A long, long time ago (well 7 years seems like a long time to me), I decided to do summer school in Europe (which we all know is code for Euro trip) and ended up in Copenhagen. Fortunately for me, Hari, my pal from engineering also happened to be doing his masters there. And we both decided, Rome would be a great place to go (given that Copenhagen was so expensive that the only thing we could afford to eat were Kebabs). Thus it began.
Both of us being relatively new to Europe felt the pinch – we still hadn’t gotten over the whole converting Euros to Indian Rupees and being scandalized at the cost of a bottle of water. So we had decided we would do Rome on a shoestring budget so thin that it could be used to knit buttons back on your shirt (and no that is not a skill I possess though I am a master at threading the needle).
The point being – we booked a hostel so far on the outskirts that we had to change 3 modes of transport to reach civilization (well the remnants of one of the oldest civilizations ever). So we got into a bus, then a train which looks just like our second class coaches (if they were never maintained) and just when we wanted to get into a metro we realized – THERE WAS A GODDAMNED TRANSPORT STRIKE. Now both of us come from a state called Kerala in India which is prone to strikes – we didn’t expect to come across one in Rome.
That’s not the only thing we Indians have in common with Italians. This Italian pal of mine once told me a joke that went – “How do you shut a Italian up?” – “Just turn off the lights!” As a people we both gesticulate a lot whilst talking. Oh and unlike the punctual Germans and French (from experience with buddies from both these places – they even come to frigging parties on time and are quite indignant when you turn up an hour late), the Italians also operate on what we often call Indian standard time.
Photo courtesy – Hari
I am getting ahead of myself – the hostel though quite far from anywhere, had attracted quite an eclectic crowd. Let me introduce these random people who stayed up half the night talking above from left to right – A very quiet Portuguese guy (who taught me that while the Portuguese can understand Spanish, the reverse is not necessarily true), yours’ truly (who after repeatedly being singled out for “random” spot checks in airports across Europe had decided to shave this beard), 2 Germans who were of all things in an English boy band called Action Boyz (if memory serves me right), a Mexican DJ, a fun Dutch guy who looked a bit like Superman, a Scottish student of history and this crazy Colombian American dude Alan. Sigh – that was a fun night.
Anyway – back to the strike. Undaunted by it, Hari, I and Alan decided to brave the heat (another thing that was just like home) and walk it – we were determined to see the Colosseum. Fortunately for us, our boy Alan was a genius at reading maps. Oh and apparently Italian and Spanish are quite similar and so he could for the most part understand the directions friendly Italians were throwing at us.
Hari tossing the coin in style
Finally we made it to the Trevi fountain. Now legend has it that a coin thrown into the fountain will ensure a return to Rome. So since I have taken a vow to not repeat travel to the same place on a vacation unless I have been everywhere else already, I am hoping this means at some point I shall fulfill my plans of world conquest (just traveling mind you, ruling sounds like too much work).
We ran into a lot of people dressed in bizarre costumes asking for money to pose with them – I think this is a European thing. In India they usually charge you for getting YOU dressed in a native costume or some such and taking a photo. This dude dressed as a mummy was more striking than most. How they manage to stand like that in those tremendously uncomfortable looking get ups for hours on end baffles me no end.
We even lost our main man Alan at some point. Turns out he was getting up to no good – fraternizing with chicks, tweaking Pinocchio’s nose (yeah with names like Gepetto I should have realized that this was an Italian story – A lot of my European travels have been accompanied by these revelations – all the classics from my childhood have their roots in one of these places). But hey, he found Superman at some point. So that was nice.
Whatever happened to the Colosseum you ask. Well sometimes the journey is more fun than the destination.
So says Sarat,
P.S – But the Colosseum exceeded our expectations – find out how next week – same time, same place.
