Rome

Having not been to Rome since high school, I was eager to arrive. Our train into the city went smoothly as possible, although crowded. Standing room only and painfully hot, I prayed for high speeds into Rome. I saw a man with a Florida Gator hat on and knew we could immediately bond over SEC football. Not really a Florida fan, I still always support my conference, so I told him the “Ohio State, Property of University of Florida” joke.. As it turns out, he played for Florida, and his son was a linebacker for the Forty-Niners. (the Colts/Broncos/Cowboys trio combo in me prevents me from rooting for San Francisco, I’m a traitor to my city, I know). But I digress. We had a wonderful discussion about the BCS and the SEC and the Pack 10. I’m sure the locals on the train were eager to get away from the Americans and their “football” talk. Talking with he and his wife made the voyage to Rome manageable. A lovely couple, they ended up hanging with us for the day.

St. Peters Basilica was the same as I remember it. Beautifully Baroque, the height of the dome still impresses. The bronze Baldachino, Michaelangelo’s “Pieta” and the ornate work of the basilica were as extraordinary to me as they were in my memory as a girl of fourteen. The adult just had the better camera.

Standing in line to observe the Sistine Chapel wasn’t a thrill, yet the responsibility of the Rome visitor. Since I skipped it on the last trip, I deemed it important this time around. Heading in to the Vatican Museum, the crowd thickening, room after room, thinking each room would soon hail the long awaited chapel. After the second hour of the procession toward the famous ceiling, I repeatedly remarked, (room after room), “are we there yet.” Finally, feet sore, we saw the famous finger of God that everyone wished to see, sat for a bit to rest and realized how hungry we were after such an early morning and long day thus far. So?... when in Rome? Pizza !

Stuffed from our traditional Italian lunch, we scrambled on a cross town bus to the Forum of Rome and the Coloseum. The heat was immense and somewhat overwhelming. I thought to myself, hey, the Trevi Fountain isn’t far from here. Do you think we would get arrested if we took a little swim? We didn’t chance it, although quite tempting.

Our time in Rome was coming to a close. We had timed it just so in order to get the right train. However, any of you having traveled to Italy might understand the train situation. They often either strike, or just go to lunch, …for a long time. We were on the right train, just about 40 minutes too late. As our embarkation time loomed, we began to worry a bit more. Heather suggested we start walking the train to find out if there were any other Princess Cruise passengers. Yelling out “Princess? Princess? Are you Princess,” I have to laugh at what only ended up being Italians on board must have been thinking of the American loudmouths running through the train yelling about Princesses. We must have looked like idiots. We had to live up to our reputation I guess. Having found no other Princess Cruises passengers, the worry became panic as I called the port. Of course, no answer so I called every Civetiviccia number I had. Finally getting a human, I best explained in Englitalian that we were coming…”Please don’t leave us !!” This was starting to be a theme, and one I already knew my mother and I would encounter on this trip. It seems we are always running after a train, a boat, a ferry, a plane or streetcar. We devised a plan to be in the front car of the train and set out on foot to the port if we didn’t see a ship shuttle. Ready as ever as our train pulled in, we hit the platform running. Outside, we see a “Royal Carribean shuttle and asked if we could hitch. We couldn’t understand why they were laughing at us until we got on board and saw that only blue card holding Princess passengers were aboard. Our embarkation time long passed, we remained in hope as we could still see our ship in port. We did however have a game plan devised if we missed. We would head back to Rome, spend the night and head to Florence the next day in order to meet the ship at Livorno the following evening. This however proved not necessary as the beautiful white ship came into view. Shouts of joy and laughter as we approached and saw our wonderful crew out on balconies with wildly exaggerated points of their watches. Knowing we were in the clear, we Royal Carribean stowaways erupted with thanks and applause for the crew of the competitor company ensuring our safe arrival back to our home at sea.

Incidentally, we were numbers 24, 23, 22, & 21 back on board. Our numbers were getting worse.