What Are You Going To Do In Rome Except Suffer?!

Waking up the next morning after a much needed and appreciated sleep, I had breakfast with the family and let them know that while looking through my book and the map of Europe I had decided that I was going to head to Croatia for the next part of my trip. They invited me to head out with them to explore a bit of the area we were staying in, but I passed as I wanted to stay in and check out the details of how to get to Croatia from Rome, how long it would take, and when I would be able to leave. As I was checking train and ferry schedules, I thought I’d call Gianni to see how things were in Ischia and ask him to say hi to everyone and tell them I was thinking about them. Gianni, happy that I had called asked me how things were and where I was. When I told him I was in Rome he quickly yelled at me, “It’s 100 degrees in Rome! What are you going to do there except suffer?! You should come back to Ischia for a few days”. I told him I would think about it and get back to him in an hour or so, and he told me if I wanted to come he would have a car waiting for me at the port and that another friend of ours had a house I could stay in for as long as I wanted. Getting off the phone I went outside to think, and after one minute in the early morning heat, my decision was made, I called Gianni and told him I was once again Ischia bound. He laughed and simply said that he knew I would be.

Lost In Rome… Again.

To be honest I have never really liked Rome. I can’t quite put my finger on what it is about the city that bothers me, but as I had mentioned before, I have just never felt comfortable there. Don’t get me wrong, the sights are amazing and something that everyone needs to experience. I just can’t ever seem to relax there. So while my last visit to Rome was filled with loneliness, homesickness, and an overall feeling of being emotionally lost, this time I physically got lost, and it was mainly my fault. Thus far in my travels I had tried to stick to some basic travel rules to help make things as easy and painless as possible. These obviously are not all of them, but a few that helped the most; 1) Don’t drink the water till I made absolutely sure it was safe, 2) Don’t look lost, no matter how lost I was, 3) Don’t pee in public while in a foreign country… ever, 4) Never take drugs when they are offered (well, at least from someone I didn’t know), 5) Never let my phone, passport, computer, ipod, and at least one credit card out of my sight at all times, 6)) Always have the directions to the next destination written down and handy BEFORE arriving there, and 7) Do everything possible not to arrive in a new country or city at night. This time around in Rome I broke at least three of them. Being that Rob and the family had flown from Olbia to Rome they arrived just a few hours after takeoff. I on the other hand was on a ferry for six hours and then the train for one which put me into Rome at nearly ten at night, thus breaking rule number seven. Which wouldn’t have been so bad had I not already failed to follow rule number six. Since Rob and I both had cell phones I just figured I would call or text him when I arrived in Rome to figure out where the apartment was, which worked out nicely as I stepped off the texted him for the neighborhood, street, and address of the apartment. Rob quickly replied, telling me the information I needed and that it would be easier for me to have the taxi driver drop me at a church that was a few blocks away and that he would meet me there and we could walk down to the apartment together. I agreed and said I would text him when I arrived at the church. Now for why rules six and seven are so important… I texted Rob as I was supposed to, but after thirty minutes received no reply. Getting a bit anxious and very tired I decided to call him, and soon realized why he had not texted back. His phone was no longer working. So there I was, with two big backpacks at 10:30pm standing outside a church next to a park in a place I had never been before. Great. I began walking in the direction that I thought the street would be in and luckily found an outside bar that was full of people. Here there were two older ladies sitting on the edge of a fountain, who looked approachable. I made my way over to them and politely asked if they knew where the street I was looking for was. They hadn’t a clue, but directed me to the bartender. Apporaching the bar, probably looking lost, and therefore breaking rule number two, I asked the bartender if knew which direction I should go. Again, no luck. He did however say that there was a server who was from the area and should know, and he quickly called his friend over, but again, swing and a miss. I thanked them for trying and headed off in what I hoped would be the right direction and more nervousness creeping into my belly. I decided to stop for a minute, sit down, gather my thoughts and figure out what my best plan of action would be. There, on a dark park bench, in the middle of God knows where Rome, I figured all I could do was walk the three or so miles back to where the train was and hope that I found a taxi on the way that could take me to the nearest hostel or hotel. Realizing this was my only option I began walking. About ten or so minutes into the walk I came across a small bar that was on a dimly lit corner and thought I would give it one more shot, and ask if anyone knew how I could find my street. Turns out, the bar that I was in was actually on the corner of where I needed to be. I happily thanked the staff and turned the corner and began looking for the address I needed. I was so excited as I found number 4 Via Nicola, but my excitement was unfortunately premature and short-lived. Turns out the apartment my cousin had rented was in a building that had a total of 20 apartments in it, a gate that was locked at the top of the driveway, and an intercom button for each apartment, but only a number to say which button rang which apartment. Deflated and once again nervous I dropped my bags to think of what to do from here and to decide whether or not I was going to break rule number three, as my bladder was now close to bursting. So I did the logical thing and just started yelling out my cousin’s name, which, though very futile did make me somehow feel better and let me forget for a moment that I needed to pee. That, however, didn’t last long and I was back to square one and one step closer to breaking yet another rule. Finally, at around 11:15, the good luck that had been following me on this trip found its way to number 4, Via Nicola, in the form of dark blue Fiat and a well dressed Italian guy named, imagine this, Giovanni. As Giovanni pulled into the driveway I approached and asked if he lived in the building and told him my story. He told me he did not but that his girlfriend, another shocker here, Maria did live there and he was there to pick her up. As she opened the gate I swear an angel was standing before me. Maria approached and asked me where I was supposed to be going. After telling her about my night and where I needed to be she immediately told Giovanni to wait a minute and took me into the building and to the apartments that she knew had been rented out to travelers. Luckily, we found Rob on the first try. I quickly thanked Maria, giving her a kiss on both cheeks and telling her that she was nothing short of an angel, and to enjoy the rest of her night. She smiled and said it was nothing and to enjoy my time in Rome as she walked away. Rob, quickly invited me in, grabbed my bags, and offered me a beer as I told him about being lost in Rome.

All Good Things Come To An End

Waking up in Lavezzi we made breakfast, went for a swim, and then prepared to sail back to port. We had a good wind that day and therefore enjoyed our last sail for the trip. As we neared the dock we saw that we still had a bit of time till the boat was due back and decided to go for one last swim and enjoy the crystal clear blue water of the Med. It was a bit bitter-sweet. We all jumped in and tried to have the same fun we had over the previous six days, but it was hard to fully enjoy it knowing that in just under an hour we would be tying off to the dock and packing up shop. As we approached the dock the staff was there waiting for us, probably to make sure we came in smoothly and didn’t take out the dock or any of the boats around us. We, however, had become pros by this time and smoothly pulled into the dock without missing a beat. We would be spending the night on the boat here at the port before waking up to head back to the airport. We had a few beers, ate the rest of the leftover food, and sat around discussing what a wonderful week it had been and what an amazing group of people we had had to share it with. The next morning we unloaded and just to make sure to show the girls that we did not buy too much beer opened the last of them as we boarded the taxi. Everyone was heading to the airport to fly to Rome, and I was continuing on to the ferry port to catch a ferry into Civitavechia, a port city just outside of Rome. Rob had offered to let me stay at the apartment they had rented in the city, and I gladly accepted as I knew I would be tired from the long ferry ride and the train from Civitavechia to Rome. Once on the ferry I reflected on the sailing trip and began to think of what adventures were still ahead of me as I would soon be back on my own. So with the sun shining on the deck of boat, I pulled out my trusty Lonely Planet, and began planning the next part of my adventure.