Rome is a city that one can't help but have high expectations for. Whether good or bad, you're bound to have heard some hype. So whilst you aren't sure exactly what to expect, you're certainly expecting something quite confronting. The image I had of Rome was a busting, chaotic place, the air full of honking car horns and loud Italian chatter. What romantic imaginings I might have had about the historical beauty of the city had been somewhat compromised by the experiences that travel has so far delivered – finding city after city struggling to keep up with the times, to the detriment of its historical character.
Despite this, I was surprised at what I found in Rome. We didn't see the surface until we emerged from our underground station, and walked up Via Urbana, searching for our hostel. It was immediately different from our time in Florence, and strangely, in the sense that it was a lot calmer. Florence had bustle, here, we were among the only people on the street, save for an old man in a deck chair who looked on, seemingly bemused by these four people foolish enough to be lugging backpacks up the street in the height of the afternoon sun. Though the place had a crazy messiness to it, and the layout of streets were a spidery sprawl, it felt altogether too placid to be the Rome that people talked about.
Over the next four days, we would see a whole lot more of Rome, that if anything brought our opinion of the city back into line with some of those expectations. We were encouraged to see a lot of the city by an interesting policy of our hostel: a midday lockout, from 11am til 5pm, where we were expected to vacate the hostel to facilitate an easier cleaning by staffmembers. This seemed absurd in the Roman summertime, where those hours were when you most wanted to be safe inside from the afternoon sun. Instead, we were doomed to be out and about in it, often killing the hours waiting until we could return to our refuge.
Plenty of time was spent seeing the sights, and by sights, we mean anything on the map that had a picture, indicating a worthwhile sight. We've definitely done more walking in Rome than we have anywhere else, it's a big city without the luxury of a comprehensive public transport network. It's not too big to walk, but it's large enough that you'll feel it in your feet after a days wander. Over four days, we saw the big sights: the Vatican, Colosseum, the Pantheon and the Trevi Fountain. We also see a number of slightly less hyped places, including the Plazza delia Repubblica, the Basilica of Santa Maria Maggiore, and the Santa Maria delgi Angeli. We see San Carlo Quatro Fontane, and then the Pallazo delle Espozioni, in a misguided attempt to find the Spanish Steps. These we find a little later in our wandering; in our defence the picture on the map was neither well drawn nor well labeled!
Our first brush with the law occurs in Rome. One of our party, whom shall not be named (other than to say it is not James, Stephen or myself) has a penchant for taking off his shirt, something that the Roman police seem to take issue with. Worse, this individual was a repeat offender, later on the same day being reprimanded again for this indecent exposure. Thankfully no charges were brought against our companion. He is disappointed to report that he now has to put in the extra effort to get rid of the 'singlet tan' that the enforced hours of shirtedness have left him with.
Our lodgings, in addition to the ridiculous lockout, were among the strangest we've had on this trip. The size of the hostel was suprising – a short hallway made up the bulk of the common space, with a number of dorm rooms opening from it. The hostel would have slept upwards of 50 people, yet seemed not nearly big enough to accommodate them unless they were all in their beds. At night, the hallway would be lit with a harsh blue light, and the 'evening manager' would arrive. His name was Fabio, and he was all kinds of strange. He wore a jaunty straw hat, the sides of his head were shaved down to almost nothing, and his eyes were full of madness. His role seemed to involve stirring up all manner of mayhem, before disappearing at midnight, and leaving the 'night manager' with the undesirable task of calming everyone down. Apparently we were not the only hostel in the building – the next floor up was also for accommodation. This floor, however, was run by nuns. It seemed somewhat symbolic. Up there, under the watchful eyes of the sisters, that hostel must have had a heavenly serenity. Down below, there we were, under the terrible influence of Fabio.
Rome proved exhausting – I don't think I could claim a single good night's sleep, and every morning called for an early start, lest the heat of the day catch up with you too soon. It's with a sense of relief that we depart for Bari. However quiet our street – Rome never seemed to stop moving.
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