Pub Crawls, Fountains and Volcanoes

Rome is great fun.

I got in early Friday afternoon, found my hostel, introduced myself to my roommates and TRIED to have a nap. No dice.

Finally decided by 7 - after wandering around bleary eyed looking for a cash machine - that sleep was an impossibility, but a pub crawl was DEFINITELY in the cards.

After a quick shower and application of makeup, 4 of my roommates and I made our way on the Metro to the Spanish Steps for one of the bigger Roman pub crawls.

We established when we got there, that there were at least 200 people for the crawl, possibly as many as 300, so we crowded our way to the first bar, stood in line for what seemed like forever, watched half of the group wander off on a seperate pub crawl, then finally paid our twenty and made our way in to consume as much free alcohol as we could before going to the next bar and, ugh, paying for booze.

Became an official University of Toronto alum when a girl from the UofT group gave me an extra green VIP bracelet.

I'm still not clear what it entitled me to but I do know I was the only person there with both green and pink bracelets which makes me, by definition, awesome.

I may have bought a packet of cigarettes.

No, disappointingly I really did.

They were Lucky Strikes and they came with an awesome lighter shaped like a hockey puck. What Canadian could resist?

I did lose them at some point during the night and wasn't smoking the next morning, although I still claim ownership of the cooler-than-you-are lighter.

This does not mean that I am a smoker again.

The last bar of the night was on a boat, so Nathan from Fort Nelson (how random that I meet someone from my neck of the woods in Rome, Italy?) and I snagged a table at the top of the boat where I proceeded to get tanked on Malibu and Pineapple juice.

Harriet from England found a group of Irishmen to challenge to drinking competitions, and did our fair sex proud when she won hands down. We sat with them anyway, despite them being disappointing competitors, and I almost convinced one of them to jump in the (very polluted, very green) Tiber, but since all I had was €20 and my Mastercard, it was a no go. Sadly plastic still isn't accepted in dares, despite the year being 2008.

Was really growing concerned about one of the boys, as he kept looking like he might be in danger of nodding off. We kept him alert by handing him the camera to take pictures, but it turns out he was just saving his energy for the dance floor. He turned into a machine. I went into (long dormant) club kid mode, which I'm sure was terrifying and ran into a group of BC-ites I'd met in Florence at JJ Cathedral. The world grows smaller and smaller.

We left at some point, and after hearing the story of how Harriet went fountain diving with the 3 Aussie girls that preceeded me in the room, and knowing firsthand just how easy to convince she was ("Pompeii on a Saturday morning? But then you can't drink tonight! Go Sunday Instead."), I pointed out the fountain enroute to the Kebab shop (that we never actually located), and although there was no attempted swimming in the 3 inches of water, we did run through the jets of water, reminiscent of running through sprinklers as a child.

Great fun.

On the walk back to the hostel (which due to Nathan, we DID locate), I realized just how uncomfortable it is to walk around in wet, soggy slacks. So I did what any drunk person would do. I stripped them off and walked in only my t-shirt, which thankfully was only JUST long enough to be a decent dress. Barely. If one squinted while looking at me.

Drinking does tend to make you less discretionary about things like modesty and dress length.

Couldn't find my pants the next morning, which made me sad, and a little confused since I almost distinctly remembered putting them back on in the Metro stairwell across from the McDonalds (in case McDonalds has implemented some sort of 'no pants, no service' rule in Rome).

Turns out they were under Harriet's bed and my day instantly brightened.

After the McDonalds incident, I assume we made it back to the hostel, since I woke up in bed, and Nathan and I took off to go see the Trevi Fountain, the Pantheon and the the Mausoleum of Hadrian. It was a relief to hand off the responsibilities of getting from A to C while stopping to check out B to someone else for a change. I do enjoy getting lost in cities, just not while tired and a bit hungover.

Got back to the hostel at about 4, and I had a wonderful nap until 6. Enjoyed the free pasta dinner at the hostel (Freestyle Hostel in Rome.. FREE DINNER!), and then Harriet, Nathan and I went to have a glass of sangria and checked out the night market on the river.

When we got back, I went to try to find an internet cafe/International Call Centre to upload some photos and to call mom, but I had no luck.

Rome is this really substantial city where almost nothing is open on Sunday, Monday or past 11. It's kind of surreal.

Walking back to the hostel, I was so frustrated with not getting to call home, and the dirty old men/sleazy groups of black men making comments and catcalls after the lone white girl wandering around after dark, that I ended up flipping one guy off after he kept following me asking where I was from. How dare he, right?

Let's just say that if you are a moderately attractive, young woman wandering the streets of Italy alone, you get a lot of it, and after the thousandth time in a week, you're bound to reach a breaking point.

I'm still not sure why Algerian/Italian/Moroccan/Tunisian/Whatever else I missed men seem to think catcalls, wolf whistles and pestering pretty girls is the best way to meet women, but they do.

God help us all.

Harriet, Nathan and I woke up really early yesterday morning and hopped on a train bound for Naples to see Pompeii and Mt. Vesuvius.

We weren't sitting together, so I was stuck with 4 Italian men who all looked up hopefully when I walked into our carriage.

Now I know what strippers must feel like when they walk into bachelor parties.

I put on my headphones so I wouldn't have to make awkward conversation, and tried my hardest to sleep all the way there.

We got the Vesuvio Express bus to the starting point of Mt Vesuvius, and while Nathan happily skipped his way to the top of the volcano, Harriet and I dragged ourselves with every last ounce of strength to the top, hating the fact that we had both given years of our lives to cigarettes.

Vesuvius is very cool, and well worth the (excruciatingly painfully steep and slippery) 15 minute walk. Good Times.

We had lunch, and then caught the Naples train to Pompeii where we took crap loads of pictures and stared at the erotic paintings on a brothel wall and giggled like little kids.

Tried to find a pizza place, since Napoli is the birthplace of the pizza, but again, no luck since almost everything seems to be closed on Sundays in Italy.

Instead we walked around a really sketchy area of town searching for the train station, avoiding massive piles of garbage and stray dogs, and trying desperately not to get mugged.

Happily, no mugging, dog attacks or plague outbreaks, but Naples is definitely not on my "Will Return To" list of cities. It is dirty, huge and really scary.

Made it back to the train station, and then resigned ourselves to Kebabs and beans for dinner. I think I'm more sad about not getting pizza in Naples than I am about missing the French Riviera, as a whole.

We were very worried that by the time we made it back to Rome, and then hostel at past 11, we would wake everyone up.

Turns out we were worried for nothing.. there was a massive party going on in our room, and so we drank cheap wine and stood around near a bar until about 2 this morning.

My liver hates me.

I'm off to the Colisseum today and the Vatican tomorrow because I am SERIOUSLY lacking culture.