First off: our phones were stolen on our last day in Paris. Oh, and this was right as we were approaching a 15 hour bus ride that was supposed to be a train ride, but I guess we didn't read the fine print.
So that sucked.
I was planning to write during this 15 hour ride, but I was so upset about the phones and everything else I decided to keep quiet. I mean that was definitely a low, but the trip has still been amazing. And I bought an iPad, so at least I can still Instagram.
Perspective.
But if I thought getting our phones stolen and spending 15 hours on a hot, crowded, over-night bus ride was a low, it was NOTHING compared to our first hour in Rome.
We took a ferry from Barcelona to Rome (that's 20 hours, plus an hour train ride). Again, I meant to write during the trip, but they didn't provide any wifi (what, what, what are you doing Grimaldi Lines??) so I couldn't.
The B&B where we're staying in Rome is chill about check-in times, you just have to let them know when you plan on arriving. We told them between 8 and 9 p.m.
But our ferry, which was supposed to take off at 10:30 p.m., took off at 12:30 a.m. During these two hours I kept waiting for some kind of apologetic announcement and update as to when we could expect to take off and help to contact anyone expecting us in Italy.
I mean, there were announcements. A lady came on the intercom about every five minutes to remind us that the ship's cafeteria was open and that we should go spend more of our money on their D-grade food.
So helpful!
So, with no wifi or any other way to communicate with our B&B, we landed in Italy two hours later than planned. The trains were still running, but not the metro. We grabbed a taxi which dropped us off around midnight in front of the closed and deserted building where, somewhere inside, two beds waited for us. This was the most beautiful image in the world at the moment, after spending the previous night on the couches of the ship's noisy 24-hour bar.
We ringed the doorbell and waited.
Nothing.
We rang two more times and waited.
After a few minutes, our heads hung in defeat.
We both knew what was waiting for us. We hadn't seen any 24-hour places on the ride over, but we had seen some people hanging out on the steps around the various plazas of Rome.
Grabbing our bags, we headed out into the night, hoping to find somewhere to sit until morning. There was no way we were going to sleep.
We had barely taken three steps when a white, windowless van pulled up to us. A man rolled down the window.
Both of us were thinking, "Oh HELL no," but before we could yell at him to keep moving, the driver said, "Mister Paul?"
I could have cried. "You said between 8 and 9," said the driver in exasperation. I couldn't have cared less if he had screamed at us for giving him the wrong time. He was going to let us in and we were going to sleep inside and on a bed.
It's good that I'm writing this down now, because it's been a few days since this happened. I have since become annoyed with the B&B because the wifi they have set up doesn't work. We've had to come up to their stuffy office to access the internet.
But now I'm just glad we're not still out on the streets of Rome.
