My Arrival in Rome

Place: Rome, Italy

People: A travel companion/classmate, a Canadian stewardess, and three friendly bookshop workers

Lessons Learned:  Caesars bring Canadians together.  Always take travel advice from others with a grain of salt.  Some Italians might seem harsh and cold but once you get to know them they are warm, caring people and will be there for you when you are distraught and in tears.

When the plane left the airport in Newark, NJ I looked out my window the whole time watching the land mass, called North America, drift further and further away, disappearing from view.  My heart was trembling, for the first time I was leaving all that was familiar, home, I was crossing the divide into the great unknown. It was dusk at this time and the sky was getting dark, I was finally flying over the Atlantic Ocean and all that I could see below me was water.  I was so excited to see the Atlantic for the first time in my life but my excitement, I must admit, was dampened when Ritchie told me that the novelty of the experience would fade after seeing nothing but water for hours on end.  Before we got our dinner the flight attendant asked us what we would like to drink, I got water and Ritchie ordered a Caesar.  At that moment the stewardess exclaimed, “You’re Canadian!?” At the time I was surprised to know that ordering a Caesar was a Canadian give away, then again I had never really travelled outside of my country so I had no idea what set us Canadians apart from other people. The stewardess herself was also Canadian, she was from Victoria and had also lived in Edmonton for several years.  It definitely was one of those small world moments that made for an awesome flight.  For the rest of the trip she was extra nice and accommodating with us and rightfully so.  Like any other culture out there, when Canadians meet other Canadians while travelling, we always chat and exchange smiles even though we are complete strangers and likely have nothing in common other than the fact that we are Canadian.

Even though I was tired from flying all day and got no sleep the night before, I was still giddy with excitement.  I had no desire to sleep and I have now realized, after travelling for a while now, that I always have trouble falling asleep in planes and this time was no different.  Ritchie began to fall asleep, the sky was getting darker so there was nothing to look at below, there was no one to talk to, and I didn’t want to watch TV.  Ritchie took a Gravol to help him fall asleep and he offered me one as well.  I accepted it and took out my contacts.  The Gravol helped me fall asleep for a few hours.  When I awoke it was morning time and the monitor in front of me showed that we were flying over Europe.  We were over England and about to cross the channel to France.  I decided that now would be a good time to put my contact lenses back in.   To my horror my left contact ripped in my fingertips.  I didn’t think to bring an extra pair or my prescription.  I was so screwed.  I had never experienced this situation before so I decided to just wear just my right contact.  I was still able to see, but it felt weird and awkward to go about my daily life divided between blurry and clear vision.  I kept looking out the window to see if I could catch a glimpse of the landscape below, but all that I could see was clouds.  The clouds hung in the air for a long time and I was disappointed. I wanted to see Europe and behold its beautiful landscapes.  It was only when we got to Northern Italy that the clouds began to part and for the first time in my life I saw her, the majestic Alps on lady Europa.  Seeing the Alps for the first time from the plane was simply incredible.  Out of all of the things in Europe that I could have seen from the plane, my first glimpse of her were these mountains that I had heard so much about and seen in movies but had never seen with my own eyes.  It was so special and surreal, they were so beautiful just as I always pictured them to be and at the same time different from the Rockies.  I remember the first thought that crossed my mind when I saw them, “So these are the mountains that Hannibal marched his army of elephants through.” I’ve always wondered if anyone has ever discovered elephant carcases and bones in the Alps and I have posed this question to many of my Classics professors.  Thus far no one has ever heard of such a discovery and it is a great disappointment.  If someone is going to argue with certainty that the second Punic War occurred, you think that someone would search for those elephant remains in order to argue their existence.

When we landed in the Leonardo da Vinci airport in Fiumicino (FCO) we were a day ahead of ourselves, the date was now 28 April.  It took a while to figure out the best way out of the airport.  Eventually Ritchie and I settled for a van which would take us into the city at a cost of 15 euro each.  I had a Couchsurfing host lined up with whom I was going to stay with and but wasn’t in Italy at the time.  His name was Gio* and he was in Spain for a few days, but he gave me the number of his cousin, Sierra*, and I would have to somehow figure out a way to call her.  I bought an international calling card at the airport, but it was all in Italian which did not help me at all.  I couldn’t figure out how to use it or how to operate the pay phones there so I just decided to go into the city and sort it out there.  I told the van driver that I needed to get to San Giovanni because I knew that the neighbourhood where Gio lived.  We got in the van and the driver took us into the city.  When we got out of the airport I saw palm trees and for me, it was a surreal moment. The last time that I saw palm trees growing in their natural habitat was the last time I left Canada at the age of five, when my parents decided to do a west coast road trip from our home in Whitehorse, Yukon to Tijuana Mexico.

The driver was speeding down the road weaving in and out of traffic.  It was so different compared  to Canadian drivers who, in my opinion, drive so slow and cautious it can be painful at times.  It was an interesting drive, a highlight for me was seeing Palazzo della Civiltà Italiana from the highway, a neo-classical high rise building erected by Mussolini during World War II; it was definitely further away from the city centre than I thought it would be.  I was just starting to enjoy the sights and architecture when the van stopped and let me out.  I had no idea where I was. All the driver told me was, “Here you go, San Giovanni.”  I got out and Ritchie stayed in the van, which was going to take him to his hostel near Termini station. We said our goodbyes and agreed that we would see each other once more when our study tour commenced on 2 May.

I was here and it was beautiful, there was a piazza behind me with an Egyptian obelisk and a basilica behind it.  I later found out that I was in Piazza di San Giovanni in Laterano and I was in the back part of the famous San Giovanni basilica (Basilica of St. John Lateran) (basilica and obelisk pictured above). I would have loved to stop and take pictures but I had no time to lose, I had to find a store that sold cellphones and get a hold of Sierra.  A friend of mine that had been to Rome before told me that I would have no problem finding cellphone shops once I arrived and that they would be everywhere.  I saw no cellphone stores where I was so I went and crossed the street to Via Merulana.  A classmate of mine who had also been to Rome before told me that the drivers were scary there and that no one followed traffic rules.  I assumed that meant that they also took no heed of whether lights were green or red.  I now realize that all of these things that these people told me of Rome were not very true or accurate.  I ran across the street scared for my life thinking that there was no organization of traffic and it would be a jungle of cars.  I had no idea whether I was allowed to cross at that moment or not, I just did it running with my large suitcase in hand fearing for my life.  I must have looked so ridiculous. The truth is Italians don’t follow all traffic rules and they treat them as mere recommendations rather than rules, but on such a busy street they still do stop behind the light especially during the middle of the day and if you are a pedestrian you have to be careful and always look drivers in the eye and be mindful of everything going on around you, something that not all Canadians do since our laws protect pedestrians more than they do in Europe.

I saw these two ladies on the other side of the street and they both had blonde hair.  I assumed that they weren’t Italian, and thus, must know English.  It was an assumption that I now know is completely ridiculous.  I always thought that Italians almost never had blonde hair, all the ones I had encountered in Canada had dark hair.  I realize now that it was a stupid assumption to make and it is just as stupid as people assuming that all Germans have blonde hair and blue eyes.  These two women were Italian and like most Italian people I encountered in Italy, they barely spoke English.  I asked them where I could go to get a cellphone.  They had no idea what I was talking about.   I made a phone motion with my hand and it took them a while to figure out what I was talking about, “Oh a mobiiile”  They gave me directions and I barely understood them, their accents were so thick and their English very broken.  I thought that they told me to turn left so at the end of the street I turned left onto Via Labicana.  I now know that she probably meant to direct me to Via Manzoni which is right turn off of Via Merulana and houses more shops on that street than Via Labicana.  Nevertheless, I turned left.

I saw shops but none of them were selling cellphones.  There was an internet cafe so I went inside and tried using the phone there but I couldn’t figure out how to work it.  The man working there was also quite rude and not very helpful.  He was chatting on his cellphone the whole time and seemed pissed off that when I asked him how to make calls.  I was frustrated and confused so I just walked out onto the street again.  I went into a few other shops to ask people for help but everyone shrugged their shoulders and couldn’t really speak English, nor could they understand me.  This road, I found out, led to the Coliseum and I could see it getting closer the further that I walked down the street but I didn’t want to see the Coliseum right now, I wanted to see a cellphone store.  I was getting more frustrated and upset by the minute.  I was scared and alone in a big city and I had heard many things about thieves and gypsies in Rome so I was terrified that I would get jumped or robbed somewhere.  It was so obvious with my clothes and my suitcase that I was a tourist and wasn’t from there.  I couldn’t have been a more obvious target for robbers and I needed to get a hold of Sierra in order to feel safe again.

I walked into a book store on 114 Via Labicana called Punto Einaudi and asked the three men working there where I could get a phone.  They replied, “I’m sorry but we don’t really speak English.”  I was so fed up with Italians that day and the fact that no one was able to help me or understand me.  I then broke down and began to cry.  The men working there panicked and sat me down on a chair and told me, “Don’t cry, don’t cry.” One of the men asked me what I needed, “A phone,” I said. “You want to call home?” “No!” I replied, “I need to call someone here, in Rome.”  “Ahhh ok” since I wasn’t going to rack up his mobile with long distance minutes, he willingly gave me his cellphone, which I used it to call Sierra.  Thankfully she answered, “Pronto”.  I stammered a reply, “Hi Sierra, this is Amie.”  “Hello Amie,” she spoke warmly, “Welcome to Rome.” I told her that I didn’t know where I was but that I was close to Coliseum.  “Oh” she exclaimed, “You are very close to where Gio lives.” “Really!?”  “Yes,” she assured me, “This is very good, I will meet you at the train station across the street from the Coliseum in half an hour.”  I hung up the phone and I was so relieved, I wasn’t going to be lost in the city anymore and I wouldn’t have to continue wandering the streets alone like a vagabond.

While I was on the phone with Ciara, one of the men had sneaked out of the store and went into a cafe a couple shops down called Ciuri Cuiri and he came back with a bottle of water for me and some little baked treats.  It was the sweetest gesture and it warmed my heart.  I sat there with these men and they chatted with me and asked me what I was doing here and where I was from. I tried one of the treats although I wasn’t hungry at all.  I took a bite and one of the men nodded and smiled, “You try, very good, from Sicily.”  So this is how the Sicilians treat their sweet tooths. When I told them I was Canadian, one of the men looked at me and guessed correctly what my heritage was, “German and French.”  Indeed I am, I was very impressed that he was so skilled at reading faces, he said to me, “My wife is German, you got that look.” As I was talking to these men and killing time until I had to meet Sierra at the train station, I felt so fortunate that my path intersected with such genuinely good people and I wanted to thank them for taking me under their wing as a strange foreign tourist. I had brought a package of maple leaf cookies as a thank you gift for Giovanni and his roommates for hosting me, but I took them out of my suitcase and offered them to the men.  Only one of them took a cookie but he seemed to like it.  The whole time that I sat in this book store the men were doing everything to calm me down, “Relax, no problem, don’t cry it breaks our heart.” It was this moment followed by many others that have shown me how relaxed Italians can be and when I went back to hectic Canada culture, I missed their easy going way of life dearly.  When the time came closer for me to leave, two of the men brought me into Ciuri Cuiri and they carried my suitcase for me and bought me an espresso.  I had always heard how amazing Italian espresso is and it was on my bucket list of things to try. I will never forget that first time I tried one with these men.  It was so strong and lovely. I couldn’t have had a better first Italian espresso.  I was so grateful that I found these men and that they were so kind to me, even though I was a silly tourist.

Weeks later during a heavy rainfall, I was walking down Via Labicana on the same side of the street as the book store, shortly before I was about to leave Rome. Although I was completely soaked to the skin and not at all presentable,  I wanted to see those men again to thank them for what they had done for me, but neither of them were there.  I awkwardly asked the one man working there if he had any books in English, he shrugged his shoulders and I walked off disappointed. I don’t know if I will ever see them again or if the book store will even be there when I get back but I never forget about these men and their kindness.  Some Canadians argue that we are the nicest and most polite people in the world but I truly believe that every culture is kind and sometimes I have met people that are just as nice as Canadians, if not nicer and these men were a fine example of Italian kindness and hospitality and in some ways I thought that they outdid Canadians in this moment.  I thanked them from the bottom of my heart and when it was time to go I said goodbye with a warm smile and walked towards the Coliseum with my suitcase dragging behind me.

*Name has been changed

In my next post: How I met Sierra and the wild key chase we later embarked on.

 

My First Flight

Places: Edmonton International Airport (YEG), Toronto Pearson International Airport (YYZ), and Newark Liberty International Airport (EWR)

Date: April 2012

People: A loving parent, a long lost friend, and a cute flying companion

Lessons Learned: Say a proper goodbye and tell your parent that you love them and that you will miss them when you are gone.  Say hello and catch up with that old acquaintance when your paths cross.  Do talk to that cute guy sitting beside you on the plane.  The chances of you seeing him again are slim to none and you might as well chat him up while flying thousands of feet in the air.

It was April 27 2012, I was 21 years old and I was about to take my first plane ride ever; I was so excited I barely slept.  The journey started at 4am when I left my house to go to the Edmonton International Airport (YEG) to catch my 6:30 am flight to Toronto. My father drove me and I was beyond nervous, the look in his eyes showed me that he was also in an equally tense state.  Once I got my boarding passes and checked in my baggage it was time to leave him and cross airport security.  Saying goodbye to my Dad was really hard, it was my first time leaving North America and it had also been sixteen years since I last left my country.  I had already experienced long periods of time where I didn’t see or contact my Dad, but this time it was different; I wasn’t going to be a quick car ride away from him, I was going overseas and it was this new distance between us that made this goodbye more emotional than usual. I gave him a big hug and I was close to tears, my Dad also seemed to be on the verge of tears.  After we said our goodbyes I let go of my father, told him that I loved him and walked towards the terminals.

I was going on my first international trip by myself and I was very excited, I had wanted to travel for years but had never made any steps to make it happen until now however, I was also scared.  My Dad had selflessly let me use his Air Mile points he accumulated over the years.  However, like all things free, this trip came with its share of loopholes.  I had to  take a minimum of three flights to get to Rome and even though I had bought travel insurance, I was still nervous about using it if I ever got lost in an airport and missed a connection or lost my luggage.  I was also nervous about what would happen to me once I got to Italy.  I was going to a country that spoke a different language and I had also heard many things about the thieves and gypsies in Rome and was sure that they would somehow find a way to rob me of my money and important documents despite my best efforts. However, I had to face these fears and worries head on and eventually I did, I really did.

I was walking towards my terminal when I saw her sitting there.  Her name was Tina* and she was an old friend from church.  I hadn’t been to church since I was 18 so it had been quite some time since I last saw her.  Despite the fact that we no longer encountered each other often any more due to me becoming agnostic and distancing myself from church, it was still nice to see a familiar face before leaving Edmonton.  Tina always had a radiant smile on her face whenever I saw her and it was nice to see her smile again.  We sat together at her terminal and chatted about what we had been up to the past few years and where we were flying to.  Interestingly enough, we were both taking flights that would forever change the course of our lives.  She was on her way to Montreal for a life changing job interview and I was going to Rome for a month to take a 21 day in situ course on Life, Death, and Leisure in Ancient Rome offered by the Classics department at my university.  We both had exciting futures ahead of us and it was nice to sit with her for that brief time and contemplate new potential changes in our lives while we waited for our flights.  Eventually the time passed and we had to part ways and say goodbye.  Even though it was a brief encounter and I haven’t seen her since then, I still appreciated having her come into my life again at that moment.  I was really nervous about what I was doing and I needed to talk to share my fears with someone so that they could tell me that they were mostly irrational and nonsensical.  It was amazing to start these new chapters in our lives together and I felt truly blessed that we got to share that moment together.

The first airplane I got on was quite small since it was a domestic Air Canada flight. I must admit I was quite disappointed, I was expecting something large and grand like what you see in the movies and it really was small and dinky in comparison.  I had a window seat beside an Asian couple.  They seemed so absorbed in each other and didn’t seem to be talkers so I didn’t exchange words with them.  That morning it had snowed and the flight was being delayed as the plane was being hosed down by this pale orange cleaning solution.  Once it took off I was freaking out and gripping my armrest hard as if I were on a roller coaster.  The feeling of leaving the ground and flying up does indeed feel like a roller coaster, however it is now a feeling that I do enjoy.  Nevertheless at that moment I felt rather distressed by this new unknown sensation of flight.  It was quite obvious that I was the only one losing my mind at this moment since everyone else was talking about previous flights that they had taken in the past and were really not fazed by this wonderful moment of becoming airborne. However, the feeling of anxiety left me once I found myself above the clouds.  It was so beautiful and truly amazing to finally look down at the clouds instead of always looking up at them from the ground. Once the clouds parted I was then able to look and marvel at the landscape below me.  The roads in Canada are really long and straight and the population is also sparsely dispersed between cities and from the air this became much more apparent and pronounced to me. Before I took this trip the furthest east I had ever gone was to Manitoba so it was really exciting to go beyond the western prairies and fly to the other part of Canada.  My heart began to race when the monitor in front of me showed that I was going further east and flying over Ontario.  I saw so many iconic sites in one day, all of which I had never seen before in my life. From the plane window I saw the Great Lakes as well as the famous skyline of Toronto. Flying over Lake Superior was truly incredible, at one point it felt like I was flying over the ocean, I saw no land and there was only water below me.

 

After a four hour flight I landed in Toronto (YYZ) and from there I caught my second flight going to Newark, New Jersey (EWR).  Again I had a window seat, but this time I had a really cute guy in the seat beside me.  He wore a beige suit with a white dress shirt with pale blue pinstripes and smart looking brown leather dress shoes. He carried an Irish passport and had brown hair, tanned skin, and lovely green eyes and yet talked with a Canadian accent. His impeccable clothes and his sharp, mature business style made me feel intimidated and inferior in comparison.  I was wearing very casual sporty clothing to get me through my long day of catching flights and the make-up that I put on that morning no longer looked fresh and stunning.  I felt very juvenile sitting next to him in my purple lululemon capris, my Coldplay Myloxyloto shirt, my white team Germany track jacket from World Cup 2010, my cheap orange watch from Wal-Mart, and my white converse shoes.  Rightfully so, he showed no interest in me in the beginning. His friends were sitting across the aisle so he mostly chatted with them.  Behind me I heard a couple speaking German so I turned to talk with them with the best German that first year university German provided me with.  If I couldn’t attract this guy with my looks, the least I could do was attract him with my intelligence.  The German couple were lovely, they were taking the weekend to explore the Big Apple and they told me that my German was quite good considering I had only taken it for a year.  This trick of mine did indeed work, when I turned around the cute guy sitting beside me began asking me about my German and it was at that moment that we started talking and getting to know each other.  He lived in Ireland as a child and moved to Canada at a young age, hence why he didn’t have an Irish accent anymore.  He had studied at Dalhousie in Halifax and graduated with a Commerce degree and was now working in Toronto and going to New York for a weekend getaway with his friends.  He was a typical eastern Canadian boy, he had never been to Edmonton before and had no interest in going.  We chatted away during the short flight and during the silent moments I would look out my window to the scenery below, everything was so green and lush flying over the north eastern states and to top it all off I got to see the famous skyline of New York during our descent.  I’m not sure why, but once we began our descent I started to feel sick and was worried that I was going to throw up.  Miraculously though I made it through the descent and didn’t lose my composure in front of the cute guy.  Once we got up and left the plane I felt sad parting ways with him although he was a stranger.  I saw him one last time in the airport while I was looking for my terminal.  Him and his friends waved at me and I waved back though it was brief, I had to rush off and catch my last flight.  I never did see this beautiful stranger again and I don’t know if I ever will but I do feel fortunate that fate provided me with some lovely eye candy for my journey.

It was time to catch my last flight.  I couldn’t find my terminal anywhere in the part of the airport that I was in so I asked a lady that was working there to help me.  She looked at my gate number on my boarding pass and called me a bus which took me to another part of the airport.  From there I got to my terminal and it was just in the nick of time, my flight to Rome was set to leave in ten minutes.  When I showed my boarding pass to the lady behind the desk she wouldn’t let me through, apparently I did not have a ticket number.  Time was ticking and I was on the verge of losing my mind, I could not miss this flight!  With a couple minutes to spare she called around and eventually found my ticket number.  I ran to get on the plane once I was allowed to pass through the gate.  Once I was on the plane I saw where I was sitting and who I would be sitting beside.  It was my classmate Ritchie*, we were taking the Rome course together and it was a pleasant surprise to see him on the flight.  It was especially nice to know that I would be sitting beside him for the longest flight of my journey and my first overseas flight ever.

*Name has been changed

In my next post: The story of my first overseas flight and my first day in Rome