Yesterday I arrived in Rome around 2 pm. It was very easy to find the place I am staying because it was right above an entrance to the Metro station and only one metro stop away from the train station. In case you are wondering Metro in Rome means underground, subway, below the STAIRS. Yes, you guessed it – more and more stairs without of course the availability of a lift. I always wonder why they have handicapped bathrooms in the metro stations where they don’t have lifts for the handicap to use to get up to the street level or down to the metro station. One of those bureaucratic things I am sure similar to a men’s restroom having 7 urinals with 5 stalls and 3 sinks and the women’s restroom next door having 3 stalls and 1 sink. Sorry – I’m off on a tangent this morning because I haven’t yet had my coffee. Any way back to the stairs with my two suitcases and large ‘tote bag’. I am the only person who gets off the metro train at my stop – I was of course was having flashbacks to the time in New York when I rode the “L” train to Atlantic Avenue (my New York friends didn’t even know there was an “L” train).
So I try the first set of stairs by pulling both bags stacked on top of each other up the six or seven stairs. A lot of jostling, my arms feel like they are about to pop out of the sockets so I separate the two bags. The smaller one I am able to lift pretty easily so I lift that one and try to pull the large bag up one at a time. I make it about 5 steps and decide that is not going to work either so I stop. I look up to count how many more steps I need to take the bags. I see an Italian man – thinking in my mind how attentive they are characterized to be – hoping he will offer a hand with my bags. No such luck! I turn the big bag on its side and take a deep breath and lift both bags, one step at a time up the next flight of stairs. I get to the top finally and have to make a decision to go left or right up the next flight of stairs (only about 15 more to go I repeat in my mind). Meanwhile this Italian man is staring at me like I landed from another planet. Okay – so I didn’t straighten my hair yesterday and it was hot and humid so I pretty much looked like an old crazy woman with her hair in every direction but shouldn’t he have felt sorry for the old crazy woman? Even if my hair was a little wild, my bags were nice and it wasn’t like I was wearing rags for clothes.
I then phone Francesca to tell her I am at the Metro entrance and know it is the right entrance because of the photos on Airbnb but I cannot tell which direction to go. She says she sees me and waves me over across the street. I get to the entrance of the apartment and she looks at me and says “Wow!! Thats a bit of luggage you have there.” I explain I have been traveling for 5 weeks and still have 4 more to go and considering I shipped things home from various locations I am doing pretty good. She then informs me that the flat is on the 2nd floor but in Italian terms that actually means 3rd floor and there is once again NO LIFT!!! This is all kindly said while I am now sweltering from the heat, sweat pouring down my back from the struggle to the street level from the metro station and I am facing more STAIRS!!!! She kindly takes the smaller bag and I struggle the large one up 40 stairs to the entrance of the flat where she has the window opened but the air conditioning is not turned on. Now my trendy top is soaked through with sweat, I can’t stop it from rolling down my face and all I can think about while she is explaining how to turn the toilet water off if it overflows is how fast I can push her out of the flat so I can strip naked and turn on the air conditioning while I fall flat on my back on the bed. Any way, she was a very lovely person, had some great tips on where to go and eat and truly very helpful.
I recovered from carrying the bags up the stairs and decided to explore. I headed in the direction of the mini market so I could get a HUGE bottle of water to drink and then walked towards the colosseum. Somehow I was above the street level of the colosseum and needed to walk down some steps to the bottom level. Simple enough for most people, however, I take about three steps down the first flight and slip on my backside down the following 7 alongside about 5 people walking up the stairs. All I could think about aside from being embarrassed that I had just fallen in front of all of those people was how fast I could pop back up and brush the dirt off my butt. One of the young women stopped to check to make sure I was okay and I assured her I was as I finished brushing off my backside. I took another two steps on the following flight and you guessed it – slid down the next 5 steps on my butt. The young lady again rushes over to make sure I am okay and then whispers that she too fell earlier. I am talking about steps that are no more than 4 inches in height but are marble and worn smooth at the edges. They weren’t wet and neither was my shoes, just so smooth that a pair of shoes that were the least bit worn down would slide. I looked at the bottom of my shoes and since I have walked over 300 miles in the last 30 days the treads were smooth as a pair of socks. So I stand up again, brush off my butt again, now my hands are hurting because both times I tried to catch myself, they are dirty (almost black) and I still have one more flight of stairs to go to the bottom. Or I can tempt fate and turn around and climb the stairs to the top. I choose the bottom flight, this time turning sideways and take one step at a time. I get to the bottom and hear a woman say “I don’t want to walk up and fall as many times as she did!”
My next mission was to find my way back to my apartment without having to deal with the same set of stairs. It took a while, my back was still smarting a bit from one of the falls. I wasn’t sure what I looked like from behind because I don’t have eyes back there and I didn’t want to make it obvious I was trying to look at my butt. All I knew was I wanted to go back, wash my hands, and call it a day. So I made it back to the apartment, washed up, checked my butt in the mirror for the huge bruise I just knew I had received in one of the falls to find not even a red mark. What a let down! Falling down steps not just once but twice in front of no less than 20 people and not even a bruise as a badge honor. Time to find a bar and a glass of wine!
I finished my day at a wonderful pizza and pasta place, enjoyed a conversation with a young couple that I thought was from the states. He was actually from Portugal and she was Ireland. They were truly lovely and their English was so good I surprised to find they were not from the US.
Today – I’m going to try again, this time taking my cameras and wearing a different pair of shoes. Hopefully I will stay on my feet today.
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