It's hard to be a tourist in Rome

“What do you want?” she asked me and looked at me from the other side of the table. I shrugged. “I don’t know… I’m just hungry.” She laughed.  I hadn’t really done much but eating for the last three days. From breakfast at the hotel, to gelato in the streets, a Panini here and there, melon at the market, a pizza-slice for lunch and lovely pasta for dinner. Well about the pasta…

We started out this morning at 7 am to catch the 9 am walking tour of the Vatican Gardens. It must have been the warmest day of our stay and we went to catch a walking-tour.

    The Vatican is, as you may know, not a part of Italy, but a country of its own, so if you want to call someone from the Vatican gardens you will actually have to dial a country code. Yeah, that’s how official it is. Our guide on the other hand was a fun lady from Italy, who made jokes about the church and the Catholics all morning long. Unfortunately touring Vatican gardens is the only way you really can get into the Vatican (besides Musei Vaticani) if you’re not living there, but you have to be with an official guide at all times. Nevertheless we had great fun that morning, even though we ended up rather hot in the burning sun.

 

   

“Maggie!” I turned as my English-nickname was shouted out over Piazza di Spagna. I turned to find my good friend Lulu. I had met her in Brighton three years earlier, and hadn’t seen her since last time I visited Rome two years ago. “Oh my God!” I ran up to hug her and my mom was following slowly kissing Lulus mom on the cheek. It was a lot of screaming and a lot of “How are you!?”’s.

    There is something special about meeting old friends. In special those who live in another country that you have not seen in two years. We went walking to a little place where we always go called Antica Roma and sat down for drinks. There was a lot of discussing old times, school, travelling and not to forget weather. It was the hottest summer in Rome in a long time, it was the hottest day as far as we knew and at times I took myself in longing to London, which have about 13+ or so.

   The time went by fast and after some shopping in Via del Corso, maybe Rome’s finest shopping street, Lulu and her mom had to go and we said our goodbyes at the bottom of the Spanish-steps. “I’ll see you in a couple of years, Maggie!”

“Hopefully not to many,” I said and smiled.

     The sun kissed my skin a last time before it went down behind the churches of the city and we sat down in a lovely restaurant not far from our hotel called Pastarito where they served the most fantastic Pasta Carbonara with a -  quoting my mother – dangerously good wine. I ate until I got sick and then we headed back to Cicerone to pack our bags. Next stop: Florence.

Mari Clémentine