I heard someone say this yesterday and it knocked me back. It's a
new decade. Growing up I was (and still am) part of the Class of 2000. News agencies followed us through our development, first days of school, mile markers. The year 2000 seemed far away and exotic. And now it's a decade old.
I rang in the New Year from Rome with a rag-tag group of international folks: 2 women from Chile, 1 man from Nicaragua, 1 man from Belgium, 1 man from Reno and 2 men from Chile. Although our planning didn't pan out (does it ever?) it was pretty spectacular to see the Colosseum lit up at night, the streets thronging with people. Hearing the shouting and laughing, bottles rolling underfoot. The occasional, mis-begotten car.
We made plans to see the fireworks, drink wine and be among the masses then head off for an early morning of dancing and fun.
Though it is not quite what happened (there was no dancing) it was still a fascinating and different way to see Rome.
Once it became clear that the group could not settle on a mutually accepted place to go dancing the man from Nicaragua and I split off. I wanted gelato and to go to bed. It was already 230am and we had no idea how long it would take to find a way back to the hostel on the
opposite end of the city.
We ate gelato and panini (they're EVERYwhere!!!) and began meandering in the direction of the hostel. We figured if the city center was ludicrously crowded and the streets filled with pedestrians our chances would be better walking toward "home." The streets were littered with debris and revelers. I was completely amused to stumble on what was apparently a gas station.
The pumps were thoroughly covered in bottles, cans and other containers. The pumps themselves were also pretty interesting. I have grown so accustomed to the US pumps with their fancy pants credit card readers, the digital displays that they analog pumps that offered one kind of gas were a novelty.
We walked down alleys and side streets making our way to what looked like a larger thoroughfare on my map. I thought about the people living in these neighborhoods. I thought about the woman who I'd met on my way to the Vatican who spoke with me in Spanish, warning me against being out and about between midnight and about 1230am given the Italian traditions of throwing plates and other objects from the windows and into the street to bring in the New Year.
As the crowds thinned away my walking partner and I began to see more of the city. Quiet parts and areas that I had not seen in the day. Government buildings, courtyards where orange trees grew over the walls. Tiny intersections dotted with amazing sculpture and the never-ending supply of water fountains.
The one pictured came from an intersection I did not take note of but seemed to have the four seasons depicted, one on each corner with a different fountain for each. It occurs to me now, as I write, that I never learned why Romans (or Italians in general) were and are so enamored of water works and great, public works of watery art.
We walked and talked until I believed we certainly would not locate a taxi and would instead walk all the way across the city. My friend spied a lit taxi header but it seemed too late, the vehicle had passed us. I jumped into the road and shouted "TAXI!" at the top of my lungs. He stopped. And we enjoyed a new view of the city, by car. At an hour when many would normally be waking for a new day we were just crawling off to bed. Revelers trickled by the cab windows, streets slid by, cobblestones bumping against the tires, other vehicles seeming to draw close enough to us to barely slip a sheet of paper between us. My delirium and wonder kept me from feeling the anxiety I surely would have during the day.
When my travel partner and I returned to the hostel I felt soft and happy. Exhausted and grateful to pull off my shoes, climb into bed and set no rules for when I must rise and what I must do with my day. Though I remember feeling frustrated at turns during the evening all I feel now is a smile and a fond memory of walking across the city in its quiet. All wrapped up in the promise of a New Year.
Bon Anni, Roma!
Meet the Robinsons (movie) - about a young boy who wants a family more than anything and has to travel to the future chasing a bowler-wielding maniac to learn about his place in the world
The Bean Trees (book) - a story of a young woman setting out on her own for the first time and getting handed a Native American baby in a dark parking lot. The story follows her evolution from young, spitfire woman to falling in love with this kid.
