The last day, in two halves...

With perfect timing, our last day in Italy arrived just as we were ready to be home again. Lucy decided to have a late start, so I went off on my own to explore, with strict instructions to return by 1pm without forgetting tomorrow’s bus tickets to the airport.

It must have been my perfume or something, but this morning lots of people spoke to me in Italian rather than English. I felt really happy to be able to talk back, and made some nice acquaintances whilst in the queue at the station.

Having achieved the first goal of the day, I decided to head to Piazza del Republicca and try and find a present for my brother in the shops nearby. One of the reasons I had chosen this part of Roma is the fountain in the middle. Here is my favourite strangely-placed woman:


From there I wandered rather randomly into where I thought the shops might be. I had some fun with Italian shopkeepers by trying on men’s shirts (if you could see the size of Italian woman you’d understand), and forgoing the handbags and shoes they kept thrusting at me.

I finally found a unisex t-shirt shop and bought some funky stuff for a few people. Sadly, this was my favourite and least favourite shop. I brought cool things, but during my time there a man and a woman worked together to crowd around me and try to steal my stuff. They were pretty good at it, because it wasn’t until they’d followed me round the shop a bit that my bag made any noise and I checked it to find the zip half open and my stuff rustled through. I didn't quite understand what was happening, and the same old doubts I've experienced with every dishonest activity in Italy reared up again. So - instead of confronting them, I just put my backpack between my knees and stood defiantly above it glaring at anyone who came close. The two of them gave up shortly enough and left the shop.

I was pretty mad after that, so decided to stop shopping and just walk where all the tourists were going. This was an excellent decision, as I found myself at Piazza Venizia staring at the biggest monument I have ever seen. They’d had the pixies in again, so here is someone else’s pic of it:


Although the Piazza is named for the nearby Venitian embassy, it is way more famous for this monument to Vittorio Emmanuel II (the first king of a united Italy). Some people have described it as pompous, but I just like it.

Having taken a while to really be excited by Roma, the Piazza is actually the first sight I have felt awed by, and (combined with the Trevi the night before) my Roman tourist experience is actually starting to feel meaningful. Overall, I think that Roma is an infuriating but necessary city, and it is only by being here in person that I can actually comprehend the scale of the civilization to which New Zealand is but a very, very distant heir.

After a bit of sitting and looking, and in a contemplative mood, I headed back to the hostel to meet my well-rested girly. For some reason the vigil in the hostel foyer made me feel happy again – a nice touch in a sometimes rough and dishonest city:


Even more happily, Lucy was very ready to hit the sights, and two girls with smiles on faces headed out to our last Roman afternoon…