Uh, Rome's airport? Kinda dirty. And really small. Especially having just come from Heathrow. I guess that was nice so it didn't take long to get through passport control. The guy stamping my passport looked like he would rather be watching a snail race than stamping passports. He barely even looked at the thing. He also stamped it randomly in the middle, rather than on the first page. The stamp itself is incredibly boring and indicates nothing about Rome. I don't know if the stamp was out of ink or what, but I was kinda pissed that you can't even tell where I went. Dammit.
Ritiro bagagli!!! :)
I didn't get my camera out fast enough on the escalator so I missed the beginning of the "Welcome" sign. But, I thought "me to Italy" was pretty fitting. :)
Thankfully, our luggage arrived with us, and our private car was waiting for us to drive us into Rome. We weren't 100% sure he'd be there, since the car service never responded with a confirmation number to Brenda's e-mail. But, he was there, with his little sign that said Brenda Cain. Yay!! (I've never had a driver pick me up from the airport before!) We quickly headed out to the Mercedes and we had to run to keep up with him. Italians sure do like to move quickly. Our drive would be roughly an hour, and 3 minutes into the drive, I realized how great the idea was to have someone pick us up. First, he totally blew through a stop sign, as did everyone else. And second, it was one giant free for all to get down the highway as quickly as humanly possible. No rules. No signs. Nothing. Motorcycles, or motorinos, buzzing past, weaving in and out of traffic. I almost couldn't watch because it was insane. Brenda was in the front seat and she wore out the imaginary brake on her side of the car!
She masks her terror quite well.
Nikki and I in the backseat. I'm lookin' a bit rough after 2 days of traveling....sheesh.
He was an excellent driver though. It was a little scary at first, but we realized that he was good at what he did and we'd be fine. We quickly sped past some of the sites we'd be seeing later in the week, and before we knew it, we were at our hotel, Hotel Oceania. If you don't have an address and know what to look for, you'd walk right past it. Fortunately, my friend Chris recommended the hotel and had told us what to look for. He had also mentioned the 3 flights of stairs to get to the hotel. WTF.
We walked in the door and saw the looming marble staircase in front of us. This would be fun. 3 girls. Jetlagged. Lugging very heavy suitcases up 3 flights of stairs. Well, it had to be done, so off we went.
TaDaaaaa!! Jet lag makes me silly.
Sweet Jesus, WHY DID I PACK SO MUCH CRAP?!
One flight down.
Starting to sweat.
Two flights down.
Need a break.
Sonuva.
Almost there.
I want to kick my suitcase in the junk.
We finally made it to our level and I was glistening like a pig. We headed into the reception area and met Roberto, the stereotypical Italian. Soft, wavy, perfect-looking hair and an adorable accent. And then he said, "You didn't take the lift?"
Lift? As in ELEVATOR?
Chris didn't mention there would be an elevator. In fact, I recall him warning me about packing too much because I would have to traverse up 3 flights of stairs. I'm going to punch that boy in the throat the next time I see him. (Especially since now I know that he KNEW about the elevator and just decided not to tell me....real funny joke, jackwagon.)
Roberto showed us around....the common area, the room for breakfast, the computer available for use part of the day and to our room. It wasn't a large room, but it was cute and would do the trick for us. Two twin beds attached to make a queen, a small table and chairs, a fridge and TV, another twin bed and a closet. We opened the window for a nice view of the street and settled in to our respective spots.
Home sweet home for 5 days.
Brenda and Nikki took the first shift of sharing the big bed.
My bed...the vanity bed because you can watch yourself in the mirror as you drift off to sleep.
View of the street outside our window.
I headed into the bathroom next and dear sweet baby Jesus, it was tiny. Somehow they had managed to fit a sink, shower, toilet and bidet in a room not much bigger than a closet. Apparently the Italians thought that giving up precious shower floor space would be a good idea so they could add a bidet. Does anyone really use a bidet? I don't think I've ever actually seen one in person, and it's pretty interesting. Basically a low sink shaped like a toilet. I vowed I would try it before the end of the trip, just to say that I had done it. Stay tuned to see if I actually did or not. The shower looked to be tricky and I wasn't looking forward to attempting any sort of cleansing ritual in there. But more on that later.
Wee Shower.
Infamous bidet.
Famished and excited to see Rome, we asked Roberto for a dinner suggestion. He pulled out a large map of central Rome and pointed out a place called Ristorante da Giovanni. It was apparently right around the corner and would be very tasty. It was still early, by Italian means anyway, to eat dinner, but we were exhausted. And it's important not get in the way of tired and hungry Americans.
I grabbed the map and off we went. We made a wrong turn and wandered for a bit, but eventually got back on track and found the quaint little restaurant. And I had my first encounter with Italian doors. I mentioned that we were early, so when I pulled on the door, it didn't open. I assumed it was closed, due to the early hour (and by early, I mean before 8pm).
First REAL Italian food!!
Nope. It was just a "push" door and I hadn't figured that out yet. Fortunately, Brenda and Nikki helped me out of that jam and in we went. We experienced the first glaring difference between Italy and the US as well. In the US, most waiters come over right away, take your drink order, try to force some appetizers down your throat and are back to take your order before you even look at the menu. In Italy, it's totally different. We waited quite awhile before our waiter even brought us our menus. Italians may be in a hurry to get to places, but when it comes to food, they go in reverse.
Our water was an adorable older gentleman who didn't speak a lick of English. Somehow though, we managed to order our wine and food with very little problems. (An English version of the menu probably aided in this fact.) We started with a liter of wine, or vino blanco de castelli. (We had a goal for this trip that we would drink wine - or some kind of alcoholic beverage - and have gelato every day.)
We started with an appetizer of assorted cheeses, or piatto di formaggi misti. Absolutely no clue what kinds of cheeses it would be. Then, I ordered the agnolotti pomodori e basilico. Sounds fancy, but it was just meat ravioli in tomato sauce. Yes, I could get ravioli in the States, but this is Italy. They freakin' FOUNDED this kind of food. We weren't big on all the different kinds of cheeses, but ate most of it anyways. The ravioli was very tasty and the wine was starting to go to my head. :) Next up, we tried to order dessert and had no idea what we were doing. I think we finally communicated that we wanted 3 different things.
Formaggi! The mozzarella was the best!
Yum, ravioli!
Liter of wine!!! Woooo!!
Salute! (Pronounced sah-loo-tay)
We hoped for the best, and a few minutes later, he brought us each our own dessert to share. Gelato, some kind of lemon cake and a cream puff thing. All delicious. All decadent. And all making us very happy.
This hit the spot.
Sleep, and wine, were starting to fog up our brains, so we started back to the hotel. But, not before I wished Nikki "GL in the WC". Good Luck in the "Water Closet" as they're called. I think it's funny that they use and abbreviate the English words, rather than Italian words.
Mmmmm....off to bed. Lots to do tomorrow!
Push...Not Pull! Priceless :)
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