Be careful what you wish for…

 

Travel info meter set at 77%  Nostalgia meter set at 50%  Wednesday,  June 7  We did our normal exit routine from our Airbnb,  first exchanging cheek rubs with Eleonora who was almost obsessed that we enjoy everything that Orvieto had to offer and act as our concierge while we were under her care, and then heading for the train with backpack,  large bag, and luggage in tow.

After an inconsequential ride to the Roma Trastevere station we followed our Google Maps route to our 5th stop in Italy,  and 11th overall.  Because my competency in the tech realm hovers between 2 and 6% we are travelling blind, as in we need free WiFi to utilize the potential of our phone and it’s guidance system because as I mentioned in my first post, we didn’t unlock the phone so we have no data, can’t text or phone the hosts, etc., etc..

So after 1 hour and 15 minutes into our 20 minute journey we make contact and are led into our new humble abode. And humble it is. We had been running the table of success since we began and we were due for a clunker and CLUNK we landed.

In our pre-trip search we determined that Trastevere was the cool, up and coming area of Rome and that suited our internal personalities as that’s who we were 45 years ago. We used to sit cross-legged on bare hardwood floors, sleep on pallets with just a sleeping bag as a cushion, and a rolled up shirt as a pillow. Bring back the good ol’ days I say.

Well that’s almost what we faced at our new suite/yoga studio. The bedroom area was of a reasonable size with even room for a hippie-style chair that was pitched at an angle that you would become pretzel-shaped if you ‘sat’ in it for any length of time (we didn’t).

The bed was a cast off from a Mexican hotel after it had been deemed too hard by their lofty standards. Because the ‘mattress’ lacked any padding it meant it was much closer to the floor than what would be considered ideal and you could feel (and hear) your vertebrae complaining as you tried to exit and head for the bathroom.

The bathroom had a surprisingly large entrance step of about 10″ in height and was about 12″ wide. Now that gets the blood flowing in the middle of the night when in a semi-conscious state you’re looking for relief and only find pain. Where did we put that medical insurance card?

The ceilings are 10′ in height as has been common with almost all of the old buildings that we’ve stayed in, and the walls almost 2 ‘ thick, because the buildings are made of stone and almost all are 4-6 storeys high (we are on the 3rd floor, which is actually the 4th). The windows are narrow compared to their 6’ height, almost reaching the ceiling. It also had beautiful walnut floors that must have been close to 100 years old. So it had character but lacked physical comfort.

The up and coming neighborhood was coming but not yet up. The area would have been early 20th century or so with little room for parking and yet lots of cars, and scooters and motorcycles.  There was a motorcycle repair shop next door to our entrance, which would have been handy if you were hearing impaired. But they do close at 5 and we don’t expect to be around during the day (or much at night hopefully).

The most disdainful aspect of the area though was the dreadful amount of graffiti on almost all available surfaces. Benches, fire hydrants, parking signs, and worst of all almost every classic building for blocks and blocks.

This graffiti is not the cool, artsy variety you see on bridge supports or near building sites. No, these pseudo artists are of the variety that in preschool their teacher took away their art supplies because it was obvious these neanderthals were incapable of drawing the moon with a crayon if the circle had been supplied already. Now they get their spray cans from Meth ‘R Us and need to check their I.D. so they can remember their initials before they tag anything.

Plus there was trash against every curb and in every visible niche. It was a tragedy and spoke volumes on how the Italian economy can’t keep up with their infrastructure problems, let alone maintain or invigorate the communities where they were inviting visitors to and harming their image.

Much was made of the food in Italy and I fully expected that every meal would be a gastronomical treat. Well it has been 50-50 I would guess so far. Trastevere has over 400 restaurants and is known far and wide for its eateries.

Our first taste came a few hours after we settled in and was only a block or so away from our door. It was my turn to choose and it stood out because there was a large (only 3 in the party) family seated at one of the tables. The middle aged mother, with doughy figure, and her male and female young adult children. They looked pleased and I figured for them to choose this establishment it must be known for generous portions (if you get my drift). As it turned out the portions were adequate at best but if you ordered in quantity like our stable mates did then you could reach the 3,000 calorie threshold that they must have been shooting for.

Another determining factor was that the waiter was loudly singing  Italian folk songs as he bussed the tables and greeted newcomers. I thought how very quaint and made the connection that it would be a positive reflection on the menu. It turns out that he was slightly insane and he was merely talking to himself because nobody else would.

Our food arrived, lasagne for Carol,  spaghetti pomodore basilica for me, a glass of wine for Carol and a glass of beer for me (it was almost 1:15 afterall). Carol’s lasagne was the third best that she had tried in Italy (out of 3x). My spaghetti was reminiscent of when I first moved out of my parents home with 2 friends and left the spaghetti-Os in the pot over the weekend while we went to the lake, except there were 3 basil leaves sitting on top as a garnish and a puddle of oil as a foundation. Not impressed. The beer was of the nondescript variety (Bud Lita maybe?) and Carol’s wine tasted like it was fresh from the drain cleaner package with a hint of grape. Also, not impressed.  The waiter added the finishing touch by  including an item on the bill that we did not have and of course a 2€ service charge (each). Not impressed.

Since then we have spotted countless great looking spots to eat, but we have set the bar exceptionally low so anything else will be a winner.

We closed out the day by getting lost several times, walking WAY too much till our legs developed deep vein thrombosis and then we returned to our ‘monastery bed’ as Carol now calls it. My legs hurt so much I barely noticed my aching back.

Tomorrow will certainly be a step up as we will be viewing all of the ancient sites and each of us will be holding a map, so what could possibly go wrong?