Aside from the unforeseen backtracking to Buenos Aires that I was forced to do because of that Aerolineas Argentinas mishap about a month ago, Rome was the only place I knew in advance that I would be spending time in on two distinct occasions. Since I spent over a week of combined days in Rome overall, I knew that I wouldn't have to pack things into each day or rush to do touristy things that I actually did a few years ago. Rather, I could just do what I felt like doing and leave the Italy guidebook at home. (However, if I wanted to bring the guidebook along, it would have served me just fine, since the monuments are thousands of years old, so the information from 2003 wouldn't -- or shouldn't, at least -- have changed much, if at all.)
This Rome segment of my trip wasn't a whole lot different from the first one. One day, I picked up a chocolate-filled croissant for breakfast and took a leisurely walk to the Colosseum. A few times, I got a gelato, always from a different place just to see whose was better. (I haven't come up with a decision yet. I need to try out more places to come up with an educated answer.) And besides revisting the regular (free) tourist destinations, it was good to be able to spend time with my friends in Rome, whom I (obviously) don't get to see too often when everyone is in their regular routines.
They say (''they'' being the proverbial, uh, ''proverb'' people) that Rome wasn't built in a day. Similarly, Rome can't be visited in a day. Like most touristy cities, they have those stop-and-go buses (I guess all buses are stop and go) that hit a dozen or so landmarks in a couple of hours, but how much can you actually learn about a place from riding one of those things? Okay, you can learn some history, take some pictures, say you've ''been there'' and ''done that'' but there's a crucial element that's missing that, in my opinion, is integral when it comes to truly getting to know a place: talking to the people. People who come from Rome itself, people who come from other places in Italy to live and work in Rome, even people who emigrate to Italy because it's supposed to provide a better life. Those will be the people who fill in the gaps of what you see, hear, and read in varying sources ''out there.''
Exhibit A: The Roman guy who went to school, studied psychology, and when he graduated, he decided to go to New York for a month because he'd never been there but he wanted to see what it was like. He found a place to stay for free while he was there, managed to score a free trip to Miami and the Bahamas, and then when the month was up, he returned to Italy, where he currently works as a psychologist. He has his girlfriend, his friends, and they go out on the weekends.
Exhibit B: A girl from Bergamo (a town in northern Italy) who went to school, studied psychology (yes, I realize there's a common thread here), has also traveled a bit, works as a psychologist (and once-a-week as a bartender (just because it's fun and she meets a lot of people)), and still finds time to play on a volleyball team, which just made the finals in the national tournament. She, too, enjoys her weekends, and when she goes home at the end of the day, her work stays at the office.
Exhibit C: The woman from Romania (less than ten years older than Exhibits A and B) who came to Italy eleven years ago because she wanted to provide more for her daughter (who stayed in Romania to live with her grandmother). She learned Italian in two months, and she continues to work six days out of the week -- sometimes seven -- from 7am until whenever it's time to go home (usually not earlier than 7 or 8pm). Once a year, in August, for about three weeks, she goes back to Romania, where she has built her own house and has to do work there, too (to maintain the house, her mother, her daughter, etc.). And with all the work she does, day in and day out, her perspective is, ''But that's life, no? And I have my health, so who am I to complain? Without my health, I'd have nothing.''
These are three people who live and work in Rome and have done so for the last several years. These are three people out of the more than 2,700,000 people who comprise the population of Rome. If these are only three stories, think of all the other stories that are out there. All the stories that make up a place -- any place, not just Rome -- add a whole new dimension to the place.
I was walking down the street the other day, and there was a guy on the street asking for money. After I thought, ''Yeah, I could use an extra euro or two, too,'' I started to wonder. Are the beggars in Italy richer than the beggars in, say, Argentina, where one euro is worth 5 pesos? Or is a beggar a beggar, wherever you go? Do they think of rich/poor only in terms of money? Or do they think, hell, they're not tied down to anything, they're free to do whatever they choose -- why would they be poor? Something to consider.
Thursday, May 1 was a holiday in Italy -- Labor Day. Some of you might be thinking, well what difference does it make for me? This whole thing has been a holiday! Well, if that's what you think, you try living on the go for four months and you will find that it is not as ''vacation packagey'' as it sounds. It has, indeed, been labor. And fun. Suffice it to say it has been a mix of the two. So, when my friend Manu told me that we were going to the beach on Thursday (no one works on the holiday, after all), it was extra exciting -- more time with my friends, and my last day in Italy would be spent at the beach. Remember Manu's friend who has the pizzeria attached to his house? That's Giorgio. His family also has a beach condo in Passoscuro, a beach-town about 45 minutes to an hour outside the center of Rome. We drove there on Thursday morning and there were maybe 10 of us who spent the whole day there, hanging out on the beach, playing beach volleyball, going swimming, eating (because when in Italy...), etc., and at the end of the day, we drove back to Rome, signifying the end of a fun holiday and a fun stint in Italy.
When I was in the Rome airport the following morning, somehow I ended up being the first person in line for my flight, and apparently, this first person in line looked so suspicious at 7:30am after having had minimal sleep that airport security decided that *this* person was the one whose bag was going to fill the ''let's get her!'' quota. So, naturally, I decided to try something (what did I have to lose?). As soon as the rubber-gloved security woman asked me in English (I had my American passport in my hand) if she could search my bag, I responded ever-so-enthusiastically in Italian, ''Of course,'' at which point she unzipped it (I wonder what would have happened if I had said no). But then I added, still in Italian, ''But I packed it really well, and I never pack it so well.'' And she laughed, zipped my bag up again (without touching anything inside) and wished me a good flight. Buon viaggio to you, too, lady! And arrivederci, Roma.
missy
http://andsmilestogobeforeisleep.blogspot.com
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