Day 29: Cheesy visits a rut

    Experienced travelers know that, when you're on the road, all things go wrong at once. First, Cheesy couldn't find a host in Rome, despite having sent out dozens of messages to dozens of people. Second, she couldn't reserve a bed online at the only hostel in Rome, because reservations had to be 48 hours in advance and Cheesy had been hoping until the last minute to find a couchsurfing host. Third, Cheesy couldn't stay an extra day with her host in Florence, because he was expecting new guests. Fourth, Cheesy found out Monday morning at 10 that she had to be gone by 11 because the housekeeper was coming.

    So all of a sudden Cheesy found herself in the train station of Florence, heading to Rome with no idea what to do once she got there. But she still felt positive, because she managed to get on a train that she knew was heading to Rome (unlike in Marseille, where she got on the train not knowing when or how to get to Torino where her next hosts were waiting for her). On the train, she got into a conversation with an Italian man sitting opposite her, who actually knew quite a bit about linguistics. But Cheesy's good humour was premature. Cheesy hadn't marked the date on her train pass yet, since on the Marseille train she only wrote the date once the ticket-man came along. And so the ticket-man on the Roman train came along. And Cheesy hadn't marked the date yet. And the ticket-man fined Cheesy €50. And so began Cheesy's descent into Rome.

    Once arrived, Cheesy took the bus to get to the hostel. In Rome, there are crosswalks on the street without any traffic lights. So the pedestrian is expected to saunter out into the highway and hope that all the cars will stop. Cheesy had to cross such a street to get to the hostel. She was cautious. She waited until a bus stopped to let her cross. So she dashed towards the yellow line in the middle of the highway. The cars on the other side of the highway hadn't seen her yet. Once she arrived at the yellow line, the first car saw her and stopped suddenly. The car behind it of course hadn't seen anything, and went flying into the car that had stopped for Cheesy. And so Cheesy's entry to the Roman youth hostel was punctuated by a major car accident. Fortunately no one was hurt, and Cheesy was able to creep away from the scene to get to the hostel.

    The hostel was €19 per night. Internet use was €3 per hour. The wireless system was down. Breakfast was not included. Laundry cost €6. The lobby was unheated. There were no locks on the doors. There was no soap in the bathrooms. And in order to go anywhere, you had to cross the damn highway again. Cheesy was not pleased. But the employees were really nice, and placed Cheesy in the same dorm as another Canadian girl who had just arrived. So there was hope for Rome.

    However, the next morning, Cheesy began her tour at the hospital. No, dear reader, Cheesy is quite fine. But (and I'm sure you'll be very interested to know), Cheesy had developed an infected ingrown hair, and it had become so swollen that Cheesy thought she might do well with a prescription of some kind (Cheesy had learned early on from her parents working in the pharmaceutical industry: when in doubt, seek drugs). Cheesy managed to get out of the hospital by about 1 p.m. and was happy to have some time to walk around. Of course, it promptly started raining. So Cheesy found a café with a wifi internet connection and settled in. She had 64 new emails, breaking her previous record of 32 in Florence. Most were just couchsurfing business, which was taking up much of Cheesy's time.

    After tackling the emails, Cheesy braved the rain and managed to do some sightseeing. She stumbled across the Parthenon by accident. Not that it was hard: the Parthenon was huge. Rome was huge. In fact, with all the traffic and monuments and people, Cheesy was beginning to think that the only thing cooler than Paris was Rome. Cheesy was a city girl, no doubt. After the Parthenon, Cheesy visited the Castel Sant'Angelo. The castle was surrounded by more of the lovely Dr. Seuss trees that Cheesy had first seen in Marseille. Then Cheesy went to the Basilica San Pietro, which she did not realize was right next to the Vatican. She also didn't realize that she could actually go into the basilica without paying, so she lingered around outside for a while. She did manage to get into the crypts of the dead popes. That was nice, but not like seeing a real mummy, skin and bones, like in Torino.

    After her touristy afternoon, Cheesy returned to the hostel. She had managed to find a host, and was to wait for him there until 8 or 9 p.m. Italians have big days. They work from 9 a.m. until late into the evening, come home to have a multi-course dinner at 9 p.m., then maybe go out dancing until 2 or 3 in the morning. Maybe it's because they're always running late. In any case, Cheesy wasn't surprised when her host called to say he'd only be arriving around 9:30. Cheesy didn't mind. She was happy to be leaving the hostel and hopefully also the rut she'd gotten into since heading to Rome.