MONDAY, JUNE 22
“Maybe a year is too long,” said Chloe looking tired with dark shadows under her eyes. We were standing in the Naples train station looking for the departure gate for the train to Rome. I was wondering the same. I was angry with her and myself (for being angry at her) and exhausted. Every muscle in my body seemed to be rebelling against dragging my bag, and coping with the heat. I’d just laid into Chloe about not helping me with travel arrangements and for lacking enthusiasm. “It’s too much for me,” I repeated too many times.
The two-hour train ride from Naples to Rome was in silence. We read side by side. I was fuming.
Once in Rome, we made our way into the crowded train station atrium, figured out the bus we needed to take to our Airbnb and walked to the bus stop on the street only five minutes away. The air was clearer than in Naples, the people calmer, the streets wider. There was green and light. The buildings were large and gorgeous. We walked single file along the cobbled sidewalk, still not talking to each other.
We sat separately on the bus. I was in a single seat where I could tuck the bag in beside me. The bus started up with a bumpy jolt. We each looked out our respective windows, and Rome appeared in all it’s glory and grandeur and exquisiteness, the fountains, the columned buildings, the ruins and rebuilds, the lively piazzas, the rich orange and pastel-colored buildings, the renaissance and baroque, the tall trees and flowers, the villas nestled in hills, and the well-dressed, slow walking people.
Passing the glistening Trevi fountain, I looked over at Chloe. She was looking at me. We both had huge smiles. The twinkle was back in her eyes. I started to cry (luckily she didn’t see that). We were back.
When we got off the bus, we were near giddy with happiness. “Rome. Rome,” we kept saying as we passed through a small neighborhood park, kids playing, parents talking to other parents, older people sitting together on benches. It was a quiet afternoon, only a few people gossiped near their doorways, or in the restaurants that spill onto sidewalks, or while shopping in the fruit market. We could hear birds chirping.
It was easy to breath again, and we realized that Naples had been hard on us, “depressing,” Chloe said. Like sponges, we absorb, and absorbing Naples is like absorbing dirty water.
We spent quite a while in the Airbnb before heading out. I wasn’t able to access my bank account on my computer, baffling; and I couldn’t use my phone to make calls. It cuts me off as soon as I start talking. I called 3 and added more money, but that didn’t work. Infuriating.
Also we spent time booking tickets for the next few days, paying premium prices for the Coliseum and the Vatican because we were doing it so late in the game. Big mistake. And we couldn’t get tickets to the the Borghese Museum. It’s was already fully booked for the days we were in Rome.
The walking tour we wanted to take in the afternoon was also booked, so we thought we would try something new. An audio tour “Rome: Heart of Rome Walk,” by Rick Steves. It turned out to be brilliant. From now on, we will be putting earbuds in our ears and walking through new cities with Rick Steves. Great find!
The wonders of Rome greeted us as we headed to the Tiber River. Newer buildings layered over and around ancient cornices, columns or crumbling walls of brick. Neighborhood sidewalks lined with stylish, fun restaurants and boutiques, and the stately Temple of Hercules just happened to be on our route to the Campo di Fiori.
Mostly we took the wide walkway along the river, soaking in the green and flowers we’d been missing. As we approached the Campo and the crowds thickened, tourists didn’t bother us because we realized the crowd was a mix of visitors and Romans, primarily Romans, strolling, talking, shopping and eating ice cream.
Rick Steves audio tour guided us from one campo to the next, from one fountain to another, culminating at the Trevi Fountain, where, yes, of course, we each made a wish. We learned about history, obelisks, government buildings, Bernini and his architectural rival Francesco Borromini, and the importance of water and Rome’s viaduct system.
What was nice about the audio tour was we decided when to stop. We could grab a foccacia, or lean over the railing at the Spanish Steps or listen to the kitschy cello and violin playing “My Way” as we lingered in the Piazza Navona by the Fontana dei Quattro Fiumi.
We watched the sun set from the Spanish Steps. A crowd cheered. A couple, just married, kissed. It was the longest day of the year, and here we were blissfully living our dream.
