A-Mazed

Monday, Early Afternoon

Yesterday it was time to say arrivaderci to Rome. Sadly, (and for some of us, painfully) we gathered up our belongings and left the apartment, headed for the Spanish Steps to catch a taxi to Termini, the main train station in Rome. We had to check out of our apartment at 10, and our train to Venice did not leave until 11:45 so we had plenty of time to kill.

Some of chose to visit McDonald's, and one of us chose to potentially save thousands of lives. That would be me. Here's the story: We found an area with some seats at the east end of the terminal, two of which were empty. Connor and I sat, and Ben and Griff hovered around. Finally, the innocuous -looking Asian family (mom, dad, kid) sitting next to us left, and Ben and Griff plopped down. A few minutes later, I noticed that there were two suitcases with us that weren't ours - not cool. When it became apparent that the family was not coming back - I doubt the bags were theirs - I looked at the bags and noticed that one had Bangladesh written on the side, and both had tags from Qatar. Not that I would have been any less concerned if they were American Airlines tags on bags labeled Oklahoma City.... Anyway, while Ben got Conner and Griff involved in listening for ticking sounds, I sought out a policeman. The first one I found waved me off - he was talking on his cell phone.
　
Short digression: The Italian police give new meaning to the phrase "fashion police." Italy has the highest number of police per capita in the European Union, with 80-some different divisions. And they are sharply dressed! In fact, Armani designed the uniforms for the Polizia di Stato, or State police.

Finally, I just said we were moving to the west end - and as soon as we started to move two unoccupied police strolled by. I got their attention, and using pigeon Italian and pantomime I explained the situation. When they realized what I was saying they got a little worked up, and thanked me. As I was walking back to my people, Griff saw them remove the bags and take them to their office. Can you imagine if this had been in the US? The whole place would have been evacuated, SWAT and bomb squads called....Anyway, I am sure the headlines in Il Messaggero today are full of questions about the American woman who saved the day, but I am going to remain anonymous. Unless a parade is involved.

Our train ride was pleasant, almost four hours. We were lucky to have facing seats with a table between us, better to rest weary heads. The scenery was not nearly as beautiful as it was on the trip from Madrid to Algeciris, so nappers didn't miss much.

Early Sunday morning I'd received an email from Mirka, our Venice contact, telling me that our apartment was having electrical problems and the only option she had for us was a place in the San Croce neighborhood, which is still in the historical heart of the city, but barely. Certainly it it no San Marco, where I wanted us to stay. But, with not real options we just had to hope for the best.

We left the train station, crossed the bridge (where I did NOT tear flesh from Ben's hand in what will be referred to as "the suitcase incident"), walked a short distance and met Mirka. She could not have been more apologetic as she led us a short distance, through tiny alleys, to our place. It's charming - three bedrooms, one bath, and a decent sized kitchen/dining area/living room.

We studied our map and tried to get a handle on our location - Ben decided to do some recon while we settled in. A short while later he returned - he'd  managed to find a small grocery store, where he purchased some essentials. However, he had his usual difficulties with the cashier. We have to figure out what negative vibe he sends out - once again, the cashier rang up his purchases but did not move them to the bagging area - in other words, she picked them up from the belt, scanned them and then put them right back in their original position. Nobody else has this problem; we think it is funny but the Ben is not all that amused.

Time for dinner - Ben, Griff and I headed out in search of the "restaurant area" Mirka had described, which was in the opposite direction Ben had gone. Breadcrumbs, or a big piece of chalk to mark our route would have been helpful - narrow alleys, bridges over canals, zig this way, zag that - it's a maze. We came to the area we thought she had described and found a lone Indian restaurant, which did not appeal. The fun began when we tried to retrace our steps - did we cross the bridge? or no? - but we did find a trattoria.

Ben had lasagne, I had bufala mozz pizza, and Griff had a spicy salami, aka pepperoni, pizza. It was no Pizza Ciro, but close. We ordered a pizza Margherita to go for Connor so he could continue his research. Heading back, we again became confused, especially when we passed a laundromat with bright orange appliances (probably making Euros hand over fist) that we were sure we would have noticed. I do not like to be lost, so Venice was not making a good impression on me at this point! Finally, Ben spotted a familiar landmark, and boom! we were right at our door.

This morning I woke up feeling punk (through NO fault of my own, I want to make that clear) and realized I was not going to be able to go to the rowing lessons scheduled for 11:00 am. No worries though, I was confident that the guys would be able to navigate themselves to the Sacca di Misericorda and meet up with Jane, the champion rower who offers private gondolier lessons on her boat. Now I'm feeling much better, waiting for them to return so we can continue our exploration of this crazy place.