaking and words simply cannot do justice to the beauty, history, and magnificence stored in this place.
The Sistine Chapel exceeded all expectations. To look up at the ceiling and see years of work, endless creativity, and indescribable beauty in one room all envisioned and created by one person for one purpose…there are no words. For just a moment the crowds disappeared and I was swept away in a daze by the beauty of it. Then a guard yelled “NO CAMERAS!” In three languages and I became immediately aware of the crowds and was ready to go.
After this adventure it was definitely time for a nap. Best. Nap. Of. My. Life. And believe me, I keep track. Seriously, there’s a rating system involved, and I won’t get into the details, but this one takes the cake. I collapsed in my hotel room with no air conditioning and a huge open window to the most charming courtyard in the world and slept for hours. It was almost as transcendent of an experience as the Sistine Chapel.
Later that day there was shopping, a trip to the Mouth of Truth (yet another Roman Holiday flashback) and a blur of food before bed again. A girl’s got to catch up on sleep sometime.
Day Four.
Most of our group had left the night before for Florence, but the 5 girls remaining set out in the morning to see the Coliseum. I’ve been learning about this ancient arena my whole life. At one point, I used my PlayMobile model of it in a Sixth Grade history project. It was therefore even more amazing to see this ancient engineering masterpiece in person. It offered great picture opportunities and was surprisingly not crowded. Leah was sucked into taking a 5 Euro picture with a gladiator outside, and if he weren’t smoking it would have turned out really cute. All in all, I really liked the Coliseum and would go back.
I’m a bit embarrassed to admit this, but our first time we went into the Vatican, we missed the turn for St. Peter’s Basilica. Yeah, I know. I would be a terrible Catholic. A friend insisted that we go back and see it, and it was totally worth it. Plus, this time we went at 1:00, missing the lines completely and I was not hungover. All winning ingredients for a successful trip to the Vatican.The real fun of today came when we decided to go out. We all put on dresses and set out with the solitary mission of finding great pasta. I had finally tired of pizza. We succeeded and afterwards went to Camp de’ Fiori where Leah, Andrea and I spent hours upon hours socializing with locals, college kids, and travelers from across the globe. I talked politics with a Spaniard who spoke English with a British accent, discussed the best Greek islands with an Aussie and his French Canadian acquaintance, explained the difference between the pronunciation of “beach” and another similar sounding, not so polite word to a Roman, and watched a group of Russian girls in short skirts and cobalt blue afro wigs sing and dance in the square.
Which brings me to the wigs. Ah, the blue wigs. As soon as we saw them, it became our mission to get one. And I do not give up easily. I can’t say what they were for, or who in the world these girls were, but nothing was going to stop me from getting a blue wig. Nothing. The Russian girls had just run out of them when we got there, so we had to find people who had already won them. I won’t go into the details of how each of us got one, but were had to get creative.
By this point in the night, the bars were closing down, and the three of us were chatting with three Italian boys. Two of them were named—ok, are you ready for this? They were named Mario and Luigi. Really. Cross my heart, hope to die. Andrea took a picture of their ID’s, so I know I wasn’t dreaming. Anyway, these boys, the third one’s name I can’t remember, were pretty charming. There were roses, and promises of homemade pasta, and so forth. I will tell you now that all you hear about Italian boys and American girls is true, and never should Marios’s and Luigi’s of the world be trusted.
The night ended on the rooftop courtyard of our hotel, with Leah and I sharing a pillow and giggling at the night’s fun times. Our grand total of sleep that night came to one hour. Very The Hangover. But not quite… The next day we would leave for Naples, but that, I’m afraid, is another post altogether. Goodbye Rome.
Arrivederci!
Bonnie
I wanna know how you got the wigs!
ReplyDeleteI'll tell you later...
ReplyDeleteI miss you!!! and I lost your address when my computer crashed on the ship :( Could you please email me your and Chelsey's and Lindsey's mailing address? My email is bkreay@semesteratsea.net.