Civitavecchia, Italy: Day 1

Yesterday we arrived at the port of Civitavecchia, Italy. Unfortunately, Jill and I were late returning to the ship on our last day in Cadiz (somehow we were the only two people on the ship who thought we had to be back at 8 PM and not 6 PM…) so we got “dock time” which basically means we cannot leave the ship for a certain amount of time in the next port. Because we were so late, we were supposed to be stuck on the ship for 15 (!!!) hours, but they went easy on us and dropped it down to 5 hours, likely because they thought it was funny how stupid we were.

We left the ship at 2:30 PM yesterday for Rome. The train was not until 4 so we had a little wait, which went by relatively fast. Unfortunately, the train was NOT air-conditioned (and Civitavecchia is smelly, hot, humid) and we spent the hour and a half train ride disintegrating. We missed our stop in Rome (St. Peter’s…the ONLY tourist destination I had any desire to see was Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel) and while waiting for the train back, it began TORRENTIAL DOWNPOUR! Hail, people running for cover, the works! It was actually very funny and a nice change, as the rain allowed for us to do some internal cooling. While trying to board the train, the crowds all gathered together to be pelted by the rain, wind, and hail, and when I finally got onto the train I was soaking wet and sandwiched between several Italian people, clutching my purse like it was my baby with one hand and Jill with the other (between all the people touching me and the smell of mildew, I nearly suffocated on that train ride). Luckily we only had to go one stop (ha!) and once we got off we were fooled into thinking it had stopped raining (in truth, the storm had not yet reached that area!) and put off buying umbrellas—as we had brought our own, but they remained on the ship—until we were once again drenched. When we arrived at the Sistine Chapel, it was of course closed (we were two hours past closing), but because of the rain there was no line whatsoever (!!!) into St. Peter’s Basilica, and we explored that instead.

After the Basilica I had a much-needed phone conversation with James (sorry dad) for a few minutes before Jill forced my drudging self to the Parthenon and Trevi Fountain (at this point it had stopped raining and both places were overcrowded, which, for me, ruins what could be a beautiful experience). She promised me no more “being tourists” after the Coliseum on Friday, but I am skeptical! We stopped by Piazza Navona, Jill’s favorite place in Italy, for a minute or two and as I waited for Jill to complete the task of photographing two people from San Francisco, a man came up to me and instructed me to place my finger inside the string he was holding. I promptly said “no…thanks” but he simply laughed and asked why I was so mean, to which I replied that Jill was nicer. Five minutes later we were two Euros poorer and two bracelets made of string richer (whatever).

After some window shopping and a taxi ride to “close to the Termini!” Jill and I sat down to eat at a very good but VERY overpriced restaurant (wine is not so cheap in Italy as in Spain!). I had a 7 euro bowl of pasta e. fagioli and Jill had a 10 euro bowl of gnocchi with cheese, which she informed me was too plain and small to be worth close to fifteen American dollars. I agreed. We had a small bottle of Pinot Grigio (about half the size of a regular bottle) and water, and our bill was forty Euro! Sixty dollars! Madness. We took the 10:10 train back to Civitavecchia and as we were dragging our feet back to the ship, we came across Ben (18-year-old adopted little brother of Jill and I), another student of the seas. All he had to say was “want to come?” and we turned right around. It was around 11:30 PM and prime time for the high-schoolers and families, apparently. It was CROWDED on the street by the ocean but we found a table and bought three beers. We were eventually joined by two more Semester at Sea girls and later by four Italians our age, who spoke excellent English, which was a welcome change from the Spanish guys we met. The man selling us our beers asked me if I had a boyfriend, to which I said yes; he then proceeded to ask if I would like to get a croissant with him at 2 AM, to which I said “um.” At 1:45, as we were leaving, I told him I would be back and not to worry, which was most likely a lie.

So far, I think Italy is wonderful, but my heart pitter-pattered just a little bit more for Spain.