Day 42

We got up the next morning, took our usual bus, and then took the metro to Termini Station, the central train station in Rome. I was planning to go to Pompeii for the day, but found when I got there that a one-way ticket to Pompeii was over fifty euros: not worth it. So instead we walked through a sketchy neighborhood towards the Coliseum, stopping on our way to acquire pastries for breakfast. I had a large sugar doughnut and then a smaller one filled with Nutella. Both were incredibly unhealthy and incredibly delicious.

Chase spotted a church he wanted to go in, so we did. This was something of an unfortunate decision, as we ended up being trapped by the end of the Mass, which was being celebrated by some big-name bishop. We knew he was a big-name bishop because he had a totally unnecessary entourage of four guys in red hats and ten guys in black robes all marching before him. Erin was especially trapped, because she’d gone in the gift shop, and they closed the doors on her so that the bishop could go back to the changing rooms to get out of his fancy regalia and awesome hat. Anyway, Erin finally freed herself from the gift shop’s tyranny and we wandered back to the Trevi Fountain, where we stopped again at the fruit stand and had a second breakfast.

Munching on our respective fruits, we meandered down to the River Tiber, passing the Vatican radio station and Castle Sant Angelo. The castle is named after the Archangel Michael, who supposedly appeared atop it while a plague was running rampant through the city and sheathed his sword, signifying the appeasement of God’s wrath. The name isn’t the only memorial; he also got a pretty blinging statue perched atop the place. After getting trapped in the labyrinth of old moats and channels around the castle and walking around the thing twice trying to get out, passing a lot of homeless people taking advantage of the free benches on the way, we freed ourselves and went to lunch.

The quality of lunch can be expressed in one fact: the pasta wasn’t cooked all the way. Which is utterly ridiculous when you’re in freaking Rome and you’re paying good euros for the privilege of eating their food and they can’t even be bothered to cook it right! So, disappointed, we descended the stairs to the pathways along the banks of the River Tiber and walked slowly towards the island downstream (although Chase had to be reminded that this was a relaxing walk, and the island wasn’t going to disappear if we didn’t get there in the next hour). There were many people fishing in the Tiber, which I have to admit I found a bit weird. With all the runoff from the city that goes into the river, I can’t imagine the fish in it are that healthy for you. Still, the river was green and cold and pretty, much better than it was in ancient Roman times, when many writers wrote feelingly of the stench that rose from the Tiber all day, every day. They also complained about their neighbors and landlords: proof that neighbors and landlords are a timeless irritation.

The island was something of a disappointment; the only things on it were a church that was closed for Mass, a police station, and a hotel. After sitting and watching the world and the river go by for a while, we roused ourselves and walked through Rome, passing the Circus Maximus (once the largest chariot course in the world, now a spot for the homeless to sleep) on our way to the Baths of Caracalla. The Baths were, in one word, humongous, even in their decayed state. At the time they were built, they contained an Olympic-size swimming pool, a library, a pool of cold water, and a pool of boiling water kept hot by the slaves stoking fires beneath the floors. Roman baths weren’t just a place to bathe; they were a place to exercise, to get a massage, to hang out with your friends, or to conclude business deals. They were, in a sense, the social centers of their communities.

After walking around (on Roman tiles, oh my god so cool), we sat out in the gardens and chilled for a while, talking, then decided that after the disastrous meals of the past two days that we wanted guaranteed good food. So we went back to Bibo, the place we ate on our first night, and it was again delicious and not overly expensive. If any of you go to Rome, I recommend Bibo. After dinner, we went back to the Trevi Fountain, purchasing huge cones of gelato on the way (I went with my standard: chocolate chip, chocolate, and mint chocolate chip) to dine on while we sat by the fountain. Sitting there, I had one of my moments when there was no place in the world I would have rather been at that moment. Those are rare moments for me, but they make travel, and I suppose life in general, worth it.

Finishing our desserts, we tossed coins into the fountain over our shoulders, thus ensuring our eventual return to Rome, and returned to the hostel. All in all, a relaxing and wonderful day.

Well, it's not quite guerrilla radio, but close enough.

The Castle Sant Angelo. Check out Michael being hardcore up there.

A bridge over the River Tiber. There weren't any authentic Roman bridges left, which was sad, but the bridges they have now are still of a decent age.

The ruins of the Baths of Caracalla.

The Trevi Fountain at night. You have no idea how hard it was to get this picture with Asian tour groups and American tourists and Roma selling stuff all fighting for space around the fountain.