Tuesday, April 7, 2015

From Rome to Florence

This is one story in a series of stories that tell about a backpack trip to Europe in the spring of 1976 by myself in an effort to run away from the pain of a broken heart. (To read from the beginning Google "The Ramblings of an Aging Baby Boomer" and go back to March 26th, "I'll Never Find Love Again.")

Wednesday, April 7, 1976 (On train from Rome to Florence, Italy)

As of Monday night I am now sharing hotel rooms with Willem and Charles. (In Rome Forti Pension.) It was their idea. When I told them how much money I brought with me, they were surprised. I had prepaid the airline tickets and Eurail pass, but I had underestimated the costs for the rooms, food, and miscellaneous. My plan to eat one meal a day didn't even last one day. I think when you know you can not have something--like food--the desire to have it gets stronger and stronger and, at times, all consuming.

All day yesterday taking in Rome. What a busy, busy place this is. People and cars moving like in the old time movies: so fast. The people are very vocal, demonstrative, and animated, and the men are not shy about approaching women. Maybe it was like this in Barcelona; if so, I didn't notice. But, then again, part of the time I was in a daze.

Here is what we saw Tuesday (not in this order): Colosseum, St. Peters Church, Pantheon, Spanish Steps, Trevi Fountain, and the Sistine Chapel--Amazing! Grandiose! Grandiose! Each room is big enough to hold one very large house. We also saw where the Senate Forum was before Christ and we walked across the oldest bridge in Rome. And, of course, the Vatican. I did not know that the Vatican is a separate country or entity....not part of Rome.

Postcard perfect picture of Colosseum

Vatican

Oldest Bridge in Rome

Today we rented scooters (I rode on the back with Willem) and went to Tivoli, a town twenty-five miles away that sits on the side of a mountain (large hill). On the way out of town Charles' bike had a flat tire and there was a lot of waiting around to get it fixed. I sat with one bike while the guys were dealing with the flat tire.

Rome--waiting on flat tire to get repaired.
(Note: Had this picture mistakingly in the Barcelona pictures)

There's  a villa (castle) in Tivoli with a magnificent garden and fountains. Seeing this town was Willem's idea, but I didn't enjoy the ride there and back. Half of the time, my butt was on the back fender because the seat was too small for Willem and me. Besides the flat tire, Charles' bike was agonizing slow, and it was so cold. Even though Willem gave me his coat, I was freezing. Not my favorite part of visiting Rome.

Willem is different now. Can't put my finger on it. Before we were separated in Barcelona, he had always been polite and respectful but distant; he had a parental or big brother attitude toward me, but without the closeness and intimacy that family members share. Charles, on the other hand, has always treated me like an equal. We joke, we laugh; we are good pals. Willem is starting to relax, to soften. He's smiling more, and I feel he is beginning to see that I am a woman--not a little girl. I am smart; I am capable. I don't need someone to take care of me. Or, maybe it's my imagination and he doesn't think that at all.

My throat still hurts but it's getting better.



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