Roma the III
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Rome Day Three.
I'm the last person in my 9 person to awake this morning, and proceed to meet fellow bleary-eyed crawlers for breakfast in the kitchen. We recount tales of the previous evening, and discover that the sidewalk kissing montrealer and his friends eventually made it back on the city bus a couple of hours later, not too much worse for the wear.
Today I decide to venture out to the ruins of the roman forum solo, and get an up close and personal look. Its still hot hot hot, and my pastey-white skin shows that pinkish sunburnt glow that I'm accustomed to. I decide to seek out a traditional pasta dish for lunch, and my eye catches 4 euro lasagne. Sizing up the excellent price, I decide to shell out for it, thinking that it will probably be extremely taste but in a small portion. Boy was I wrong. As the waitress brought it out to me on the terrace, my stomach and taste buds did a double flip and groaned. I realize why it was so cheap, the stupid thing looked like stouffers! Complete with white papery-plastic tray, it was definitely a microwave job. Runny on top, and rubbery all the way through I still ate it all up, but swore off sampling cheap versions of local cuisine for the rest of the trip.
Crapsagne in my belly I arrive at the ruins in the valley of the Palatine Hill, my spirits lifted by the awesome dusty reds and whites of crumbled ancient rock before me. You can walk in and amongst the ruins, but are tapered off by small fences. I find a shady former piece of 2000 year old column, and set upon to write in my journal and think about those I miss.
I wander around the colleseum some more, and slowly make my way back to the hostel. I meet up with Joe, and we decide to go out for some real italian food for dinner. Scanning the menu, my eyes deliberately pass over the pasta section and lock-on to a sausage pizza. Joe and I chat about Scotland, Canada, travelling, and everything in between. I feel good, my belly feels good, and things can't get much better than this.
We grab a couple of big bottles of beer, get back to the hostel, and play cards for a bit. Joe teaches me a couple of new card games 'danish' and the 'scabby queen', and we watch a soundless version of the movie snatch as we shuffle and dole out the cards. We decide at about 10pm to meet up with that evening's pub crawl just for a pint, as I have to be up at 5:30am to catch my early morning train to Venice. We get to the second bar before the new beer-swilling herd of the evening arrives, and the owner gives me a big handshake when I enter and order. I exchange emails with Joe and we make plans to meet up in a couple of weeks in Edinburgh, on the royal mile. I leave Joe and the crawlers behind, make my way back to the hostel, chat with some of my roomies for a bit, and pack my stuff for my early departure the next day.
Rome was exactly what I was looking for and things couldn't have gone any better in terms of the weather, the sights, the hostel, the co-travellers etc. Here's to hoping the good streak continues.
Rome Day Three.
I'm the last person in my 9 person to awake this morning, and proceed to meet fellow bleary-eyed crawlers for breakfast in the kitchen. We recount tales of the previous evening, and discover that the sidewalk kissing montrealer and his friends eventually made it back on the city bus a couple of hours later, not too much worse for the wear.
Today I decide to venture out to the ruins of the roman forum solo, and get an up close and personal look. Its still hot hot hot, and my pastey-white skin shows that pinkish sunburnt glow that I'm accustomed to. I decide to seek out a traditional pasta dish for lunch, and my eye catches 4 euro lasagne. Sizing up the excellent price, I decide to shell out for it, thinking that it will probably be extremely taste but in a small portion. Boy was I wrong. As the waitress brought it out to me on the terrace, my stomach and taste buds did a double flip and groaned. I realize why it was so cheap, the stupid thing looked like stouffers! Complete with white papery-plastic tray, it was definitely a microwave job. Runny on top, and rubbery all the way through I still ate it all up, but swore off sampling cheap versions of local cuisine for the rest of the trip.
Crapsagne in my belly I arrive at the ruins in the valley of the Palatine Hill, my spirits lifted by the awesome dusty reds and whites of crumbled ancient rock before me. You can walk in and amongst the ruins, but are tapered off by small fences. I find a shady former piece of 2000 year old column, and set upon to write in my journal and think about those I miss.
I wander around the colleseum some more, and slowly make my way back to the hostel. I meet up with Joe, and we decide to go out for some real italian food for dinner. Scanning the menu, my eyes deliberately pass over the pasta section and lock-on to a sausage pizza. Joe and I chat about Scotland, Canada, travelling, and everything in between. I feel good, my belly feels good, and things can't get much better than this.
We grab a couple of big bottles of beer, get back to the hostel, and play cards for a bit. Joe teaches me a couple of new card games 'danish' and the 'scabby queen', and we watch a soundless version of the movie snatch as we shuffle and dole out the cards. We decide at about 10pm to meet up with that evening's pub crawl just for a pint, as I have to be up at 5:30am to catch my early morning train to Venice. We get to the second bar before the new beer-swilling herd of the evening arrives, and the owner gives me a big handshake when I enter and order. I exchange emails with Joe and we make plans to meet up in a couple of weeks in Edinburgh, on the royal mile. I leave Joe and the crawlers behind, make my way back to the hostel, chat with some of my roomies for a bit, and pack my stuff for my early departure the next day.
Rome was exactly what I was looking for and things couldn't have gone any better in terms of the weather, the sights, the hostel, the co-travellers etc. Here's to hoping the good streak continues.
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