Day 3:
I spent the morning in Zagarolo, the small town I was staying in outside of Rome. It was completely charming with its worn wooden benches, sunset colored houses, unique doors, and cobblestone streets. If someone sent you a postcard with a picture of “Italia!” on it, that picture could have been taken in Zagarolo. The people there spoke Italian differently from those in the city, harsher, more percussively, almost like Russian or German. There were old men joking in familiar doorways and ladies wearing heels far taller than they ought to toting bags full of groceries that they had just bought from the argumentative butcher and sweet noodle lady. The excitement of the day seemed to be a small blimp-shaped balloon flying around in the central courtyard, all the young people were gathered around watching it sway with the wind. I couldn’t help but wonder, “who lives in Zagarolo, besides the people that have always lived in Zagarolo.” I couldn’t give myself an answer.
I walked back to my hostel and was driven to the train station so I could catch my train to Termini, but not before signing the guest book and being lovingly bullied into a selfie with the staff. When I got into Rome I had one simple mission– find my new hostel. The directions seemed simple enough so a got on the right bus and waited with the attention that all travelers know for my stop, checking and rechecking my screen shot directions to make sure I had the right Piazza. I got off the bus and crossed the Tiber, quickly finding the hostel, making my way inside, settling in, and planning a quiet afternoon activity.
I decided to just walk along the river for a little while, it was a beautiful day and the Tiber is a lovely shade of pea green crossed with milky jade. I strolled along until a came across a startlingly large number of tourists and decided to follow the stream. And it turns out that I crossed country borders and went into The Vatican City. I wanted to go to The Vatican museums, but the lines were just crazy, so I wandered around the perimeter for a little while and then headed back. I really enjoyed watching the nuns and priests slowly proceed through the “Holy Door,” their solemn march was a beautiful contrast to the camera-toting bright-color-wearing tourists fluttering all around.
Day 4:
I chose to spend my last full day in Rome wandering around Villa Borghese, a park in the north part of the old city that Papa recommended I check out. It is a lovely Park, and there was a good mix of tourists and Romans enjoying the greenery on such a lovely Sunday morning. I spent a couple of hours just wandering around, but my legs started to complain about the many miles I’ve asked of them over the past few weeks, so I decided to head towards the Galleria Borghese and then back to the hostel. I walked over to that little museum only to discover that the museum was booked until a week from the next Monday! I had no idea that it was such a popular spot. As I sat outside trying to enjoy the warm weather and soak up the art from the outside a lady came up to me and said that she had an extra ticket that I could have. It turns out she had pre-booked for a sister that wasn’t going to show up and I happened to be in front of her in line. I went in and enjoyed the beautiful museum, thanking the extraordinarily kind Canadian on my way in. The building was full of Bernini’s and the ceilings were elaborately decorated. It was amazing, and I am so grateful that I was able to experience it.
I walked back to the hostel and had a relaxing afternoon catching up with my people from home and looking into Florence, my next stop.