Bongiorno Roma!
Our train for Rome was leaving at 10:40 this morning so we had a bit of packing to do. Molly is far less of a morning person than I am so she was all locked and loaded, bag zipped and ready before her head even hit the pillow. I was up early to wrangle all my gear into place.
Since our first few days in Venice, the rubbish man, who had been so diligent with his early morning doorbell rings, had seemingly given up on us. We hadn’t heard from him for days. We’d been instructed to clear the apartment of all waste before leaving, so now we needed our rubbish man more than ever. The Venetians are quite insistent that their refuse be neatly sorted into 3 separate categories: dry waste, food scraps and plastics. We only had 2 bins so weren’t too sure where to put category 3 but had obediently kept it aside. The apartment ‘manual’ had said there was a rubbish collecting boat parked up the street so while Molly was chuffing down her toast, I grabbed my 3 meticulously sorted bags and went on the hunt for where to toss them. Appearing not to be in its expected place, I enquired with a couple of dog walkers where it was. The first lady gave me a massive bum steer, sending me in the wrong direction entirely but the second lady knew her stuff (rubbish). She also spoke perfect English, which was handy. The news wasn’t good. It was Sunday and unfortunately NO-ONE collects waste on a Sunday. She pointed to where the bins usually go and warned me in no uncertain terms that if I even thought about leaving the bags there (it may have crossed my mind) there would be “big trouble for all of us” - herself mysteriously included.
With my tail (& my 3 rubbish bags) between my legs, I stumbled back to the apartment for a final tidy before we left together for the wharf. It was hard enough wheeling our big bags and lugging our backpacks , but also having to drag the bags of rubbish along was an added hassle. We spotted some small public bins in the park but the opening for the rubbish to go in was tiny - probably to stop hooligans like us from dumping their waste in them. We had to shove everything in together, all that sorting going out the window.
We thought the Sunday morning vaporetto may have been a little less cut throat than the ones we’d experienced during the week. We were wrong. Our stop was coming up next so I gently asked a woman standing in the step, if she’d mind please just taking a step up so I could get my heavy bag up on deck in time to get off. She looked me in the eye and said a flat out: “No”.
I was a bit shocked. Molly tells me I should stop expecting people to be polite and then I’ll be pleasantly surprised when someone is. (We did manage to get off just in the nick of time, before the gate slammed shut. Phew!)
Nearing the big Venice railway station, we felt like we were in some sort of dystopian movie, emerging from a simple land without cars or fast food or people wearing bikinis, now returning to the real world. We said, “look, what are those strange wheeled vehicles over there?” as we passed the drop off point for cars. There was even a KFC at the station to ease us back to reality.
We had a great little set-up on the fast train, our seats facing one another with a little table between us. We were even given some snacks and drinks. Very civilised indeed. Opposite us were two American couples, meeting for the first time, seated together at a bigger table. They were intrepid travellers, comparing travel stories, tales of their home towns and plans for future trips. I think I even saw them sharing pics of their grandkids. They’ll be friends for life.
Our bags were involved in a giant game of Tetris up the end of the carriage and were wedged in so tightly we were rueing the fact we’d left our crowbar at home. Thankfully we attempted to extract them with plenty of time up our sleeves and we were even more thankful for the burly Aussie bloke was able to shuffle a few other bags around and get them out for us. What a champion!
Walking out of the mega, more-like-an-airport-than-a-train station, we were assaulted by the bright heat but also the big city vibe; cars honking horns and zooming all over the place, Vespas flying past, people everywhere. So much noise. It made us appreciate again just how quiet Venice had been.
A quick taxi ride delivered us to our hotel, an historic tower, still looking ancient on the outside but now converted into a cool and modern place to stay. The concierge was full of enthusiasm, whipping out a map and circling away with his red pen. He also told us about the hotel’s rooftop terrace where we could experience a great view of the city. We dropped off our bags and caught the lift to the top floor to check it out.
There was a little library set up outside the lift and as we stepped out we could hear a loud tv playing what sounded like an Italian soapie. As we ascended the spiral staircase (that actually became a glass staircase near the top) we could see straight down into the apartment below, which seemed to have no roof. An old lady that was relaxing comfortably on a chair in front of the box, offered up a little wave and a “bongiorno”! We felt like such intruders but she was super casual. I was also happy to be wearing pants, given the glass staircase and the fact she was directly below us.
As promised, the views were spectacular. We could see from the Colosseum all the way to the Vatican. We were surrounded by rooftop restaurants with bow-tied waiters balancing cocktails on gold trays.
Tonight we had a good wander around town. We are only a few minutes walk to the Trevi Fountain so we joined the bustle of the selfie stick set and vied for position to take in the glory of the famous cascades. I took a photo of Molly having a refreshing drink from the water fountain and it looks like she’s an Olympic spitter!
It was a hot night and just so lovely to wander amongst the alfresco diners and fairy lights in the trees. The Pantheon was shut to visitors but we got up close and personal with the facade - making the most of the lack of crowds. We also took a wander down to the Piazza Navona where we were spoilt for fountains. The Fountain of the Four Rivers was our favourite, with the bearded muscle-bound guys giving the sky a high-five.
We enjoyed some delicious pasta at a gorgeous little place replete with red and white checked tablecloths and an exuberant Italian waiter. The perfect atmosphere for our first night in Rome.
