Day one

I fell in love in Italy but not with a man; the country, the culture and the way of life.  Italy is bold, strong, vibrant and alive.  It is a hot, wet, drenching kiss that bathes you from head to toe.  It awakens your senses and rejuvenates your soul.  It is ancient beauty and modern style.  It is both everything you hear about it and nothing like those cliches.  It is an instant love affair, immediately taking you in and romancing you at every turn.  Italy is a contrast and a blend of what is important.  They are passionate about God as expressed in their cathedrals and passionate about people as expressed in the way Italian men lavish their children with love.
I was told I should not go to Italy alone but I had been waiting for years hoping I would find someone who would want to travel with me.  God has seen fit to keep me alone and I needed to make a decision; Italy now or never.  I could no longer wait.  So I booked the trip and never looked back.  As it turns out traveling to Italy alone was the best way for me to see it.  Alone I could take my time to see what I wanted to see and to experience the truth of the culture.  I didn't have anyone making judgments or setting my itinerary. I was able to take the time to speak to people, make new lasting friendships and be bold in every moment.
I arrived in Rome after visiting Amsterdam. The contrast between the two was immediately obvious.  Amsterdam was cool, crisp and quiet.  Rome was hot, sweaty and loud.   I disembarked the airplane and went to pick up my luggage.  I had tried so hard to carry-on everything but alas gave in to packing one bag to check.  As the carousel turned for what seemed like an eternity I patiently waited for my bag to arrive.  It was not meant to be. Luckily I had packed one change of clothes, pjs, makeup, soap and two bathing suits in my carry-on.  I went and filed the claim and the kind lady at the counter tried to locate the luggage but to no avail.  She said it shouldn't take long, maybe a day.  I left confident I would see my bag again soon.  Little did I know about Italy and their timetable.
My driver was tall, dark and handsome but quiet as we drove into the city.  I tried to make conversation but it was a struggle.  At last he opened up a bit and told me where I should have dinner and hang out at night.  He was not the only one to suggest this area by the river but I never made it there, sadly.
My apartment was up five flights of stairs.  It was cozy and modern and cute.  I spoke with two girls sharing the apartment and tried to get a feel for the city.  I was hungry and decided to change my clothes and go out.  My hotel had provided me a map of Rome and this was the first but not the last time I left that apartment without the map.  I am so thankful to have inherited by Dad's strong sense of direction because I never got lost.  Rome is set up in a circle which reminds me of the compass rose.  As long as you can get your bearings you can walk out from the center and find your way to any location.  Rome is also set on seven hills.  Each hill has its own features.  This also makes it easy because you know if you go down you must return going up.
I left the apartment that first day around 5 pm searching for food.  I returned around 3 am never having found food except for gellato and having seen a large portion of the city.  In Rome you can feel safe on the streets at 3 am and later.  Romans and Italians eat late and sit having conversation until the early morning hours.  They wake late and have a slow and easy pace to their day.
I  walked past many churches with extraordinary detail, passed through narrow cobblestone streets where clothes hung to dry outside the windows and cars and motorbikes were parked wherever they would fit.  The cobblestone was impossible to walk upon turning my ankle every five minutes.  At last I made my way to the Colosseum.  I wandered around the yard surrounding it and gazed up.  The cobblestones here were large and I was reminded that the Romans created the first paved roads.  These roads have been walked for thousands of years and made linking their empire easier.  They are not easy to a modern day woman used to walking on flat paved surfaces but at the same time I appreciate that they used the natural rock of the area and fit each piece where it belonged.  It has last unlike pavement which has to be replaced.  I stared at the massive structure in front of me and began taking pictures.  As I stood dusk began to fall on the city.  I snapped a shot of the Monumento a Vittorio Emanuele II towering over the darkening skyline.  I was approached by a handsome Italian man who asked if I would like my picture taken.  I agreed and he snapped it by the Arco di Costantino.  He introduced himself, Allesandro from Milan.  He was in the city visiting his sister.  We talked for a long time while we stared at the Colosseo, sharing about one another's lives.  He explained he likes to visit his sister because Milan is too boring for him.  It has no energy.  Roma certainly has energy in abundance and all the right kind.  He was tall with green eyes and short dark hair.  He wore a crisp white linen shirt and jeans.  His shirt was unbuttoned partially exposing his chest and a gold medallion.  He asked what I would like to see in Roma and I told him everything.  He offered to show me around. How could I resist he was incredibly handsome and incredibly kind.  He is the one who explained the seven hills of Roma.  He showed me several places on several of these hills where you could gaze at the city.  Suddenly as if jolted into reality he remembered an appointment he was missing.  He took my number and I took his promising to meet me later that night.  We parted and I continued touring the city alone.  That evening I ended up at the Fontana de Trevi.  It was alive with tourists and locals.  Laughter erupted from every corner.  People were throwing in coins, kissing their lovers, eating melting gellato and gazing at the beauty of the fountain.
My friend had warned me prior to coming to Italia that I would be eaten up by the eyes of the Italian men.  I would more described it as being licked from head to toe.  They appreciate women in a way I have never experienced.  It doesn't feel creepy or strange because their looks are of true appreciation and admiration.  As I ate my gellato I was licked by at least a dozen of them.  I smiled in return grateful that I was being admired.  One of these men approached me and introduced himself, Marcello.  He was cute with wire-rimmed glasses and a chipped front tooth.  He had a warm smile, green eyes and dark hair.  He was of average height, handsome and of an unknown age.  Italians don't seem to age the way the rest of the world does.  They all look young and vibrant.  Marcello was a native Roman.  He said he never moved because he loved the city.  He asked what I did for a living and when I said I was a history teacher he began to explain the history of the fountain.  I was hooked.  The fountains most prominent feature is Neptune directly in the center and massive.  On each side are fish arched and turpentine.  Next are two horses being held by two men of the sea one calm and one violently pulling.  Marcello explained the two represent the two forces of the sea.  The sea can be both calm and inviting and violent and dangerous.  Above the fountain are two rectangles with women showing the same contrast. Above that two window areas depicting the founding of the pure water source founded by a virgin.  At at the very top a representation of Christianity.  The fountain is the collision of pagan and Christian beliefs living in beautiful unison.  It like the other fountains of Roma is powered by an ancient aqueduct which varies the power of the water at each site.  On the corners of the fountain are windows to the living area connected in the back.  Marcello tells of a legend.  At one time the family living in the apartment had a daughter who wanted to kill herself by jumping into the fountain from her third story window.  Her father, naturally distraught, made the drastic decision to block all of her windows in order to prevent the suicide.  If you look up at the fountain on the right-hand side you will see their are two real windows and one that is blocked in.
From the fountain we walked up the hill to the Palazzo Monecitorio and Piazza Colonna.  From this overlook  we could see the dome of St. Peter's Basilica in the distance.  The night sky lit up with fireworks a common occurence probably to continue the celebration of Italia's win in the World Cup the previous night.  Next we walked to the Spanish Steps where I finally received word from Allesandro that he was ready to meet me.  I took Marcello's number as he promised more history lessons at other sights the next day.  We gave one another a kiss goodbye and parted ways.  This night would be my first experience in Italian time.  Italians may where watches but they ignore them altogether.  If they say two minutes you should times it by at least ten.  I would guess it relates to what my friend Marcello said about Italian's being naturally anarchic.  He explained freedom is the most valued thing in Italian society, nothing else matters as much.  I waited for Allesandro, while walking the steps, taking in the culture and views of the city from above.  The next World Cup game was going to be in a few days and it was Spain vs. Italy.  A group of Spaniards sat on the steps and sang.  The Italians responded with their own song taunting one another this went back and forth.  I watched caught up in the beauty of the rivalry and the passion they each shared for their respective teams.
I sat down by the fountain and offered to take a picture of a family visiting together.  I continued waiting, watching people and listening to all the different languages around me.  I looked up at the steps and saw a man staring at me.  He was satisfying to the eyes, easy to gaze.  I tried not to look too long.  At last his courage took over and he came and sat beside me.  He smoked a cigarette and didn't say a word.  As his pushed it out he said hello in broken Italian.  He barely spoke Italian and very little English but we communicated just the same.  He was Turkish and had the most extraordinary eyes I have ever seen or ever will see again.  They jutted out from his dark features taking me in.  He asked if I would get a drink with him.  I somehow explained that I was waiting for someone.  He was not moved.  He continued to ask.  By this time I had been waiting for at least 30 minutes and so I told him that I would wait only 15 more and then I would go with him and have a drink.  He kept saying, "Your eyes, your eyes" and I repeated the same to him.  My eyes were the topic of conversation more that once in Italy.  Finally the 15 minutes passed and I agreed to go.  As we walked he asked my age.  I told him to go first and he typed it on his I-phone, 27.  I gave a hearty laugh.  He typed mine guessing 31 then 32.  I finally gave in and typed 38 and he repeated No, No, and continued to type 32.  We held hands as we strolled the streets.  I was at ease and looking forward to our drink but at the same time I was wondering if I would hear from Allesandro.  Of course when we were at the Trevi Fountain I received a message, Allesandro was back at the Spanish steps looking for me.  I had to make a decision.  Should I continue walking or turn around.  I decided to turn.  He tried to convince me to stay and we shared a brief but sensual kiss.  I still choose to go back.  I tried not to look back not knowing if I was making the right decision.  Finally I arrived back at the steps and found Allesandro in all his magnificence. We stay at the steps awhile taking in the views of the city.  It is hot still even at this late hour and we are pouring in sweat, everyone is and it doesn't matter.  No one seems to notice or care.  From the Spanish steps we go to the Piazza del Popolo.  We stop at the drinking fountain, one of many hundreds in the city, ancient and intricately carved.  He tells me first to wash my hands then to drink from them.  He drinks too and then playfully splashes me with water.  I splash him back and he chides me, shrugging his shoulders and saying no.  We set off for one of the parks overlooking the city intent on getting a drink.  But it is late and everything is closing.  We choose a wall instead, sit, talk and makeout.  He kisses me thousands of times on my face and sings to me the whole time.  As the evening winds to a close we part knowing we will see each other the very next day.  I tell him of my plans to visit the Vatican and he promises to find me later in the evening. I hit the bed and sleep hard until morning.