No need to Rome
Rome is a World Wonder, one that ought to be seen at least once in a lifetime. But once, for me, is quite enough. (I guess I have actually been there three times, but two of those were essentially in transit). Rome’s antiquities and architecture, and, of course, its food, are quite amazing. I am glad to say that I have “been there and done that,” but I feel no need to return.
The story of my brother-in-law getting his wallet stolen on Rome’s Metro yesterday reminds me of the many things that make me uneasy about the place. Upon our arrival back in ‘98, Brian, too, was swarmed by a gaggle of Roma girls who no doubt were after his credit card. By some good fortune (probably his immediate impulse to start swatting at them, derived from his withered patience after more than a year in Macedonia), they did not succeed. Our experience was further undermined by the ubiquitous appearance of sad-looking people dully hawking noisy, colorful toys on the street. We figured them to be among the legions of Bangladeshis and other virtual slaves from Southeast Asia who arrive in the country illegally and are cruelly maintained by some sinister mafia. Also in Rome, we had one of our most unpleasant hostel stays ever: the “Oliver”-like conditions along a long table at its one, 30-minute breakfast sitting, hosted by sneering proprietors, are particularly memorable. We constantly found ourselves lost in the city, unaided by its almost defiantly unhelpful signage. Finally, the Vatican, while objectively gorgeous in all of its over-the-top riches and opulence, struck us as … a bit distasteful.
Anyway, I hope the snatched wallet does not cloud the remainder of Scotty’s trip to Italy. Fortunately, the majority of his time will be spent in Florence and Venice.
July 28th, 2010 at 6:19 am
Our first visit to Rome was for two days in 1971 and was as unnerving as you describe. Rome was fascinating and gorgeous but we were happy to leave. On a return visit gangs also were after my wallet. I’m sorry I had not warned the Stewarts of this possibility.
July 29th, 2010 at 8:19 am
[…] And while Louise found the people in Rome to be rude, so far I’ve found them quite charming. The low point of our walk was when I came to Number 77 on our street and it was basically a wall. I quickly ducked into the café across from the wall bearing the number and showed my hotel information to a lady in the café who promptly and in very good humor told me it was on the other side of the intersection. “Trust me!” she proclaimed. “It is there.” Actually, she was very Louise like so I instinctively believed her. Anyway, she was right. I now understand why the lady at the information booth said she couldn’t tell me which way to turn. The numbers on our side started at 81, went up, then down to 40, and finally, 77. […]