Rome Overnight
We arrived back in Rome after a three-hour train ride from Sorrento. Taking the exact reverse route from Friday, it was once again a stark contrast: the first leg on a super old, noisy train, and the second on a quiet, smooth high-speed one with leather seats and WiFi.
We’re staying in an Airbnb about a 12-minute walk from the train terminal.
We found a comfy table nearby overlooking the Column of Peace and Papal Basilica of Saint Mary Major. After enjoying a cool drink, we walked for a short while but decided we needed a rest and went back to the room.
There was a very small, authentic-looking restaurant just a few feet from our place, so we went back later for dinner. We were really looking forward to it, since this was our last night in Italy and the end of this epic trip.
Sadly, we didn't get that.
To start, they ignored us when we walked in and looked around for a place to sit. In Europe, you usually just find a spot yourself and hope it works out. But the place was nearly full—only eight tables in total—with just one available four-top and two empty seats next to a pair of women already eating.
There were three Middle Eastern ladies behind us, so we weren’t sure of the owner’s preference. He seemed to think we were all one group (despite me holding up two fingers), and tried to cobble together one big table. We clarified we only needed a table for two, but he ignored us. Eventually, he seated us next to the other Eastern European women at a four-top. Ok—no big deal, just a little awkward.
Despite the full room, the place was very quiet. Speaking at a normal volume felt almost too loud, since everyone was using hushed tones.
We sat for about ten minutes with no interaction from the staff. The only people working were the owner, a sixty-something Italian man who mainly spoke Italian, and his helper, an Indian man who clearly wasn’t comfortable speaking with customers. His job was simply to set down plates and flatware, then clear them when people left. We still assumed this would turn into one of those wonderful, local meals worth writing about.
Then I noticed an older woman behind Kelley with her head resting on the table. She was there with her daughter. The owner walked over and motioned to the daughter, concerned. The daughter, who spoke with a German accent, reassured him that her mother was just hot, she was fine. He insisted on calling an ambulance; she refused. Turns out the mother really wasn’t fine and needed help outside, stumbling as her daughter supported her.
Once outside, the woman collapsed briefly. Her daughter panicked, yelling “Momma, Momma, Momma!” loud enough for everyone in the restaurant to hear. Kelley and I both were afraid she had just died! Through the doorway, the entire room watched quietly, murmuring a little. Another patron went to help, the Indian man held an umbrella over her in the rain, and finally, the owner went ahead and called an ambulance.
About ten minutes later, the woman regained her color and seemed more stable. The ambulance took another ten or more minutes to arrive, parking right outside, basically ten feet from our table. Fortunately, by then it wasn’t urgent. Blue lights flashed over the quiet restaurant as they checked her out.
Meanwhile, we still didn’t have menus. The whole place had come to a standstill. Kelley and I whispered to each other—would it look bad to leave now? The three Middle Eastern women did just that. Smart.
The owner moved aimlessly around, clearly rattled. Eventually, he handed us a menu—taken from another occupied table. I already knew I wanted lasagne alla bolognese (I’ve been ordering it almost everywhere we go). Kelley was still deciding when he suddenly came back, so she picked quickly to not miss the chance. Progress.
Soon after, he dropped off a platter with two meatballs we hadn’t ordered. The sauce was mild and the meatballs were cold. Odd. Was this typical? Hard to know. I ate them anyway.
The mains arrived soon after. The food was fine, but probably the second worst of the trip—not bad, but not good. All the while, the Eastern European women next to us had finished eating but were trapped in the corner by my chair. When they finally flagged down the Indian helper to ask for the check, he pointed at the owner and said, “You have to ask him.” One woman eventually got up to pay, while the other apologized as I shifted to let her out. Then the helper reset the table, adding two bowls and spoons to our setting. We hadn’t ordered anything else, but shrugged it off.
Through the open window, we saw the German woman and her mother walking down the alley under umbrellas, thankfully okay.
A Mexican teacher then came in and sat at the table beside us, asking politely in Italian if it was alright. She and Kelley chatted, and eventually Kelley suggested she move next to me, away from the draft. We were about to leave anyway.
Just then, the owner noticed the misplaced bowls and yelled at the helper from across the room. The bowls were whisked off our table and set down next to an Asian couple eating pizza. Still a mystery.
I got up to ask for the check, but the owner waved me back down. A minute later, he dropped off the paper bill. Forty euros. I asked to pay by card. He barked “No card, only cash,” along with a lot more Italian, then walked off. Since it was our last night, we had intentionally left only ten euros in cash. I rejoined the conversation with Kelley and the Mexican teacher, pretending to be interested in her stories about life in Milan while also trying to figure out how we were going to pay the bill. A pause in the discussion gave me the chance to explain the cash-only policy, which prompted the teacher to start packing up her purse to leave.
Just then, another English speaker passed us on the way out. He muttered “What a night!” I asked if he also had to pay cash. He said "he tried to force me, but I told him I only had a card, so he took it." Good to know!
I tried the same approach, saying I had only the ten in cash and the rest had to be on the card. The owner wasn’t thrilled, but after a dramatic wave of his hand, he swiped the card and took it. No words of thanks—just more yelling at the helper in Italian.
And with that, we left with quite a memory. Not the dining experience we had hoped for, but certainly a night we won’t forget.
Headed Home
Wed, Sept 24
The next morning, I realized I had started the airline check-in the day before but hadn’t finished because of poor cell coverage on the old train. When I logged into WestJet, I got “Trip Not Found.” Not good. Tried the app, still not found.
With just one hour until our Airbnb checkout and five hours before our flight was supposed to depart, I called the Chase Travel Center, where we booked. The agent told us the airline had changed our flight to "YESTERDAY", making us technically a no-show. We hadn’t been notified at all. Great!
We scrambled to find a new flight. After thirty tense minutes, we managed to book a United flight leaving at 3:40 pm to SFO, then on to Boise, arriving at 11:30pm. We’ll have to sort out the WestJet issue once we’re home.
No row-mates, we have four seats to ourselves to spread out!
We arrived at SFO twelve and a half hours later, feeling exhausted. After a one-hour nap, we realized that by the time we get to Boise, we’ll have been awake for a full twenty-four hours. Looking forward to sleeping in our own beds. While we’re not happy that the trip is over, we’re definitely ready to be home.
Home And Happy
Thurs, Sept 25
Seven European countries in thirty-four days.
Five airplanes & 41 trains.
We walked over 225 miles!
What a great trip. We had perfect weather the whole way, right up until the day we left.
It was wonderful spending time with Scott and Carie, and we really appreciate our pet sitters, Heidi and Mark, for taking such good care of the pets.
Now it’s time to start planning the next adventure. 😄
Trip Overview
Ronnie