So it begins... Edinburgh to Rome

How beautiful it is to greet the sun above the clouds…

I thought of that on the plane to London. A short flight, 7-8 am, sitting next to my brother. I was filled with nerves and Red Bull but just enough whimsy to keep me staring out the window. I was meant to write on the plane to Italy, too. I was meant to write on the first night, put down notes of my feelings and what I was seeing. Maybe write over breakfast. I did not.

I’ve taken photos. I’ve posted on Twitter. I’ve thought of my words, of how Icarus was right. We should all try to feel the sun too closely.

On our way to our first hotel in Rome, near the train station, I thought I’d throw up, my body tried to but my stomach was empty, just acid and spit. My first mark on Rome. The hotel is on the fourth floor, we could not figure out the lift so, of course, we walked up the stairs. We did not have the €24 for the city tax. I almost kissed the man for allowing us to pay later.

After collapsing on the hard bed I said to my brother “I don’t think I like travelling”. Only 36 hours earlier I had bought my flight home, 353 days from now.

Now, another 36 hours later, I have slept, I have eaten, I have thrown a coin at the Trevi, I have sweat through the Colosseum, I have heard a real security guard yell “Attenzione pickpocket!” in the Metro. I don’t mind travelling.

Rome is beautiful. Every corner you turn there’s another church, another fountain, another statue. It is quite tiring. If your neck didn’t ache already from the flight like mine then it might ache from how often you’re looking up.

The birds are different and the trees are different and as you walk through streets water lands on your head, people are shouting and mopeds rumble behind you and oh my god your neck will ache. Tiger balm stains white shirts, it looks like a bad fake tan when it sticks to your sweat, you don’t notice any relief because you have places to be.

The Trevi was insane. I will admit I haven’t done much research for this trip past “Things to do in Rome” and so I had to Google if Trevi was a person to write that earlier sentence. Trevi isn’t a person. “Three Roads” it means. The Trevi Fountain sits where three roads meet.

In that Google search I have found that my brother told me the wrong meaning to the coin toss. He said something about love, any wish for any love. In fact, the true speculation is that to throw a coin over your left shoulder with your right hand at the end of a trip to Rome, will grant you favour to return.

I threw it like you might throw a ball for a dog before turning to my brother who was recording me, mumbled confusion and then “wish me luck!”

I now understand my mum’s confusion when I sent her the video…

The Colosseum is sort of unbelievable. Another place I haven’t researched, I know Paul Mescal is in a movie about it now, I know I need to see the first one. I know Godzilla slept in it, I know I need to see that movie too.

It's not too expensive, €18 per person for 24 hours at the Colosseum, the Roman Forum, and the Palatine. 

Tonight we watched a movie, “The Two Popes”, with Anthony Hopkins playing Pope Benedict. In it a nun says “In Rome, one never knows what might happen next.” as she hands Jonathan Pryce an umbrella. Words to live by. We only saw the Colosseum today.

We saw old graffiti upon older bricks, the sparkling gift shops, and new “No Graffiti” signs. The straps of my backpack were soaked with sweat and my thighs hurt from the steep steps. We took the metro a few stops away for cheaper lunch and when we got back to the doors of the Colosseo station we heard thunder over the ancient bricks of Rome.

The rain is different here, it drops in fat globs. It's like the earth feels its heat and your sweat and it's throwing cold water at you, not with care like you might splash toward a friend, but like a smoker spitting on the ground.

We argued in the crowd of wet people and we decided to see a gallery somewhere else. There are two metro lines in Rome, soon to be three. We got lost and I decided we were done. We went back to the hotel, figured out the lift, watched a movie and got takeout pizza. It's almost like we never left Scotland.

I don’t mind travelling, I only slept a few hours last night because of my brothers snoring and I woke up with swollen eyes and aching shoulders. I have a cut on my foot from my sandals. There’s no good public Wi-Fi. But I’m in Rome. I’ve been saying to my brother since London that you can’t be in a bad mood as a tourist in Rome. I’ve spent too much time and money and tears to come here and be upset.

It’s late, don’t write when it’s late, maybe I’ll try that “write over breakfast” idea tomorrow, maybe I’ll wake up a little less swollen, a little less achy, a little more cheerful. When in Rome, right?

- Red