Roman Hostel / Couch Surfing / Rail

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Rome, The Chianti Hostel, Couch Surfing in Rome, the Rail
From the Airport (yes, this is backtracking to Friday morning), I took a bus called the "Leonardo Expressway." That's right folks, they named it after a TMNT - from the other airport the rail is called "Raphael." They have yet to make a Michaelangelo and Donatello. On the train were 2 American girls, both from the upper east coast - one from Smith College, and the other from a college nearby. Waiting for the train to leave, we chatted for about 10 minutes ... they've been to Rome before and were familiar with the Roma Termini (the main Roman Train Station). I figured, since I didn't think I could check in so soon (it was about 7:45am), we could grab a coffee. After 5 minutes of talking the train left, and they retreated to their seats. By the time the train stopped, they didn't recognize my offer for coffee, which probably was good - they didn't seem very intriguing... just spoiled nerdy elitist college students who obsess over studying and traveling while their parents paid for everything.

Arriving at the Roma Termini was interesting ... the sun had fully risen, but the clouds were keeping in a bit of the humidity. I followed the crowd of people exiting the station (noticing that the spoiled ones ignored me)... the station looked nothing like the pictures I've seen ... I figured maybe that entrance was up the next block or something. Either way, I headed out and around making left and right turns to find my hostel. Finally I realized that there are many more streets in Rome than on the map I had (and they zig-zag, go in circles or randomly turn into stairs). I passed mostly through alleyways where white delivery vans and pickup trucks were delivering the morning meats and supplies to the restaurants lined the alleyway. Most of them had freezers installed, when opened, full skinned animals, and animals chopped in half and gutted hung from hooks in the ceiling. After seeing that, I either decided I would become a vegetarian again (I tried it a couple years back), or get out of the alleyway. So -- walking around the corner, not completely understanding the map I printed off, I ended up realizing I was completely lost. I asked a man, he was the first to hear me demolish any sort of the Italian language -- parli inglese? He looked at the map, and told me I was pretty far off, corrected me and sent me on my way. I stopped in a small market and bought an apple -- it was probably the sweetest thing I've eaten in days (the airplane food was horrible, by the way).

After walking about 2.5 miles (it should have been about 3/4 of a mile) from the train station, through God's bloodied and slaughtered creatures, I arrived at a frighteningly tall and wide brown door (about 12 feet tall, and the same wide, but as an arch). Bzzzz! On the side of the door, I noticed a set of 6 buttons, apparently used to call the hostel. It was about 8:45am by now. I entered the door after it magically, but in extreme slow motion, opened - bzzzzzzzz on another door, and I was to climb up a staircase to the hostel. Entering the hostel was bizarre -- I hadn't slept well, was running on about 2 or 3 hours of sleep in the last 30 hours, and an Indian guy with a big smile opened the door. I have a reservation. Open and walk. There were about 6 girls (yes, only girls at this point) sitting around, eating what seemed to be slices of bread with cheese and drinking who knows what. I realized my forehead was glistening with sweat, actually it was drenched. My pack must be 35 or 40 pounds and was killing my back during my 45 minute wander. Do you speak english? No, parla italiano. Weird. He doesn't speak English -- and why are the girls laughing at me. Does anyone here speak English? giggle giggle giggle... what's happening . I wipe the sweat off my forehead. you speak english, don't you? yes. giggle giggle giggle. I checked in with the Italian/English speaking Indian ... lock out (where they clean and repair the hostel) is at 11am. I have some cheese and bread, along with a croissant and a small plastic cup of small plastic red orange juice. Wait.. what? .... ... .. . I take a map (there are about 50 of these stacked up), are these free? no, they're 2 euros. giggle giggle giggle. dammit. so, I told him (by this time, I learned the Italian/English speakers name is Frances) I says to the man, thanks for the free map.. giggle giggle giggle. These girls are really giggly in the morning. I ask about lock out and see if I can leave my things in the 'common room.' I leave everything except my wallet and camera and head out -- dead tired, into the streets of Rome. It's 11am.

The first stop was the coffee shop! Shelby, an American girl who had lived her life in Alaska and Washington, mentioned to me the customs... rather, the how-to's, of coffee drinking in the Italian "Bars." Bars, by the way, are not like American bars. So I will explain.

To begin, the bars serve more than just liquor - in fact, they seem to rarely serve liquor. Instead, they sell morning time sweets (like croissants, called cornettos) and espresso beverages. I walk into the bar and prepare to slaughter the Italian language. The bar is about like an american cocktail bar. It has a long serving counter, but in the case of the caffe bars, they are a bit shorter, to let the customer drink his coffee while standing up. Under the counter is a glass case containing numerous tasty treats, such as panini's with cold meat and cheese paninis, small pizzas, cornettos, biscotti and other types of sweet breads and pastries. Up to the barista, I order 'una caffe.' (shelby told me to say that). The barista notices that I'm a complete dumb ass, and didn't pay. Apparently I need to pay at the register across the bar. I walk, 'un caffe.' 0.90 euros. I get a receipt and almost throw it away, until I see another customer show theirs to the barista. Setting the receipt on the counter, the baristas see me, it, and prepares my first Italian coffee drink. I would normally be excited about drinking this, but I was A.)so tired, and B.)feeling like a complete tourist jerk that didn't know Italian. I received a shot glass with espresso, noticing that the crema was very thick, and upon tasting it, relatively smooth with a hint of sweetness! Read my coffee blog about the types of caffe drinks i've tried!

After the bar, I say BYE, then CIAO (because everyone else is saying it all the time), and head across the street to Santa Maria Maggiore church (dated around AD430). The church is big. No. It's huge. The church is HUGE. It is open for public display, assuming you don't wear shorts or sandals. Every inch of this church is ornamented, from the small tiles on your feet, the textured doorknobs, and golden painted ceilings... first I noticed the air was clean, and free... no carpet to ferment a smell-- the air doesn't move . no breeze. just a huge ornate compartment ... 4 or 5 or 6 stories tall. It's breathtaking, and photos never adequately describe the awe and wonder -- how it was built, I can never fully understand. As most music history students know, Basilicas and Chiesas (churches) were built in the shape of a cross. This cross design was utilized in the Basilica di San Marco a Venezia (St. Mark's Church in Venice, which I haven't visited YET) by adding choirs of brass instrumentalists and choirs of voices on either side, creating a stereo effect - now called antiphonal music. Two major composers of this were Giovanni Gabrieli and Claudio Monteverdi. Following the Basilica, I wandered around Rome for the next 4 days, and left on Tuesday. I visited the Coliseum about 3 times, the Vatican Museum and St. Peter's Basilica, the Roman Forum, the Capitol where Mussolini made a famous speech for Hitler during WWII, the Jewish Synagogue, the Pantheon, Spanish Steps, varies fountains and such, as well as the many many other churches.

The ruins of ancient Rome are still being discovered and excavated. There are only 2 underground rails -- when ever there is an attempt to dig another tunnel, they uncover ruins that were buried years ago, 10 feet under the current city.

It was pouring rain on Saturday when I visited the Vatican -- in Rome when it rains, the "Bangledeshis" come out with ombrellos to sell at extremely high prices. I had to get one to avoid being drenched -- at APPARENTLY half price, but I knew it wasn't so. Five Euros, for a cheap but working umbrella.

Aside from visiting the sites, watching people (Romans and Tourists alike) and drinking tons of caffe, I had great relations with the travelers at the Chianti Hostel. The first person I talked with was Shelby - she was obviously American, though she said most people in Rome thought she was from England. She was more or less my 'guide' for Rome, letting me know the hot spots and such - eventually, the hostel hired her temporarily because she has 'such a nice smile.' She grew up in Alaska as a kid, moved to Washington later on, then moved back to Alaska for work and hippy times. I also met three Australian girls, from Brisbane (I haven't a clue what their names were) -- we talked around a table about American politics, the history of Australia and what they miss about home the most (they've been gone for 3 months, and they missed the FOOD over anything). Every day after lock-out, we would gather in the common room and tell the stories of walking about Rome. Another Aussie I met was from the other side of the island ... he was 'dating' a brazilian chick, obviously temporarily, and was quite sad when she left for home, the day before he left. On Saturday night, we visited a dive bar/pub around the corner from the nearby Basilica - he, and the girl, along with me and Shelby. The bartender thought I was Italian, until I took off my beanie ... she must have seen my thinning hair. After a couple of beers and about 4 hours of talking I was so tired, i almost fell asleep at the bar while we were talking. Sleep has been something of a nuisance ever since I arrived in Italy.

On Sunday arrived Noelle - an American anthropology student from UC-Riverside. She was staying at the hostel for a few days before her apartment is available - she is studying abroad for about 2 or 3 months. She and I walked around Rome together on Sunday and Monday, in a quasi-random fashion - visiting sites, but also talking about everything from California, to the weird people of Rome (she had visited Rome years before), and studying anthropology. It was relatively annoying - she was from Malaysia, but dressed like a west coast american, she got many stares from just about everyone that passed by us. She and I went for pizza at a medium priced pizzeria ristorante.

Also at the hostel were 3 or 4 Turks ... one was probably no so straight ... but having a cultural gap prevented me from making to rash an observation. They were funny guys, though pretty quiet. Their English vocabulary was superb - probably better than mine. Also were 3 drunken American guys, who have decided to live the hostel life and travel about Europe for a month. They were most interested in Amsterdam -- though they were reluctant to say why, it was obvious that all three of them had a "great" time paying for sex. They wer planning to fly home the next day, so they bought a huge bottle/jug of white wine for 4 euros, got smelly drunk, and proceeded to mention the types of "FUN" they are going to have while they have a 10 hour layover, again in Amsterdam. Hopefully the movie Hostel was foreshadowing their route :)

Just about every night I took a walk. It was usually around 11pm or midnight, and the hostel was supposed the be in one of the worst parts of Rome. Outside was generally quiet, with a car passing every couple of minutes. The street lights are all uniformly colored, reflecting off the damp cobblestone road. Everything seemed to be drowsy; asleep. There was one night (Monday night), before Peter showed up (next paragraph), that I took a walk, and was propositioned by a south african prostitute. The conversation is about like this,
Pro- "Ciao"
Me- "uhh, ciao?"
Pro- "blah lah blah blah in Italiano"
Me- "non parlao italiano"
Pro- "Che parla lei?"
Me- "English"
Pro- "Where are you from"
Me- "United States"
Pro- "Where"
Me- "uhh California. Where are you from?"
Pro- "South Africa. You want a blow job?"
Me- "Uhhh, no... grazie" - proceed to walk away... I look across the street and see a creepy guy is watching
Pro- "you want me to suck you off"
Me- "No, grazie."
Pro- "Fuck you."
by then I booked it. Not ran, but was sure to have walked fast enough to get the hell away.


There were 2 especially important people while I was in Rome. The first was Flaviano Pinni, a couch surfer; and the second was travel-wise Peter, who had been in Europe a number of months. Peter had traveled to Europe his first time at 14 years old with his parents. After that trip, I think Peter found his calling, and began to take side trips away from his Maryland home, and eventually didn't finish school in order to travel. Peter, though, was not at all uneducated. He has since visited over 15 countries with limited money, and found many ways to pay for food and such. He showed up around 11pm, the night before I left for Siena, Italy. Instead of continuing on with my blog (I was on the computer when he showed up), he and I decided to go to a caffe - and we sadly ended up at McDonald's. I was especially intrigued about him more than anyone else at the hostel -- his style of living is tempting ... to find ways to make enough money to eat, and make friends quickly in random countries, to sleep. He showed me a video of New Years in Prague -- the main square was full of people and tens of thousands of dangerous fireworks shooting in every direction, nearly missing the crowds; and in some cases, knocking people on their feet ... he was shot square between the eyes with a rocket and lived to tell about it!!! He also told me about visiting the Arctic in norway with no where to stay .... extremely freezing cold, he attempted to build a semi-igloo, only to give up. He eventually did get lucky that night and found a warm place to stay.

The most bizarre, scary, fun and partially drunken experience I had in Rome, though, was with someone I met from the Couch Surfing website (www.couchsurfing.org). His name is Flaviano Pinni. Though I asked to use his couch instead of the hostel, he was working too much to have time to host me. Instead, on Sunday night (I think?), we worked out a time to hang out. At 7:30pm, he and his girlfriend were to pick me up for a beer. When I received the ring on my phone, i went downstairs from the hostel -- it was quite weird. I really don't meet a lot of people from the internet (maybe 3 total?). To being, his girlfriend wasn't there AND he said he "has to meet someone to pay them some money." Creepy. Extremely. I mean, according to his profile, he's a great guy with a nice smile, but when someone you don't know says, come with me to pay someone money, it can be a little unnerving - maybe a bit confusing. I got in the car (by the way, Roman drivers are the best and the worst at the same time), and we were off. It's actually hard to remember everything we talked about.... he was curious what I though of Rome, since I had 3 days to visit. Italians, or Romans at least, admire Americans (especially Californians). It's curious, though, how Americans are looked at in many different ways (the Baristas HATED me, remember?). Well, Flaviano and I drove around, and once or twice, we even drove around in a circle. I was becoming comfortable enough to ask if he was going to kill me. So he asked me the same question. It was funny... mostly. We arrived somewhere in Rome, it was darker than the areas that I've been at night, and we walked to a club where they teach salsa dancing. This is where were are supposed to meet with the people to pay them the money. These people were couch surfers. In the Rome-Couch Surfing group, there are now 1000 members, so he said there is a CS dinner in Jan that he is paying for. Still not perfectly comfortable standing outside of an odd club, in the dark on the street, somewhere far away from the Rome I'm familiar with. Then a 35 or so year old lady arrived, briefly followed by 2 or 3 and finally 4 or 5 other people, all chit chattering in Italian. I was introduced, money was exchanged, and suddenly, I had two Italian style kisses on my cheek from fellow couch surfers. Sweet Relief. Flaviano is NOT going to kill me. There were a number of CS'ers from around Rome who were to meet here to pay for the dinner.

We left soon after and Flaviano gave me a car tour of Rome. Eventually, we made it to an american style pub, where the "Beer Doctor" served me a couple of decent Italian beers. We talked the entire night - discussing the role of Italy and how it was attacked in World War II (his flat is next to a building that was bombed, which is still in ruins), brushed along religion and architecture, football (soccer), music, beers, girls, and the conversation graduated (after almost finishing the beers) to teaching him the proper use of American swear words. Well, not all words, just Fuck. By the end of that conversation, our phrase was something along the lines of "Dude, that's fucked up and shit!" What a great phrase. "Dude," by the way, is a word just as versatile and bizarre as "fuck." By the end of the night at the pub we seemed to have developed a quick and hopefully lasting friendship (I am only putting this in here because he reads my blog). Dude, that's fucked up and shit. Instead of saying goodbye, I showed him the "rock and roll" sign. :)

Those two nights with Flaviano and Peter made my trip to Rome spectacular. I don't think I would have been as sad to leave if not for them. On Tuesday morning, I walked to the Roma Termini to head north to Siena. Tatiyana is another couch surfer who has offered her place to stay for a couple of nights. I missed the first train, but realized that the ticket is valid for up to 2 months or so. I waited an hour and caught the next one - dozing in and out of sleep, watching the countryside flash on a off... passing through tunnels, green pastures, small farmland and lush but small forests -- all the while listening to the Dresden Dolls.

This was my Rome.
I'm in Siena now, and I'll post about my wonderful time with Tatiyana "and friends" shortly.
Keep in touch!

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