A Day Along The Appian Way

I was thinking today, though my life may be slightly commonplace now, it's certainly not lacking in past adventures. So I'm going to share some of these epic happens. Let's begin with the day I walked along the Appian Way. It goes something like this:

August 2007. Roma, Italy.
Perfect summer day. Trees line the stone path. Rays of sunshine glinting through the trees. A light breeze. Gelato in hand. Not a care in the world. Bliss, happiness...and I'm awakened with a jolt. Wishful thinking that my time on the Appian Way somehow resembled Audrey Hepburn in Roman Holiday or Kristin Bell in When in Rome. The real story is much more exciting.

B, E, and I took a trip to the Roman Catacombs. And got lost along the way. They say the understand Italian, but somehow we got off the bus a little too early. And by a little, I mean a lot. We may have walked a good half hour on the Appian Way- a road that has no sidewalk. Just a itsy bitsy strip on the side, next to a very tall stone wall. Basically the road we were on was a highway with barely enough room for two cars to whiz past each other in opposite directions. Certainly not enough room for me to feel comfortable walking 30 minutes. I feared for my life. Quite literally. It was like in the movies where the main character has to shimmy against the wall to keep from falling off the edge of a building. Except for I was inching against the wall to keep from getting taken out by incredibly fast, zooming vehicles. Not to mention it was hot. If you haven't been to Rome in August, you don't know what hot is. Well, eventually, we made it to the catacombs. I can't begin to express my joy upon spotting the sign. Now all we had to do was cross the street. Did I mention the bus let us off on the opposite side of the rode? Well, as it so happens, the catacombs were fantastic and slightly creepy. Thousands of skeletons lining the walls.

But the real fun continued as we left the catacombs. We jumped on the bus and were off to see more of Rome!
Just as soon as we sat down, an Italian nun in front of us says, in fairly good English, "You're going back to the city? You're on the wrong bus!!" And she proceeds to tell us that, the bus we are on is going in the opposite direction. So, naturlich, we get confused and I'm sure I had a nervy b. We decide to get off at the next stop, cross the street, and wait for a bus coming from the other direction (I think it may have been B who decided this). As we got off the bus, the Italian bus driver says many things to us in Italian, of which I'm sure, "This is the right bus!!" must have been in there.

Thinking we're very clever, we get off and look around for the bus stop. I hoped my eyes were deceiving me, there wasn't a bus stop in sight. By this time, we are on a very real highway. But, with no other options, we walked and walked and walked and walked. Until finally, a stop was spotted. Now, this bus stop was like no other I've ever seen before. It was as if a bus stop sign had been placed on the side of the freeway, in a mound of dirt. Immediately, I felt my stomach drop. This was not promising. Nevertheless, the three of us stood on the dirt mound and waited. I can attest to the fact that time passes slow as molasses on a boiling summer day, waiting for a bus. We waited. And waited. And waited. I cannot count the number of Italians that zoomed past us and yelled out their windows. I had sweat dripping down my face, back, and the underside of my knees ( I never even knew people could sweat there). So, needless to say, them Italians must not be very picky. Or maybe they were yelling that I needed a shower. I guess I'll never know.



One thing I do know is this, after about an hour and a half, one Italian said something like, "c'mon, I'll give you a ride" and I very nearly took this offer. But, lucky for us, the bus rounded the corner. Ah finally! Though it would most certainly be hotter inside the bus, at least we wouldn't be stuck in the middle of nowhere. The bus comes to a stop in front of three sadly bedraggled girls and to make matters worse, as I climb up the stairs, I hear someone chuckling at me. I look up to see our bus driver from before. The very same. Apparently, his was the only bus that day. His route went to the end, then circled back.


So the moral of this story is, don't trust nuns? Or maybe don't trust B.? Who knows. Next up is The Doodle Bug Cries War.