I walked into the kitchen and saw a rubber floor full of crumbs and shoe marks, too dirty to serve as a bed. There was a tiny, rust-peeled fridge in the left corner. Between the fridge and the wooden cabinet that held the sink and stove, there was a table stuck to the wall of grimy tiles that were once yellow. There were three different chairs against the greasy table. It felt like a horrible place to sleep.
I left my bags by the fridge and decided to run to the last open bar. I got the three nights of accommodation for free because of the mistake the management had made and I hadn’t had dinner yet, so my daily budget allowed me a well-deserved beer. And that’s all I got: a beer in a plastic cup while the corner bar lowered its doors.
I heard distant laughter and could see a group of people gathered around a corner two blocks away. It was 3 am, I had given up on finding something to eat and had walked so far that my sleep was gone. I thought I could find someone to chat with until I decided to sleep.
I came around that corner and the drunk group of people was complaining that the bar had just closed too. I made my way back thinking that day would get a few lines from my gratitude journal.
I thought about what I’d write. “I woke up alive. I made it to Florence. I took a safe trip and had money left for about three beers, but even that I couldn’t get.” Just then I looked across the street and saw a boy lying on the bench in a small square. Leaning against a traveler’s backpack, his face was covered in a dark T-shirt and beside him a sweeper swept the leaves of the gutter.
My eyes were full of tears. I began to imagine myself there and knew that I couldn’t sleep peacefully in that situation. I’d be afraid of someone stealing from me. And because I’m a woman, I can’t describe the other worse things that crossed my mind. I began to thank for my dirty kitchen so much that I felt ready to write a whole book thanking for that day.
I joined the two chairs that were similar in height and, covered by the bath towel, fell asleep happily for having a safe roof for the night.
After that, the three days in Florence were much lighter. I walked all over the center two days in a row. The city really is an open-air Renaissance museum. I saw a concert at Piazza della Signoria, Michelangelo’s David at the Academy Gallery, the Duomo di Firenze Church, the Medici Chapel and a rock performance at Ponte Vecchia.
I was supposed to have stayed in Florence only for two days, but I took the last free night’s accommodation to oversleep and then visited the central market before leaving for Rome by train.
37 – LIKE A CHILD
In Rome, I made peace with my wishes. I accepted that all I wanted was to be there, stopped thinking that chance drove me, and took responsibility for my choices. Being there was a consequence of my will, even if it was unconscious.
After each new hostel that I arrived, I thought it was the worst of the entire trip. The Florence hostel was dirty in the common areas, but the bed was good and the room was clean. Of course, to save money, I didn’t look at the reviews very much when I booked. I chose the best room from the cheapest ones.
The two brothers who ran the hostel in Rome were Egyptian immigrants. A little too kind to women, in my opinion. They never insinuated themselves to me at all, because I was probably extremely reserved, but they treated the other guests who had been there for a long time with such an intimacy that I thought was exaggerated.
I arrived at the place at dinner time and one of the brothers was in the kitchen with two other girls from Turkey. He chewed and talked with his mouth open and I couldn’t accept the food he offered me, even though I was hungry after the trip. I went to the MCDonalds I had seen around the corner and had a 3 euro salad.
When I came back, I shared a bottle of wine that Conor had left with me in Lake Garda with them, but we talked little. The girls spoke Turkish to each other and the brothers also spoke to each other in another language. I just noticed the guys staring at the girls and their defensive attitude to a few English sentences the men had said. “You could be my wife and live here for free” was one that bothered me.
Before falling asleep, I took a look at Rome’s map and made a list with the places I could go on my first day. Paying less than 10 euros for the bed, I certainly wasn’t close to the center, but there was a subway station two blocks away.
I opened the Couchsurfing app for events where I could meet travelers and there was a dozen messages from Italian guys asking me out. I didn’t read any. But before deciding not to stay on the platform here in Rome, I had made a brief contact with a 29-year-old photographer who was one of the first Italians to offer me a room. I had considered accepting it before the avalanche of offers, but I refused it eventually. That night, a message from him with his phone number:
- Even if you still wanted to, I wouldn’t be able to host you anymore, Paula, because a girl from Russia just confirmed it. Anyway, we’ll go out for a few beers with friends and you are welcome to join us. Enjoy the city.
The next morning, as I walked all distracted from the Spanish Square to the Fontana Di Trevi, I walked through the streets without paying much attention to what I was seeing. Suddenly, I started to hear the noise of water from Italy’s most famous fountain and stopped. I was in Rome for the first time in my life and was walking around the city as if I were walking through my neighborhood in Curitiba.[11] No curiosity, no wonder. That felt very wrong to me.
So I decided to get ready to see the Fontana for the first time. I took a deep breath and looked for the images I had of that place in my mind. Like most of the people who are interested in traveling, I had seen a lot of pictures of that place and had an idea of what it looked like, but I knew it would be different when I actually saw it. What would I find? Would it disappoint me? Would I be impressed?
I walked down a narrow alley called Via della Stamperia and on my right side I could already see the Poli Palace, whose façade has the largest baroque fountain in Italy. Walking in the shade, I avoided looking sideways until I felt the sun on me again. The noise of the water grew louder with the buzz of tourists, until I saw the imposing statue of the Ocean in the center of the fountain.
I was more than impressed. The Trevi Fountain is much larger than I could imagine after so many photographs. The details, the color of the water, the way it occupies the whole façade of the building, the allegories. Everything was so stunning for me. I leaned against a sideboard and stood there for a few minutes, staring at everything. As I watched the statue of the Abundance, I almost knelt down. Beautiful with her hand in her basket full of love, money, wisdom and everything my heart could desire.
I felt like a child watching everything curiously all over again. The guards blew their whistles as tourists climbed the benches and fountain structures trying to get a different photograph.
I sat in front of the Abundance and put my hand in the water. I felt the temperature and remembered my mother. She’d be very happy to visit Rome. I thanked silently, took a coin and threw it back. “I want to be genuinely happy.” It worked when I made the same wish in the New Year’s, although I didn’t think that was what I was getting 15 days later, when I took off my wedding ring.
I walked in front of the Pantheon and spent a few more euros on a delicious Italian ice cream. By the way, tasting ice cream in Italy is a big risk for those who like ice cream. I could never find another ice cream so tasty anywhere else in the world.
I arrived at Piazza Navon late afternoon. I walked through the three fountains and got that wonderful feeling of peace and quiet that I always feel when I walk at sunset. I’d like to translate the physical sensation that runs through my body. The tranquility that dominates me. It is happiness in its deepest essence.