I was blessed this month with the chance to visit Rome as part of my master's degree program in Creative Writing. We spent a week alternating between touring Rome and taking classes. I'd been to Europe before but never really thought much about Rome. I have no particular ties to Italy. It just wasn't on my radar.

It should have been.

This is a wonderful city. And no matter where your family does or doesn't come from it holds meaning for us all. Rome is the birthplace of western civilization and has influenced our world in countless ways. Mostly, though, Rome is just a beautiful place and magical to visit.

The old city center is surrounded by a wall. This is the same wall that existed thousands of years ago to keep out barbarian raiders and rival armies. Then it marked the edges of Rome. Now it sits in the middle, a 27 mile-long wall surrounding the heart of Rome. It is dotted with many entrances - usually large arches leading into vast cobblestone courtyards each famous for its own monument, statue or fountain which sits at its heart. Within these walls Rome is still built for a city of foot traffic, with narrow cobblestone streets all meeting at odd angles and lined with cafes. Vendors roam the streets selling everything from toys to roasted chestnuts to tapestries and fine leather bags. Everywhere you turn there are buildings or monuments dating back thousands of years. There are fountains everywhere sporting filtered water where you can fill your water bottle for free. 

Most of the shop owners speak at least a little english. They are used to tourists here. Many restaurants have english menus. The week I was there was perfect weather - blue skies, bright sun, 60-70 degrees Fahrenheit. The Roman shop owners seem a little gruff at first, but once you get talking they open up and are soon some of the friendliest people in the world. On weekends, the many courtyards around the city are filled with people of all ages. They spill out into the streets where they stroll arm in arm or pop into shops and sit in cafes. Cars periodically wind their way through he throngs of people. And its not expensive to eat here. Compared to New York or L.A. it's down right cheap. 

So I recommend Rome, highly and with enthusiasm. If you ever get a chance to go, do. Choose a place to stay just outside of the city walls where the prices are cheaper but you are still in the heart of things. Try some Italian or just speak English. Take a cab when you need to but walk when you can. Because for all its museums and history, Rome isn't about seeing specific places or things. Rome is about experiencing the current of the city as it flows around you. Its about being part of something magical and more ancient than you can imagine.

It’s a good thing I came here looking for adventure or I might not be enjoying myself quite so much. (On that note, be careful what you wish for…)

​I just started a master’s degree program in Creative Writing. It’s all on-line except for two weeks twice a year when we gather in person with our professors and other students for some intensive study. This year they offered the option of doing that in-person stint in Rome. Student loan money would help cover the costs, so I jumped at the chance. I mean, I don’t speak Italian or anything, but who wants to pass up the chance to go to Rome when it comes their way?
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Two weeks before leaving I went to my filing cabinet to look for my passport and discovered it had expired two years ago. I was sure I’d JUST renewed it. I remembered that I had lost my old passport and had to send in for a new one. But my sense of time is often screwy, so maybe that was ten years ago. I spent a couple of frantic days calling around and finally figured out what I had to do: The normal passport renewals are taking up to six months right now. But some offices in some cities offer last minute appointments for emergencies like mine. You have to be within 72 hours of your travel date, but you can walk out of there with the passport that day. None in Montana, but there was one such office in Minneapolis, so I changed my flight to go through Minneapolis, with an eight hour layover.
 
I left the house at 3am that morning and arrived at the airport at 4am for a 6am flight. They told me I couldn’t get on the plane. It didn’t matter that I was about to get my passport. They had to check me in all the way through to Rome and they couldn’t do that with an expired passport. An hour of phone calls later they finally came up with the option that I could rebook as two different trips but that would cost an extra $2500 (twice as much as the flight cost in the first place). Not an option. I fought with them another half hour before they finally offered to change my ticket for free. I was on the flight.
 
With the heart problems I have been having lately, walking any distance is hard for me, so I am in the habit of ordering wheelchairs in airports. That worked for most of the airports, but I was still often shaky and gasping for breath by the time I got somewhere. 
 
I was also sick. I had taken a Covid test the night before, so I knew it wasn’t that, but I had been getting increasingly sick for the past few days. I know my body and when I feel like this it is most often bronchitis or pneumonia. By the end of my flight to Minneapolis, I was having trouble breathing. I found an urgent care clinic near the passport building and called an Uber. The doctor there was wonderful. Yes, I had bronchitis. Yes, if things were normal they wouldn’t be giving me antibiotics quite yet, but given my trip to Rome she gave me antibiotics, an inhaler and a med to help clear the gunk out of my lungs. Luggage in tow, I took another Uber to my passport appointment. 
 
I waited in lines, filled out forms and answered questions. The woman was very friendly, asking all about my ranch in Montana and the horses I raised. She sent my paperwork to the printer office and said I should stay nearby and wait for their phone call. An hour later it came. But it wasn’t good news. This was not my most recent passport. This was the one I had lost two years ago. Somewhere at home I had a valid passport which was needed for this trip.
 
That could have been it right there. But the woman took a deep breath and said, “We are going to make this work. We will get you on that flight to Rome. Just come back and fill in more paperwork. We will say you lost your new passport (the one at home) and you will get another one today.” By now it would normally have been too late in the day for them to still manage printing a passport but over the next hour a number of them stayed late and made it happen. Whatever the reputation of government burrocrattes, the people in that office were lifesavers. 
 
An hour before my flight was suppose to leave, I stumbled down the stone steps of the Minneapolis Federal Building with my luggage behind me and called for an Uber. We rushed to the airport. I got there to find I needn’t have rushed – the plane had been hit by lightening and it was going to be four hours before they could get us a replacement. 
 
They ordered subs for the whole lot of us while we waited in the airport, and still served us a dinner of cheese ravioli when we boarded the plane at nine o’clock that night. The plane was going to Amsterdam, eight hours during which I dozed intermittently, and then I had a connecting flight to Rome. But because of the delay, I missed my connecting flight and had to be moved to a later flight. 
 
I spent a nice flight to Rome chatting with a Dutch woman in the seat next to me. We exchanged information and offers to stay if the other was ever in our area. Finally, I landed in Rome. My luggage didn’t. I spent two hours in line filing a report about lost luggage and was sent on my way. I paid an exorbitant fee ($37) to get out E100 of cash at an airport ATM and walked out of the airport.
 
Immediately I was overwhelmed by noise and activity. There were hundreds of people standing around the door holding signs with names on them. My brain had shut down hours ago and I barely knew how to make sense of where I was. I read the instructions for meeting my hotel shuttle over and over and they still didn’t make sense. After an hour of wandering, I started stopping people to aske if they spoke English. Most just rushed on but one lady stopped and attempted to talk with me. Once I’d explained the situation she agreed to help me. But she could make no more sense of the directions I had than I could. 
 
She spent a good half hour calling the hotel (we couldn’t get through) and wandering with me around the airport, looking for a sign that would tell us where I was suppose to be. When we continued to get nowhere, I told her I would keep looking and went my way. 
 
I had no cell signal and could make no calls. Worse, my phone had no data connection and I couldn’t get the airport wifi to work so I had no way to look anything up or pull up google maps. At one point I just sat down on the sidewalk and stared around me. I had no idea how to continue to try and solve the problem before me.
 
I’d been sitting there for a while when the woman walked up to me again. She had seen that I was still lost and was back on her phone, trying again to get through to my hotel for me. She motioned me to stand next to her and, finally getting through to a person, she began again to try and unravel my situation. Twenty minutes later she took me by the hand and led me to a (very hidden) sign with the name of my hotel on it. She told me to wait forty-five minutes for the shuttle that would pull up in that spot. I thanked her profusely and she put her hand on my shoulder and said, “Welcome to Rome.”
 
At my hotel it took me thirty minutes to find my room, which turned out to be in a separate building from the hotel and up an unmarked elevator. The next day I was to make my way to an Airbnb at which I would stay for the next two weeks, but the Airbnb hadn’t been available when for the first day of my trip, so I had booked this hotel for one night. 
 
I awoke the next morning to find I had laryngitis and had lost my voice. I couldn’t speak above a whisper. I used Google Translate to look up and write down (in my handy dandy little travel notebook) “I lost my voice,” “I don’t speak Italian,” and “Do you speak English?” all in Italian. Gripping this piece in sweaty hands, I started my first day in Italy.
 
I took the shuttle back to the airport and spent two hours trying to find the Lost & Found office again. I stood in line for an hour and spent the next twenty minutes explaining why I was there. But – what do you know! – I was told that my bag was here and I could pick it up. 
 
That wasn’t as easy as it sounded and I had to cross the airport three times before the woman behind the desk left her desk, took me by the hand, and led me to an obscure back door with no signs and no attendants where my bag was sitting, waiting for me. Now I just had to get across Rome to my Airbnb. And that proved to be harder than all the rest of the trip combined.
 
I had planned to take a bus. But I had not counted on 1) how much trouble I would have lugging my luggage around and doing all that walking and 2) how confusing it is to read bus signs and schedules when you don’t speak the language or know what streets are near your stop. I soon realized that even if I figured out how to get a ticket and got on a bus, I would have no idea where to get off. I decided I had to take a cab. 
 
This was not ideal. I knew Rome cab drivers have a reputation for cheating people, especially at the airport. And I had no idea how to find a cab, despite the frequent signs for “Taxi” all over the airport.
 
I walked out the door into a throng of a hundred or more people, holding signs. Behind them was another throng of people in front of a Taxi sign, and a long line for the Taxis. But at the time I couldn’t tell the two throngs apart and didn’t realize there was a dedicated Taxi line. I was relieved when a person came up to me to ask me if I wanted a Taxi. I said yes and asked the price. They said 80Euros. I knew the price was suppose to be about 50Euros and said no. After being approached by three or four more people with the same price (I did not yet realize that the actual way to get a Taxi was to stand in the long line. The people approaching me on their own were private companies, unlicensed and looking for an easy mark – which I clearly was – a middle aged, confused, exhausted American woman who didn’t speak the language and was clearly lost…) I finally realized I needed to go back inside for an ATM because I had only 50Euros with me at this point and it was starting to look like that wouldn’t be enough, despite what the guide books said. One driver had offered to take me to an ATM on the way, but that didn’t seem at all safe to me. I decided I needed to go back to the ATM I had seen in the baggage claim area and pay the ridiculous rates to get more money out. Then I discovered that once you leave the building you are not allowed back into the airport at all. It took me ten minutes to talk them into letting me in so I could go to the ATM. 
 
I got out 200Euros and went back out to the Taxi area. A man approached, quoted me 75Euros and I accepted. He took my luggage and led me away from the airport. Quite a long ways away. We walked a long time. By the time we got there it was clear I had gotten one of those private taxi companies the guide books warned you about. They have no white Taxi sign on top of their cars and no meter inside. I decided I had to just go with it (I could barely stand or think by this time) and I put my luggage in the trunk and got in the car with the driver the first man led me to. 
 
The drive was fine aside from the fact that the driver spent much of it, zipping full speed down highways and through crowded streets with the index to his map open across his steering wheel, trying to find my street. Every now and then he would swerve too far into another lane, get honked at and jerk the car back. Periodically, he would purposely, without warning, yank the car into another lane, cutting off bikes, busses and other cars. I decided that this was the definition of a situation I had little control over and sat back to observe the big stone buildings and abundant flowering plants lining every street. In the end we arrived in one piece.
 
He wrote me out a receipt and handed it to me. 175Euros. I argued with him. He became offended, loud and angry. He showed me a placard with prices listed on it and pointed to one line that said 180Euros. I argued some more. He said if I wanted my luggage out of his trunk I had to pay the 175Euros I owed him. I finally pulled out 4 fifty dollar bills and asked him for change. He dropped the money in his lap then picked it back up. “What is this?” he asked. “You cheat? You cheat me?” The money in his hand was two fifties and two tens. “I gave you four fifties,” I started, and the yelling began again, “You not! You try to cheat me! You give me two fifty and two ten!”
 
The truth is I was not positive that he wasn’t right. I was so tired by then, I could have pulled out the wrong money. But I didn’t think so, Because all I had left at that point was one more fifty and if I’d given him two tens there should have been three fifties in my wallet. Eventually I took the two tens back and gave him the other fifty. He gave me by bags and left. 
 
I got into my Airbnb. I got settled. I slept. I slept some more. I double checked the price of taxies – it should have been only 50Euros. Oh well. What can I do about it now? I tried to let it go.
 
I continued to try and let it go for the rest of the day. And most of the next. I explored my area, found a little Peruvian restaurant and had dinner. And I slept and slept and slept. (I planned my arrival two days early knowing I would need to sleep a lot to recover from the trip). Tomorrow the rest of my school group arrive and I will, hopefully, have a little back-up around. Or at least a few comrades in arms for me to commiserate with.
 
The streets here are lined with cars and packed with people. Busses barrel down streets they can barley squeeze into and motorbikes ignore all lanes and zip around everyone at top speed. Bikes and scooters do the same. The streets are lined with huge, brick or stone buildings with dark wooden doors. Most are covered with verandas a dozen stories high and the verandas are all dripping with potted plants and flowers of every kind. Everyone is dressed in long sleeves and jackets except for me who finds 60-70 degrees to be quite pleasant and about perfect for shorts and sandals. There are little supermarkets here and there which are filled with colorful fresh fruits, fresh cheeses and beautiful breads. They sell loves by the half or quarter loaf so you can get just enough for one meal and not have to eat day old bread the next day. Tomorrow I find the hotel where my group is meeting and figure out how to get there – taxi or walk? Then on with the adventure.

The airport is where you will be the most confused and the most vulnerable. You are also likely to be exhausted and not thinking clearly. You have to do three things to get out of there: 1) get money. 2) get baggage and 3) get to your transportation. 
 
You have to have Euros to get around in Rome. Most taxis require cash. (though by law they can’t do that they often have “broken” card reading machines.) You will pay exorbitant rates at the airport, even at an ATM, but you have to have it for most of the travel you are going to do and any food you are going to buy. I paid $37 to get e100. 
 
Much of the airport is a big shopping mall. You will have to walk through this to get to the baggage area.
 
You will go downstairs to get your baggage. If your baggage doesn’t arrive, find baggage area #7 and look across from it. There is a Lost & Found office there. You will probably have to stand in a line for a long time, but if you are lucky the line might be empty. They will either find your luggage on the spot or have you fill out a form to claim a missing bag and arrange to have it brought to you when it is found. Most of the time this happens within a day or two. Someone at the desk will speak broken English at least so you can somewhat communicate with them.
 
After you get your baggage, you will exit the baggage area and walk a short ways to the outside door. Note that when you exit the baggage area you cannot return. And when you walk out the outside door you likewise can’t return. You will need Euros in cash to get your taxi, bus or train, so be sure you have gone to an ATM before leaving the baggage area. And be sure you have purchased your bus ticket. There are kiosks for this in the baggage area, but you wont be able to turn around and go back in for those things after you’ve left.
 
Now, walking out the door – this is overwhelming. There is likely to be a big crowd of people holding signs with names on them. These are for people who have reserved a limo or car where they come and get you and take you to their car. In back of them is a line for the taxis, with a big wall blocking off the waiting area and forming the line for waiting. But before you make it there, you will be approached by a private taxi company asking if you are wanting a taxi. DON’T GO WITH THEM. Tell them no and go to the taxi queue. No one stands outside for the real taxis. You just stand in line, then walk up to the first one in line and tell them where you want to go. They tell you if they will take you or not and you go on to the next one or get in. 
 
Those people who come up to you and ask you if you want a taxi are from private companies. They are usually not licensed and can’t be tracked. They will probably quote you something like $75 (it should cost about $50). But when they get you in the taxi they can then say $175 and act like they said that all along. They hold your luggage hostage until you pay, so what can you do? Don’t go with them.
 
If you are planning on taking taxis in Rome, at the airport or elsewhere, read this: https://www.romewise.com/taxi-in-rome.html
 
It’s a great article and covers a lot of detail.
 
If you are waiting for a hotel shuttle, say no to the private taxis people and walk through that whole crowd to the street. Cross to the FIRST island (very small and mostly lined with blue railings). Turn right and walk along the blue railings. Shortly one of the ubiquitous signs on the railings will say, “Hotel Shuttles this way way" then after that there will be a number of signs listing hotels. Find your hotel and stand in front of that sign. Your shuttle will pull up at the appointed time.

To get to the bus, walk through a couple of lines a traffic until you reach the big parking garages at the back. You will see signs for the bus station on the right. Follow those. 
 
You also go through this area to get to the Uber area, though it is not easy to find or marked. Uber is spotty in Rome, though they do have it and it is safer than taxis when it comes to not being ripped off.