Tag Archives: Italy

A Holy Look-See

Three Hours in Rome

This is a series of posts about Italy, Malta, and Spain that starts here.

—

After gulping down a glass of the complementary Prosecco in my hotel room and wisely deciding not to pour the rest of it into my water bottle, I rushed out to see Rome.

People often talk disdainfully about “check list” travel: “I don’t want to do that “check the box” kind of travel. You know, where you run around like crazy trying to see all the famous sites in one afternoon? You can’t appreciate them that way. And you need time to process them afterwards, too.’”

I’ve said those words myself, and meant them. It’s a nice sentiment. But I had come 5,000 miles and although things were less expensive during the low season, I was still spending plenty of money on this trip. Why not pack in as much in as possible? Life is short, so before it got dark—in three hours—I was determined to at least scope out the Coliseum, the Roman Forum, Palatine Hill, and the Pantheon.

The Coliseum appeared to be a few short blocks away. But “a few blocks” in Rome, for me, meant getting lost immediately, several attempts to surreptitiously look at my map, asking strangers for directions, stumbling upon the almost 2000-year-old Trajan’s Column, being distracted by block after block of Roman ruins, consulting the map again, getting lost again, and saying no to a dozen African immigrants selling selfie sticks along the way.

How would I ever find the Coliseum? Then I turned a corner, and there it was.

Wow. It’s one of those places you’ve seen in photos and movies hundreds of times but which still takes your breath away. I wasn’t going in today, but I walked around it. And I slowed down, savoring this rare feeling of awe.

I had read and re-read descriptions of the sites, and they hadn’t given me a sense of their scope or how to tackle them. Google maps are great, but they don’t indicate elevation. So one thing appears close to another, but you don’t know about the 400 steps until you’re looking up at them from the bottom. The Roman forum isn’t one thing; it’s a collection of hundreds of ruins including some intact buildings scattered over a huge swath of land adjacent to the Coliseum. Apparently there were dozens exits but only one entrance, and that was a closely-held secret. Palatine Hill is, thankfully, a real hill, but because everything is so packed together, I couldn’t back up enough to get perspective and see where it was.

I had bought my three-in-one ticket for the Coliseum, forum, and Palatine Hill online and it didn’t shed any light:

Gentile Cliente,
informiamo che è stata prodotta la fattura n. 01287080

Da questo momento è possibile accedervi direttamente cliccando qui
Se il file non viene visualizzato correttamente è possibile scaricare il programma Adobe Acrobat Reader cliccando qui La fattura non sarà inviata tramite posta.

Ricordiamo inoltre che è comunque necessario STAMPARE LA FATTURA E CONSERVARLA ai fini delle vigenti disposizioni di legge. La fattura resterà a disposizione per almeno 1 anno.

ATTENZIONE: questo è una email AUTOMATICA, pertanto vi preghiamo di NON RISPONDERE a questo messaggio per avere assistenza.

In caso di necessità il nostro Servizio Clienti è a sua disposizione per qualsiasi informazione riguardante la transazione effettuata. Per contattarci la invitiamo esclusivamente a compilare il modulo Servizio Clienti all’indirizzo: http://www.ticketone.it/help

Cordiali Saluti

The links led to a receipt. I knew enough Spanish to decipher that I was supposed to pay attention to something, save something, and not respond to this automated message.

This was going to be fun!

I hadn’t planned to go inside the Coliseum or immerse myself in any of it yet anyway, I just wanted to see the Coliseum and get the lay for the land. The Pantheon? That was “nearby” too, which I now knew meant, “Forget it, sucker—you’ll never find it by dark.”

—

I took my time strolling back to the hotel, retracing my steps, already feeling familiar with landmarks and knowing I could easily find my way back when I returned in two days.

Tomorrow: The Vatican.

Benvenuti a Roma

1 Reply

This is a series of posts about Italy, Malta, and Spain that starts here.

—

This is Rome’s air traffic control tower:

I would find it to be emblematic of Italy—colorful and confusing.

—

The guide books and websites tell you to take the Michelangelo Express from the airport into the city. I scribbled down directions for walking from the train station to my hotel. How hard could it be after flying 5,000 miles, on no sleep, and with a full-sized suitcase and a big backpack? Why spend 10€ on a taxi when I could walk for free, right?

Fortunately a coworker had been to Rome recently. “Don’t take that Michelangelo Express thing,” she said. “Go to the generic ‘Ticket Counter’ and tell them you want the bus that takes you directly to your hotel.”

“But won’t that be super expensive?” I asked. “It’s like a half-hour ride.”

“No. It’s only about 6€ more than the Leonardo Express. It doesn’t have a name and there are no signs for it anywhere, but if you ask for the “door-to-door bus,” you get in a little van with a couple other passengers and they drop you off at your hotel door. They call it a bus but it’s not a bus—but ask for the bus. Got it?”

“Why wouldn’t everybody do it?” I wondered.

“Because they don’t know it exists,” she laughed.

It sounded too good to be true. Since it had no name, I couldn’t Google it. I couldn’t find anything on Trip Advisor or in guide books. But it did exist, and it was great to go directly to my hotel instead of schlepping myself and my luggage from the train station. Plus, since it wasn’t a train, we drove through the city and I got a nice little sight-seeing tour as a bonus.

Welcome to travel, where mysteries abound. All you can do is laugh a little, go with the flow, and hope for the best—or at least for a little adventure.

—

I had found the Hotel Italia on Trip Advisor by Googling, “women traveling alone in Rome.”

I have spent time in hotels known as romantic getaways, and it can be depressing to be surrounded by couples mooning over each other. There are safety considerations, and it’s worthwhile trying to find a place where you don’t pay a double occupancy rate. Sometimes it feels like I am the only one traveling alone, but I’m not. We’re out there, and dozens of women had taken time to suggest solo-female-friendly hotels.

I’m not aware that the hotel category “single” exists in the US, but it does in Europe. In fact, maybe due to the age and quirkiness of European hotels, I have stayed in rooms with three twin beds, four twin beds, and now at the Hotel Italia, I would stay in a tiny room with one twin bed.

The front desk guy was Indian, of course. He seemed melancholic and perhaps a bit resentful, that he had been meant for greater things than running a two-star hotel. But he was nice enough. He opened a city map and did what he had clearly done many times—marked the hotel with a big “X”, circled the Big Sights and told me how far they were, and described how to take the metro to the Vatican.

“What time does it get dark?” I asked. It was already 2:30 and I wanted to get out there and see what I could before nightfall.

“5:00 o’clock, and I would advise you to be very careful after dark,” he said, then retracted slightly. “I don’t mean to discourage you from being out a night, but as a woman traveling alone ….”

Well. That was discouraging, but I wouldn’t be able to stay awake much beyond 7:00 anyway.

—

The Hotel Italia website proclaims itself a “Cheap Hotel” and they aren’t kidding. It cost $85 a night to stay in central Rome, within walking distance of the Coliseum, and included breakfast and a free bottle of Prosecco to boot. I tipped the bellman who showed me my room, tossed back a glass of Prosecco, then headed out to find the Coliseum.

Rome

Fears of Flying

1 Reply

Here is a photo that summarizes my trip-planning progress:

I depart in 15 days. I am in full-blown “What if?” mode.

What if I get pickpocketed in Rome (not a far-fetched scenario—my nephew’s wallet was stolen in Rome last year). What if I’m packing too much into this itinerary and I won’t be able to appreciate it all? What if I miss a flight/train/bus? What if people feel sorry for me, a woman traveling alone? What if I forget my phone charger? What if I show up at a hotel and they have no record of my reservation and no rooms? What if I rent a car in Spain, and I forget to ask them to give me an English-language GPS, and my Spanish isn’t good enough for me to follow the directions? What if my son doesn’t water my plants while I’m gone and they all die? What if I fail to blog along the way, which means I’ll have schlepped my laptop all over for no reason? What if I trip and fall into a cistern at Pompeii and it gets dark and no one knows I’m there and … are there wild jackals in Italy?

So you see, I have been busy. I really should have pursued a career in disaster planning. I would have been a natural at it.

I laugh kindly at myself as I observe the endless chain of what ifs come and go. I will prepare as well as I can. I will resist the urge to over prepare, because that would allow no space for spontaneity. I will deal with anything unexpected as it arises.

—

On Friday night my sister joined me and some friends for happy hour. Long-time readers of this blog will remember that while my son was in prison, there was plenty of additional excitement in my life. It’s never just one thing, is it? There was a plumbing problem in my apartment which caused me to have no kitchen for six weeks. I tripped and sprained a knee ligament and was on crutches for about the same six weeks. My mother was her third major car accident, which caused micro fractures in her spine and led to her giving up driving.

And then … my sister was battling Stage 4 colon cancer. She went through hell. She’s been cancer free for a year and a half but she’s still dealing with the lingering effects of it all—the surgeries, chemo, radiation, and all the other aspects of life that are affected by a life-threatening illness—finances, keeping up with a house and yard, two teenage kids, getting her strength back. The list goes on.

How is this connected to traveling? Because at happy hour we talked about the phrase “You’re so strong.” My sister hears it a lot. I used to hear it a lot when I was a single mom pulling myself up by the proverbial boot straps. Other friends had been through trials and had heard it too.

We all agreed that we hate the phrase.

“What choice did I have?” my sister asked. Right. I had thought the same thing many times when people had said “You’re so brave!” What choice did I have? I admit I had occasional fantasies about dropping my son off at my mom’s and running away to Florida. I know there are people who abandon their kids, and people who avoid getting treatment for serious illnesses because they’re in denial or afraid. But the vast majority of us just do what needs to be done because the alternative would be hurtful to ourselves or others.

“Being strong is when you are afraid of something,” said a member of our group, a psychotherapist who is also a cancer survivor. “And you do it anyway, even though you could choose not to and there wouldn’t be any consequences.”

And that’s how this relates to travel, especially for someone like me who travels solo a lot. I do have anxious thoughts about getting lost, being swindled, being disappointed. But I go anyway. The fear of regretting that I never saw the Amalfi Coast is stronger than the what ifs.

Breaking Free

Living Well, Despite what Life Throws at You