I am off the train and in the heart of Rome. Save the dozens of trains that pass through it, Termini more resembles a large mall than a train station. Gimpy and I are trying to spot each other next to a Bata store. I notice him before he sees me and start walking towards him. Either he’s not that excited or he doesn’t recognize me right away. I am only a few feet away from him before he realizes it’s me. We have our “Oh I haven’t seen you in so long!” and “How did you go the wrong direction?” exchanges before we head towards the Archie residence. We’ve got to take a bus to get there. Before we get to the stop, Gimpy educates me about Roman public transportation.
The busses are always crowded; there is no way to get around that. You can enter through any open door; everyone else will. You can’t buy tickets on the bus; you have to buy one before you get on. There are several machines on the bus where you must validate your ticket, which you already bought before you got on the bus. If you fail to validate your ticket or even, heaven forbid, if you didn’t buy one and are discovered by a comptroller, you are charged with a stiff 50euro fine. The fine is payable right then and there on the bus, though there may be a higher fee if you need to pay it later or something; this area is blurry. Also, in all the time Gimpy has been in Rome, the comptrollers have only checked for tickets once, and that was on his way to Termini today. He had been there since the fall. It was now March… Ticketless, careless, and couthless, we stroll onto a bus. It’s Easter season and the transportation office is stepping up their game to discourage visitors from riding free. After a few minutes sans announced stops or marked streets, Gimpy and I hop off the bus. I stride with the gait of a wanted criminal who knows she will never be caught.
Between the bus stop and the Archie building, Gimpy acts as my tour guide. A monument erected for a king, a plaza marked with artists’ rivalries, the tomb of a famous painter… and an even more famous ninja turtle. Everything in Rome is a sight worth seeing as long as you have the story to go along with it. I hang out with Gimpy and reunite with some of the long-lost archies for a while. A gelato and a couple hours later, we get ready to meet Caitlin. Caitlin is studying in Austria and this trip is the one point in spring where our lines will cross. If only we could get them to cross. Gimpy and I are walking from nondescript landmark to nondescript landmark trying to find Caitlin in the city. After a series of very expensive phone calls and a significant darkening of the sky we finally track each other down. Everyone is happy. But alas, everyone is hungry.
Caitlin and I grab dinner with Gimpy. My first real Italian meal. I order a pizza margherita. The waitress returns with a plate the size my belly would be after I finished it; large. We converse and we eat and soon it is time for us to part. Caitlin and I will be going to our hostel to meet the other four students in our group and Gimpy will be going back to the Archie studio, maybe to do some of that work he had traded for an afternoon of reminiscing and eating gelato.
Caitlin and I are back at Termini station. We have very precise directions to our hostel. It’s not in the city center, but it was significantly less costly than other decisions and seemed like a fun choice. It’s around 11pm. As night blankets Rome with unforgiving darkness, the reality of our excursion slowly becomes bright as day. We are in a country where neither of us speaks the language, we are two women slightly confused out late at night, and public transportation quits running at about 10 o’clock. Failed attempts to find a cheaper option coupled with fatigue lead us to succumb to the expensive cab ride to our far-away hostel. Our cab driver might know where he’s going. We can’t be sure until we get there. We’re mostly going off vibes and body language right now. 40 euro, several minutes of confusion, and a prostitution sighting later (I don’t know what else you could be doing dressed like that at the outside of the city…) we arrive.
At the security gate we are told, by the security guard that would later remedy every interaction we’d have with the hostel, that our friends are already checked in and have gone to the bar up the hill on the property. I guess they got started right away. We trade our passports for entrance to our rooms, sketchy I know, and join up with Matt, Lisa, Beata, and Aimée. Sarah Burch happens to be in our hostel. Caitlin and I walk in on everybody chilling at some tables. The bar is pretty decent, but we are tired. We head to our bungalows (camping village term for pretty nice trailer) and all commune in one to chat before bed. Our chatter is getting a bit loud and we hear a knock on the door. The security guard pops his head in and lets us know that we should quiet down to keep from bothering other patrons. He gives a look back and forth outside the door and then turns his gaze back to us. This task was supposed to take him about 30 seconds, but it would turn into an hour and a half quite easily.
Jumbo is a 33 year-old African actor who speaks wonderful English. He toured Italy with a Shakespeare company and is ready for his next job. For now he is working at Plus Roma, and dropping knowledge on us like woah.
