As I re-packed my suitcase, and dealt with all expected and unexpected fiascos (thank you, power outages at sunset), I decided to become a tutor in all things Italian. Now, keep in mind that I am severely under qualified to do this, but I do have a list of tips given to me by all my favorite people, . . .
The one with the not-Russians
My day started off with surprise that I still existed. At least, from my AirBnB hosts. Still on my cozy, crazy, California hours, I had been in bed every night at around 9 or 10 PM, and up around 6:30 or 7 AM, thereby missing all other members of the household. Still, waking up to such a positive . . .
The one with the tourists
Monuments are pretty, and historically important, but to be honest, half of my motivation for going to look at them is to see what the bizarre behavior of tourists will be today. While in line for the Colosseum, I managed to catch sight of a full-on photo shoot happening in front of the monument, . . .
The one with Sergio
It is a known fact that Italians are an affectionate and handsy people. That said, I assumed I would be an exception given that A. I avoid human contact like the plague, and B. I constantly have sweat pouring off of me. Apparently, my reasoning was faulty. While wandering around la Villa Borghese . . .
The one with the sacred cats
At the site where Julius Caesar was betrayed and murdered, known as Largo di Torre Argentina, there is a cat colony. This colony is quite possibly my favorite thing. Ever. There is a yacht-load of volunteers that are dedicated to caring for some 150 stray cats, with their work involving the . . .
The one with(out) the Italian phrasebook
The last leg of getting to Rome went perfectly fine up until arrival, which was better than I expected, to be honest. Of course, the moment the plane landed, I was hit with a solid wall of humidity that did not get along well with my boots, dark jeans, and flannel. Can't imagine why that didn't work . . .
The one with the airplane food
As of right now, I'm in Dublin, wondering how in the world an airport can feel so dang comfortable. It could be the fact that there's more green outside of one window than I could see from any one area in Santa Rosa, or it could be that the terminals are pleasantly empty, but it can probably be best . . .