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.