Vado a Roma

Trying not to think about leaving my new friends behind and worried about making my connection in Foligno, I boarded the train departing from Perugia with a rather weighty heart. For the past month, Perugia has been home, with all of its ups and downs (quite literally, as it's a hill). It wasn't easy leaving it behind, so I listened to upbeat music (thank you, Michael Buble and Michelle Branch) to take my mind off of it all.

Nothing went amiss with the trains, which is quite the victory considering the very common occurrences of delays, cancellations, strikes, etc. I did, however, get sexually harassed at the train station by an old man who tried to give me my first kiss (evasive techniques were deployed). Using the shelter of my guidebook to ignore him, I sent a little prayer of thanksgiving to the heavens when another Stranieri student from Perugia purposely cornered my attentions until he went away. Even though she spoke no English, I understood one word: "maniac."

Needless to say, I was kind of shaken by the experience. I rarely get any of that kind of attention in the States, so I was unprepared for the comments as I walked down the street to class or the grocery store. It didn't really matter what I was wearing or the time of day. And even though I knew that this kind of thing is common in Italy, I didn't expect it to be this frightening. The constant reminders that I am being objectified was/is terrifying, and it's not something I'm going to miss.

I had recovered from my experience by the time I reached Rome. The sunshine did a great deal to get me out of my funk, to which I promptly returned as I dragged my suitcase to the hostel. Thankfully, it wasn't far, and I put my feet up for a while as I contemplated my map. I decided to seize the hot afternoon, making my way to the historical center of Rome. Taking the wise advice of my guidebook to heart, I skipped the long ticket line at the Colosseum and bought a combined ticket at the Forum/Palatine Hill entrance.

Colossal, yes, but not as much as the amount of people trying to get in.

With no one else to entertain but myself, I wandered aimlessly through the ruins. The people watching was, I have to admit, just as fascinating as the ancient columns and tumbled stones. Many tourists sat on those stones, overwhelmed by the heat of the day, the same thing my brother, mom, and I did when we last visited the Forum eleven years ago. Some things, I guess, don't change.

After deciding that my symptoms of dehydration were starting to dwarf my enjoyment of the ruins, I exited to be promptly ripped off by a nearby vendor selling cold beverages to desperate tourists such as myself. Fortified by Green Mango Powerade, I tried not to smile too triumphantly as I breezed past the long line of people waiting in front of the Colosseum to enter with my nifty combined ticket.

It's hard to picture crowds of people cheering on gladiators and various wild animals, because now the crowds are planking on ancient stones and posing for pictures with cheery smiles. The most realism I found was in the exhibit of Roman graffiti, with stones carved with fighting gladiators, snarling beasts, and praises for the crowd favorites. All done, I'm sure, during half time or a time out for a commercial break.

When they weren't waiting in line for the Roman equivalent of hot dogs and nachos.