Transit

To get from my (new) apartment in Somerville, Massachusetts to the place that I am staying in Rome I had to take the subway, a bus, a cab, two planes, a train, and the metro. The bus was late arriving in New York (where I flew out of) and I had less than an hour and a half to get to the airport. Luckily, I hailed a ride with a recent Indian immigrant taxi driver who managed the hour drive in less than 40 minutes (by driving on the shoulder of the road at various points, speeding over 90 mph on New York surface streets, weaving dangerously in and out of traffic, and for four white-knuckle moments, driving with his knees while he untangled his cell phone cord). Needless to say the trip from there was a relative breeze.

Rather stupidly, I arrived in Rome with only the phone number of some guy I had never met with whom I was supposed to call and arrange a meeting so that I could get the keys for the apartment where I was to stay. This involved me changing money to Euros, finding a payphone, learning how to operate said payphone, and hoping that this dude picked up his phone. All in a foreign country, while sleep deprived and jet-lagged, and in Italian (a language I don't speak).

The panic really didn't set in until my plane landed in Rome and I began to image all of the ways this might possibly go wrong. And for a few hours it did. It was pouring rain when I arrived. The only payphones in the metro station weren't accepting coins, the phone card I purchased was hopelessly enigmatic, and my cell phone wouldn't even turn on. A French couple mercifully helped me out even though my French is horri-blah and they didn't speak any English. The guy answered the phone the third time I called and even showed me around the neighborhood a little after giving me the keys.

Thus begins my European adventure....stay tuned for photos.