Saturday October 31, 1992 – Milan, Italy
It was a little hard to know exactly when Saturday began. So, I’m saying it was when I landed in Milan, Italy even though it was still Friday 11:30 pm Pacific Time. I spent about 2 hours at the Milan airport. Claig and I went to the airport café, and I had an Espresso that was so strong it made my hair stand on end (1200 Lire). The airport was quiet at first but soon picked up. The weather was crisp and looked and felt much like the weather in Washington D.C. The flight from Milan to Rome lasted about 1 hour and was mostly cloudy with occasional glimpses of the countryside. The country was surprisingly green considering it’s Mediterranean. Landed in Rome at about 12 noon Rome time (3 AM Pacific). There was a mad dash for the customs and passport check gate where everyone ended up standing in line waiting for someone at the beginning of the line who was having problems getting through. That seemed ominous but by the time I got to the gate, the guy barely looked at my passport and waved me through. I was relieved but also a little disappointed he didn’t stamp my passport. The next step was to find my baggage which, after making 3 plane changes, made me a little apprehensive. I can’t tell you how relieved I was to see my big salmon colored suitcase coming down the belt! I then proceeded to lug my baggage to the train terminal where I could catch a train into Rome. I had a vague description of how to get to the train terminal, part of which included avoiding aggressive taxi drivers. The train terminal was close and only required going up a couple flights of escalator stairs and crossing a bridge. The train to Rome was scheduled to leave every ½ hour and required buying a ticket from a machine by punching in your destination and inserting the proper amount of Lire. The terminal reminded me of BART (Bay Area Rapid Transit) in San Francisco where you had to insert your ticket into a turn style to get to the loading platform. The train ride to Rome lasted about 20 minutes and went through some poor looking areas. I’d never seen so much healthy Arundo grass as I saw along the tracks. Some of it was at least 20 foot tall! The train ride stopped at the Ostiense Station which was the closest stop near my hotel. Under normal conditions, it would have taken about 20-minutes to walk to the hotel. Unfortunately, I had a ton luggage, and I wasn’t exactly sure how to get to the hotel. I think the Taxi drivers sensed my helplessness because as soon as I walked out of the station, they descended on me like flies. I had been told that taxi fare should be around 12,000 – 14,000 Lire. So, I asked “how much to Hotel San Anselmo?” Big mistake! Three taxi drivers replied in unison, 30,000 Lire ($22) which I knew was too much. But, when I replied, “too much”, they all just looked at me like I was crazy and walked away. At that point, I knew I was beat, so I said OK. The lesson I learned was, don’t ask how much and just them have go by their meter. If you enjoy roller coasters, the ride to the hotel was worth every Lire. Driving in Rome must be one of the scariest experiences around. Riding with a normal, sane driver would have been scary but riding with a crazy Italian taxi driver surely ranks at the top of the scary list. I made it to Hotel San Anselmo at about 1:30 PM (4:30 AM Pacific). I had been quoted a price of 100,000 Lire (~$75) for a single room but in the process of checking in, the price suddenly jumped to 150,000 Lire. I questioned the hotel clerk about the price change, but he was insistent that it was the normal rate. At that point, I didn’t want to argue (especially since I couldn’t speak Italian and he barely understood English). The room was clean and basic and included a bathroom which I think was extra. The bathroom included a bidet and tub/shower that was about 3 feet off the ground. I unpacked some of my things and debated on whether to crash or check out some of the sights. I decided to check out some sights and ended up walking to the Colosseum which was about 3 miles away. The Colosseum and surrounding ruins of the Roman Forum were awesome but a bit crowded with tourists. It looked like maybe half of the tourists were Japanese. I walked around the Colosseum area constantly watching for pick pockets which I had been warned were common there. Apparently, a lot of the pick pockets are young “gypsy” children who have a very aggressive way of coming up and asking for money. A couple times I was approached and barely caught one of them trying to put their hand in my pocket. One trick they use is to distract you by holding up a newspaper like they want to sell it to you while they pick your pocket with their other hand. Another method Claig had happen to him was a young girl grabbed his arm while another one picked his pocket. I eventually learned to recognize pick pockets and found that if you look like you’re wise to them, they don’t bother you. I made it back to the hotel around 5:30 PM (8:30 AM Pacific) and hit the sack.
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