Ten minutes to write. Less time to read.

As a rule I blog when I’m traveling.  It’s as much a diary of the trip for me as it is an update for readers.  But I didn’t tap a single keystroke the entire time we were in Rome, so I have no record of the adventure that started two weeks ago yesterday. I’m feeling as if something is lost.

So I’ve decided to do a 20/20 hindsight diary in the belief that the cream of memories will rise to the top for each day we were in Italy.  This does go against an essay I once wrote that the memory of something becomes less than the actual thing the longer you take to write about it.

No matter . . . here’s goes.

We arrived in Rome after sacrificing several hours to time zones and losing sleep in the process.  We’d flown from Chicago to Frankfort to Rome, arriving around 9:30 AM at Fiumicino Airport.  From there we found a bus to take us to the terminal in the heart of the city where we planned to get a taxi for the final few kilometers.  I was eager to be settled.

However, the taxicab driver at the train station that serves as a major transportation hub for Rome told us he and others were in a protest and it would cost five times the usual amount to drive us the final distance to the flat we’d rented.

You have to know my son to understand that he would never pay five times anything when he thinks he can find his way. I’m not sure I would have paid it either, but it did cross my mind.

Off we went to take the subway as close as possible to where we thought the flat was.  Lonna and I dragged our wheelies, while Kevin forged ahead with his backpack.  He is an ace of a navigator and managed to find the closest stop to our flat.  We rode the subway (although I don’t know what it’s called in Rome) to the Colliseum and disembarked.

However, from there to our flat was a two hour walk – yes, you read that right – as street names kept changing and piazzas kept cropping up while Ace kept getting lost. Lonna and I were on the verge of mutiny when he suggested we rest in a piazza while he found the flat alone.  He would then return and guide us to it as the crow flies.  We didn’t need to be persuaded.

Sure enough, in a little while Kevin returned minus his backpack but brandishing the keys to our flat. It was very close, and we dragged ourselves up the final stairs to find a charming home for the rest of our stay.  Lonna promptly took a nap. Kevin and I went in search of lunch.