my Roman confession

My gelato (coffee and coconut...mmmm...)enjoys a view of the Colosseum, Rome

Okay, so I went riding around the Colosseum at midnight, on the back of a Vespa, with a little bit too much alcohol in my system (although let's be honest, it really doesn't take much for me) and a guy who worked at the hostel. There, I said it. Naz had been flirting with me since my arrival, and, I'll give him credit, had to be pretty persistent in convincing me to come out for a ride after he finished work at 11:30pm on Thursday night. There was a brief snag in our plans when my giant head (it's true, I have a giant head - this story is proof) didn't fit into his lovely and feminine pale blue helmet, however; he gladly wore the pale blue one so that I could wear the men's model. My nervousness (I had never been on a motorcycle or vespa in my life) remained a subtle presence, but was soon overshadowed by the wind and the lights of Rome blurring past me. I have heard this phrase used (and have been guilty of using it) at pretty lame moments, but I do think this experience gives me the right to say, "When in Rome..."

Brooke and me in St. Peter's Square, Vatican City

Me & Medusa, Vatican Museum

Aside from my motorcycle ride, I spent my final day in Rome listening to my intuition and moving around at a much slower place. Saw the Pantheon (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pantheon,_Rome), a number of churches, and wandered around some different areas of the city. Had delicious pizza for dinner with Brooke and Andrew, a good cry on the phone with a dear friend, and then my vespa ride. As someone who typically wears her emotions pretty close to the surface, something that is tricky to find when travelling alone and sleeping in dorm rooms is a place for a good cry. I have often said (prior to my travels, even) that I wish that crying was as socially acceptable as laughing, that I believe we would be more 'well' as a society were we not forced to keep our tears locked away in private places. I don't want the others in my dorm to worry about this quirky solo-traveller, I am totally okay, I just need a good cry every now and again. And so, apparently the place to do this is in scuzzy internet cafes in the termini district in Rome... :)

I've been lugging around a Therma-rest pillow this entire time, and on most days, I find myself cursing its presence, as I've used it very little and it will not decompress to the same tiny size it was when I purchased it in Waterloo. However, for Friday's train trip, post crazy motorcycle night in Rome, my little pillow was worth its weight in gold. The journey to Positano, on the Amalfi Coast, involved a train ride to Naples, a train(ish)/subway(ish) & sketchy train ride from Naples to Sorrento, and then a bus ride from Sorrento to Positano. The scenery along this journey was incredible, as the landscape and vegetation changed as we headed further and further south: the mountains to the east and the sea to the west. Socio-economically, the view changed as well, as there were more and more areas of tired apartment buildings, peeling paint, houses in shambles, set against this background of mountainous spectacular-ness.  It felt very real and very raw, compared to the more polished north of the country.

I had been warned to bring a vomit bag for the bus trip from Sorrento to Positano, and certainly there were moments, as the bus wound its way around hairpin turns with little room to spare from the cliff-faces below, that were harrowing; however, in comparison to my busride down the mountain in Ecuador at night in the fog, I felt remarkably safe. The view of the bright blue sea, lush green mountains, and towns built into the sides of cliffs, was rather mesmerizing.

And this was how I found my way to my low-budget hostel (complete with a top bunk with no ladder or rails, a single blanket that has the texture of an old dishcloth that was turned into a rag about a month ago, and the kindest front desk staff and a terrace with the most stunning view of the sea) in the midst of this kind of resort town.  Positano was built from the seaside straight up the cliff; the main tourist area is of course at water's edge, and my truly delightful little hostel is 300+ stairs straight up. There is thus quite a commitment involved when one heads to the beach for the day.  :)  It is absolutely beautiful. After my long journey here, I enjoyed a delicious dinner of homemade pasta with fresh seafood, and crashed well before 10pm.

Yesterday was my first full-on beach day of the trip. The beach felt a bit like being on the set of an episode of Beverly Hills 90210 (and so I fit in perfectly), (I learned later in the day that this is a hotspot for young and beautiful American college students, who are studying abroad, to come for long-weekends), however; lying in the 30+ degree full sun on the shores of the Mediterranean, reading, napping, writing, swimming, repeat, was exactly what I needed after the chaos of Rome.  After the beach, I decided to brave an Italian haircut, using lots of dramatic gestures to explain what I was looking for. (She did pretty well - certainly well enough to last me until I am back in Waterloo once again!)

 Last night was the town's yearly "Festa Del Pesce" (Fish Festival), and so at 9pm, I headed to the beach along with Shannon and Colleen, from Vancouver, and ate local and fresh squid, octopus, and smaller nameless fish with heads and eyeballs still remarkably intact and staring up at us ("When in Rome..."). :)  With a live band and then a dj, we danced on the beach, sang along to Celine Dion (3 in a row!), drank the local wine for 50 cents a glass, and soaked in the local culture.  It feels good to be back by the water. I knew when I left Cinque Terre that I wasn't done with being by the sea, and I am loving the fact that there isn't a ton that I feel I need to "do" here. I also love the fact that I can stay day-by-day at this hostel, letting them know each morning whether or not I plan to stay another night. True spontaneity in practice - I apparently am actually capable!  I will head to Switzerland soon enough, but not before a few more dips in the sea, perhaps a hike up a cliff, and a bit more Vitamin D...

xo