Ken and Elise's trip

Day 21: Rome 2 (In which we learn how to mail a package home)

We awakened somewhat early and prepared to conquer Rome. However, first we decided that we needed to mail some stuff home. We had purchased a few things and besides that we would have (hopefully) no further need of our sweaters or long sleeved tops. We knew that we would have to find a post office and get a box and figure out how to mail our items.

Joseph was at the desk so we consulted with him. He looked at us sympathetically and said, “there will be a very long queue.” He did show us where the nearest post office was and it was actually quite close to the train station. We put our items to mail in a bag and headed out. We found the PO quite easily, and walked in. It was then we began to understand Joseph’s warning. Long queue was hardly a fair description. There were lines of people everywhere! I don’t remember if Joseph had told us or if we figured it out for ourselves, but we somehow knew we had to take a number. We started trying to figure out where the numbers were. A helpful gentleman seeing our efforts showed us where they were. We took one--something like 104.

I really can’t remember how it came about that we figured out we were in the wrong line. Seems like Ken did that somehow. But he managed to determine that we really had to talk to a lady in a corner stand. She had the boxes--but didn’t speak a word of English. However, after Ken and I debated far longer than practical which size of box we needed, we did get one purchased. She attempted through hand gestures to explain how we should package it up, but we really didn’t have a clue what she was trying to tell us. We went to a corner, loaded our stuff in and went back to the lady to see if we could get some tape. With exaggerated Italian hand gestures, she showed us that she had already given us what they use as tape and with some rolling of the eyes, she showed us how to secure it. She looked at our ticket number, shook her head, and walked us to another ticket machine and pulled down a new number for us. Apparently we had been in the wrong line--to mail packages you were supposed to be in the “C” line--we had a number for the “A” line which I guess is to mail letters and buy stamps. We were now Number 108.

I don’t want to give the wrong impression of the lady. She was actually quite charming and very patient overall with the clueless Yankees.

She gesticulated where we should wait and off we went to stand, and stand, and stand waiting for our number. While waiting, I suddenly remembered that Ken had asked me to hold his camera for him and I had put it in my purse. I had pulled everything out of that compartment of my purse looking for return address stickers I had brought. While standing, waiting for the number to come up, I remembered the camera. I frantically searched my purse. No camera. Ken had gone off to check on something so I couldn’t even tell him. I was sick at heart. I ran into the room where we had packed the box and searched and searched everywhere we had been. The box lady saw me and through hand gestures asked me what was wrong. “Oh please, did someone turn in a camera?” I asked. She looked at me uncomprehending. I held up my hands and clicked like a camera. She understood at once and said “no, no!” She told everyone around and people started helping me look, but it was no where. Box lady looked at me so kindly and sadly. I was just sick! Ken would be sick too. I went into the wait room and found a seat and sat there miserably. Pretty soon Ken came in and I had to tell him. “Oh, I have it,” he said. “I took it back when we packed the box.” I nearly cried in relief. I told him about Box Lady trying to help and he went back into where she was and held up the camera. She cried something like “Bella, Bella” and made gestures of great relief and joy.

Finally our number came up and we thought we were home free. As it turned out, we still had a lot to learn. First of all our clerk spoke no English at all. And she was Miss Crankipants to boot. She immediately took one look at the our package and shouted, “NO!” and tore off the return address label I had affixed. Apparently they don’t want you to put your personal return address on a package you are mailing from Italy. Imagine that!

Then she gave me a form to fill out. It was in Italian. Imagine that again! She kept saying something over and over again, and I kept standing there like a dumb dog not having any idea at all of what she was saying. That’s when I discovered that Americans aren’t the only ones who speak louder and slower when talking to someone of another language. She kept talking louder and louder as if I would suddenly understand if she shouted it enough. Finally in frustration, she turned to the clerk next to her and spat out something. The girl looked at me and in almost accentless English said, “She’s trying to tell you it will take at least 4 weeks.” “That’s fine,” I cried in relief. But my misery was far from over. Miss Crankipants was determined that I had to fill out the form. Since I couldn’t read it, I had no idea what to write. We went around and around about it with me almost in tears in frustration. Finally a gentleman in line leaned over and told me what I needed to do. We thank God daily for the scores of kind people who have helped us get over one hurdle after another. The form finally filled out to her satisfaction, she demanded money. Since I had no idea how much she was saying, I handed her 50 euros hoping that would be enough. She nodded vigorously and proceeded to hand me back far more of it than I had expected. With a couple firm stamp stamps on the box, it was apparently ready to mail. I wiped my brow in relief, and whispered a scared “grazie” to Miss Crankipants. To my amazement, she returned my thanks with the sweetest smile imaginable and nodded her head in acknowledgement that we had managed to get it done. I don’t know if I will ever see the box or not. I know I will never forget the experience.

That had taken up far more of the morning that we had planned. We were now on a tight schedule to get everything seen. Actually, Ken didn’t much care what we saw now. He figured he had seen everything important from the HOHO bus. I had three items. I wanted to see the Pantheon, the Trevi Fountain and the Spanish Stairs. Joseph, who nearly moaned when we told him we had purchased HOHO tickets (apparently it is very easy to see all the sights by traveling the metro, and Joseph is a man who believes in saving a euro when it is possible to save a euro), pulled out another map and showed us where each of the three things were. “You can walk from your bus stop to all of them quite easily,” he insisted.

So off we went. To my considerable surprise, it had gotten quite cloudy. “I think it might rain,” said my husband frowning. I refused to believe it and we made our way to the top of the bus. Within minutes, Ken was proven to have a talent for weather predicting and it was raining quite steadily. Fortunately, this particular bus had very few people on the top, and we all managed to find seats below. Ken and I were seated right behind the ticket girl and honestly she and the bus driver put on a show that deserved an Oscar or something. They had a knock down, drag out fight. There was absolutely no “we better save this so we don’t offend the customer” efforts at all. They just went at it. She screamed and screamed at him. He snarled back at her. There were wild gesticulations from both. I decided they had to be married. I finally managed to see their ring fingers. Nope. He had a ring on. She didn’t. But they fought like a married couple, I tell you. Finally he sort of calmed down although she never did. He started sort of smiling and appeared to be amused by her. She discovered a bug on the bus and went after it with a rolled up paper with such fury you’d have thought it was an Ebola carrying mosquito or something. He laughed out loud at her over that which only increased her rage. Truly it was worth the price of the tickets!

Oddly enough, she was a cute little thing. When I got on,I asked her which was the best stop for the Trevi Fountain. “Uh, the Trevi Fountain stop,” she said with a real twinkle in her eye. I was embarrassed, but she laughed. And to my very big surprise, although clearly seething in anger at the driver, she suddenly turned around and gave me the most adorable smile and said, “Yours in the next stop.”

We got off and easily found the fountain. Joseph had told us it was under construction, and we were very much let down to find that it was almost unviewable for us. There is no water in it at all now and there is scaffolding all the way to the top. We could catch some idea of how magnificent it must be, but it was so disappointing. There is a walkway in front of it with police on either end. A certain amount of people are allowed on the walkway at a time. All you can do is walk past it---there are signs telling you not to throw coins in from the walkway. So Ken and I couldn’t even toss in a coin to ensure our return to Rome in the future!

Well that was done. We had seen the Trevi Fountain. So next on our list was the Pantheon. Ken had Joseph’s map and he led the way. He said he had a pretty good idea how to get there--just follow him. So I did. We walked down a couple blocks, made a turn and were just stunned when we saw a magnificent HUGE building with something like Maximus or something engraved in it. “What’s THAT?” asked Ken. “I don’t have a clue,” I said, “but I’m taking a picture to look it up later.” Picture taken, we fought our way through the crowds at the massive building and continued our search for the Pantheon.

Now, you must remember we had had a wearying time at the post office. We had endured getting rained on. Now it was hot! Very hot! We tramped on---and on---and on. “Where is this blasted building” fumed my husband who really didn’t care that much if we found it or not. We paused at a corner and Ken consulted the map again. For a very long time. Finally he said, “we’ve totally missed it. It’s way back that way somewhere.”

Now I’m pretty sure he would gladly have given up at that point. As I said, he really didn’t know what the Pantheon was and didn't care. It was ME who wanted to see it--who was determined to see it. So my husband, quickly losing what patience he still had turned around and started back. I saw a pretty big sign pointing to the Piazza Navona and I showed it to him. “We should see a sign like that to the Pantheon” I said. It’s even more important than the Navona. We did stop to see the Navona and were once again stunned at the magnificence of the buildings in Rome. It’s like Blake says--every corner you turn you seem to run into another major building!

Finally we rounded another corner and whoops! There was that massive impressive building in front of us that we had seen before and didn’t know what was. My husband looked at it a long time--looked at the map--looked at me. “This,” he said, “is it. This was the Pantheon all the time! Look at the shape and then look at this map. It’s the same exact shape.”

I looked. I sighed. He was right. We had been at the Pantheon an hour ago. Just too dumb to know it. We sank down on the steps to the fountain in front of it. Ken filled our water bottle from the water spigots that are all over Rome. We drank water. We considered the meaning of life. Ken decided not to kill me. We started to laugh. Then we went into the Pantheon and stood there dumbstruck at how grand it is.

We never saw the Spanish Stairs. I decided not to press my luck.

But I will come back to Rome, God willing. We loved this city. After thinking we would just endure our time here, we found out how wrong we were once again. This is a magnificent city. Even though there are terrible crowds, somehow I never felt suffocated by them as I did in Venice. There is so much beauty in Rome. Somehow we were protected from the pickpockets. All we saw were the good people. The ones who bent over backwards to help us. Who smiled at us as we passed. Who took time out from a raging fight with a co-worker to let us know when we should get off a bus. Some, like Joseph, even treated us like friends.

Averidici Roma. We will come back, God willing someday.

End of Day 21