Roma

After waiting on the air-phone for five minutes we were finally buzzed into the apartment block of our hostel, 'floor five', we were told. We walked into the small, dark lobby and headed for the old lift in front of us. Pressing the button again and again we soon realised it was out of order. This was the last thing we needed. We had been traveling since eight o' clock the night before. It was now 8am, and we were faced with ten flights of stairs. Beautiful as the old, dusty staircase was, it was a hell of a climb.

We were greeted by a twenty something Italian girl who spoke enough English to check us in. Though she made sure we knew that we told her the wrong arival time in our reservation, and she wasn't expecting us till the afternoon. At least that makes up for the wait at the front door, i thought. We must have looked odd out there considering we were the only whites on the street, plus the added novelty of bags hanging off us wherever they could fit.
The neighborhood consisted mainly of Indians and Africans with the odd Italian. And there was a police van permanently parked across the street. A little unerving at the time but hey, if we can do Cape Town we can do Vittorio Emanualle II. We were shown to our room and were quite pleased with what we got. It was a triple. A double and a single bed, for the price of a double, jackpot. We instantly made ourselves at home, which meant there were clothes and bags all over the floor and beds, making it hard to walk around or sit down.

When checking in we had noticed the hostel had a kitchen so we decided to make some coffee, though when doing so Kell had an awkward confrontation with our Italian host. Apparently the kitchen is only for breakfast and we are not allowd to use it otherwise. I thought to myself, it's 8:30 am, this is breakfast. Kell was already halfway through making the coffee so she let her continue, though from that point on we felt there was something odd about this girl.

After a coffee and a much appreciated shower, we headed out to see what we could find. In our immediate neighborhood we noticed lots of stalls on the side of the road. They were selling cheap handbags and very cheap clothes. Some, practically from the back of a van, others from well organised tables. Interesting. It all looked very dodgy but the police didn't seem to mind, so neither did we.

After walking around for ten minutes or so we strolled around a corner and were confronted with none other then the Colosseum. Ha, that was easy. We had no idea we were so close. With nothing else to do we continued on, to check it out. Just like that, it sits in the middle of an ordinary street. Typical Italian buildings one side, the Roman Forum the other. Cars fly by it without a second look, or possibly a look at all. Such an amazing, ancient structure, smack bang in the middle of the city. Truly bizarre.

Since we were there, we though it would be good to go inside, and get it off the list of things to do. Not to be. The line was an hour deep and we were getting hungry. Instead we backtracked to find some food. We had passed a few places on the walk that looked half decent. Each of them with 'Pizza' signs on prominent display, as if we didn't know. But the endless advertising had its effect, pizza, pizza, pizza, lets get pizza. Our first pizza in Italy, but did it top Vienna? The restaurant had won awards for the past 3 years running, so said the stickers on the door, and the pizza was pretty damn good, but we both agreed that Vienna was better. Satisfied, yet exhausted from the overnight travel we headed back to our room and crashed.
We had planned to rise early and beat the crowds to the Colosseum. We should have known better, we didn't wake till around 09:30, the Colosseum opened at 08:30, any chance we had of beating the crowds was long gone. We took the opportunity to take the day at a slower pace. Since it was breakfast time we decided to see what was on offer from our gracious host. Croissants, individually wrapped in plastic, like a packet of chips, and toast with jam. Ok sounds alright, but of course there was no toaster, and why should there be? Toast doesn't mean bread, toasted. Toast or 'Tost' was a kind of biscuit or cracker in the shape of a slice of bread. It was crunchy and fragile, and there was a jar on the kitchen bench where, in the event of getting a broken piece of toast, you put the broken waste in. Mmmm, breakfast is served. We decided that the next day we would make scrambled eggs.

We eventually got our act together and headed out for the day, following yesterdays path to the Colosseum. Once again the line was too long and we left it for the day. Instead we continued on into the city, past the Colosseum and passed the Roman forum. A route taken by thousands of tourists every day. Though this year the footpaths were half their intended size because of roadworks, and all the tourists had to squeeze their way down the street, through a tunnel of temporary steel fencing. Just like in much of Greece, it was a shade hopping walk. Soldiering on in the heat till we found a tree, or the shadow cast by a building, to rest in the shade.

In the centre we couldn't help but shop, we had saved for so long at home it was about time we treated ourselves. Clothes shopping in Europe is about twenty times as good as it is at home. Almost every shop is co-sex and even with the exchange rate it's half the price. I bought some new jeans and Kell got some earings. We spent the rest of the day checking out some of the other tourist attractions. The Trevi Fountain for one, which was flooded with tourists, and the Spanish Steps which were like, so what? We also saw the Parthenon which was good, but might have been better with a snorkel, if you catch my drift.

Rome in summer seemed to be like Manly on a Sunday, so busy that it detracts from the true feel of the place. We wandered some more but found ourselves tired and probably dehydrated and headed back to our apartment. On the way we dropped into our local supermarket and collected some eggs for breakfast and some bread, salami and salad so we could make sandwiches for lunch. For dinner we found a Chinese Restaurant not far from us, and it was nice to eat rice for a change.

We had found a frying pan but no spatula, we knew one was there somewhere because Kell had found it in the sink and washed it the day before. Puzzled, we asked our host who seemed perplexed that we were making eggs. She told us that there was no spatula so we asked how she made her eggs. She pointed to the draw and told us to use a fork. Right, ok, what is wrong with this person? We knew there was a spatula. From what we gathered, she thought of it as her kitchen, not a hostel kitchen, and 'use for breakfast only', meant taking a plate and a knife, using it to spread jam on your toast and then washing it and putting it back. Well, we had spent the money on eggs already, so we made eggs. With no help from her and no spatula, which we assumed was in one of the locked cupboards that said, 'Staff Only'.

The breakfast incident behind us, we made some sandwiches and headed to the Boboli Gardens. According to Don Burke, it was a must see. I wouldn't agree with that. The gardens were large but uncared for. It was hard to find an attractive piece of grass to have lunch on. We eventually settled for less, and chose a spot in the shade to eat. I don't know why, but bread in Italy is terrible. Their is no bread isle in the supermarkets. There is one small basket where you can buy either tiny slices of bread or over sized slices of bread. Not loafs. Packets of about 4 slices. Random. Our bread was stale and our picnic soon turned into a food fight, a sign of our disgust for the food we should have been eating.

The afternoon was spent trying to find a part of the gardens that Kell had seen in a film. By 17:30 we had found it, but hadn't found the entrance. We didn't know how much it was, assumed it was probably closed by now, and were passed the point or caring. Later research revealed that it was part of a privately owned Villa, with no access to the public, unless in a tour group. A day well spent.

The rest of our time in Rome was spent shopping, I bought an Armani manbag, to carry my camera around in, and Kell bought a Guess handbag and matching wallet. When in Rome. And on our last day we finally saw the Colosseum. We went late in the afternoon and only lined up for ten minutes.

By now we were happy to be leaving. We were bound for Florence where we hoped for a more relaxed vibe.

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