As the orange little jet made its wobbly take off into the black early morning sky and began its journey to Rome, my eyes, as usual, were fixed out the window.
I could have roasted a perfect marshmallow over Paris that morning; the lights of city were glowing below me just as if they were hot embers in a dwindling campfire.
I was tired, because I had hardly slept in the last two days.
All wednesday night was spent writing about French Orientalist Painters and the Symbolism of the Pantheon (not for my own leisure, as I’m sure you have guessed), and all of the night before my flight was spent out with a group of French and American friends in the Quartier Latin.
By the time I got back home Thursday night, I hardly had time to pack for the weekend and take a quick power nap before I was hopping in my taxi at 5:30 and speeding through empty Parisian streets to the airport.
Luckily, to assuage my exhaustion, I had time before my flight to relax and drink what I think may have been the “you-only-have-to-pay-half-price-because-you-have-a-cute-American-accent” cup of coffee from the man that works at the little cafe in the Orly South terminal.
Anyway, back to roasting marshmallows over Paris. As the flight traversed dramatic European landscapes, then passed through puffy gold threaded mediterranean clouds, I listened to music and wrote in my journal, feeling, as I almost always do when I travel alone, like some kind of poet. After about an hour, I could actually see the “boot” of Italy in the distance. It was a funny moment for me, because it was fairly convincing evidence that the the world actually looks the way that it is depicted on maps and globes (which is, oddly enough, exactly the type of seemingly obvious thing that I am skeptical about...)
After landing, we filed off the plane right onto the sunny runway, and then were packed into a bus and driven to Ciampino Airport’s only little terminal. Because the European Union is becoming increasingly homogenous and fluid, I wasn’t even asked to show my passport at customs—which was kind of a bummer because I wouldn’t mind an “Italia” stamp on my passport. C’est la vie.
Chris (my friend from California that is studying in Rome) and I didn’t really organize how we were going to find each other once I arrived at the airport, but luckily we just sort of ran into each other within about 20 minutes or so.
The next couple hours are a bit of a blur; I was so sleep depraved at that point that I zoned out for the whole metro, bus, and, (for all I know) alien-hover-craft journey to Chris’ apartment, where I gladly took a well-needed nap before we ventured out to explore ROME!
We took a bus into the center of the city, which I quickly realized involved much different etiquette (or lack thereof) than does a typical bus in Paris. On the buses in Rome, unlike in Paris, you don’t risk death glares if you forget to greet the driver, accidentally make eye contact with passengers, talk louder than a whisper, sit in the handicapped-designated seats (even if there are no elderly or handicapped people on the bus), fail to move to the farthest back seat possible at all times... etc. In fact, it was pretty relaxed, loud, and when it comes to seating, it’s every man for himself!
Anyway, I don’t mean to ramble about the buses, of all things, in a city so interesting as Rome. I just think it’s fascinating that so many cultural differences and sociological phenomena can be found in simple social spaces like public transportation.
Aaanyway, we got off the bus near Chris’ school and weaved through ancient, narrow alleys, passing by pearl white sculptures and fountains, colorful buildings (painted in pretty pinks and yellows that wouldn’t be caught dead on Paris’ chic gray streets), beautiful churches and cathedrals that seemed to be squeezed and crammed into every available space, and a sunny myriad of shops, museums, and restaurants.
As we walked, we chatted a lot about the aspects of French, Italian, and American culture that we, in our fairly-shallow understanding, found to be different, interesting, or the same.
We took the elevator to the top of the Monument of Vittorio Emanuele, and looked out over all of Rome. Gazing across a golden expanse of buildings arranged helter-skelter on top of and around each other and dotted generously with cathedral domes, we imagined a city being built in fast motion before our eyes. I could see buildings being constructed and then deteriorating over the millennia—some which remain as permanent symbols of the city, and others whose ephemeral existence I can only imagine.
The colosseum, visible from the top of the Vittorio Emanuele Building, is pretty neat. I have to give Paris the points in the category of iconic architecture. Sure, the colosseum is much older and more impressive than the Eiffel Tower in many ways, but it lacks the “wow-factor”.
I’m sorry; c’est vrai!
But I mean, when you think about it, how can you even compare a dilapidated old ruin to Paris’ magnificent, glittering Tour Eiffel? Maybe I’m just partial. No hard feelings to that huge Italian demographic that reads my blog though....
Any-who.
The rest of the day was pretty much spent checking out the essential sites of Rome. We got some Gellato, and then sat in one of Chris’ favorite coffee shops with cappuccinos (for less than a Euro! You can’t find that in Paris!). With Italian music videos playing in the background, we reflected on shared memories and philosophized about such frivolous topics as the meaning of life, self, and absolute truth.
By the time we finally left the cafe, it was almost time to get dinner. We wandered around for a bit, and then found a restaurant, where we had a perfectly Italian meal complete with pasta, lasagna, bruschetta, and wine. Delizioso!
Day two in Rome began with a perfect little picnic in what was probably the most beautiful park I have seen so far in Europe. After spending a couple hours, we walked back into the city, caught a bus, and continued on my tour of Rome.
Just as the day was turning to evening, and all was going well, my shoe broke.
Walking through the streets of Rome with one broken shoe flopping around awkwardly on my right foot, we popped into random shops (most of which were not shoe stores but just interesting places that we wanted to check out) until I found a comfy and reasonably priced pair of boots that were practically glowing from behind the display window of a quaint little shoe shop, complete with one oak wood facade and one sweet little old man that doesn’t speak English working inside. I like to imagine that what he said to me in Italian was something like:
“Cuuuurious, very curious... I know every pair of boots I’ve ever sold. And it just so happens that the very same cow whose hide resides in that right boot gave another slab of leather, just one other slab. It is curious that you should be destined for this boot, when it’s brother.... is this left boot.
The boot chooses the girl, Miss Golackson. It’s not always clear why.”
I guess that’s probably not what he said though...
(Side-note: that was an elaborate Harry Potter reference. I’m sorry.)
So with both shoes intact and securely on my feet, we headed to “Fluid” for something that I had never heard of, called Apertivo.
Basically, at Apertivo you order one cocktail that is about 6 or 7 euros, get a table, and have a buffet of unlimited (and delicious) appetizers and finger-foods—more than enough for a meal. It’s such a good deal! Maybe the average person is familiar with the concept of Apertivo, but it was totally new to me. I’m determined to find a similar place in Paris, but unfortunately good deals are harder to come by in the city of lights..
After seeing some more of Rome at night (i.e. The Trevi Fountain, The Vatican, the Castle St. Angelo), we went back to the apartment, had an in-depth discussion on our favorite dog breeds, watched about ten minutes of the movie “Thor” and then I fell instantly and dreamlessly asleep, after setting my alarm to wake up at 5:30 so I could make the hour-long journey to the airport the next morning.
* * *
I’m back in Paris now. It’s been a long day of traveling some 700 miles back to the city that, at least on this continent anyway, feels like home. I’m sitting on my bed writing this blog, and I’m sensing a nice long nap in my near future.
Outside my window it is drizzly and dreary, but with the help of this cup of hot tea, this comfy cable-knit sweater, and my heater, I’m pretty darn cozy.
It’s about 6 in the evening here, and the cold grayness outside makes it hard to believe that just this morning I was walking through the streets of Rome on my way to the airport, just as the sun rose to shroud the city in warm mediterranean light. Who knows when or if I’ll ever make it back; but I am so lucky to have been given the chance to see the city.
I do prefer Paris—but Rome certainly gives it a run for it’s Euros!
But wait, THERE'S MORE!
Check out my photos:
