I arrived in Rome today, and I am even less a fan of the Italian train system that I was when the ticket witch charged me €64 (about 80 bucks) on the last train for not showing her the right KIND of ticket. But I tried to shake it off, which was pretty hard. But I had a GREAT visit in a little Italian city called Orvieto, where I spent my birthday. I saw beautiful things – wonders of the civilized world even – and I ate my birthday dinner in a cave (and that’s not code for anything…haha) and washed it down with a free glass of prosecco from the nice Italian waiters. It was pretty good. I mean, if that’s how you’re going to spend your birthday. Plus, look at that table full of aperitivos (appetizers) that some awesome girl in a tiny bar started loading up on the table of a small, corner bar-type place after I told her I was hungry. Such good people.
Then I got back on a train for Rome, not before having a complete mental break – telling my apartment host and ride to the train station that I didn’t have a train until 12:45 so needed a ride at 11 and, at about 10:45, realizing my train left at 11:20. Panic. Numbers are hard.
But I made it. I checked THREE TIMES whether my printed train ticket would be adequate and was told it was. Then, on the train, a new nasty conductor (NOT a millennial woman), looks at my ticket, then demands my passport. Now, I should mention that at this point I’ve been here for several days and I have NO IDEA where my passport is. I look at him and then my luggage helplessly, and then pick up my carry-on to start the search. In his best Stalin-esque voice, he loudly demands “I SAID YOUR PASSPORT.” So I, by this time, I hate the train people, so I’m all attitude right back. I mean hey, I heard you, and yesterday was my birthday and prosecco gives me a headache. “I HEARD YOU.” Probably came out a little bitchier then I planned, because he actually looked a little surprised. And the best part is that he just glanced at it and handed it back. Sorry about your inferiority complex, asshole.
I originally planned to take a train from the Rome main station to a station near my Rome apartment in Trastevere. But I was trained out. So, after paying my bullshit blood-money fine from Sunday, I got in a taxi at the queue. The driver spoke almost no English and told me he’d have to drop me at a plaza near my hotel because he couldn’t drive to it. Then he pulled the OLDEST money scam on the books on me. My fare was an obnoxiously expensive 23 euros, so I handed him a 20 and a five. I was planning to give him the extra two euros fo a tip, but then he turned around with two 5€ bills in his hand and said something in Italian that I understood to mean, “No, lady, it’s 23 euros and you handed me two fives.” So then I just lose my F-ing bananas. At first, EVERYONE falls for that – we’re tired and it’s not our currency and we have lots of money in our wallets so we don’t know. But I had two 20s and two fives in my wallet at the moment and had been trying to figure out where to get cash – pretty straightforward. He backed down right away after I raised my voice a couple of notches, and he then claimed he was just trying to ask me if I had change. Liar. But whatever. I even gave him the two euro tip – which I shouldn’t have done since he not only tried to rob me but also dropped me two blocks away from an apartment he could have driven right up to. Jerk.
But then I got into the apartment, and —wow. The cab driver and train witch faded away. There is a great benefit to traveling here in the off-season. Yeah, you have to wear a jacket most days, but this apartment that rents for as much as $400/night in the high season was less than $80 for me. And I have an extra bedroom. And a soaking tub. Good night, Alice. More later – I’m trying to get my bearings and find some food. But so far it’s been a shitty start and a great start all at the same time. Rome just might grow on me after all…
