When I'd finally collected my luggage (did it get lost on the way????) at FCO airport, after a too-long connection in Istanbul, I still didn't have an answer to the question regarding the typical "Roman" behavior. I was sure of one thing, though - I was nowhere close to resembling a local in anyway. You know how before you travel to a fancy place you imagine yourself sitting there in some avenue, sipping a Cappucino, dressed to the latest style, having tourists asking you for directions because they mistook you for a local? Spoiler alert: none of the above ended up happening.
Hints that suggested I was in fact an utterly lost tourist (that's right, I know we all prefer the cooler word "traveler", but when lost in Rome, call yourself as the Romans call you):
1. A 17kg backpack on my back and a 8kg daypack on my front
2. Jeans, a flannel shirt and work boots
3. The huge map constantly blocking my face
4. The endless muttering of "non parlo Italiano" whenever approached by an English-refusing Italian
And so I miraculously got to the meeting point with my Couchsurfing host on that first afternoon, sweaty, exhausted and with a broken back. "Ciao!!!!", I embarrassingly yelled when I first noticed him - thank god, a somewhat familiar face. I was even happier when I got into his air-conditioned Audi, and again later when I entered his top-notch apartment, and again later when he opened a fine bottle of red wine and offered me a glass - si, grazie!
I spent my days in Rome, accepting the fact that I'm just like any other tourist (except for you, rude American with Hawaii shirt who cut me in the line to the Vatican - you know who you are!). I never ended up entering the Vatican church, by the way, as my spirit eventually broke by the infinite line. Generally, I didn't follow a guide-book and simply wandered around, searching for nice places. I never had to search for too long because 99% of Rome is stunningly beautiful. Every "Piazza" you accidentally find yourself sitting at, every ruin of something ancient (I never took the time to actually read the info), every tree and brick of the floor. It almost seems unreal and surely is unfair that some people actually get to live their daily lives there.
I walked, and walked and walked, until I got tired and/or hungry, which are two great dangers for the budget traveler. In Tel Aviv, one of my favorite pastime activities was sitting in a cafe, listening to my ipod and reading a book for a few hours on one cup of coffee. I brought lots of books to Rome and carried them around with me every day, expecting to find that gem of a cafe/bar where it would be legitimate to order one thing and just sit for a while. But big was my disappointment - I could find no such places (here that guide-book might have come in handy). Even when wandering around the smallest and farthest of allies, a cup of Capuccino at a cafe usually cost around 5 Euros and I had exactly 15 minutes to sit down and drink it before that family of 20 Japanese tourists replaced me at my table. I was a very unprofitable client everywhere I went, so the waiters would simply stare at me angrily until I gave up, paid my tiny bill and left.
Hence, I found myself alternative ways to rest - brought a sheet along with me and laid down in parks and piazzas (depending on weather's mercy), made sandwiches in the morning at my host's place and had them for lunch (allowing dinner to be the one real fancy meal a day), hung out in bookstores, music stores and public libraries. All in all, after 5 days of exploring one of the most expensive European cities, my budget remained somewhat balanced, which I was very happy about. And even while being a cheapskate, I'd managed to have lots of fun, see cool places and make new friends - success!
See you at the next post, where I will tell a little bit about my first impressions of farm life.
Till then - ciao and thanks for reading!
