Day 5 - PM - Appian Way

Vittorio Emanuele Monument

After the Vatican Museum, I set out to try once again (having tried the day before) to find the Archeobus which would take me to the Appian Way, one of the earliest and most important roads through Rome.  One of the sections, just to the south of the city,  has several archeological sites and a piece of the road still has the original stone pavings (which I wanted to see but never did as you shall read).

The Archeobus is a hop-on / hop-off tour bus which takes folks down through the area. As there were several places of interest along the route, the 12e fare seemed worth the price, especially since it was good for two days. The pick-up point for the bus is in the Piazza Venezia, which is a very busy area known for the Monument to Vittorio Emanuele II. It's in the heart of Rome and just about every bus stops here at some point. 

I found the correct bus stop of the many around the area and waited close to an hour for it to arrive - even though it's supposed to run every 40 minutes. As it was now approaching 2:30, I decided I would just go the length of the route, listen to the audio tour and come back the next day to hop off at a couple of the more interesting sites.  You can see from the ad to the right that the only passenger section on the bus is open air. Probably great in the summer when it's 115 degrees but a little breezy in the winter. In addition, between my being able to only hear out of one side of the headset (my problem not the headset's) and the fact that the volume wouldn't go past 1 I have no clue what the nice man was trying to tell me.

When I got on the bus, the hostess said (almost insisted) that I should instead get off at San Sebastiano Fuori le Mura ("outside the walls"). This is a 17th century church which was built over catacombs. These catacombs are the oldest in the world - the actual word catacomb was first used here (Greek katà kymbas' = near the hollow).  The gentlemen leading the tour said that there were 100,000 burials here in 7 miles of tunnels over 4 floors, the most recent being buried in the 4th century.  The church itself was also somewhat pretty and contained the last sculpture done by Bernini. The tour was worth the 8e paid.

After the tour around the church, I went out to the bus stop assuming that it would be there within at least 20-30 minutes. Wrong again as it was another wait of close to an hour. Either I had just missed the bus or it was not running every 40 minutes. Granted it was January, but let's be honest people.  By the time I got on the bus it was close to 4:30. No way I could see anything else along the route that day.  Looking ahead, I just didn't feel like going on the bus again the next day so I ended up spending 20e and about 3 hours to see some pretty neat catacombs when I could have taken the regular bus and spent 9e and maybe gain a couple hours of my time. In the end, I would think that this bus really might be good deal in the summer if you've got all day, a working headset and no hearing impairment.

I made it back to the hostel at little bit late for the daily 5:00 Skype phone call with Fort Worth. iPhones with Skype downloaded - wonderful and free - no matter who is where.  Back out to walk my neighborhood and find some dinner. There truly was no reason to ever cross the Tiber for dinner, plenty to eat and drink in Trastevere.  Except for maybe this night.

After much wandering around, I finally made a decision to try Il Duca. Seemingly a good decision as a site on the internet (on which I'd just looked) described this place as "a bustling Trastevere trattoria that serves what is quite possibly the world's best lasagne". Trip Adviser has 10 "very good" reviews. And I'm very happy for those people that they had a wonderful experience. I, however, did not.

First, I'm thinking that Rome doesn't have a ton of single diners as my seat assignments have not been stellar. This evening, I was placed in the very  far corner of one of the three decently busy rooms, along a wall which was shared with the kitchen. No menu was provided. Immediately upon sitting, I begun having a hot flash. Oh wait, I don't have hot flashes. Could it be that.... yes... I placed my hand on the wall and seriously thought that it would spontaneously combust at any moment. It had to have been 95 degrees in that corner as the oven was directly on the other side. I waited at least 7-8 minutes with no type of action. I'm not known for my restaurant patience but I was really trying. The fact that I was about to pass out finally won over though and I gathered my gear and prepared to leave. 

Amazingly, the waitress appeared at that very moment. I told her that it was too hot in that corner. "Si. Si. Si. Caldo!"  She seemed completely surprised and moved me quickly. To the next table. About 4 inches away from the first and even nearer to the two French couples who had gotten their menus and had been attempting to order since I'd been there. OK. I'll stay. About 3 or 4 minutes later I got a menu and was thrilled to see that they had -

By the time I'd ordered, three separate couples had been seated at Table Caldo. Three!  Each one moved within a minute. At what point would these people get that it was too hot at that table!? Oh, I think they got it. They were just waiting for the sucker that would be too embarrassed to move. Each time, the camaraderie that I felt with the French couples increased as we giggled harder together after each move.  I had explained a sniglet to one of my hostelmates the day before and she mentioned one that she liked: Smeye, which is a smile with your eyes.  Many smeyes passed between myself and the French until finally, the sucker was found in the fourth couple, a blond woman who spoke Italian but not as her native language and a man from a very hot and arid country.Apparently.

The time it took to get my menu and my order in was worth it as it gave me plenty of time to find all of the Engrish and odd food on the menu. Let me share with you:

Uh, no...

Not only no...

A healthier option:

And finally, 12e? For grilled bread? Really?

Having realized by now that by ordering the Mixed Salad instead of the Green Salad that I would get something other than lettuce, I ordered it and my now familiar Spaghetti Carbonara. Maybe because the menu scared me so.  Once the salad arrived, on went the vinegar and oil and I almost had it all eaten when a man came and picked up my bowl, along with the fork I was using and the second fork... the one usually left so you can eat your main meal with it. I protested quietly and he looked at me like I was complete idiot and said that he would bring another when the time came. Away he went with the rest of my salad. Smeyes were now exchanged with both the French and the couple at Table Caldo, who seemed just as confused as I was.

Smeyes soon turned to giggles between all three tables when my waitress brought my spaghetti, slammed it down quickly and left me. With no fork. Our three tables at the back of the restaurant were getting plum silly with all the giggling.  I sat there about a minute afraid to try to get a fork. One eventually showed up and the spaghetti was excellent. There are no complaints about the food. 

But wait. There's more to tell about the service. This whole time, this poor gal was waiting on too many tables with about the same about of skill as she'd be waiting on me. At one point a gentlemen who was the only other single diner in the place got up an left in disgust at some point in his experience. The young waitress explained this to the fork stealing man, who I think might have been an uncle or something. They both went around the corner into the kitchen at which point there commenced to be great hollarin' and carryin' on between the girl, the uncle and whoever was in the kitchen. I truly hated it for her. Bless her heart.

Having finished my meal, I asked for my bill in broken Italian and made my exit. You will note that I took a picture of this place - the only restaurant where I did this. Just because I wanted to make sure that I didn't accidentally go back.

Not the best day.

Day 4 - AM - Shower Experience and the Vatican Museum

I had arrived at the hostel fairly early on the evening of day 3 hoping to catch the little "Bio Bar" on the ground floor open. The previous night it had been closed. I'd asked the receptionist about it and was given the helpful information, "Well, maybe tomorrow". Day 3 it was indeed open, but was a little strange. Very bright (like 7-11 bright), very small (like 9 x 10), with only a man and maybe one other person inside.  In general, I find that "bio" in Europe must mean "healthy". For instance, organic items have "bio" on the packaging. This place didn't look especially healthy so I decided against it. Thinking back, maybe it wasn't a bar at all (despite the name) but a snack shack kind of place. Who knows.

Going upstairs with the hopes of writing a bit, I found my phone to be dead and the room, as usual, too dark  and very quiet. Into the breakfast room I went. Finding a plug, I watched my phone charge itself instead of making eye contact with the three gals sitting around one of the tables. 

After listening to them a bit and hearing something that I had an opinion on (imagine), I decided that watching my phone charge wasn't really that exciting and chimed in on the conversation.  I learned that two of them were from Tasmania and one from the US. Once the Aussies left, the American and I realized we had something else to spark conversation with her being from Charlotte, a place I will be visiting soon, it being the former headquarters of Wachovia. I found Amanda to be very pleasant, although she made me look conservative with her somewhat idealistic views of the world. I bet in a few years when she has a couple of kids, she will indeed feed those kids meat, from McDonald's Happy Meal no less, and find something that she simply must go to Wal-mart to purchase. We stayed up too late and made a plan to go have some wine the last night of my hostel stay.  You see, I was afraid to order pizza or gelato. Her fears were public transport and ordering alcohol. We would be a good team.

You will recall that yesterday I did not make it to the Vatican Museum. I'd been all ready to hit it first thing, on through to the Sistine Chapel, then pretending to be with a tour and sneaking "through the back door" into St Peter's Basilica, per the Rick Steves tip.  But alas, I had gotten in the wrong line to find myself at the Basilica first, thereby finding a 2 hour line to the museum upon my exit from the church.

So I had decided this morning that I would have an alarm set, regardless of any sleeping going on around me. Unfortunately, I forgot to turn the ringer on. No matter as I was up at 6:45 anyway, the body apparently adjusting. Or maybe it was the heat in the hostel. I had actually brought a cheap sleeping bag liner, thinking it would serve two purposes. #1 - bed bug (or other?) barrier. Turns out this place was almost too clean. A gal came in everyday about 10:00 and cleaned like a banshee. More than one day I came back at noonish to find the aroma of bleach still extremely strong. I also found my bed made every day, with sheets white and crisp.

Sleeping bad liner reason #2 - Warmth. I'd read that this particular hostel was very hot in the summer with no air conditioning. I'd assumed that it would be equally cold in the winter but with the 400 year old walls and my placement directly next to the radiator which served the entire 800+ sq ft room, being cold was not the issue.  I'm still not sure why the bed had a sheet, two blankets and a cotton bedspread on it.

Nice bathroom with no curtain

I digress. Happy to find that the heat had woken me, even earlier than my phone was not going to do, it was time to try the shower.  Despite the fact that Europeans don't get the point of the whole shower curtain thing and you end up freezing even in a warm bathroom, I'd had a simply wonderful bathroom experience at the 4-star hotel in Via Veneto on day 2 and had therefore skipped day 3, really not ready to experience what might be awaiting me in the shower room. At least it was pretty early and I had the place to myself.  I wish I had taken a photo so you could really appreciate the difference.

It being this early hour, just about everyone was still asleep and it was still pitch black outside, meaning I had to find all the accouterments for my shower in the dark. Note to self was made to do this preparation before bed next time. My Aussie friend had confirmed that the first shower on the right had great hot water so in I crept, seemingly all of my possessions piled carefully up on a very small stool to prevent any infiltration of shower spillage.  The shower was one of those that has only a 1/2 centimeter on the dial that has anything that close to warm, the other sides being screaming cold or scalding hot. There were about 10 small holes that had water coming out, the other 30 not wanting to cooperate. If you've seen the volume of the hairs on my head, you can appreciate that it took fully 20 minutes to get the shampoo out. The fact that you had to keep pushing the button to get the water started again did not help. Shower and putting on the face were finally accomplished about an hour after I had gotten up, much much longer than this low maintenance person generally needs. 

I made my way to tea and toast and to the camaraderie which I had begun to develop with my fellow and now familiar hostelmates. This was something that I'd looked forward to, meeting people from all walks of life, hearing of where they'd been and where they'd be going. And indeed, that was one of the more interesting aspects of the hostel experience. Most of the girls in the breakfast room were just like Demon Kitti, college students studying in Europe and spending their Christmas holidays traveling around and seeing the sites. (The few older women here tended to stay in the lower occupancy, more private, rooms and eat breakfast elsewhere). You can imagine what the breakfast conversation was like: "Where did you go yesterday"?, "How did you get there?", "How much did it cost?", "Did you like it?"... By just the second morning in the hostel, I started feeling like I was the mother. I was not 22 and hosteling around with little money or plans but alot of time. I was the non-free-wheeling one who had done her homework (i.e. spreadsheet), had a plan, limited days and was ready to make it happen. After the first morning, the mother role was my duty at breakfast with the girls asking what I had done, how much it cost and how to get there. I felt practically an expert. 

All that to say that my 6:45 wake-up time was for not. Having now spent over 2 hours trying to get clean, making Melba toast and giving advice, I was off on the 10 minute walk to the Vatican Museum, hoping to find that the line had not grown to 2 hours. Apparently most of the tourists had known ahead of time that the Sistine Chapel portion of the tour would be closing at 12:30 and had decided to do their visit on another day. With plenty of time to see all I wanted to see, I spent about 45 minutes in line with an Asian group on a private tour behind me and three young men in front of me. One was a pleasant guy from Argentina, with whom I conversed quite a bit. He was accompanied by two Brazilian guys who spoke little English. Let me clarify: I mean two guys from Brazil, not a really huge number of guys who would have made the line many hours long. 

Although there weren't that many people in our line, many groups on organized tours were able to get in ahead of us and the museum was quite crowded.  A friend had told me that he just saw a bunch of Pope hats and vestments at the Museum but I fear that he just thought he was at the Vatican (or maybe it was a temporary exhibit). The place was chock full of classic sculptures and Renaissance art and who knows what all from the huge collection amassed by the Catholic Church over the years. To be honest though, I'm somewhat embarrassed to say that I'm not much of an art person. However, I found the architecture of the museum, along with the mosaic floors and Raphael friezes fascinating. I can't imagine how many hours just went into the painting of this place.

There are so many collections here. Etruscan and Egyptian wings, artifacts from Rome, Palestine, Assyria and points beyond, a picture gallery, a map gallery, a gallery containing only busts and one just of sculptures of animals. The beauty of this is that, although you could never fully appreciate it all in one day, there are areas that are more popular with the tourist set, leaving other areas almost completely vacant.I mostly went for those.

The Sistine Chapel was impressive needless to say. Unfortunately, it was extremely difficult to visit, my being elbow to elbow with hundreds of people, all looking up instead of towards where they were going. No way to even go to the side of the building, have a seat and take a minute to very appreciate it. I decided that since my disability makes it hard to look up for any extending period of time without getting dizzy and the fact that I was engulfed within a steadily moving herd of people entitled me to snap a couple of very no-no photos so that I could appreciate it later. Well, those reasons coupled with the fact that many others had their own Kodak's out. I did not, however, use a flash. Lovely.

Completing the visit, Melba toast wearing off, I headed down to the museum's pizzeria. Although I'd decided before arriving in Rome that I would be cheap and eat lots of pizza, I had not yet done so as I was more than a little intimidated by the ordering process, wherein you (not speaking the language) point to the pizza with the ingredients you want and with your hands tell the attendant the size and shape you are after. The pizza is then weighed and you pay accordingly. At the museum's pizzeria, everyone was a tourist and there were only a few sets of ingredients and the slices seemed to be pre-cut, thereby alleviating most intimidation. I think the extremely large piece of cheese pizza and bottle of water (no gas please) was only about 5.5e. Yummo.

Day three (even though it's really like day 7)

I guess I should stop and tell you just a little about the hostel experience. This is a women-only place, located within some sort of women's (I assume charitable) organization. It's very quiet. Too quiet. I'm in a room with ten beds, separated by a partial wall. My section of the room has four of the beds. You get a twin bed (only slightly hard), a nightstand with light, a lockable locker with drawers, a couple of coat hooks and closet space. It's a bit convent-like. I'm lucky in that my bed is right next the only desk in the room. No one uses it for its original purpose as there is no chair so I have two horizontal surfaces on which to spread my junk.

Seems as though the closet space was built in proportion to the ceilings and I can't even reach the closet rod.  The room has incredibly high ceilings, probably 18 feet or so, with a few high windows.  I have to stand on the bed to open the window, which is then maybe 8 feet high.

The are two rooms with toilets and sinks, which appear to have been redone nicely within the last few years, except for the fact that one is missing the girlie part of the seat and another is missing the toilet paper holder (and it's contents). There's a shower room with 6 shower stalls. I now know which one is the one with hot water, thanks to my Aussie neighbor. There's also a computer, free wifi and a breakfast room. A note about the wifi: this building is an old convent, built in the 16th century I believe I read somewhere. It's quite warm, even for winter, but was not built for wifi. You must be in the same hallway as the router or no wifi for you, thanks to the wall that are goodness knows how thick.

I had breakfast this morning which was interesting. The appliances make noises that I can't quite describe. There's no coffee pot, but a what I guess is an expresso maker. I'm not a coffee drinker so we're just going to go with that guess. I just know it's louder than any coffee pot I've ever heard. No wait, there are six of these machines! There's no eggs but you can froth your milk, in another loud machine. Sorry I don't get it. I'm a tea drinker. Thank the tea Gods that there's an electric water pot. There's also yogurt, cereal and some wonderful ham and two types of cheeses.

Breakfast Room - note all
the espresso makers

Then there's the toast...  I noticed that they have little packages of Melba toast but I don't know why. See, they also have little skinny pieces of white bread (how long has it been since I've had white bread?). You put the skinny bread in a toaster which keeps your bread hostage for like five minutes.  You can't get it out. And remember this is 220v!  So what do you get out of the toaster? Melba toast! So why the Melba toast packets? I can't tell you. But oh the butter... no matter where in Europe.Oh the butter. The cows are happy here.

But still, hard white toast aside... If you don't need shampoo bottles or room service and are on a budget, for 22e a night you can't beat it. I'd stay here again in a flash.

After my previously explained breakfast, I headed out for the Vatican, about an hour later than anticipated. It's only about a ten minute walk from the hostel.

I reached St Peter's square and, oh my, what a sight that was.  I saw a line and stood in it, as any tourist would do. I thought it was the line for the Vatican Museum but after 20 minutes, I figured out that it was the line for the Basilica. (Turns out my Aussie bed mate did the same thing, I would learn later). 10 minutes after my discovery, I was in the Basilica. I'm much better with everyday life experiences so if you're wanting a blow by blow of the Basilica, check out the  Rick Steves audio tour. That's what I did and it's highly recommended.

After the Basilica, I walked around the corner to check out the Vatican Museum. Uh oh. Two+ hour wait. At breakfast, I was told to NOT take up the offers of the folks offering the tour which will get you to the front of the line. She had done that and still had to wait an hour. Not to mention the pain of having to stay with the group. And the extra cost. I think I'll just wait until tomorrow.

Having now gotten the bus system down, I meandered my way to the stop, pausing at what looked like a small street market in hopes of finding maybe some Saint gear for my friend, Pat. Did you know that you can have 25 booths each selling the exact same souvenirs??  Well, you can. Oh + an All Things Decoupaged booth.

Decided instead to get outta town and spend the afternoon at Aqua Claudio and the acquduct park. It's about 13 stops away from the main Termini, almost the end of the line. 15 hectares of park land, walking trails and seven 2,000 year old aqueducts. These are the things you've seen pictures of since 8th grade world history  Here's the real kick... I saw maybe twenty people, and I was the only one not jogging or walking a dog. No tourists. No one. Ok one.  Me. I spent maybe two hours out there. Just talking a walk like I was at the Trinity River. But I was so obviously not. So nice.

Back to the hostel to freshen up for happy hour. Walking through my neighborhood, I decided to stop at the TI to see if the helpful agent could tell exactly where along my new friend Tram #8 I had seen the Guinness sign. Indeed he could so out I set.

Arrived at said Irish bar and found that the only thing Irish about it was the Guinness sign and the Irish flag in the corner. Pressed on.

Ended up back in my neighborhood at a place called Vin Allegro. In parenthesis it said "Happy Wine". Now from my music days I thought allegro meant "fast" but no matter. Whether their wine was happy or fast I was all for it. It was dangerously close to last night's dinner place but willing to take a chance.

The small patio was very crowded so I went inside to find a very pleasant but small room decorated exactly as you would expect a wine bar in Italy to look. Or France. The waitress passed by, looking very hip and skinny, not giving me a glance. You get used to this but I had an uh-oh moment. What was I in for?

Turns out it was all ok. Her English was about like my Italian but we managed though it giggling. She even asked to me how to say a few phrases in English which almost made me feel as though I knew what I was doing. At her recommendation, I ordered a Nobile di Montepulciano from from the Tuscany region. Marvelous. At 7e, it ought to have been.
 

Not really wanting anything tomato-y after last night's lasagna, in ordered "Ravioli stuffed with buffalo mozzarella and spinach in a butter sage sauce".  My nice waitress was bound and determined that I should have tomato sauce on it. We finally agreed that it would have tomato sauce on one half. Mistake. Same red sauce as last night. But the ravioli made up for it. Super yummy. And oh the butter sage! Didn't exactly taste the sage, but wonderful none the less.

Stopped by the bar playing Oasis previously mentioned and had a 3e big glass of vin rosa a la casa. Ok I'm mixing up my Italian and Spanish but I think you get it. Is there NO bad wine here?

Back to the hostel where there is always someone asleep. No matter what time of day, it is always quiet and usually dark and you have to find whatever you're needing (toothbrush this time) by feel.

Toothbrush found. Time for bed.

(Coming home tomorrow so I'm obviously behind. Will catch up. Maybe when I'm stuck in ATL because of the ice storm).

A real computer

So far, I've just been using my iphone and the included notepad to do my posts. I actually have 2 or 3 more long ones typed on the notepad, but I can't put anything on until I proof it (cause I'm anal that way) and get a wi-fi connection. Now that I know that Doug may actually be reading this, I shall put forth more effort. But for now, you wait. It's around noon and I just came back from the flea market to rest the old back a minute. Finally was able to get on the hostel's lone computer but must get crackin'.

What I REALLY wish I could do is add pictures from my camera.... oh and get a comment or two so I don't feel alone. Don't you people know I have abandonment issues?

Demon Kitti

After checking into the hostel, I unpacked and set out. I would love to be the type that can walk all day but my feet just won't do it. I had to bite the bullet and make my way onto the public transport, apprehensive or not. I might be afraid to order gelato or pizza but I will NOT be afraid of kind strangers who will drive me places for reasonable amounts of money.

I had bought a Roma Pass the first day which would allow me three days of Metro, tram and bus. The transportation system is not too bad but more Metro would be nice if I had to have a complaint. There's only two lines which make a big X through the city. It would be completely impossible to get to all the places you wanted to go using just the Metro so the buses tend to be crowded.  But can you imagine having to dig lines and stations in this place were everywhere under ground is some 2,000 year old artifact?

Tram #8 runs from Trastevere up to Piazza Argentina and closer to the action. This tram became my friend. From Argentina, I boarded my first bus to take me what I hoped would be close to San Pietro in Vincoli. Turns out, it takes you near to the big hill upon which the church resides. Oh well.

SP in V is the church that has a famous sculpture of Moses by Michelangelo and the two sets of chains that supposedly held St Peter while he was imprisoned in Jerusalem and then at his final imprisonment at the Mamertine Prison in Rome (which miraculously fused together). Fairly moving when you think about it. And I thought England had some old stuff. Rome makes the Alamo seem like yesterday.

Afterward, I roamed casually around Piazza Venezia.  The highlight was the "smooth jazz sounds" of a street band called Funkoutopia, which I personally think is a fabulous name. Ok, I was actually not so casually looking for the Archeobus to take me to the Appian Way but I never found it the stop. What I did find was (you guessed it) an Irish Pub called the Scholar's Lounge. Just in time. My feet were killing me, even with proper shoes, insoles and elastic braces around my arches.

I lie. Maybe it was whole pint.

I had a half of Guinness and large bowl of potato leek soup (11e total) for lunch.  The "Brown Bread" which accompanied it was surprisingly like white sourdough but no matter. Although the price was certainly a bit high, it was lovely and full of pepper - not to mention the Guinness and the barmaid who spoke English.  I was still getting my feet wet for goodness sake.  An aside: one of my very young hostel friends (that somehow doesn't sound right) would later ask me why there was such a fascination which Irish and British pubs with travelers.  I guess every one so "fascinated" has a different take on it. Don't get me wrong, I love to travel and am fairly comfortable doing it, but when you're surrounded by another language, unfamiliar food and no friends, you can always hit a pub and find familiar dish, drink and dialogue.

Stomach full and feet much happier, I headed back to the hostel for a NAP! I cannot believe I did that - my first full day in Rome and I'm taking a nap! Slept for an hour and awoke to meet my next-bed neighbor, who was also being lazy at 1:00 in the afternoon. I didn't get her name or where she was from (Australia I'd imagine from the accent) but we did share a moment when we figured out together which shower was the hot one.  Right side. Far right shower in case you ever need to know.

I stayed in my Trastevere neighborhood for dinner. Can't remember the name of the place. No matter because the meal was just so so. Nothing like the Carbonara I'd had the night before. Before I tell you about the meal, let me mention that in Rome, similar to Germany, the tables are awfully close together. I was set at a two-top about half an inch from a French couple who seemed about as uncomfortable as I was. And that would be ok except that there was about 30 other seats that weren't right next to someone. But that's how they do it. Apparently.

Being too tired to negotiate the menu, I decided to see how Italians do lasagna - that and a green salad. Yes, I would like water and a glass of vin rosa. When the foot high plastic bottled water and small carafe of wine showed up, I got a little scared, being on a budget. Turns out the 2 glasses of wine, along with the really good and needed water where only 10e. Not terribly bad but I was quickly blowing my budget. Remembering that we have Direct Deposit Advance and I had an computer with internet (and therefore access to my Wells Fargo bank account) back at the hotel I decided not to worry about it too much. Maybe I'd get up the nerve to order cheap pizza tomorrow.

The meal arrived and the green salad was just that - lettuce on a plate (3.5e). But it was rocket (US = arugula) which I like, and it was a vegetable (scarce here) and just dandy with the plain white vinegar and oil and a ton of pepper. Good bread to dip in the oil as well. The lasagna made me long for Tuscany's, a long forgotten Fort Worth restaurant. It wasn't bad, just not outstanding.  The flavor reminded me of something slightly familiar.... oh yeah. Spaghettio's. So maybe Franco American is really right when they try to tell us that it's the authentic flavor of Italy.  It had just a hint of ricotta (the real reason for American-style lasagna I think) and, like most pasta dishes here, the requisite three tiny pieces of meat.

Side note as I'm typing the draft of this post - I'm sitting in a place in my neighborhood having a final nightcap of wine before heading back to hostel on day three. An Oasis song just came on. I don't know the song but you just can't mistake the voice... Seriously reminds me of my first trip to Europe with Tim, back in '92 when Oasis were in their heyday and they where everywhere on the radio.

So back to last night's dinner... I'm finishing up and another single gal gets seated a half inch from me. She looks slightly uncomfortable as well. As she orders they take both of her glasses away. I feel guilty with my carafe of wine and extremely large bottle of water.

Her food arrives along with the bread basket and I noticed that they didn't give her the nice thing with salt and pepper and vinegar and oil. I take a chance and, in English naturally, ask if she'd like to have mine. Much joy and relief passed over her face. I ended up joining her little table. This was very easy to accomplish since it was a half inch from mine. I was then able to have pleasant conversation and finish my wine without the guilt of taking up a table. The place was starting to fill up and I was taking up valuable real estate at my table sitting alone.  After they cleaned my table, we stoled a newly placed wine glass from it so she could finish my water from the foot tall bottle.  She was obviously on a more disciplined budget than even I was.

She's from Vancouver, but studying in Sussex for a year. She said it was cheaper to hostel around Europe for two weeks at the holidays that to fly back home. Rome was her last stop. Something like "Christmas in Vienna, New Year's Eve in Prague". We had a light but welcomed conversation. She's got a food and travel blog which I must check out. Hillary must check it out as well since as my new friend, whose real name I did not get, goes by the alias of Demon Kitti.

Demon Kitti and I struck up a conversation with the English couple sitting a half inch from her table who were also traveling. All in all, a pleasant night.

Street in Trastevere

Despite my hostel hostess advising me that the neighborhood was perfectly safe, I was initially a little concerned about walking back to my home away from home at night. It was fairly dark and quiet once away from the area immediately surrounding the piazza, but the couple of blocks were just fine. This is a fantastic neighborhood to stay in. You really feel the "neighborhood"... Little shops and cafes, folks hanging out at the piazza, laundry hanging above the streets. Having arrived, I got ready for bed, said goodnight to my Aussie neighbor, and was asleep by 8:30. Gotta love some jet lag.

As much as the plan was to get an early start at the Vatican, I slept until 7:45, being afraid to set an alarm in the very quiet hostel. Yes, that's like eleven hours of sleep. Along with an hour nap. Loser.

After copious amounts of sleep, I had awoke to began a day that you will hear about tomorrow, which will include a story of really loud appliances.

First Day and then on to the Hostel

Upon arrival, I was lucky to be able to hitch a ride on the free bus and did not have to schlep my junk, find the train and spend 12e on it, walk way far to the hotel or immediately have to figure out the Metro (with bags). BF was waiting at the curb. I freshened up quickly as we had landed a bit late and we set out for my first day in Rome.

Walking down what must surely be one of the seven hills through the swank Via Veneto neighborhood, my first site was Trevi fountain.  Ok, I admit it. I must be really clueless because I didn't realize that the thing wasn't round. I had forgotten? Did I even SEE Roman Holiday?  Good thing its not round. Just wouldn't be same. Although, if it WAS round, we could get even MORE tourists around it. The fact that I captured this photo with no one throwing money in is simply amazing. Uh oh. I just realized that I was by this gem at least three times and never threw the coins in (I hear it's really two coins, not three). Does that mean I won't get back? Hope not....

Being the extreme planner that I am, I had a spreadsheet. Days, opening times, cost, metro stops. No surprise there. But the late-ish start and that whole, "oh I don't know what do you want to do" people pleasing thing I sometimes do got us off to a slower sightseeing start. Didn't go in a darn "must do" that day.

I did manage to get the lay of the land though. We made it around the main old town where the Colosseum and the Forum are located.

Deciding that it would be good idea to check out what I would later refer to as "my neighborhood" and to see if there was an easier way for me to get there the next day, I did a Rick Steves audio tour on the Trastereve area, literally "beyond the Tiber".  It's a wonderful neighborhood, cobblestone streets (which will get old, I admit) and medieval houses. Somewhat quiet during the day and lively at night.

Winding my way through, past Basilica Santa Maria and it's piazza, I knew that I had made the right choice, at least in the location for my "alone time".  Wasn't so sure yet on the hostel.  So after finishing the relatively short tour and time spent at the unexpectedly lovely Basilica, we found our way down Via della Scala to Via della Lungara to the Casa Internazionale delle Donne which houses the Orsa Maggiore women-only hostel.

It took a minute to find the way into the inner courtyard, up the small elevator and down the hall to the gal doing her shift as receptionist. She was quite friendly, told me the best bus to take and gave me the quick tour.

Walking back to the heart of the city I of course found a pub - The Abbey Theatre - one that a friend had been too on many past occasions. My first drink in roma was naturally a Guinness. Caprese salad was delish.

Rounded out the night at a place called Borticello's, which is a somewhat popular hang out near Piazza Navona. It's owned by a guy named Giovanni, born in Italy but left at 16 and lived many years in the US. He moved back home and opened a great little bar/pub full of American football paraphernalia. Had a couple glasses of the house red and then wandered to a restaurant not far. uys. A shared carafe of wine and a bowl of (not shared) Spaghetti Carbonara. I admit to never having this dish in the states but it seemed somehow like the best choice. Oh my. What have I been missing? A sauce based on bacon, cheese, eggs and black pepper? It's almost better than breakfast.

We started the long hike back up the hill to the hotel, stopping for a nighttime photo op at Trevi and a gelato. I stupidly didn't partake.

The next morning I packed up at the hotel and set out for the walk to the hostel. I had decided to not take the bus with my luggage as I hadn't given it a trial run but when I walked out the door and looked around, I had completely forgot all that was told to me direction-wise and felt completely confused. All I saw was a slightly familiar park, the northern city walls and an intersection which seemed impossible to cross. So, I did what any budget traveler would do. I called a taxi. Only 13.50e and well worth it.

The place wasn't bad at all. More later on that.

Pasta or Chicken

On the plane at the moment and I've lost the little foamy piece on my earbud (advantage of being deaf - I just have to use one) so I'm spending some time catching up - as opposed to shoving a piece of hard plastic in my ear to listen to something I've heard a million times.

Just a note to anyone who thinks being an airline buddy is a cool deal... First, the pass still cost almost $500 and while initially there were plenty of seats on my scheduled 9:30 departure, I decided to go early. To make a long story short, there were three flights to ATL that I wouldn't have made it on.  So, while I'm at DFW, bf managed to get on the Internet in FCO and reserve me a tck over at AA.  Trouble was, I had to clear skipping my DAL leg (make sure my FCO leg wouldn't drop), get back out behind security, go to the ticket counter to actually buy the thing, get back through security and back to the gate... in about 20 minutes. Thanks to the lovely TSA agent who let me cut and didn't even want to touch my junk. And to AA, who sold me that ticket for only $69!

So, after much sweating it out, I made it to ATL and barely had a good enough time to get myself on the FCO flight, but here I sit back in the middle on 26, next a very nice boy about 10 and a priest. Oh, and my headset thingy is acting up.  But the movies are decent (The Social Network and then Eat, Pray, Love) and the wine is free.

If you're keeping up, $$ spent so far (not counting AA ticket) is $4.69 for lunch at Hartsfield. It would have been free but Starbucks (to which I had gift cards) didn't not have a egg salad sandwich. Dang it. The tea sweetened with the syrup was pretty good though.

Oh! "pasta or chicken" is coming down the aisle! With more free wine I hope.

Made it!

In the back with the crowds but I'm on my way!  But what is this at the ATL airport? We call it maize.

Getting there is half the problem

Well, you perhaps know that I was to be on a flight at the moment... due to a holiday block on pass riders, I am not. Here's where the plane is... 59 minutes from landing...

I, however, am watching TV here in Texas and doing some last minute packing and organizing. I'm like that you know.

This was actually a blessing in disguise. I was very much not ready, not packed, no groceries for the house sitter, needed another card for the camera, kinda needed an iPhone case with the built in battery as I'm planning on using several of Rick Steves' audio tours. All of that got done today, along with some last minute work tasks and some new apps suggested by Debi, co-worker and fellow travel / photography buff.

Examples of travel happiness:

Here's my purse, loving loaned to me by friend Moira, who took this very purse to Rome last year.  Also pictured is a really cool pad I got a garage sale recently for 50 cents. Very thorough. I feel comfortable that nothing will be forgotten. Roma has a Wal-mart, though, right?

(If any of you blogging experts can tell me why I have this big space here, I'd be most appreciative).

And here's my groovy new 3-1-1 bag. Now it looks like a regular Ziploc but you'd be mistaken if you thought that. It's heavy plastic, super heavy zip, flatter bottom and came with bottles that are tapered so it holds twice as much as a regular Ziploc. I highly recommend this item, which was $9.99 at Dillard's but half off at Penney's.

Not pictured is my new suitcase. Another blessing as it was just delivered this morning by UPS. See, if I had gone tomorrow, I would have had to use another suitcase.  (Ma - although your's is remarkably similar and wonderful).

As it is approaching midnight, its probably time to curl up with my new Rough Guide Italian. I'm more paranoid about the language that I've ever come close to being on previous trips. My friends who went last year on their pilgrimage says I should not worry. More of a worry will probably be my extremely tight budget which might prove interesting for you voyeurs to watch. Guy at work says I should write everything down and blog about it so that maybe I could right the trip off on my tax return. I'm thinking I won't spend enough to being itemizing however.

Thanks for reading and I hope you'll follow me on my journey this week. This blogging thing seems pretty easy here at the casa. Not sure how easy it will be at the hostel but I'll try my best to update as often as possible. I just re-read part of my journaling that I did in Ireland and England a few years ago on a trip with the kids and it was mildly entertaining, if I do say so myself.