Things were not starting off as I had hoped and we had not even left Portland yet. I was tired after flying from Brasil and getting sick with sinus congestion and a cough. Eric had just got off a flight that was rerouted due to weather and he had spent many sleepless airport hours trying to get back to Portland so we could fly to Italy. Neither of us slept on the plane to Newark. His biological clock told him to be awake and I was too sick and uncomfortable to sleep. One interesting side note; I almost walked into Lyle Lovett at the Newark airport. He looked better in person than I expected but it still doesn’t explain the Julia Roberts thing.
The Alitalia flight to Rome was uncomfortable despite the bountiful legroom and wide seats. I was achy and tired and coughing and uncomfortable no matter what. Eric was still too awake and excited to sleep. Luckily, the dinner on the plane was very good. We had pasta with cheese and bacon chunks, sautéed chicken with vegetables, cold green been and ham antipasto, lemon chiffon cake with sliced almonds, Tillamook cheese, crackers, coffee, and yummy wine from first class because they ran out of the cheap economy class wine by the time they got to me. It was a brief highpoint--things went downhill from there.
A stone faced immigration official stamped our passports and we were officially in Italy. Yeah! (or so I thought)
On the half hour train from the airport into central Rome, the need for sleep caught up with Eric. He turned from an excited, “ Wow, I’m in Italy” mile-a-minute talker into lifeless zombie in the first minute on the train. Still able to walk if guided, he stumbled along like a drunkard to the metro, his wheeled suitcase barely hanging from a boneless arm. The problem was that we were too early to check in to the hostel, by about four hours. Wanting to kill some time and to take advantage of the weak winter sun to wake us up a little, we plodded the eight blocks from the metro stop to the hostel, still arriving three and a half hours too early. We sat on the marble stairs for a while, we sat at the hard wooden bar tables for a while, we sat on the wooden benches a while. I was completely exhausted and feeling very very unwell. Eric was just plain delirious at that point. He kept talking about wanting to be in his own bed and feeling like he was going to vomit. It was the longest three and a half hours I have spent in a long time.
Finally, at two in the afternoon, we collapsed into our dorm beds, sleeping fitfully for about five hours, at which point I thought we would try to see something to help get our time clocks adjusted, so we jumped a bus to the Vatican, the closest point of interest. It was a shame we were still so tired because St. Peter’s Square, Bernini’s graceful and superhuman scaled piazza, is truly stunning at night. Almost entirely alone in the chilly night air, we marveled as best we could with our glazed senses. Things were going much better than they were early in the day and I was feeling optimistic. That should have been my first warning.
We headed back to sleep some more and start the next day fresh. I wish that was what happened, but no. I was aching all over and coughing. Eric couldn’t sleep at all because he was so over tired and feeling out of place in the hostel dorm. He was sick all night, pacing the room, threatening to vomit, and begging for his own bed. Miserable doesn’t begin to describe the experience. Only at about six in the morning did he fall asleep. I would have been thrilled sleep away the day with him except that this hostel locked everyone out of the rooms from 10-2 so they could clean. Oh joy. I was so tired then that I cannot now recall what we did during those four hours other than eat gelato. We were back in bed promptly at two o’clock, sleeping until seven-ish. We got something to eat, I don’t remember what, and went back to bed. Fortune smiled on us and we managed to sleep until morning.
This wasn’t how I had thought the first two days in Rome would be. I was disappointed because I wanted this to be so fun for Eric and until this point it was about as un-fun as it gets. If I have learned anything about travel so far, I have learned that you have to roll with whatever happens and keep going--things will get better. Or worse. I am shooting for better.
