Rome 1

I landed at the Rome Fiumicino airport at 10 am on Monday, 10/10/2005. I tried to call my hotel to ask them how to get there, but instead I got a recorded message in Italian, providing no information in English (or Tagalog) whatsoever of how lost visitors who have no maps could get there without flagging a taxi. I just consumed my last Euro for that call so I walked over to the money exchanger and did what I had to do - rob them. Just kidding. While the attendant counted my money slowly, she remarked something in Italian to her co-workers that made them laugh. I felt self-conscious for a second, but realized quickly that they're just probably admiring my astonishingly good looks. I proceeded to run my fingers through my locks. . .

As I left the money exchanger, my self-assured, lion-hearted swagger slowly returned to the normal overweight-characteristic left-right-whimper stride that has always cursed me since adolescence. As I started walking down the unimaginably long aisle with my 45-lb duffel bag and my 20-lb backpack, I made a mental note: enough of this backpacking look, next time, must use rolling luggage! Within a few minutes, I was doing the suffering-march.

I deduced that since everyone took the train to the Roma Termini station, I might as well join the ride. The ride could save my back another 30 years of service and save my face for 30 minutes. I arrived at Roma Termini station, but when I saw how long the tunnels were... well you know. Anyway, minutes later, I got hold of a map, finally, and located the tiny street where my hotel was located. I walked up to Information and asked the best way to get there. The lady advised bus 215, so I made sure not to look for that. As I trudged through the sun to get to the bus stations, not only did I find out that I was supposed to board bus 64, but also nobody wrote or understood English! It was through my savior and lord Jesus Christ (Praise the Lord!) that I found a nice couple who volunteered to tell me when I had to get off, through gesticulations of course.

The bus barely left the station when I realized how beautiful Rome was. The ubiquitous fountains, the buildings of various shades of yellow, gold and brown, and the cobblestone-lined avenues! But you must know that the devil himself followed me. As the bus rocked along, my face fell smack on an Italian arm pit, as if the devil pushed my head onto it. The Italian body odor is a little bit more raw (can I say hairier?) than the French version and definitely not shy and subdued like the American! I could almost see the E. coli bacteria colony floating in the air and multiplying on my nose. I muttered a muted “sorry!” to the stranger and a screaming one to myself. But I digress. When the kind couple I befriended advised me that my stop was coming up, I delightedly said, “Thank you, I mean merci, este grazie.” I would have won best actor in the Academy Awards for speaking 4 languages in a role (or roll).

Now that I left hell, I was happy to walk again, never minding the stones on my back. I got to my lodging - hallelujah! – and it was snucked in between many monuments, midway from the Colosseum and the Spanish steps. After taking a shower and a quick nap, I set off on my adventure to take night pictures of Rome.

I walked to the relatively youngest monument, the Il Vittoriano, built in the 1800s. I also went to the Piazza Venezia beside my hotel, and took pictures of the Roman Forum, circa 600 B.C. But the highlight of my day was taking pictures of and around the Colosseum. I took day pictures of Roman soldiers posing for interested tourists, international couples romancing and strolling, traveling junkies cartwheeling on the grass, and other day-to-day characteristic moments. I went up to this remote location to take my night pictures and was surprised to find a couple there from my zip code! What a small world. As the darkness rolled in and my stomach began to complain of hunger, I took a moment to reflect how old the Colosseum was. I mean, it just stood there for more than a thousand years! I did my best to capture its silent beauty, if not for my benefit, at least to commemorate its longevity. I took several angles of it, and when I was finally satisfied with my shots, I called it a night. It was a very long day, so when I looked at my map I was glad to see that my hotel was only 500 meters away.