On a Friday afternoon in August, 2014, I landed in Rome, Italy. I had been abroad with family in the past, but this was my first time travelling solo. I was 25. Shortly after take-off from Toronto, I fell asleep listening to Bon Iver on repeat. I woke eight and a half hours later, with a gain of ten minutes thanks to a favourable tailwind. Upon landing, all passengers were shuttled through the 30-degree sunshine from the tarmac to the airport’s main building. The airport was a lot smaller than I expected for an international airport. I waited an hour to collect my suitcase from the baggage carousel and headed for the train, conveniently attached to the airport. My passport was stamped, the first in my then-new ten-year passport.
When I arrived at Termini Station, I was tired and eager to get to the bed and breakfast I booked. Fortunately, it was just around the corner. Most tourism guides and sites advised against staying in the area surrounding the train station due to the purportedly high rates of petty crime and theft in the area. But the inexpensive price and the convenience of a five-minute walk would not deter me. The B&B was located on the second floor of an old building. Being my first time in Europe alone and knowing I’d be living there for a year, I over-packed. By A LOT. My suitcase weighed a total 23kg! I looked over the elevator, but could not figure it out. There were no buttons. So, I started lugging my suitcase up the stairs. After arriving at the first landing, I could hear someone rushing down the steps toward me. It was a member of the B&B staff to help me out. The elevator on the first floor was in working order, as a matter of fact: it was intended that one call the B&B staff, who worked the elevator from the top. The staff carried my suitcase to the top, where I was checked in and given my room. The room was small and lightly decorated. It was clean and faced the street. Despite my exhaustion, I embraced my heavy suitcase and heaved it onto the bed. When I opened it up, I realised a tin of tea I’d brought with me had opened during the flight, spilling leaves throughout the entire thing. My clothing smelled fragrant, of caramel and nuts. At the time, the fragrance permeated my clothes until I reached Tartu, Estonia, my final destination.
I had a shower. The drain clogged. I lay down and slept for 2 hours. It was 17:00 when I woke up feeling good, ready to explore the city. I briefly looked at the map, having studied it on the plane, and started walking. I’m not sure where I went or in which direction, but by nightfall, my stomach was calling. I found a small pizzeria near the Via Nazionale, a large major road. The pizzeria was brightly lit and very busy. I ordered a slice and watched the television stashed into a neck-craning upper corner. Televised: a local music station playing Italian and English songs with alternative music videos to those I knew back home.
After dinner, leftovers in hand, I’d decided to find the Fontana di Trevi. A friend of mine had mentioned that of all the fountains to see in Rome, this was the greatest, especially at night. I followed the few signs pointing me in its direction but could not locate the place. Despite studying the maps, I had a lot of trouble navigating the city. I decided to head back in the direction of my hotel. My first steps were in the wrong direction. This was when I stumbled onto Ponte Garibaldi, a bridge that crosses the Tevere River (or the Tiber River) into the Trastevere area of Rome. The river’s edge was alight with tents, from Ponte Sisto to Ponte Palatino, live music was playing, and masses of people walked in either direction along the river. I was told by a merchant that it was a festival held every Spring along the riverbank that ran until September. I walked and walked, taking in the sights of goods, people, and the smells of food from the various pop-up restaurants.
By the time I’d reached the end, I had been walking for hours. I was getting sleepy, so I decided to find my way back to the B&B. After crossing the river at Ponte Palatino, I made my way in the direction of Termini Station, following the signs posted en route. But then, the street opened up, and I stood before Circus Maximus, or all that was left of it. A tower and a field of grass. The tower was surrounded by fencing because of a new archeological dig on the site. Along the fencing were plans by the city to revamp the ancient racetrack at the bottom of the Palatine. People were jogging around the track, couples walked hand in hand, and individuals were taking their dogs for a walk. Once I’d reached the top of the track, I turned toward the Palatine. I walked around it and came up to Capitoline Hill. The flames burning on either side at the top of the first set of stairs were being watched over by guards, standing erect beneath the Altare della Patria or the Monumento Nazionale a Vittorio Emanuele II, a large monument of the first king of unified Italy. It was well into the evening at this point, and the gate was closed. Determined to walk to the top of the stairs, I made my way back there on my last day.
Finally feeling like I was on course to the B&B, I “stumbled” into the Colosseum. It was huge and lit up in the night. I walked around it a few times, in awe. There were few people at this time, and the last merchants in the area, selling tacky souvenirs, scarves, and bottled water, were already packing up. I was bothered by no one, not a common thing in the middle of the day. I tried to catch a view of the inside, but barrier fencing surrounded the perimeter of the ancient building. There was a wall of scaffolding built up one-quarter of the outer Colosseum. I desperately wanted to see inside, so I knew I’d have to come back.
When I arrived back at the B&B around 11 p.m., I was exhausted. The shower drain was still clogged, and the water that filled the bottom was still. I notified the night staff and was moved in the morning to a quiet spot overlooking the courtyard in the center of the building. Laundry hung over the balconies of local apartments. Most of my writing was done sitting beneath the window.
