There and Back(pack) Again

Chapter 4: Roman Holiday

Ciao, Florence; Ciao, Rome! Thank goodness there was a Lolita-esque girl offering to help us buy metro tickets in Rome, and we found the Colosseum with no problem. We thoroughly enjoyed walking around the ruins. Plus, Elizabeth was able to purchase her "Prada" bag for a mere 15 Euro, haggling down from 28. I have yet to see her take it anywhere. Anyhoo, we spent a couple of fun hours around the ol' Forum, popped in on the Pantheon, and paid a visit to the Trevi Fountain. Nothing particularly funny or interesting happened at these locales. However, on the train ride to our Campground, we were treated to a rendition of "La Bamba." O....k....

The campground... how do I begin? We were unable to find any hostels in advance, and the best we could come up with was a campground with a bungalow for two. I think the word "bungalow" should have tipped us off. No, what should have tipped us off was the receptionist offering us a "trailer." Yes, that should have been a warning flag. Ok, it wasn't all that bad. It was just... Spartan? Luckily, our two-person bungalow was spruced up with some sassy paintings on the walls (literally on the walls, not hanging). One was a cheetah, and the other was a tree with a girl and boy squirrel. Anyway, we spent most of the night in the internet cafe, trying to book hostels and budget hotels for the rest of the trip. We wanted to get the hell out of that cafe. Random children, skanky American girls flirting with the bartender, and a giant dog that put Cujo to shame. It took a couple hours of planning, but we got the job done, got a bottle of wine, and headed back to the ol' bungalow. Fun times!

The next day was the ol' Vatican City. First, we checked out St. Peter's. Thanks to my navigation skills, we ended up in the wrong line. Rather than just going in the church, we were in the line to take the trip to the top of the cuppola. What the hey! It was only 4 Euro. Ok, it was also 500+ steps, hauling a 25 pound backpack on my wimpy frame, but it was well worth almost passing out. After we said good-bye to our shirpa (sp?), and went into the church proper. This was where we got to see La Pieta, although it felt like it was a mile away. Sigh... at least we had the opportunity to see it at all, I suppose. This was also where Elizabeth and I smuggled Holy Water. We simply emptied our travel Dramamine container, and I palmed the tube into the water. The idea was to give it to our Grandmother (which we forgot to do when we saw her. Naturally.).

Next stop: Vatican museums and Sistine Chapel. So, the two-hour long wait that wrapped around most of Vatican City wasn't too bad. What was bad, however, was arriving at the ticket window to find out that they don't accept credit cards. What the hell? What do you mean the Vatican doesn't take credit. BS! Considering we were 3 Euro short (Damn, we shouldn't have had that gelato), I was volunteered to book it to the nearest ATM. Luckily for us (sarcasm), the guards were able to point us in the right direction. This direction was as follows: "Right, then right, then left, then right... and it's right there." Uh...huh... Well, do I really need to tell you that I couldn't find it? So I'm scrambling all over trying to find a damn ATM, hoping that Liz is doing ok holding down the fort with the tickets. I finally found one, got the money, and hustled. I'm sure I looked terribly awkward. Naturally. So, we had the cash. I was afraid of mob violence when I walked up to the front of the line. Luckily, no such thing happened. I'm guessing they thought: "Hey, why does that guy get to go to the front? Oh... he's ruggedly handsome. Sorry, my mistake." It could have happened that way... Regardless, we got our tickets, and sped through most of the museum (since we wanted to see the Sistine Chapel before closing time, which was rapidly approaching). The Chapel was unbelievable. In a perfect world, I would have just sprawled out on the floor, lying on my back, and looking up at it all day. But we all know this isn't a perfect world. Rather, it is one that is crowded with large, annoying people. Bastards.

After cramming culture down and up the wazzoo, we enjoyed the accomodations of a nice Scottish pub near the train station, where we were able to watch the World Cup games. Even I had fun! Between watching the games and the wonderfully attractive people, it was time to call it a night and catch the Midnight Train to Torino (which we didn't stop singing, a la "Midnight Train to Georgia.). Boy did we feel bad for the guy that had to share the sleeper car with us. Plus our shandals and feet smelled of death. Sweet dreams!