The Grand Tour III: All Roads Lead To Rome

Like the cultured young gentlemen centuries before, our Grand Tour ended in Rome. The idea was that  exposure to the great works of antiquity and the Renaissance would give these gentlemen the polish they needed before moving in society. So after five days in sunny Dubrovnik we boarded a night ferry and traveled across the Adriatic to Bari in order to get some polish.

Since it was the low season only one ferry company was running and because we booked our tickets  just three days in advance we ended up with seats on the deck instead of a cabin. I think the ten hour bus ride may actually have been more comfortable because there weren't immovable armrests between each seat and we weren't kept awake and then woken up by super loud Italians roughly my parents age who were partying next to us. FYI: no one wants to hear A Whiter Shade of Pale being blasted from your iPhone at 6 in the morning, old Italian guy. Eventually it was time to get off the boat and find some much needed coffee. We took a bus to the train station in Bari that was driven by one of the handsomest men I've ever seen in real life. That's Italy for you--even the bus drivers are hot. 

Our train wasn't leaving for a few hours so we parked it in a cafe for some espresso and cornettos, which are like Italian croissants. All through the trip my cousin Katie had been talking about the coffee in Italy and how amazing it is. Now, I'm not saying I didn't believe her, because I did. I just didn't know what that actually meant. I see that now. I had coffee and espresso in every country I went to and while none of it was bad per se (with the exception of the instant coffee topped with cool whip we had on the train in Budapest) none of it was this good. Like the croissant I had from Stohrer in Paris, this cappuccino was on an entirely different level I didn't even know existed. And they all tasted that good. Everywhere we went! Ugh. I can't talk about it anymore because it's making me sad just to think about.

Moving on. As we progressed through our trip proximity to the train station became increasingly important because it just made things a lot less complicated. Thus, when I started looking for our hotel in Rome I only considered places within walking distance of the Roma Termini, the city's main train station. I feel like I should mention that I used Booking.com for most of our reservations because they seemed to list more independent and family-run places than say, Hotels.com. I usually then cross-checked potential places with TripAdvisor just to make extra sure the place was legit.

Rome is pricey, like Paris pricey--but unlike Paris my hotel wasn't free. I ended up finding a budget hotel for $37 per person per night. Of course, calling what we stayed in a 'hotel' might be stretching it but our room was clean, had three beds, and a private bathroom. It certainly wasn't located in the nicest neighborhood and at night it looked downright sketchy, but the worst thing that happened was some creepy guy said 'I love you' when I walked by and really, creepy guys saying 'I love you' can happen anywhere. 

So after a few hours on the train we arrived in Rome very excited, but also tired and hungry. We all needed some cash so we went to an atm on our way to the hotel. This is when The Bad Thing happened. Katie went first and got her cash then I went. The way the atms work there is they give you your card back and then your cash, except my card got stuck in the card slot. I could see it there but I couldn't grab it. Naturally, I started to panic and pressed on it thinking the machine would spit it back out again more forcefully. This didn't happen. Nothing happened. My card went back in and then the machine stopped working. No money, no card. Oh, it was also around 6 pm so the bank itself was closed for the day.

Next to the bank was some kind of auto parts store, or maybe it was an auto club like AAA--I don't know, I don't speak Italian. Anyways, my cousin asked a man who was working there to come help us and he was even more handsome than the bus driver from earlier. Unfortunately, he didn't have any better luck so he suggested we come back the following day. I felt completely helpless, but there was nothing we could do at that point so I mostly focused on not freaking out. I bring up this whole situation because it was a good learning experience.

I had tried to go to the atm earlier in the day when we were in Bari, but my card wasn't working there. Why, I don't know. Perhaps the universe wanted me to have this terrible experience so I could share it with you. So, here it is: If you're using an atm, try to use one attached to an actual bank that is open in case your card gets eaten before you can get your cash. The best (worst) part is that the transaction still showed up on my bank account. I got my card back the next day but the very unhelpful bank manager basically said it wasn't his bank's problem and that I needed to take it up with my bank. When I got home I explained the whole situation to my bank and they filed a dispute and comped me the money. That was almost two months ago and I haven't heard anything, so I'm guessing it all worked out in the end.

But, back to my first day in Rome. After checking into the hotel we went for dinner at Sapori e Delizie, a lovely neighborhood pizzeria I found using TripAdvisor's Rome city app. TripAdvisor has a bunch of these free apps for different cities and they were so helpful to us during our travels. Not only did we find great places to eat but the Point Me There feature was invaluable. And it works even if you don't have a phone plan or wi-fi! I only wish I had realized that sooner than Vienna...

By this point I hadn't had a beer since Oktoberfest but given the day's events a giant Peroni was looking pretty great. We ordered a few pizzas along with arancini, fried zucchini flowers, and grilled vegetables. Everything was delicious and cheap--my favorites. I know I said earlier that Rome was on par with Paris price-wise, and in a lot of ways it is, but I think it's cheaper to have a great meal in Rome than in Paris because some of the best Italian food tends to be made from less expensive ingredients. Pizza, pasta, and vegetables aren't terribly expensive. Duck confit is. This place also had a delish spicy olive oil that I am still desperately trying to recreate here at home.

We only had three full days in the eternal city, but that was enough time to hit all the major tourist spots. We spent a day touring the Vatican museums (if you go on Wednesday during the Papal Audience it isn't as crowded) and getting pushed around St. Peter's Basilica. The museums are actually a collection of 54 art galleries and pontifical museums culminating with the Sistine chapel. It is a huge and impressive collection of art that rivals (if not surpasses) the Louvre. In particular, I think the experience of seeing the Sistine chapel was much more satisfying than seeing the Mona Lisa.

The Basilica itself is beautiful but verrrrry ornate. Gold and marble everywhere. It was a bit of a shock after spending time in the more *ahem* austere churches of England and Germany. What I'm saying is...I can see why the Reformation happened.

We then hiked up to the top of the Duomo, which was about as high as St. Paul's but an easier climb and not as scary as the Golden Gallery. I yelled at some obnoxious guy trying to sell us tickets which felt weird since we were right in front of the Vatican, but it was the only thing that got him to stop. On reflection, I did a lot of yelling in Rome. The street vendors are relentless.

When we visited the Spanish Steps vendors were everywhere hocking these little squishy balls that would splat on the ground and then reform. They also made this almost mournful noise, like a broken squeezebox, so in my mind my visit to the Spanish Steps is accompanied by a chorus of dying musical instruments. In addition, there are also guys trying to sell you roses and when you say no they then try to hand you one like it's a gift or something, but don't take it! This also resulted in me having to yell again. Here is a candid photo of me after the 50th guy tried to give me a flower:

I realize that so far it sounds like I didn't really like Rome, but that's not true at all. Right after this photo was taken we went to the Keats-Shelley House which is beside the Spanish Steps. A visit here seemed quite fitting since I had visited his home in Hampstead months before and kind of made the whole trip come full circle. There we learned all about the Romantics and their connection to Rome and even saw the room where John Keats tragically died at just 25 from tuberculosis.

We also toured the Colosseum and the Roman Forum where I developed a new obsession with the Vestal Virgins and learned that people don't like it when you go around yelling 'Are you not entertained??' Man, remember when Russell Crowe was bad-ass and hot? Those were the days.

As I'm writing this I'm realizing something: I could go on and on about all the places we visited and the foods we ate, but to be honest we did what everyone does when they go to Rome: we ate, we drank, we saw everything one is supposed to see--not exactly breaking the mold. But even still, it was magical.  I can see why the traditional Grand Tour ended in Rome because it really does live up to the hype. Even the annoying bits, and boy were there a lot, didn't take away from the experience. Rome is an easy and fun place to visit. Everyone pretty much speaks English and they aren't dicks about it like the French. The food is delicious, the weather was great, and the whole city really does have this relaxed 'La Dolce Vita' vibe that is infectious.

But for me Rome was also the end of the road. 

After three months abroad this was my final stop before heading home--the culmination of a year spent first on meticulous planning and then on traveling. By this point I was exhausted and looking forward to plopping on the couch for a while, but at the same time I was scared about returning home and going back to 'real life'. I had seen so much and got used to spending my days exploring the wonders of Europe. I didn't want to lose that excitement, that enthusiasm on my return.

I think you learn more about yourself when you travel than you do about the places you visit and looking back I'm not sure I knew what I wanted to get out of this trip when I first left. I think I had some vague hope about going away and having everything change for the better while I was on the road and in a lot of ways it did, but not how I expected. I didn't come back with a book deal or a dream job--nothing external. Instead, the changes I experienced were emotional. I learned things about myself and what I am capable of because that is what travel does. So to merely talk about what I saw and did and ate doesn't really tell you about my experience in Rome. What I want is for you to go out and experience something that truly moves you, changes you in some fundamental way. 

I've been home for nearly two months now and it hasn't been easy. There's a kind of depression that settles over you after returning from a big trip like this one. It's strange because even though I feel like I've changed, home still seems the same as when I left. There's a bit of a disconnect initially and getting over that involves going back to the way things were. I suppose that's partly why writing these last few posts have been so difficult because it means it's really over. Everyone keeps asking me what my next trip is but I honestly don't know. I want to figure out how to be content at home first before I go away again.