Am I Dead?

I began my final full day in Spain by walking down to a cafe and getting a small coffee along with some churros con chocolate, which is an extremely satisfying way to start your day. I picked up one of the many newspapers slammed with coverage of Spain's win over Portugal in the World Cup, and to say they went nuts is an understatement. The way we think of something like Ohio State football, or the Yankees or Lakers winning championships is nothing compared to this. Soccer is probably bigger than Catholicism in Spain, and it shows. You could feel the buzz in the air that day, and see the cops on their horses galloping around the city while the Spanish flag flew from balconies. I spent that day doing the usual tapas crawl, trying whatever was thrown my way after ordering a beer, and it left me in a semi-coma until around an hour before the game. I decided to walk around town to find a bar with a tv, and one which wasn't too crowded. I settled on a place called Grand Cafe de Madrid, which wasn't anything too spectacular, but it had beer, television, and hardcore fans. Like everyone else there, I kept my fingers buried into the table until the striker David Villa scored the lone and deciding goal against their Iberian neighbors. Of course, I put my loyalty behind Spain after the U.S. and Mexico were knocked out, because I have grown to love and respect the people of Spain after my month and a half there taking part in an archaeological dig and traveling around with Jordan last year. The streets of Madrid were filled with happy Spaniards convinced that this was the year they would be crowned champions of the world. I'm really happy that I was there to witness it. Now I know that Ohio State football fans aren't the only insane lot out there.

My final day ended without much drama, aside from being accosted by another hooker. I ended up looking around for more tapas and beer, when an Eastern European streetwalker with a rather unfortunate face came up to me and grabbed me around the waist and said "25 Euro you like". I told her I had no money but I appreciated her generosity. Well, that's when she developed a frown on her face and told me I was a liar, so she promptly demanded that I show her the contents of my wallet. I had to laugh, and kept walking down the street. After wrestling with some mini sandwiches and olives, I walked back down the street and she power walked towards me and threw her arms around me yet again. "5 Euros! Don't tell me you don't have that! I saw you! SHOW ME YOUR WALLET!!!!!" I kept walking while she yelled God-knows-what in some strange Eastern language.

Oh, Spain... how I will miss you and all of your weird whores.

I was too hyped up to sleep before having to go to the airport at 5am to catch my flight to Rome. My time was spent watching really weird music videos by Spanish and American artists on their equivalent of MTV. One video featured a lot of Satanic imagery and soft core porn, with a backdrop of acid rock that would have been at home during Andy Warhol's 1960's. Then they played a Britney Spears video, and that was when I decided that that was the true Satanic imagery and soft core porn, but it was all just wrapped up in a nice little package to be sold to those pre-teens of the early 2000's who grew up with her and were now becoming lost women with jobs to nowhere and had brat children running their lives. I began to get a really weird vibe from all of this. How could a Britney Spears video make me feel so disturbed? Especially when it followed some wannabe-famous Spanish rock band's true attempt to be sick and twisted? My brain started to hurt. And then... then... they played the new Lady Gaga video. Wow. I had to turn the tv off because I knew I was about to fall into the deep end of my mind, and I really didn't want to go there, especially not at 4am before a flight. This HAD TO be a sign that the plane was going to go down in the Mediterranean. I gathered my clothes and threw them into my bag and headed to the airport.

Checking-in with Easyjet sucks. Of course, I paid $46 for my ticket to Rome, so I really shouldn't be complaining... but let's just say I am making an observation. The lines were enormous, and the people at the counter had a difficult time trying to understand what was going on. After initial confusion about whether or not I was supposed to be on the flight, the agent printed out my boarding pass, and I was off. I picked up a speedy boarding pass, which helped my avoid the mass of humanity that was trying to get to the counter before their flights left, so it at least saved me some headache. The flight itself was nothing spectacular. I managed to secure a seat at the front of the plane, so my knees were happy about that. There was moderate turbulence for the duration of the flight, which stopped me from getting any sleep in. We landed in Rome about 40 minutes after we were scheduled to, and I made my way to the arrival section to try to find the shuttle bus driver to take me to my hotel. Unfortunately, there was no one there to greet me, and I spent some time combing the area to finally find that my name was printed on a piece of paper attached to a counter. I was informed that the shuttle bus driver would call my name in 15 minutes. That was 40 minutes after he finally did. This guy was... well, he was something. When the lady behind the counter of this shuttle company called my name, he looked at me and gave me a wink, while his gold chain rubbed against his chest hair and his wrinkled black suit screamed for an iron. What a cheeseball. He played with his hair while the other passengers were called, and afterwards we headed to the van. For some strange reason, he decided to walk in the middle of the street instead of using the sidewalk to get to the van, and people let him have it, but it really didn't matter to him, since he decided to give them a piece of his mind if they talked any crap to him. Either he has titanic balls, or he is the biggest knuckle dragger I have ever come across. Probably both.

When we got in, he turned around and looked at us with a look that he probably practiced after looking at James Dean photos for years, and didn't say anything at all. The van was hotter than Hell, and the air conditioning wasn't working (there were large, black patched of fuzz above the vents). He started the car, and immediately, a Michael Jackson song started... not one of the semi-respectable ones, but one of those that were overly cheesy and difficult to listen to. Thankfully, he changed the station, but he settled for the annoying theme song to the Friends television series. Oh, God, no. It was at the point that I knew that I was dead. The plane crashed in the Mediterranean and I was just living this weird Lost (the tv series) finale scenario where life kind of kept going after death only to realize you were really dead even though you didn't know you were dead (don't worry, I am confused too). There was no way I was living this. He moved his head back and forth, really into the song. If this were my first trip to Italy, I would have jumped out of the van thinking this was what it was all going to be. No. I died. I still don't believe I am here. This was too weird of a situation, even for me.

I got to my hotel, the hotel Columbus, right next to St. Peter's without losing my mind. I promptly took a 4 hour nap because I was dead tired. Later in the evening I made my way over to the Trastevere neighborhood of Rome for dinner. I've decided to focus my two and a half days here on that part of town, the old Jewish Ghetto, and the ancient Via Appia outside of town. there really isn't anything else that I am dying to see in the typical tourist areas of Rome, as this is my 4th trip here, and I have bled those dry.

Trastevere is a wonderful part of Rome on the left bank of the Tiber River. This is where you will find a more authentic Roman experience, especially with food and atmosphere (there is a smaller concentration of tourists here than there is over on the other side focusing on the ancient and Renaissance monuments). I ended up walking to a restaurant called Cave Canem (Beware of Dog in Latin), where I ordered a mozzarella, potato and rosemary pizza - a truly amazing pie - along with a jug of house wine for far less than you would have gotten on the other side of the river. Needless to say, I will be back there to look for some more great restaurant options, of which there are no short order of in Trastevere.

I really hope I can find new things to do in Rome, but in all honesty, I wouldn't mind seeing those old ancient Roman monuments again. It is, afterall, what I love. But most of all I really wish I had my friends, family, and girlfriend with me here. This is a town that really should be seen with loved ones, like Paris. I'd love to take everyone with me and show them around this truly amazing city. It's a place that I strongly encourage everyone to take time out of their busy lives and experience some day. I promise, you'll never be the same again.