Rome For The Day

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The flight from KL was good. They allocated me the seat I requested. Not that it mattered as the plane was only two-thirds full. I had the window and aisle to myself which was pure luxury. Cabin crew were good and served me a glass of beer and wine with my meal. I took a sleeping pill which seemed to do the trick. Not sure how long I was asleep but I estimate 3-4 hours. Without that I would have been a basket case for the big day of connecting flights. When we touched down in Rome I was shocked to find it raining with a forecast top of fifteen. Why did I leave KL? I got through immigration in seconds. Hard to believe some pissy stamp on my passport allows me to roam Western Europe for three months. At least I hope that’s what it means.

Rome airport is a bit ordinary. Run down and unappealing, not what I expected. Where are those fashionable Italians? They could learn from the Asians. I was hoping to get a bus to Termini in central Rome but there’s only a train connection which costs a bit more. Soon as I got to Termini I put my big bag into baggage hold. I walked toward the entrance of the building and was accosted by guys selling umbrellas. They were all black so I assumed correctly or incorrectly that they were recent arrivals from Africa. Couldn’t imagine a local doing such demeaning work. They were a minor irritant compared to hardened touts in South East Asia.

Checked out the local streets but there wasn’t much to see. There was a greater concentration of shops in termini but not great quality. I went into McDonalds (I’m not proud of this fact) simply because it was raining outside and this was one of the only places about that had seats. Termini is not a very inviting place all round. I ordered orange juice and was given a small cardboard cup and a small bottle of juice. Nothing like what I got at Burger King the previous night. Grossly overpriced.

I decided that the weather had improved sufficiently for me to wander further a field around central Rome. I walked and walked down a long boulevard crammed with exclusive shops. (Via Nazionale, if I recall) Finally I discovered a tourist information booth. Got a map and advice on getting to the cheapscates airport. I descended right to the bottom of the hill. My blistered feet were protesting louder each step. But there was a reward at the end of this Versace encrusted concourse. I’d found the Forum plus the Coliseum just down the road.

The engineering of the massive stadium still impresses the crap out of me. I decided to observe it from across the road. Too close and it loses its magic to some extent. Must have looked awe inspiring in its heyday when it was covered with a dazzling white veneer. Even on a chilly, wet day there are quite a few tourists about but none of Fagan’s wallet lifting gypsy kids, thank God! (I was stung by them back in 1994) There was a bit of a police presence which might have put them off. Stands were in the process of being erected.. There must have been a person of utmost importance parading by soon. Berlusconi’s hairdresser for instance. I took a different route back to Termini and got hopelessly lost. I saw trams plying the streets so I knew I hadn’t been there before. Out of frustration and desperation I bit the bullet and asked a couple of locals for directions. They came through with flying colors.

When I got back to the railway station I was sore and tired and had nowhere to sit. That was it for me and Rome. Time to cut my losses. I collected my bags and bought a ticket to the airport. Not that I had any idea which platform my train left from. The print was smallish on the numerous timetables planted inside and I couldn’t find my destination. Had to ask other passengers for help and again they came through. Got to the Ryanair/Easyjet terminal four hours before my flight but I figured the facilities there have to be better than Rome. And guess what they were. Nothing flash but the terminal was new and you could buy food and drink and even get a seat. I was also able to change into my long pants. France was even nippier than Italy I was advised.

The passengers departing from this terminal weren’t the most visually appealing lot. Overweight and ugly, stuffing their faces with junk food. I was wondering if this is what the Costa Del Sol looks like. But who am I to criticise? I had a cool mineral water and a seat so the comfort level was vastly greater than central Rome. I still felt very sore from the day’s trekking around Rome so I was happy not to move and be in one place. Two hours before the flight check in opens. Of course I stand in the slowest queue. A couple of middle aged French woman in front of me had the sense to switch lines and were processed much faster than me. When I finally switch to their line the queue I was in came to a grinding halt. Then to add insult to injury they open a third check in which moves faster still. I was fuming with rage as I became one of the last people to get their boarding passes. Not a great start with Ryan Air but worse was to come.

Soon after we go through security. As usual I put my bag and lap top through the scanner. I walk through and the alarm goes off. I have to take off both my belt and remove my wallet before I’m given the okay to pass. The guy behind me goes through the same crap. I’ve never encountered this level of security before. However in spite of all this they allow passengers to take their own mineral water etc with them. Like that makes real sense. So we get into the departure lounge and watch other Ryan Air planes aquaplane down the runway as they take off. U wonder whether the budget air option was so good. I queue up behind an Aussie couple. I ask them if they also got a pissy stamp on their passport when entering the EC. The guy says sometimes they don’t even bother doing that. What an amazingly slack immigration system. Real eye opener.

So we wait patiently for the bus to pull up outside. I notice that our boarding passes don’t have seats so there was really no need for me to queue so early. You live and learn. We rush onto the bus for the short ride to the plane. When it pulls up there’s a mad rush to board the plane. So much for the romance of flying. Like feverish commuters we jostle position to get into the plane first. I sit next to a young French couple in the last row. Purportedly the safest part of the plane plus no one can kick my seat from behind.

First thing I noticed is that there’s no seat pocket in front of me. The seats are too close to waste space on such extravagances. The aisle is also very narrow. They flight service officer kept bumping into me every time they passed. This makes Jet star and the like look like AAA full service carriers. Our Punjabi pilot introduces himself in between cold calling customers to change their telcos. Hey are there any other airlines I can fly with around here today?

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