I don’t know where to start, but since I spent the last three weeks galavanting through Europe, and since I took hundreds of pictures and have stories to share, I have to start somewhere.
How about I start at the beginning? Julie Andrews would approve.
Rome, I was not prepared for the heat or the size of your central bus station, nor did I sufficiently research HOW to find the appropriate bus. I didn’t know the correct way to buy a ticket, and it makes perfect sense that a bus driver would yell at me in Italian because of this. I had to forego my romantic notion of fitting in, and was immediately the tourist, loaded down with luggage and dripping with sweat, that begged of the entire bus, “Does anyone speak English?!” None of these things should be held against you, and I maintain that I wasn’t in Rome – but was instead in some traveler’s purgatory – until I was greeted with a hug and a baby by my friends at their front door.
They fed me. They gave me cold water. They listened to my tale of woe with the right amount of laughter and concern. I unpacked my luggage and distributed gifts, then we went for a walk around the neighborhood and through a local park, in the golden sunlight that I soon learned would be a constant companion in this city.