Italians and tourists dislike mornings, so Rome is less hustle and bustle at 9:30 am than it was during the constant deluge that was my visit last November. Customers trot back and forth between the small bathroom and the outdoor patio every now and then, but other than that, the back room is mine. I lean against the wall and try to forget how tired I am. Blabla car finally came through for me and I was able to catch a ride from Udine to Rome for 33 euros -- but it left at 23:00 last night and arrived at 05:30 this morning.
This self-proclaimed goddess of naps has but one enemy.
Chairs.
Unless this goddess can have her torso horizontal (the rest can be wherever it likes), sleep is an impossibility.
This goddess' torso was a far cry from horizontal on the six and a half hour drive from Udine to Rome, so I relinquished the idea of sleeping and actually engaged my drivers.
"Where are you going?"
"We don't know!" they bubbled back to me. "We'll decide when we get to the airport."
"That's fabulous!" I beamed. It's tremendously encouraging to witness other people flying by the seat of their pants. However, I have recently discovered that just as there are categories for CSers, there are categories for "fly-by-the-seat-of-their-pants"ers.
1) Those who have lots of money and can afford to book hostels, hotels and travel tickets at the last minute.
2) Those who have little money, plenty of gear, don't care about breaking rules and feel dandy sleeping just about anywhere.
3) Those who have little money, little gear and are forced to cancel on CSing hosts/friends if they want any spontaneity in their lives at all.
Guess which type I am?
My Italian drivers got impressively lost in Rome, so the long journey lasted longer than planned (but just as long as expected. Even Italians get lost in Italian cities. They're like those corn mazes I used to pay to enter as a small child). As it was still dark outside and I didn't fancy being in Rome by myself in the dark by a random metro station (I wasn't sure where they planned to leave me), I encouraged this back and forth, left and right, "shit, google maps -- why you sendin' me down another one-way street?" business as we wound our way through the web of Italy's capital city.
They dropped me off at Termini station, the hub at which Rome's two metro lines meet and its train ambles in and out with a nonchalant "screw you," to any and all timetables.
I propped Ellie against a wall and leaned up against her with legs crossed in front of me. I munched on some apricots, almonds and chocolate Sabina had thrown at me before leaving, and absentmindedly flipped through a social games book (another Sabina gift) called, "What Do You Say After You Say Hello?".
Six thirty am rolled around, the sun rose, and I boarded the metro for Piazza del Popollo. Where I promptly threw down Ellie (as unceremoniously as possible) next to a perky group of British tourists, resting my head on her side and crossing my legs in front of me (in the way that makes my knees go completely numb and causes immediate collapse upon standing up).
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| I could wild camp in Rome... |
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| Location of nap #1 |
I boarded the metro bound for Octavianus station and took my second nap near the Vatican. It was amusing to watch the line get longer and longer and longer and to think about all the time those people would spend jostling each other back and forth across the square.
When the amusement wore off and I began to crave my morning coffee, I hefted Ellie back to my shoulders and found this cafe.
Even if I weren't so bloody tired, I'd be speechless. Wordless. Rendered utterly amateur and unable to wrap my brain around my fluttering thoughts and transfer those through my fingers to blogger.com. My hands have been hovering over the keyboard of my macbook for the last half an hour in lamentable incompetence.
I don't know how to begin to describe how last week made me feel.
I've never had a real community whilst traveling. I've had families, sure, but never a solid group of friends with whom I've felt so blissfully at ease.
I found community in Ljubljana.
Sabina.
Deano.
Dusha.
Renato.
Garfield.
Simon.
God, even Jesus was part of my Slovenian community. Jesus hasn't been a part of my community in years.
The kindness, the playfulness, the openheartedness of these people nearly conquered my wandering spirit and made me question my itchy feet in a way I haven't questioned thus far.
I'm starting this post from a small cafe in Rome, but my heart is still in Sabi's kitchen and I still hear her cheerful, childish voice echoing in my head,
"Do you want cheese? We have eggs. I think this avocado is not so hard. Mmm... there's still some salmon. Did you make yourself a coffee?"
During my week and a half of living with Sabina and Deano, I learned how to use Gregor (first priority), how to put away the tupperware, where the baking powder lives, why Sabina doesn't like to peel her zucchini and even managed to develop a solid repertoire of inside jokes (many of which have to do with Jesus).
I don't want to leave these people. If I had an actual job or was here through a volunteer scheme, I think I could stay here for months. But even though Sabina does everything imaginable to make me feel at home, I'm terrified of wearing out my welcome. I am so damn sensitive when it comes to "being a burden."
It's easier to float. I'll float away for now and perhaps life will blow me back in a few years. For now? Today is Rome. Tomorrow is Reggio Calabria. After that is Palermo. After that is --
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