Sketches Abroad. Series I: Out & About

Over the next couple of weeks I will be posting a few series of sketches accomplished over my 9 month trip abroad. For this first post I will introduce some quick sketches completed while ‘out and about’. A majority of these sketches were drawn in Tartu, Estonia, in addition to a few from the airport in Helsinki, Finland.


The first five sketches were completed in Lokaal Pirogov, a bar in Tartu, which has big front windows over-looking the popular Rüütli Street. I would often occupy one of the high stools at the bar height table in one of the windows, splitting my study time with sketching. Across the street was Armastus cafe, which appears in the first sketch, and beside that a few sketches of various persons who would mill about the street, often smoking flavoured cigarettes, and jutting in and out of the liquor store next door to Lokaal Pirogov. That describes the first four. The next four sketches are of various persons who frequented the local, and most popular cafe, Werner’s. Werner’s was a very busy cafe on Ülikooli Street, frequented by affluent Estonians, both national and international students, professors from the University of Tartu, and others, often seeking a good piece of cake with their daily caffeine fix. The final two drawings were sketched in Helsinki airport, and at the moment, I am contemplating a post simply with my airport sketches. The airport is an amazing place to sketch, with all sorts temporarily convening, and possibly my favourite place to sketch the myriad of people out and about.

Tartu. Arrival.

After my short, albeit relaxing stay in Riga, Latvia I made my way via bus to Tartu, Estonia where I would be staying from late August until some time in June, a tentative date even as I write this. Over the four hour bus ride on a two lane highway, I watched the sun slowly set over the Latvian countryside. The sun was nearly set as the bus approached the boarder with Estonia. At the border there would be no check points, no questions, no stamps, no visa requirements, no stop whatsoever. The ease of travel between countries in Europe, though a strange feeling at first, that is coming from North America where a simple border crossing from one country to another can be a cause for hours in delays and a lifetime of hassling, has been the greatest experience. The ease of travel has allowed me to explore neighbouring countries and others within Europe with no cause for concern and little stress.

I arrived at the bus station sometime around 10 or 11pm in the dark of night. I was tired from sitting on a seat which, after some time, went from cushy to hard underneath me. I hopped out of the bus, into the fresh air, collected my suitcase and froze. I had no idea where I was in relation to the dormitory I would be staying in, or to the rest of the world, for that matter. I noticed that there were a few taxi’s ahead and decided to grab a taxi to the dorm, because I wasn’t about to wander lost with a heavy suitcase and a heavier head. Getting into the dorm was no problem, however finding my flat proved to be nothing short of a long ordeal. I arrived on the sixth floor, after taking the weary looking elevator up, however my room number appeared nowhere. Almost all of the doors I looked at had a metal number tag adorning it, yet 6– wasn’t to be found. After running back and forth through the hallway, I made my way back down to the main floor and inquired after the secretary in reception about my room number. She really could have cared less and offered little help, and instead resumed her scroll and stare observation of the computer immediately in front of her. She did offer, however, confirmation that the number to the room had likely been taken off of the door by a student.

I was fortunate that another student was present at the time and offered to help me find my flat. Keys in hand I dragged my things once more to the elevator and we made our way to the sixth. We double checked every number on every door from one end to the other, this time counting. We tried the key in the door on either side of the elevator where the flat should have been located, and after trying four separate doors, one opened. At last! I thanked my new friend as he made his way out of the hallway, in the direction of the elevator. My room was in the middle of the flat; two rooms on either side. I dropped my things and prepared myself for bed. I shook the last of the tea leaves out of my pyjamas’s, tea leaves left over  from the tin that I’d cleaned up after my arrival in Rome. What I hadn’t anticipated, however, was the well-worn, stained mattress upon which I was supposed to sleep. Needless to say I was disappointed that I hadn’t brought or bought sheets for the bed. I laid down a large outer scarf and slept under my jacket. It was clear that someone had already moved into the room, however they weren’t present at the time. I closed my eyes, and exhausted, fell asleep.

In the morning I found that a soft, purple blanket had been lain over my feet, which were left out in the cold when I past out under the cover of my jacket. I found the wash closet and bathroom, and made myself presentable for my afternoon meeting with a friend. When I left the dormitory, after having ordered a blanket and pillow set for the room, I set myself in the direction of the Old Town. The sky was dotted with clouds, but the sun was shining which was welcome after the cold, rainy weather that received me in Riga. I met with my friend at the Kissing Students fountain that stands in the middle of the Town Hall Square; we started off in the direction of Rutli Street, which is a popular street with the students as it’s home to many bars. From there we walked around to an area of old wooden houses, I crossed three bridges, each time first making a wish then crossing with closed eyes, and had a coffee and cake at the most popular cafe in the Old Town. My introduction to the town of Tartu was great, and I couldn’t have asked for a better guide. Unfortunately, I was too busy taking it all in to take many photos, but I’ve added the few that I did manage to take; included is the view from my room, the pedestrian path and bridge to the Old Town, the Town Hall Square and the Kissing Students, an old church, the Freedom Bridge, and two monuments in a nearby park. Of course, I have talked about my first impressions of Tartu, which you can read about here.

University of Tartu Guest Post

I was recently asked to write a guest post for the University of Tartu in Estonia, which I am attending for the duration of one year while on an exchange from my home university, the University of Toronto, Canada. In this post, I highlight some of my most memorable moments while on exchange here in Tartu. You can find it here: UT Blog

P.s. I have another guest post in the works for the UT Blog that I am very excited about and cannot wait to share with you all! More information on that soon.

Riga.

I left Rome for Riga sometime late in the afternoon; unbeknownst to me I was leaving beautiful weather for a small storm. Landing in Riga seemed hazardous to say the least, because it felt as though the plane was being played by the wind: tugged around, pushed, and bounced on the lap of turbulence. It was raining heavily, and shuttles were waiting on the tarmac. I managed to find a place on the shuttle; the airport was ages away.

I waited for some time to receive my luggage, but when I did I was happy to have a hard shell suitcase after watching the people pick off their soaking cloth luggage from the conveyor. A long time friend, a friend whom I hadn’t seen in some time, was waiting for me just beyond the set of doors from the luggage pick-up area. We would be going to his place, some way from Old Town Riga, reached via bus and trolly. Previous to reaching his building, he’d warned me that it looked much nicer on the inside than out. It did. After the simultaneous pushing of buttons, and much turning of keys in locks, we made into his apartment. It was large, spacious, with a gas stove, and all the necessary amenities. The kitchen over-looked the street and tram stop on the opposite side. In the mornings’ after waking, I’d make tea and watch the tram stop: many of the elderly folk waiting to go in the direction of the Old Town, would wait just 20 minutes, and then simply turn back in the direction they came and try again the next day. I’d watch them go and stand in the window a few moments more, while the tram, of course, would arrive not 5 minutes after they’d walked away.

On my first day in Riga, my friend was glad to show me around. For the most part, however, he was away at work. This was fine, because the weather was cold and rainy, and every day I slept until 10am. This was quite a different experience from Rome. Never the less, I was eager to explore the old town, as it would be my first time in such a place. It felt odd, at first, to be surrounded by low buildings on narrow streets, as I could only draw on my experience from living in Toronto, where streets tend to be much wider and where the buildings reach toward the sky . In some parts of the town it felt as though the buildings were looking down on me as I walked, pressing upon me from all sides, however I was quickly won over by the charm of it all. I craned my neck back up toward them, toward Art Nouveau façades and lonely looking architectural sculptures that looked vacantly elsewhere.

I would spend the entire first day tromping around Old Town Riga, snapping up photos of everything that I could. I was excited to find Wall Street, the Cat House, and the Three Brothers. The entire afternoon threatened rain, with thick clouds overhead, but I was spared and the late afternoon saw sunshine break through thinning clouds.

Toward the end of the afternoon I was parched, so I made my way out of the Old Town, but not before stumbling upon a wonderful, colourful, little knitting shop around which various objects had been knit-bombed. I am not a knitter, but I know a few who are and who would appreciate a couple of photos.  After touching everything in the knit shop, I continued on, back toward my friends places, strolling through the parks all the while.

There I would wait until he finished work and we’d head back into town to grab dinner and a drink. It was here, in Old Town Riga, that I’d order my first litre of beer. After dinner, we would continue to the Rockabilly Bar, a summertime setup out of doors in the main square that I’d passed by a few times. My friend and I ordered drinks, and decided to stay for another as the house band had set up their instruments and were preparing to play.

Unfortunately, on my second day in Riga I spent much of my time in the centre mall, where I had to pick up a jacket and a pair of leather shoes to weather, well, the weather. It rained on and off all day, creating puddles in the streets and on my way back I had to hop from one dry spot to the next. While on my way to the Old Town, however, I did stop off for lunch at the Flying Frog, recommended to me by a friend who’d previously made a trip to Riga, Latvia. If you ever stop in Riga, be sure to try this restaurant, as I was quite impressed and would highly recommend it.

The weather was a little more fair, though still quite chilly on my last day in Riga. My friend had been pressing me to go to the top of the tower of St. Peter’s Church in the Old Town, and was I ever glad that I did. This place is possibly the best to lookout over the Old Town, and from here I could spot many of the buildings I’d walked by, and had looked up at. Later that afternoon I would gather up my things and walk to bus station. My friend joined to see me off; my next stop, Tartu, Estonia.

I. Porto, Portugal. December, 2014.

Sometime early in December I booked my flights with TAP airlines, who were then running direct flights from Tallinn, for a holiday getaway in Porto, Portugal. At this time, I had got to know my roommate S- very well, and was delighted when she told me that I was more than welcome to join her and her family in Porto, Portugal for the holidays. I wouldn’t be going back home to North America for the holidays, and though I missed my family and friends, I welcomed the opportunity to travel someplace new.

Arriving in Lisboa, I made my way from the airport to the connecting metro. The metro is very easy to find, being attached to the airport (unlike, say, Toronto) and even easier to figure out (also unlike Toronto). Finally, it connects to the main train station in Lisboa, from where I hopped on a train for the two hour, 45 minute train ride North to Porto. The train was comfortable, and I watched the countryside pass as it made it’s way up the coast. When I arrived at the train station I was greeted by my roommate S- who had made it to Porto a few days prior, and her father drove us home after chucking my large suitcase into the tiny trunk of the car.

Now, the drive was interesting. First, the Portuguese drive quite quickly and as though they all have the right of way on the road. I could help but think what chaos would occur should our car go careening into another in the middle of a tiny street. Later, after having climbed out of the car and settled in to my friends home, I was assured that her father drove rather slowly. That evening, I would find out that this was true.

In the evening, my friend and I went out to the downtown for coffee and to see the Christmas tree that had been erected in the main square. There were various light and sound installations located all the way up the long square to the Christmas tree at the top, which stood in front of the city hall. The Christmas tree was brilliant, created by strings of light with a star at the top that lit from the center outward.

Both Christmas Eve and Christmas day were largely spent in the home of my Portuguese friend with her close family and extended family members. Her family members came around to prepare a dinner for the evening, sometime around 11am; however, dinner was served some time closer to 11pm. This is not a dinner hour that I am used to! With that said, there were a lot of sweet treats, including home made donuts and cakes, and much wine to consume over the course of the day. After the dinner feast (okay, we ate around 10pm) everyone stayed at the table for a few rounds of bingo (and more drinks!), during which time I really had the opportunity to learn my numbers in Portuguese. I even won a game. I have never felt so welcomed and so warm in the home of a friend as I did that night. We shared great stories and a lot of laughs, something I’ll cherish for a very long time.

Status Quo.

[This is a brief update]

Hello friends, family, and followers! The end of the semester is wrapping up here in Tartu, Estonia and with it many students will be leaving Tartu for their home countries, some for the holidays and others for good. I have been very busy in my studies of semiotics and volunteering at the print museum (both of which I will write about), and so I will be glad to have a break come next week. I will be heading to Portugal for two weeks over the holiday in hopes of warming up and catching some sun, which doesn’t appear here often for weeks at a time. Further, it is dark by 4:30 and not light again until some time around 10am.

Though, I must add that it isn’t all bad. Tartu is well dressed for the holidays: there are lights that cross the town hall square and the town hall itself is layered in lights, in addition to a large boat and pine tree, both decorated in lights. The university has also been covered in lights. So, for the moment Tartu itself is quite bright.

Here are some photos for your viewing pleasure:

I will be staying in Porto for the better part of my time in Portugal, however I do plan to visit Lisbon, the capital, as well as one other smaller city. Upon my return from Portugal, I will continue from Tallinn, the capital of Estonia, to Finland, which is just a boat ride away. Please be patient for my updates, while in the meantime enjoy your holidays! I will be updating with Riga by the end of the day today (Dec 18th, ’14).

P.s. I have recently acquired glasses for the purpose of reading. This is quite new to me, and simultaneously foreign and surreal.

Rome. III – Day II

Sunday the 17th, my last full day in Rome. I managed to sleep until 8am but again had to cancel the wake up call; I prepared myself and made my way to the breakfast room where the morning’s sugary diet awaited. The woman who worked in the breakfast room spoke little to no english, though luckily a cappuccino is a cappuccino.

I started out rather leisurely because I’d walked so much on the previous day that the muscles in my legs were a little tight. I decided to explore the vicinity in which my bed & breakfast was located. Around the corner, I discovered vendors under the archways of various buildings selling flowers, cheap clothing, and knock off goods from purses to electronics. Being daylight, I decided to wander through the local park. Here I discovered a small children’s park with themed rides and a few unkempt old ruins; people milled about including tourists and the homeless who were either drinking or sleeping on what little grass was left to grow.

I turned back around, leaving the park, and made my way down a nice looking street of old condos. It was at this point that I discovered Scala Santa, the church of the Holy Stairs. Tourists and locals alike were sitting on it’s steps outside, and I noticed a large crowd in the lobby every time someone walked into the basilica through the large front door. Though the outside was by no means as extravagant as other basilica’s I’d seen in Rome, I decided to go in to take a peek.

I found myself in a small lobby filled with people staring straight forward, they were observing the people ahead of them on a stairwell who were very gradually, climbing the stairs on their knees. I stopped and joined the gawking crowd. What I learned was that the middle stairwell can only be climbed on one’s knees (more info in the picture provided), while the adjacent stairwells one can climb à pied. Once, a man in robes, who obviously belonged to the church, came around, put a finger to his lips and loudly ‘shushed’ the crowed to ‘keep the silence’ and to direct those standing on the Scala Santa to ‘Get Down! Knees!’ My memory of this is still quite fresh, because though the man made little sound and appeared very modest in his brown robe and sash, his voice was very big as it echoed within the lobby and across the crowd.

I skipped the crowd and made my way to the top via the right stairwell and took a look around the small basilica. It was well decorated, with fresco’s on the walls and ceiling. A window atop the Scala Santa allowed those praying to peak through to a vaulted shrine, gilded in gold. An office, souvenir shop, confessional booth, and private chapel were all located on the second floor.

Outside, and across from Scala Santa, was a very big, extravagant basilica. Inside, the twelve apostles stood at larger than life size within niche’s, the floor was ornately tiled mosaic, and the ceiling was moulded and gilded in gold. Being a Sunday, service began shortly after my entrance and so I wandered around the basilica to catch a glimpse or two of the devout in thrall of the speaker. After eyeing those seated and more still kneeling at confessional booths, and after taking many photos, I wandered out.

After some time I found myself back at the Colosseum. It was just before 1 o’clock in the afternoon, and with a walking tour starting at 1:40 I hopped into the long line of tourists entering the Colosseum. With ten minutes to spare before my turn at the ticket booth, the woman ahead of me decided that she would try to appeal to the cashier to be reimbursed for her stolen tickets.. Pickpocket’ed, regardless of the fact that an overhead P.A. announces in many languages, and at regular intervals, to be aware of pickpockets both inside and outside of the Colosseum. With two minutes to spare, the woman resigned herself and repurchased two tickets. I purchased my tickets, including the walking tour, and headed to the meet-up spot. The walking tour was led by an art historian who studies the period during which the Colosseum was built, as well as those periods on either side; she provided a lot interesting facts which made the tour quite memorable.. Here are a few of those facts: I Why does the Colosseum contain so many holes: Shortly after the fall of the Roman Empire the iron contained within the stones was bored out and recycled. II While public executions were held between events at the Colosseum, contrary to popular belief, no gladiators ever fought to the death. III Arena comes from the Latin harena, meaning sand, which covered the Colosseum stage.

What I also learned from my tour guide was not to throw out my ticket, because it could be used to gain entrance into the Palatine and Forum. So, after thoroughly exploring the Colosseum for 3 hours I made my way a few feet across ancient Rome and entered the Palatine grounds. What can I say about the Palatine? Bring an umbrella and prepare yourself with bottled water or aqua tablets for the supply of fresh water from the public fountains throughout the grounds. I explored thr grounds until closing, 6pm. My knock off Sony batteries died just shortly after entering the Palatine and so I have placed my one and only photo at the head of this post.

I wandered my way to Ponte Garibaldi, back to the riverside happenin’s that I had discovered on the previous night in search of something for dinner. However, I walked so long that my desire waned and I followed the locals out in the direction of my B&B. To make a long story short, I got lost and had to grab a cab to make it back to the B&B before midnight (though there’s 24hr concierge I tried not to stay out later than 11pm). I left the window in my room open to let in the cool night air and fell asleep.

The next morning, I had my last sugary breakfast with cappuccino, left the B&B to explore a few sites before heading back around 2 to gather my things and head to Termini Station for the airport. The ride to the airport was uneventful, and I was thankful to be in transit in any other way than on foot. Upon reaching the airport I was somewhat sad to be leaving Rome, however this soon dissipated in my excitement to be moving on. Next stop: Riga, Latvia.

Rome. II – Day I

At 7:30am on Saturday the 16th, I was awake. Perhaps it was jet-lag, excitement, the people coughing in the courtyard bellow the window to my new room that woke me, or none or all of the above, I cannot be sure. But needless to say, I cancelled my scheduled 8:30am wake-up call. I ducked my head out to let Matthius know that I was cancelling the wake-up, he’s the only staff member of the B&B who’s name I got to know, and he was as jovial as when I’d met him at 11pm on the 15th. He assured me that they could make room for me in the breakfast room, because I’d scheduled to have breakfast at nine, however I wasn’t at all prepared to have breakfast with strangers in a small room, un-showered. I waited my turn by opening up the window to the courtyard of the apartment buildings opposite the B&B and taking a look around, by showering, and by studying my tourist map of Rome.

Each day I did not make a schedule, but instead left the B&B around 10am with a rough idea of the direction in which I wanted to travel, for the sites that I hoped to find. In doing this, I often saw things that were not listed on any map. Such as the first basilica in Rome that I visited, which happened to be just around the corner from my B&B, tucked between condo’s on a narrow side street:

This was also the first place at which I purchased “souvenirs”, postcards. The counter was full, and I perused the cards for some time before anyone realized that I was there. An Italian gentleman came by to take my money for the cards, but having no small change I gave him a bill that he could in turn not make change for. I added another postcard worth 1euro, and gave him a 5euro bill, then he took off saying “one moment, one moment”. I waited, and five minutes later he came back and counted out my change in 10 cent pieces. I assume that he went to the man at the door of the basilica who was collecting from visitors upon their entrance and exit to and from the basilica.

From there I made my way down the street, and came out at Via Nazionale. A major road with a lot of traffic. Following this I found myself at the Piazza della Repubblica and the Fountain of the Naiads. Here, I had an Italian woman, who was with her husband, take my photo. While I tried to relay to her that I wanted the fountain in the background, she continued to zoom in closer, however the photo turned out nicely. It is the only photo I have of myself in Rome.

I followed the fountain around to the left, and up the road. I was walking my way toward the Santa Maria della Concezione dei Cappuccini near the Piazza Barberini and the Fontana del Tritone; the church houses the Capuchin museum and crypt, a place that I had always wanted to see. Along the way I found an old building marked “Planetario”, the dome on top still in tact, though the walls of the building appeared to be the only thing left. I walked on, and on. Eventually the road I was on opened up to a square, the Triton Fountain, commissioned to the renowned sculptor Bernini, stood in the middle. I knew that the Capuchin crypt had to be nearby. I walked around the fountain a few times, watching Triton push water from his mouth through a conch, his arms raised to hold it there, straight up. I located the church by backtracking one street, took a look around, and made my way to the museum next door.

Unfortunately, one cannot take pictures in the museum or crypt, however photos of the crypt can be found via a quick internet search. The museum was full of paintings of former friars, their personal history, and objects (now artefacts) that they carried. After carefully reading every plaque attributed to some painting or vitrine of artefacts, followed by a small section “What are they up to now? Present day Capuchin Friars” (my title), I turned a corner and came upon a small stair set and the smell of dirt. The first thing you see are bones, a lot of bones. The air is dry and the hall that opens to five chapels that are dimly, day lit by windows along the hallway wall and small hanging lights. The hallway is arched and narrow so you are pushed to either side, on one side, closer to the remains of friars stacked to the ceiling, and on the other against the bare cement wall of the hallway, beneath lamps elaborately decorated in bones. The entire crypt is decorated: pelvic bones are set behind skulls on the ceiling to make it look as though the skulls have wings, while other bones are used to recreate the shape of the hourglass. In one chapel, two friars lying and three standing, are set beneath the small skeleton known as the Barberini Princess, with scythe. There were few other tourists in the crypt and so I was able to slowly make my way down the hall, taking in awe each chapel, and reading the small, informative plaques en route. In a fleeting thought, I wondered if the friars would have protested against being gaped at by so many, but I continued on. I don’t think that I’ve ever been so surrounded by death in the way that I was at the crypt, though the craftsmanship behind the display made everything feel natural and in place. For me, the Capuchin Crypt, final resting place of nearly 4000 friars, is a memento mori in the form of a work of art.

I left the crypt, which ends unceremoniously at the book shop where I picked up a postcard, and into the full light of day. Shortly, I found myself walking uphill, and the next thing I knew I was atop the Spanish Steps. From here there is an amazing view of Rome, in addition to the still higher view from the Church of Trinita Dei Monti built in the early 1500’s.

From here I located the Palazzo Zuccari also known as the “Monster House”, and the then “closed for construction” Keats-Shelley Memorial House that I had planned to visit. The streets at the bottom of the Spanish Steps were filled with tourists who were either eating, shopping, or puzzling over a map. Again, the street eventually opened up to a square. I had found the Piazza del Popolo. I took quite a few photos of here; the polar bear stopped to pose with a sphinx. At this point I had done a lot of walking, and a lot of sightseeing, so I decided to turn back in the direction of my B&B.

At some point along the way I crossed a bridge over the Tevere (Tiber) River, and walked along at a leisurely pace with fellow tourists and locals alike. Along the Tevere I saw the building who’s top I had seen in the distance from the landing of the Trinita dei Monti, followed by a castle, and finally, the Holy See. I wasn’t entirely expecting to find myself walking toward Vatican City, but I’d decided to continue toward the looming dome of the Basilica of St. Peter and the surrounding columns. For a moment I contemplated joining the line to view the inside of the basilica, but the security checkpoint was crawling, and the day was getting no younger. It was hot and people milled around and under the surrounding wall of columns to take some shade. I wandered my way back to the Tevere River via a side street.

Somewhere along my way back to the B&B I found a small alleyway covered in wheat pastes that opened onto the Fontana dei Quattro Fiumi. Another beautiful fountain sculpted by Bernini. I’ve added photos taken the next evening, in addition to those I took on the first day, when I returned to see the fountain lit up at night. From here I weaved my way through narrow streets and the sound of utensils clashing on plates. It was dinner time but I only wanted to continue exploring, and I wasn’t yet hungry.

This is when I turned a corner and there was the Pantheon. It was large and set back off of the square. The front was open to those having dinner, while they stared into it over their glass of wine. The facade is grand and I found it difficult to approach the large, ancient building. Outside the Pantheon the square was busy, and men dressed as Gladiators in cheap plastic costumes ran after the tourists for photo ops, only after which charging a “tip”. The doors hidden behind the columns were open and so I decided to go in. I marvelled at the ceiling for some time. You can find similar ceiling structures elsewhere in Rome, but most of those that I saw were no longer fully intact. The large hole in the top of the ceiling is the only source by which natural light comes in, and so it was difficult to get a decent shot of the interior. Despite this, it was busy and tourists pushed one another to capture the best shot of the, now, basilica and themselves in front of some part of the structure.

Leaving the Pantheon, I found myself eventually reaching Capitoline Hill, Ancient Rome, and along the Forum to the Colosseum. By the time I’d reached the Colosseum I’d exhausted my legs. I took a few photos along the way, my last being of this ancient building lit up from the inside at dusk, giving it the semblance of an empty shell. I would return to Capitoline Hill again the next day, because I was just as determined, as I mentioned, to climb to the top. When I found myself back at the B&B I was somewhat relieved, because it meant that I could rest both my eyes and feet. I let reception know that I’d be having breakfast at the same time, and set a wake-up call for 8:30. In my room I turned the air on, closed the window, cleaned my feet which were covered in a layer of dirt from walking all day in sandals, then lied down and passed out. Full day one in Rome was over.

Rome. I

On Friday afternoon, the 15th of August, I landed in Rome from Toronto. The flight was a long 8 and a half hours, with a gain of ten minutes thanks to a favourable tail wind. I managed to sleep on the plane by listening to Bon Iver – Bon Iver, Bon Iver on repeat throughout the entire flight, the only music I found tolerable at the time to listen to. The airport in Rome is not as small as I would have expected (it is an International airport, mind), but despite this, all passengers, myself included, were shuttled from the tarmac to the main building. It was hot, a plus 30 degrees when we landed. I waited one hour to gather my baggage, and then headed for the train, which is conveniently attached to the airport. My passport was stamped by customs on my way to the train, the first stamp in my new ten-year passport.

When I arrived at Termini Station, I had to walk only five minutes to my bed & breakfast. After lugging my 23kg suitcase up one of two flights of stairs, I could hear someone rushing down the steps toward me. It was a member of the B&B staff to help me out. What I hadn’t realized at the time is that the elevator located in the building, on the first floor, is in working order. The hotel staff carried my suitcase to the top, where I checked in, and was given my room. The room was small, on the street, lightly decorated, and clean. I threw my suitcase onto the bed and opened it up to find that a tin of tea that I’d brought with me had opened on the flight, spilling tea leaves throughout my suitcase. My clothing smelled fragrant, of caramel and nuts. They still do.

I had a shower, the drain clogged, I lied down and slept for 2 hours. It was 5 o’clock when I woke up, I felt good and was ready to explore Rome. At this time, I didn’t have a memory card for my camera and so the only document I have is my own memory. I had a map, but not looking at it, I started walking. I’m not sure where I went, or in which direction, but by nightfall my stomach was calling and so I made my way to a small pizzeria nearer to Via Nazionale, a large major road. The pizzeria was busy, I ordered pizza, and watched the television in an upper corner. Televised: a local radio station playing national and international songs in Italian or English. It was curious to note that the English music videos were alternative videos to what we would see on our televisions in North America, they were of, for the most part, the English lyrics.

After dinner, leftovers in hand, I’d decided to try to locate the Fontana di Trevi. This was a place that I was told I must see at night. However, despite following a few signs marked with the name I could not locate the place, and thus I decided to head back in the direction of my hotel. My first steps were in the wrong direction. This is when I stumbled onto Ponte Garibaldi, a bridge that crosses the Tevere (Tiber) River, into the Trastevere area of Rome. The river’s edge was alight with tents, from Ponte Sisto to Ponte Palatino, live music was playing, and masses of people walked in either direction along the river. I found the link for the event later, in my room at the B&B: http://www.lungoiltevereroma.it  I was told by a merchant that it was a festival of sorts that began every Spring, and ran until September. I walked and walked, taking in the sights of goods, people, and the smells of food from the various pop-up restaurants. On my second last day in Rome I would come back here.

By the time I’d reached the end I had been walking for quite some time, and was getting sleepy so, now I finally decided that I’d try to find my B&B. After crossing the river at Ponte Palatino, I made my way in the direction of Termini Station, for which there were signs posted en route. But then, the street opened up and there was Circus Maximus. Really, all that is left is a tower, and a field of grass. The tower was surround by fencing, because of a new archeological dig on the site. Along the fencing were plans by the city to revamp the ancient racetrack at the bottom of the Palatine. There were many people jogging around the track, couples hand in hand, and individuals taking their dog for a walk. Once I’d reached the top of the track I turned toward the Palatine, walking around it and coming to Capitoline Hill. The flames burning on either side at the top of the first set of stairs were being watched over by guards, standing erect beneath the Altare della Patria or the Monumento Nazionale a Vittorio Emanuele II, a large monument of the first king of unified Italy. At this time of night the gate was closed, however I was determined to walk to the top of the stairs, and would make my way back to do just that on my last day in Rome.

From here, tired, and stumbling my way back to the B&B, I ran into the Colosseum. It was huge, and lit up in the night. I walked around it a few times, in awe. There were few people at this time, and the last merchants in the area, selling tacky souvenirs, scarves, and bottled water, were already packing up. I was bothered by no one, and if I was I barely noticed. I tried to catch a view of the inside of the Colosseum, but there are fenced barriers around the entire perimeter of the ancient building. There was a wall of scaffolding built up one quarter of the outer Colosseum. I desperately wanted to see inside, but I knew that I’d have to come back. So, I left.

When I arrived back at the B&B, around 11pm, I was exhausted. The shower drain was still clogged and the water that had filled the bottom was still. I notified the night staff, and I was moved in the morning.

It is still unreal to me to have been to Rome, but I am glad to have had the opportunity. I would suggest a visit to Rome to anyone. I will update with photos and my two days in Rome in the next post. Thanks for reading.