So if you read my last post, you know that we arrived in Rome pleasantly buzzed and ready to see the sights. 

We got off the train and decided to do the same thing we had in Venice…troll the train station for hoteliers trying to get rid of the last of their rooms.  We finally settled on a hotel set in between the Trevi Fountain and the Spanish Steps because they told us we could stay for several days AND they had a laundry service (at this point, something we desperately needed).  Then we ventured out of the train station…and into the CRAZIEST set of driver’s I’ve ever seen in my life.

There are NO traffic lanes in Rome.  Sure, there are lines painted on the street, but no on actually uses them as a guide.  It’s freakin’ insanity of the highest order.  I think I counted nine separate “rows” of traffic as I vised onto the oh-shit handle in the taxi…on a street that was only supposed to accomodate four.  Think I aged about 10 years on that day, and August did too.

So we reach our hotel and head down to get a quick bite at the trattoria on the street level, then go back upstairs to crash so we’ll be well-rested for our explorations in the morning.  Roman rooms are VERY different than Venetian ones.  In Venice we had plenty of room to move around, position our stuff…that sort of thing.  Not so much in Rome.  There was about three feet of open space around the perimiter of the bed, an all-in-one bathroom (you can shower, shit and shave without ever moving a muscle), and a closet, which in addition to being a clothes repository, was also where our 13″ television was housed.  Seriously.  August and I are big people (he’s 6’3″ and I’m 6′), so it was a bit entertaining shoehorning into everything, but hey, we’re in ROME…let’s have a great time.

The next day I woke up feeling like utter crap (too many climate changes, I think), so August went downstairs to drop off our cleaning and grab some breakfast.  Small problem…they wouldn’t take our clothes.  And why????  Because they were freakin’ evicting us that morning.  I shit you not.  When we protested that we’d been promised a minimum of two nights, the dude just shrugged his shoulders and basically told us to get out.  When August asked (very politely, I might add, given the circumstances) if there was another hotel they could recommend, we got the “what do we look like, a travel agency?” attitude.  (Keep in mind we’d just shelled out well over $200 for about 8 hours of using the 80 square foot room.)  At that point, I was sick, and both of us were thoroughly disgusted.  We decided then and there that we were going back to Germany…screw Italy.  So we packed up our stuff (dirty clothes and all) and called a cab.

I’m sad to say that all we really got to see of Rome was from the back of a taxi.  At some point, I’d love to go back and see some of what we missed…and maybe do it with a tour company!

Next week, our experiences in Innsbruck (both on the way to Italy and our return)