Bonjourno Roma!

I am in Rome. They say first impressions count, but in this case they will be quickly washed away. The flight is pretty cruisey, nothing much to report. 2.5 hours on a 737. Landing is weird, we get a bus to the terminal, as the plane has landed kms from the airport, and we drive past a bunch of old shit, not the kind I am expecting in Rome (ancient ruins) but ageing infrastructure, buildings that have been decommissioned, and an aviation graveyard featuring dozens of old, broken, tatty planes. It’s not something I’ve seen before or thought about - disposing of old planes. The airport buildings are dirty and falling apart and the functional areas are shoddy and under construction. I find an exit and simply walk out - no customs, as I flew domestically under the EU rules.

I need to catch a train to Rome central. I am starving so I stop for a bite and am excited to see some classic Italian fare on offer and order a focaccia with prosciutto and mozzarella. The tickets salesperson is friendly and I find my train without any trouble, landing a window seat to myself with my bags packed in tightly around me. I am going to like Italy, I can feel it.

It’s 30 minutes to Rome Terminal, where once more, Phillippa is waiting for me. She’s such a gem! Her morning has been spent walking through the cobbled streets familiarising herself with the best parts so that we can visit them properly later. We decide to walk to the hotel, another 30 minutes, and it’s a bit hard because I have my little blue suitcase to trundle on the cobbled streets, and I’m still in my sweaty travel clothes, but it’s worth it to see first hand the narrow touristy streets which are already bustling at 10.30am. At every turn there is another cutesy strada, another cool piazza with a fountain, more shops with unbeatable character and wow factor. I want to stop at every place and sample the foods they have on offer, but I feel like a cooked bird in my track pants, hoodie and woollen t-shirt. The hotel must be our first stop.

But on our way, we pass by the Trevi fountain. Marble sculptures atop a fountain of azure water, metres high and wide. The crowds have already amassed so I take a marginal photo. I buy a postcard later to send home with a photo of this impressive tourist attraction, so look out for that in your letter box soon, kids!

We also walk past the Pantheon, massive pillars tower above us, but the crowds deter us getting too close.

Phil has managed to order us a hotel in the best location, right in the centre of town. The lobby is gorgeous, the staff are up market and really look after us. In no time, I am changed and fresh and we set off to see what Rome has to offer.

First stop is lunch. We clearly have to try the fresh hand rolled pasta that we walked past. We queue for a few minutes before being let in to a packed restaurant. The staff are friendly and witty. The whole place brims with happiness. The past is indeed good, it has a chewiness that could only come from the freshest preparation and the ideal strong pasta that has a yellowish colour and super fine consistency. Phil orders hers with artichokes, I order mine with cheese and bacon - a classic carbonara.

With full tummies we set off for the Vatican, via a few more ancient sights. Another basilica, with incredible ceilings, it seems each church I discover is a step above the last one. This surely must tap out with the Vatican City’s St Peter’s Basilica - where the Pope would usually lead Easter mass (however the Pope is unwell this year).

We enter in an unusual way, via a car park, having misread the map and taken a wrong turn. This proves fortuitous as we avoid a lot of the crowd that is gathering to walk through St Peter’s. The arena is a grand circle of pillars with sculptures atop. There is a black statue of ‘migrants’ to remind us of the importance of welcoming and supporting migrants and refugees.

Of course, there is a security screening to go through before entering the Basilica. The queues are long but moving. This was the sort of tourist travel I had hoped to avoid, but we are here and it seems silly to miss the Vatican during Easter, and what could possibly be my only opportunity in my lifetime. 

Inside, the scale is a little overwhelming. It is gold gilt, exquisite marble detailing, painted ceilings and adoration on steroids. I’ll let the photos tell the story.

The gift shop was a little disappointing. Cheaply made, mass produced trinkets. But we got our rosary beads - mine for Mum (and a bracelet for Rob) - Phil’s are for her nanny, Gracie. 

I’m all churched out. I don’t think I’ll step inside another one for a while now. We journey through some shopping streets and find some amazing clothes shops. I shopped virtually for Georgia, Addie, and me - guess which window for which girl!

We plan to visit some ancient ruins in the morning before we travel to Florence. The hotel is very comfortable. We sleep like angels and enjoy an Italian style buffet breakfast of fresh fruit and vegetables.

We spend the next few hours walking in the rain through the ruins. All of central Rome is walkable. There are buses for tourists and other travel options, but walking is by far the best for roaming in Rome, stopping at every opportunity and taking the steps up and down into little pockets of stone and brick that were once a way of life for the Romans. Before we even realise it we are at the Colosseum. We opt for a free walk around the structure rather than joining the crowds to go inside.  

We’ve reached time. I pack up ‘little blue’, Phillippa packs her much larger yellow suitcase, and we taxi to the station. Ordering our tickets is a little frustrating, we’ve missed the economy rates and will need to wait an hour for the train that has affordable tickets. We go eat some pizza upstairs and get lost in conversation (politics will do that to us). I look at the time and we suddenly have just two minutes to board the train!

We go! Grab our suitcases and run downstairs, through the crowds. Scusie, scusie! I carry little blue in my arms, so grateful for packing light, while Phillippa almost trips herself and others on her yellow wheeled case. We are a calamity. We need to get to platform nine but we are only at number one. Beating all odds, we lurch ourselves onto the first carriage, and have to move, with our bags, all the way through to the other end of the train (about six full carriages). I am beetroot red when we reach our seats. But the train is comfortable and the passengers are friendly. We settle into our seats, laughing hysterically.

Ciao Roma!