A nice hotel. A nice room. It was around 3:30p.m. I dropped my things, washed up a bit, grabbed my camera, and headed for the Metro. As I exited the subway facing the remarkable Colosseum -- I was appalled at the litter, and hundreds of people partying and a general mess. It was the day of the Rome Marathon!! In New York City, we'd say "Go know!" I stood in the middle of the chaos and laughed and laughed! Then I began my own marathon: snapping pictures, racing from landmark to monument; arriving at the Spanish steps after dark. And the Trevi Fountain after that. It was around 8:00p.m. I'd had it. I found my way back to my hotel, changed clothes, wandered into a little trattoria next door. Ordered a glass of vino rosso, insalata mista, pasta pomedoro. I don't like to eat alone. The place was very small, so I was practically sitting at the same table as a pleasant British couple who- it turned out -- were at the same hotel. We chatted happily through the meal. I thanked them for their good company, returned to the hotel, sent an email to my kids (my iPod Touch wasn't doing its expected thing so I used the hotel computer.) In my room I showered, laid down on the bed, and not feeling tired I was watching Italian TV. The next thing I knew it was 8:30 a.m. Why was I surprised? I hadn't been to bed since Friday night. It was Monday morning. It was my birthday. I was in Rome.
Lesson #4: I knew there'd be more lessons. Don't plan to move on to the next city at mid-day, believing you could get some sight-seeing in before leaving. Either beat it early so you have more time in the next city, or leave later so you can actually sight-see before heading out. I of course hadn't done either. I spent an inordinate amount of time at the Termini; not boring -- people watching; tons of shops; like a mall with a train inside. When I saw my train number appear on the board, I went to it. It said it was going to Venezia. I was going to Firenze. Yet another tall, red-headed American girl with enough luggage to have been moving her residence, looked at my ticket and pointed me to the Florence regional train. I got there; I got on it. Yuk! Fortunately, an attendant looked at my ticket and pointed me back to the Venice train. The Euro Rail. Verrry nice. The first stop would be Florence. I got to it just in time to get on board, find my seat, look out the window as we left Rome and inform the universe that there would be no more shit flying on this trip. It was my birthday. I was on my way to Florence. (That will be my next entry!)