... notable events : Lost in Roma... almost

It was the last day of our tour, one that started at St. Paul in London and ended at St. Peter in Rome. We were enjoying ourselves thoroughly but somewhat tired from too much walking and waaaay too little sleep. "I don't even wake up this early for work." Waikit would complain and then throw her pillow across the room at me. Being the sounder sleeper, I was usually still fast asleep when the morning call rang to get us ready for another day of touring and sightseeing.

The last stop was at the Roman Forum and the Colliseum. We parted company with the rest of the tourgroup to explore Rome on our own as we opted out of the last optional tour which would have taken the tourgroup outside of Rome to the Roman Hills for dinner in the countryside. "The optional is too expensive." we concluded. "We want to see more of Rome by ourselves." we both agreed.

So there we were at the Colliseum with hugs all round to parting tour members, the bulk of which were from Australia, the rest from the Phillipines, Malaysia and the USA. It was just past lunch and we had the rest of the day to explore, shop and get back to our hotel in the northern part of town. We had a flight to catch the very next morning to Edinburgh, and I still needed to arrange for an airport transfer with the hotel front desk. So we told ourselves we would head back in time for dinner around the hotel.

We found a nice place to picnic and soak in the historic ambience of the Roman ruins, and out came the packed sandwiches, thermos flask, satchet soups and milo. Munching on the cheese and ham sandwich we enjoyed the weak autumn sun and slurped our soup, taking turns with the single termos mug. Life couldn't have been better. Simple pleasures.

After lunch we started our own city tour. From the Colliseum, we walked slowly along the Via D. Fori Imperiali headed towards Trevi Fountain snapping photographs as we went and kept a close eye out for interesting souveniers to bring home. Just before the Plazza Venezia, we dodged a foursome of gypsy girls who had started converging on us only to fortunately switch targets to a caucasian couple just behind us when I swapped Waikit off the the other side of me at the last minute. We had heard horror stories of bags being snatched by teams of gypsy girls in full sight of other pedestrians and how my granduncle had his wallet lifted or how my father once had to brandish an umbrella to scare off a similar trio of girls who were in a handbag tug-of-war with my screaming mother.

The gypsy girl who had been headed for Waikit looked indecisive for just a fleeting moment before she turned ever so slightly to head instead for the couple behind us. The other three girls very noticeably shifted their approach angle as well and suddenly we were through! Walking a little faster to distance ourselves, I turned back to watch. Two girls were tugging at the man's arms while anothers were circling the woman who was clinging tightly to her man's arm. I hesitated for just a moment, entertaining thoughts of shouting a warning or doing something but an insistent tug on my elbow changed my mind. I had someone I needed to protect first and foremost. That other fellow will just have to fend his woman himself. I noted rather darkly that no one else paid any attention to the unfortunate couple and either pretended not to see anything or hurried past as if it were of no concern to them.

Crossing the intersection after snapping more photographs at the Vittorio Emanuelle Monument, we were soon on one of the major shopping roads, the Via Del Corso and relative safety of other shoppers. Walking, stopping, popping into shops to look at clothes and shoes, we eventually made it back again to Piazza di Trevi for the second time where we snapped yet more photos, this time more leisurely. I kept pulling Waikit into souvenier shops around the area, looking for a nice chess set of Roman soldiers or something similar. Failed to find one I liked but spent a lovely time looking at beautifuly painted Roman figurines.

After Trevi Fountain, we walked on. Piazza Colonna, Piazza della Rotonda, the Pantheon, Piazza Navona until our tired legs took us to Ponte Umberto I. From there we took more photos of the Tiber River with the Castel S. Angelo and the Vatican far in the background. We were already very tired by then and decided to head to a familiar subway station. Crossing the river to walk along the LGT. Prati, we walked along the riverside and then recrossed the river at Ponte Cavour. It was a simple matter of walking straight to Spanish Steps and the subway station there. Practically at the point of collapse, we were about to enter the subway station when the smells of freshly baked pizza filled our nostrils. Mmmmm... drawn by the smell, our eyes couldn't leave the thick lovely slices of pizza on the shop counter. Ok, we told ourselves. The Euro is freakishly expensive but we can do with 2 slices of pizza. It was a good decision. They were the best pizza we had ever tasted in our lives. Maybe it was the experience of being in Rome, or the fact that we were a little hungry, or that we had been packing lunches of boring ham and cheese sandwiches almost daily or simply that it really was good pizza, but we relished every bite and rested our weary legs in the process.

The original plan was to take a subway train to Ottavanio and catch a bus from the interchange next to the subway station, back to our hotel. Our weary bodies were screaming for a taxi instead but the pizza stop did wonders to our spirit because all thoughts of a taxi were banished after the first couple of bites. We can do this. It'll be fun. When in Rome, do as the Romans do. The bus it'll be. So we caught a train to Cipro-Musei Vaticani. At Cipro, we couldn't make any sense of the confusing maze of signs. What in the world was a Bus Terminal called in Italian? Our tourist maps failed us. Probably because this wasn't exactly something tourists needed to know I suppose. So we chose the exit that looked the most promising and most brightly lit. Coming out into the darkening sky I was quite pleased to see two police officers, one of whom was quite happy to practice his English with us. "Buono sera." I started. "There. Bus stop. Si." the policeman replied, nodded and pointed helpfully.

It wasn't hard once it had been pointed out to us. One big open space with a few raised curbs and small squarish sheds for waiting passengers. This is easy we told ourselves. We found the right spot to wait, the bus numbers plastered on the small signs next to the sheds. Waikit found a seat and quickly sat. I stayed on my feet despite my aching calves to watch all 5 lanes just in case we were wrong and had the wrong waiting shed, but all the while keeping an eye on Waikit and making sure I was always within sprinting distance. It was starting to get cold, and my legs were killing me in rebellion. The scheduled time said the bus should be here any minute now.

Minutes passed. Half an hour passed. I crossed and recrossed the bus terminal to recheck the bus numbers on the different sheds. Yes, I was quite sure we had the right shed. I toyed with the idea of asking someone but the language barrier stayed my hand, as did the unfriendly faces which put you off even approaching them let alone try and ask them questions. Everyone for himself in Rome it would seem. Maybe I should try and get a cab instead, but Waikit was already asleep on the bench. Let's just wait another 10-15 minutes.

45 minutes past the scheduled time, just as my mind was running some rather unfavourable comparisons of the systems, language proficiency and attitudes of people of this "Developed" Country with our our "Developing" Countries, the bus arrived. Everyone at the same bus shed as us were apparently waiting for the same bus, but the looks on their faces told me that a 45 minute wait was quite ordinary and normal. I shrugged my shoulders and woke Waikit up. She didn't sleep easily unless on a bed in a quiet darken room. That she fell asleep at the bus shed said volumes about her tired state.

Feeling more confident now, we boarded the bus. I showed the little map with our hotel marked out on it to the bus driver and he nodded his head vigoriously and waved his hands about. Ok then. We were on the home stretch. I should be able to match the bus as it twisted and turned on its way. The hotel wasn't far. This should be easy... or so I thought.

It didn't help that it was dark and looking out of a lighted bus into the darker surrounding was a challenge in itself, trying to keep close enough to the glass without hitting your nose whenever the bus lurched. It also didn't help that it took me awhile to realise how street signs looked like in Italy, and to distinguish them from other signs crowding the roads. To add to my misery, most of the roads were not lit, nor when lit, not even lit to our usual local standards. Then of all days, the wonderfully beautiful weather we'd experience during the trip had to end then and there with a fairly heavy drizzle. The bus lurched, twisting and turning in the old winding streets and soon my map which was rather useless to begin with, had it's value to me at that moment in time, reduced to zero. Twice I got up to ask the bus driver if we were still on course, twice he nodded vigoriously and went off in rapid Italian about something or other with both his mouth and his hands, but seemingly knowing what he was doing. So twice I was reassured enough to sit down yet again and frantically peer outside the bus for some sign or landmark I would recognise.

The point where my gut told me a journey of just a few kilometres shouldn't be taking this long soon came and went. The lady seated in front of me started to look alarmed and asked me something in rapid Italian I couldn't even have followed even if I knew how to speak Italian. I gathered she wanted to help so I showed her the map. She twisted it this way and that way, reading my English map upside down and then sideways and in all orientations of the compass, and then looked at me with sorrowful eyes and again went off in rapid Italian. Sigh. No help there. A Chinese looking woman then stepped up and asked the first lady something in Italian. She in turn had a go with the map. I kept repeating the name of the hotel to the two of them and then switched to Mandarin and then Cantonese hoping the new lady would understand, but no, her eyes were as blank as when I spoke English. She looked rather apologetic and I suspect she knew I was speaking in Chinese but didn't understand word I was saying. Damn.

The bus seemed to have moved out of the populated areas and buildings were few and far inbetween with the universal sign of a highway looming before us. This was obviously way past our hotel and who knows where this bus was going.

Waikit had gotten up from her seat by then and was trying to point the hotel location
on the map to the ladies and to gesture with open palms the word
"Where?", while I continued to query the bus driver. Something clicked I believe then. The first lady's eyes went wide and she started gesturing wildly, pointing back the way the bus had just come and rather frantically started talking in a near panic to the second lady and yelling to the bus driver who also started to retort back in a loud voice. After loads of hand gesturing and yelling, the bus driver stopped the bus and the first lady gestured for us to cross the road and take a bus back the way we had come.

Moments later, standing in the dark and getting wetter by the minute from the rain, I realised that maybe it might have been wiser to have stayed on the bus until we reached the end terminal, irregardless of how far it was. We were on a deserted road with hardly a building in sight except far across the road on the other side of a large junction where there were some hopeful bright lights and what looked like a highway reststop with a familiar Macdonalds sign. Taking Waikit's hand, and making sure her head was covered from the rain, we both started to walk towards the bright lights.

Darting across the large 3 lane road, careful to check for traffic from the rightside of the road instead of from the left, we soon made it across and with considerable relief, into the Macdonalds. Marching up to the counter, useless map in hand I started what was begining to sound repetitive, my query on how to get back to my hotel. The girl at the counter was quick to call for her duty manager when she realised I couldn't speak Italian. The duty manager arrived and her first words were like poetry to us when she asked in plain simple English. "Can I help you?"

Ten minutes later, we were back at the same place, just across the road from where the bus had originally set us down, armed with a few new bus numbers on my near useless map. These were the buses we could take to return the way we had come. At the bus stop, with my mobilephone-torchlight in one hand and with these new numbers in the other, we started looking down the pasted bus list which also gave the details of the routes. To our horror, none of the numbers at the bus stop matched the ones we were given. I tried another tack, to look for any streetname near our hotel but again, the names were either not familiar or too familiar as there were many names that simply looked all too much like each other. While I peered at the bus list, Waikit was by the side of the road looking out for either a police car or a taxi but there was hardly any traffic on that road. I was worried for her safety and kept a wary eye on her as she peered up and down the road. This was obviously the right bus stop and we were out of options except one, to call someone for help.

I started dialing the hotel's number when the rain which had stopped while we were in the Macdonalds, started up again and this bus stop was nothing but a pole by the side of the road. Waikit was getting crosser by the moment and our nerves were getting frayed from exhausion and from desperation. That was when the first car light appeared from a distance. I was still peering at the bus numbers when Waikit shouted. "Taxi!"

It was the most beautiful taxi in the world. It's seats were plush, it's interior warm and inviting. Back to our hotel! Pronto!

A mere 5 minutes later, we were at the front lobby of the hotel. Looking at the meter, it said 14 euros. I started to pull out my wallet when the taxi driver said, 24 euros. I stopped and looked at him, then at the meter and then back again at him. He fixed his stare at me and smiled. I wasn't in a mood to argue and too tired to care. I paid the 24 euros and slammed the door in his face but the driver only grinned even wider. But I didn't care. We were back, safe.

We had planned to get back to the hotel and then take a walk out to the local supermarket at the other end of the street to buy stuff back to the room to cook. The planned menu for the day was a simple spaghetti with soup, cooked and boiled with our portable electric pot. All that planning was dumped in our exhausion. We just wanted to sleep. After quick showers and cold bread and biscuits, Waikit fell onto her bed immediately, already fast asleep before her head hit the pillow. I took a longer time as I had to assemble the passports and airtickets and to go downstairs to speak to the front desk about our airport transfers.

On the way back up, I stopped by the room of two American ladies from our tourgroup whom we had promised to meet to say goodbye, and they very enthusiastically grabbed me to go to yet another room, this one of two Filipino ladies who had invited the Malaysian couple, the other Filipino couple and the Americans to a balcony party of cheese and wine. I very sportingly took an offered glass and nibbled a few cheese crackers, all the while freezing my bum off on that cold balcony. It was well past bedtime when I left that party and trudged back to my room. The two American ladies followed me back to my room, determined to say goodbye to Waikit despite my protestations that she was already fast asleep. Peering into the darkened room, they finally let me go with yet another round of hugs and promises to keep in touch.

Very tired by then and with only 4 hours to go to wake-up time, I curled under the covers to get what sleep I could, rather thankful that the day was over and tomorrow's flight would take us away for a brand new adventure in Scotland.