Roma

Yesterday, or at least what seems like yesterday, was my flight out of Philly to Rome. I am not a good flier at all, I'll say that up front. The last time I flew this long of a flight i went sepcial to see my doctor about a pill to knock me out. I made sure to bring the same pill this time. Something about 40,000 ft with nothing between you and the ground but air freaks me out. Go figure. This flight was actually not bad at all once you got past the fact that I couldn't sleep to save my life. I think, at most, I managed two hours max of sleep. But, when you see the sun come up over the horizon and realize you're going to be spending the next two and a half months in this country, there's something in your adrenaline that kicks in and says "pay attention". I am so thankful I went through all of the Italian processes last year when I visited. It made all of the customs, luggage, etc far less daunting. The difference this time was taking the train to Rome. After three futile attempts at buying a ticket, I finally figured it out and boarded the correct train. On board I noticed a couple that had been on my flight and asked if they too were heading off to the Rome stop. They were and this started a conversation that lasted the rest of the trip to the station about Italy and various experiences there. This was the first hint I got that traveling alone, while scary at times, forces you to say things and talk to people you never really would otherwise. 
The Rome train station is exactly like DC in my mind. The signs, the way the metro runs and how they indicate which train is going where is very similar to when I lived there. I got this.  No problem. However, the problem does arrive when you actually have to look at a map of Italy. That makes things far more difficult because more than half of the roads in Rome aren't
listed on any normal map because they are too small. This is what led me to walk around rome with my pack and rest of my luggage for a good 45 minutes before giving up and taking a taxi. From where I let out the metro station, I was only two blocks away from my hotel. By the time I took a taxi, I was well over a mile. Go figure. 
My hotel is very simple and small, but it was 'free' because I used my miles to pay for it, so I have no complaints. At this point its about 11:00am and while in the US, lunch would be  underway, it doesn't start in Italy for the most part until at least 12. I wandered around and found a cute little place where the counter guy spoke no English but was incredibly nice and accomedating for me. My first meal in Rome? Ham and cheese panni, the largest bottle of water they make (1.5L) and the freshest squeezed orange juice I have ever had. 
At this point it's about 12:30 and there is only one thought going through my mind, "Don't fall asleep." The measly one or so hours of sleep on the plane are catching up to me fast, but I have to wait it out so I can get my body clock right for the new time zone. So, I continue to walk around, getting a better lay of the land, and purchase grapes from a market around the corner. Upon returning to the hotel, I run into the same man that checked me in. He has good restaurant suggestions and notices that I have uneaten grapes, which, he grestures, should be eaten up on the fourth floor terrace. It's open to all. Sounds great to me so I make my way up the spiral marble stairs and sit out on the balcony with a nice view of some part of the city. The cleaning crew is making the rounds nearby and at one point one of them sticks her head out to say hello. Or should I say, buongiorno - she speaks hardly any English. Over a period of broken enligish and italian we start to talk to each other about our lives. She is Angela. 25 from Romania and wears bright blue eye shadow. She met her boyfriend 3 years ago in italy and has been here ever since. And me? On, no, I'm not married. She is the first of what I expect to be many to inquire about this. Perche? Good question. I'll have to make sure I keep a running tally of how many times I get asked this. Day one? Check. We talk for awhile, she shows me two of the hotel rooms she is cleaning on the top floor, with another terrace. One of the room has an amazing view of part of Rome and I take the opportunity to snag a few pictures of the view my room certainly does not have. We talk some more, me grabbing my dictionary every 5 seconds or so and her gesturing emphatically to express her thought. She eventually gets back to work and I eventually go down to my room. I will see her tomorrow at breakfast she says. Arrivederci. 
At this point my body is giving out beyond belief and its time for a cold shower to wake up. To no avail. I give in and sleep off and on for three hours. Every time I wake up is like waking up in a dream. I have to remind myself that yes, I am still in Italy, that yes, I will be here for the next two and a half months. It takes awhile for that to sink in. 
I eventually pry myself out of bed and make myself look presentable. Amazingly enough, I'm starving. It's 5 pm which its a bit early for dinner, but closer enough. I walk around a bit before settling into the restaurant the hotel had recommend "just up and to the right". Observation: in Italy directions aren't very useful. Up and to the right means hike up a hill and you'll see it in about 10 minutes. Anyways, with what I was about to eat, I needed the walk. I settled in to the place once they had opened and got my drink ordered in italian, but that was about as far as I got. In english I asked about the specials and based on my feedback he recommend the "pasta with" something something "squid. Very nice", he said. Ok, I'll take that. Now, when I hear squid, I think calamari. That's not what they mean in Italy. 
I still remember the first time I had baby octopus. It was somewhere in Italy when I was in the 9th grade and on our school summer trip, our chaperone - my Latin teacher - had me taste this soup she was having. "What's the chewy stuff", I asked. Chicken? "Baby octopus", she replied. Well, that was the end of that. Until now. To be fair, this was baby squid. But really it's the same basic thing. Tiny head, tenticles, rubbery texture, you get the idea. 
Clams, mussels, baby squid and whole prawns on a bed of pasta. Before this though, my first course was buffalo mozzarella and prucuitto. My god, what a taste.  I'm pretty sure the plate was for two people but I ate it all but 1/5 of the large mozzarella ball and all of the ham. And the wine. The wine, the wine. A large pour of house red, better than any american glass any day. Why? Because it's Rome. In Italy. The waiter was very nice and spoke to me in italian when I could understand it but then switched to english when I got stuck and explained what he was saying. When I was done with my meal but still had some wine left, he brought out some complimentry biscotti to accompany it. And when thet was gone, the digestive, limencello came out. Now, I've tried to make limencello at home before and the stuff wasn't even edible. This drink? This was devine. I talked the him and the other waiters a bit more and have thoroughly concluded that dining lonely, which it may be just that, lonely, can be pretty fun if you talk to the people around you and have good people watching. Speaking of, an American couple sat next to me at the restaurant. Very in love. Very American. As the waiter took their order and started to walk away, she thanked him with "Merci". This to me was a quintessential American thing to do. We don't pay much attention to the fact that most of the rest of world knows 5 or so languages. I likened her reply to going to New York city and saying "gracias", thinking that Spanish would be of good use. Again, our, and my, ignorance, assuming everyone will understand us rather than understanding the culture you are visiting. So I kept on with my broken Italian, learned some new words and set off in search of gelato.