ITALY - Randy Ronnie in Rome!!

With my extensive worldly knowledge and superiority complex in high gear, I set out to run amok in my first Italian city, Rome - The Eternal City, and for the first day and a half I just wasn't impressed. I exited the airport late in the evening for the subway system and waited for the lights of the train to appear in the darkness of the tunnel. As the train squealed to a stop before me, I noticed every inch of metal and glass of the subway car was ornamented with swirls of colour from spray-paint cans. How the hell am I supposed to see my station if I can't see out of the friggin' windows? As the train slowed at each station, I had to peer out between tiny unpainted bits of the windows to read each approaching station sign, not trusting my ability to count stops. I reached my station and consulted my instructions to get to the "Happy Days" hostel that I printed from the internet. The hostel was operated by two Canadians, and I quickly realized I shouldn't have trusted directions from Canadians living in other countries. I was lost, wandering around the spray-painted and litter strewn streets of Rome asking everyone and anyone where a certain street was that didn't appear to exist. With my useless instructions crumpled up in my sweaty angry hands, a voice from beside me said, "Looking for the Happy Days Hostel?". I wanted to kiss him, but he was a man, not very attractive, and had a cold-sore on his lip. He raised his pointing finger to the door I was standing ten feet away from. Silly me, I must have forgot to turn on my clairvoyance, or bring my x-ray specs, or use my microscope to see the little strip of paper taped above the tiny rusted doorbell button that reads Happy Days in faded blue ink. I wasn't having a happy day spending two frustrating hours from the painted train to my eight-person dorm room.

As I passed by a door in the hallway of the hostel, I noticed a signup list with about twenty persons names scribbled on it. With a closer glance the words 'shower schedule' came into focus. Shower schedule? That was a new one for me - I've never yet had to sign up to bathe myself. The hostel was equipped with only one shower and one toilet for thirty people - things were going to get messy. Only fifteen minutes per person was allowed and every time slot between eight and eleven was already signed-up for. I can probably go without a shower, I thought to myself - if I can wear the same clothes for three days including undergarments, I can deal with not bathing. The hostel made up for our inconvenience with free tasteless pasta dinners and sugary wine poured from a carton. Do I sound like a snot? You try and shower with thirty dirty backpackers and share one toilet seat in a restroom that never has paper.

I was hungry and thirsty and went outside to look for something to kill or hack off and eat alive. I was searching for a simple bar to quench my thirst and walked for miles with no luck. It's all cafés and gelato places here in Rome! Where are all the drinking establishments? It's dark and raining, my shoes and socks dank from puddles - I'm tripping over trash, fighting my way through abandoned cars that are parked anywhere the drivers felt like leaving them, I'm dodging impatient crazy scooter operators and getting lost quick. I was bloody miserable! Finally in the distance, through the gloom and drizzle, I spotted an awning with the word Pub silkscreened on it. Hallelujah.

I set out the next morning in search of important stuff. I never said I was smart, and I've always stated that I'm geographically challenged, and sometimes I'm as dumb as a bottle of ketchup. So off I went walking through the streets feeling better about things except for the stink growing beneath my clean clothing from not showering. The sun was beaming down and I had walked about six blocks from the hostel when I turned the corner and saw thousands of people slowly walking down a wide street towards some old buildings. Since I'm as smart as a coathanger, I decided that this was the direction I should walk. I jostled through throngs of people, all of them trying to get into this big round courtyard bordered by hundreds of towering columns. Police manned x-ray machines and metal detectors that were squeezed between each giant stone pillar surrounding the square, and checked everyone wanting to go into the area where thousands congregated. I stopped and looked around wondering what monument I've bumped into. The crowds were dotted with a great number of priests and nuns milling about, and countless peddlers selling plastic crucified Jesus figurines of different sizes and pictures of past and present Popes. Everyone around me seemed to know where they were, most of them clutching little books with the words The Vatican printed across the front cover. Since I'm as dumb as a can of paint, it took me an hour to finally figure out I was in St. Peter's Square, Vatican City. Sometimes I can't believe I've made it this far in my travels. Today the Pope was coming outside for a visit, so there were thousands of people clambering to get a glimpse of the event. I tend to develop a rash while in crowds, so I decided to cancel my appointment with the Pope. I bought a book about the highlights of Rome, pointed myself towards St. Angel's Castle and placed one foot in front of the other, leaving the god-fearing masses behind me. I walked for much of the day, visiting St. Angel's Castle and Bridge, and searching the streets of Rome for amazing Italian food that I expected but infrequently ever enjoyed. I walked into Piazza Navona with its three wonderful fountains and magnificent Church of Sant' Agnese in Agone... all covered by scaffolding and tarps. I passed all the cool cafés with red and white checkerboard table cloths and bow-tie sporting Italian waiters with folded white cloth draped over one arm. I grabbed a table and salivated profusely waiting for my glorious Italian meal that was about to be placed in front of me! The plate hit the table and I looked down upon my Chef Boyardee microwave heated meal with wonder. I asked for linguine pesto with clams, and got some fluorescent green slop from a can dumped in the middle of overcooked noodles in a puddle of water with four tiny morsels of clam carcass that wouldn't stop the rumblings in a cockroach's tummy - all for thirteen Euro. That's about nineteen Canadian dollars. I looked around at other patrons plates and all the meals looked like out-of-a-can crap. I'm a big Italian food fan, and heard so many great things about the incredible food in Italy, but experienced it very little. I thought maybe I had just been unlucky with my choice of restaurant, but meal after meal, I was surprisingly shocked at how inferior the food was. The pizza I had anywhere was no better than microwave pizza from a cellophaned cardboard box bought in the frozen food section of the nearest supermarket. I realized after days of unsatisfying gastronomy, that I was being as dumb as ear wax again. I obviously wasn't venturing far enough away from the tourist perimeter to savour the tastes of true Italian food. So I kept walking until English wasn't a second language on any menu posted in any window, and the typical red and white table cloths were far from sight. I was glad to hear only Italian coming from my server's mouth and enjoyed the difficulty with ordering my real meal. A pleasant hour later, my taste buds thanked me and I learned my lesson for the hundredth time - tourists should stay out of the tourist areas, because you're treated like a tourist.

I showered at 5:30am the next morning, well before the alloted times listed beside any names on the shower schedule. The skies were still black as I zigzagged through the maze of parked cars on the streets and stopped periodically to inspect my map under the glow of the street lamps. I was on my way to the notorious Colosseum and I had a good walk ahead of me. I came upon the immense Victor Emmanuel II Monument and this is when my opinion of Rome started to change. This place was huge and fantastic - as I walked closer, its magnitude astounded me. The columns are massive and the equestrian statue in the middle is so big I think the horses testicles were larger than me. Simply incredible. I then walked past the Roman Forum, which is an area where excavations are still continuing around the busy modern Roman streets, and bits and pieces of artifacts lay scattered around the grounds. The history here is mind-blowing - it's odd to see all this ancient civilization covered up by asphalt and driven over by scooters and buses that seem to have no idea what's buried twenty feet below where they drive. A little further walk down the street, the sun started to rise above the horizon and I had to squint from the intensity. As my eyes adjusted to the rays, I noticed the sun shining through the arches of the Colosseum a few blocks ahead. 'Wow', I thought, as I cast my eyes over the remaining wall sections visible in the distance through the trees and buildings. What an ominous sight this building was, the thoughts of its brutal history fueling it's infamy. Thirty thousand wild animals were killed on the first day the Colosseum opened. How incredible this amphitheater must have been back when all its structure was intact! I sat on a cold brick wall across the road from the Colosseum and admired the tall curved walls, waiting for an hour for the main gate to open to allow visitors through. It was eight in the morning and twenty people were already queued up to pay their ten Euro to climb the stairs to the top. 'Wow', I kept saying to myself as I walked through the corridors and crumbled arches of inconceivable savage history. I lingered here half the day exploring and thinking of how many thousands of living things were slain within these walls for the rapture of the bloodthirsty.

I met Stewart later in my dorm room. He's an American and I needed a drinking partner, so I offered to buy the poor moneyless chap a brew. He protested for a half a second, whining that he shouldn't let me buy him a beer, then quickly agreed. We went back to Vatican City before our trek to find liquor, and gawked at the incredible and unbelievable St. Peter's Basilica. It was beautiful, but inside my head a little voice kept saying over and over, "If they sold everything in this place, they'd feed the hungry all around the world many times over, and pay for research to cure all diseases of the world". I'm already in the 'eight items or less' express aisle straight to hell for trying to sell my soul for a gigantic man-organ, so it doesn't matter what I say from now on. Stewart insisted on saying bad words and having impure thoughts of naked women, so it was time to leave Vatican City and proceed to the Pantheon to drink beer outside and ogle the ladies. Then it was off to the Trevi Fountain where no one told us to throw coins in the water, so I guess we're never going back. Apparently if you drink the water or throw a coin in, you're guaranteed to have a return visit to Rome.

We were looking for a bit of lunch and walking down a busy street, when suddenly some stupid ass almost walks right into me. He stops suddenly and our eyes met. Hey, it's Willam Dafoe, I'm face to face with Willam Dafoe's unmistakable face. He pauses for a moment, realizing that I recognized him - I guess he was waiting for me to ask him for his autograph - I wanted to say "loved Mississippi Burning and Platoon, but what the hell was the movie with Madonna all about?", and then give him my autograph, but he just swiftly turned away and went on with his life. Stewey and I continued down the side-street, turned onto the main street, and... blammo! We walked right into the middle of a row of protesters and police with riot gear ready to bring their batons madly across anyone's head. The Italian government was taking away funding for the film industry and all the arty people were out for a fight. Stew and I defied the law, staring down the unwavering authority figures. It would just take one rock tossed in the general direction of a helmeted head and the party would begin, I was thinking out loud to Stew. But instead I pulled out my camera slowly and took a few frames without the coppers noticing. After being snubbed by Willam Dafoe, I was prepared for merciless violence, but instead, felt the urge for refreshing gelato.

The next day and night is a drunk story. Let's see... Stewey, Chloe, Becky and I tried to get to a Pub crawl. We were half an hour late and they left without us. We went and bought a bottle of gold tequila, walked around the streets drinking shots from the bottle without disinfecting in between dirty mouths. We had fun. I've decided Rome is a fabulous place after all. The End.



>>back to the News section