It amazed me how much Rome looked like Orlando.Driving in from Roma-Fiumicino, our bus passed palm trees, sketchy ten-story apartment buildings, farmland, telephone wires and more palm trees. Only the occasional terracotta villa, placed surprisingly in the middle of an apartment complex or perched underneath a grove of disgruntled trees, signified that we might, actually, be in Rome. The signs helped too.
My first piece of pizza in Italy: a margherita. My roommate Allison took me to a small cafe, run by a delightful plump Italian woman in a pink tracksuit and her twentysomething daughter. The pizza was pretty good; I'm still on the lookout for the perfetto forno a legno.
Once we hit the Roman ruins on our way in, I thought I was going to cry. They strike you - hit you on the head with a two-thousand-year-old hammer. The baths of Caracalla were the first ones we saw, but the Colosseum is what what turned our heads. 
No comments:
Post a Comment