The Eternal City, Day 1: American Pizza

We arrive late at night. The night air smells like car exhaust.

Trudging our weary way to the train station, we conveniently forget to validate our tickets before boarding and almost get fined €50 per ticket. We mutter incoherently to ourselves under our breath and half-heartedly curse the lack of proper signage. For some reason, the train only opens its doors on the right side, even though it has platforms on both sides. An entire hoard of fools, ourselves included, blindly follow the left platform only to be greeted by disappointment and frustration.

Rome is adorable.



After some horrendously tedious travel, we arrive at the Pyramide metro station. There is a giant pyramid right outside, and scooters and cars are zipping around the massive intersection like they are all late for work. There is trash everywhere.

Making our way across this deadly confluence, we thankfully only have to walk a short distance before we arrive at our accommodation. We throw a curious glance at what appears to be a stone table across the street, under some trees, where a small gathering of people are enjoying far too many drinks.

Benton (spelling??) greets us and we finally get into the apartment. The place is quite nice, if very noisy due to the traffic. It's large and spacious and there are more than enough beds for 15 people to sleep on. I'll let the pictures do the talking.

Starved, we make our way around the block to grab some pizza - sans Jordan of course. I order a slice of hawaiian and sausage. Lo and behold, when I bring my tray to the table, Tom inquires of me, "Why did you order the one with french fries?" French fries on pizza? Surely you jest, sir.

With awestruck terror I realize that what I thought were pineapples (forgive me it's really late) are actually french fries. And what I thought might have been some kind of ham or sausage is actually hot dog! As far as these two fine ingredients are concerned, they were true to their origin. I have attached a picture for you to see: please try not to cry. Disgusted at this offense against universal gastronomy, I resign myself to consuming the other sausage pizza and an additional plate of chicken-salad-something.

Day 1, hour 1 and Rome, as you can tell, is already doing her best to charm us.