I am now writing this from the safety and comfort of my bed in my room in the collegio, but earliar I would not have been so inclined to use the words "safety" and "comfort" to explain my situation. It would suffice to say that today I completed one of the biggest feats of my life by travelling to Rome by myself. And by travelling to Rome I simply mean travelling from the Leonardo DaVinci Airport to Via Marcantonio Colonna 21A, otherwise known as St. John's University's Campus in Rome or Collegio Leoniano.
Last night I embarked on my first overseas flight alone. I have traveled alone before, but only within the U.S. never to a foreign country. Luckily, it went fine. I sat next to a nice Irish woman who gave me candy. When I had my lay over in Ireland, my wifi worked so I was able to update my facebook status in the Dublin Airport to let my family know I was okay, (and to sound worldly.) I even got a bag of my favorite Irish potato chips (possibly the best in the world because Irish potatoes are so good) salt and vinegar TAYTO chips. Everything was going smoothly, but little did I know what was in store.
On my flight from Dublin to Rome I was on the plane with what looked like an Italian pop group who all had gelled hair with red, yellow and orange highlights on the tips. Needless to say, they were entertaining. But the real entertainment came when I got off the plane in Leonardo Da Vinci. At this point my mind went into overdrive. I was so excited to be in Italy, but on the other hand I was very anxious about how I was going to get from the Airport to the college on public transportation with my 49.5 lb suitcase, a carryon bag that was weighing heavily on my shoulder and a small purse. I know about public transportation because I'm from New York City and take it all the time, but it isn't easy when you have one small backpack let alone two heavy bags, but I tried not to psych myself out. I repeated "You can do it" over and over again in my head and started my journey.
First I had to go through immigration and customs. Normally they make you take out your passport, they look at it for a few seconds, stamp it and hand it back to you. But in true Italian fashion, all I had to do was show the outside of my passport (I guess to just show I had a passport?) and walked right through. Welcome to Italy!
Once I got my bags I made my way through the maze of an airport and then started looking for a sign that would lead me to the train. I followed the escalator down then up again and finally came to the first train. Supposedly an express train that takes you to the Termini Station in Rome, which is where the transfer to the Metro is. I walked into the area and after a few moments of internal confusion, I reluctantly asked someone in English (I had told myself beforehand that I would try to use only italian,) if I was in the right place to get to Termini Station. I got my ticket and pulled my bags all the way down the track. Then I promptly plopped down on them to wait. By then my body was already tired from pulling them, but I proceeded to pull out my large copy of Dante's Inferno and started reading. I felt kind of trendy.
When the train got there it wasn't what I had expected. It was a real train, making the Long Island Railroad look like a joke. It had three steps to get up into to the cars and little compartments to sit in. I took a big gulp and tried to find a door that wasn't that crowded, so that I wouldn't draw attention to myself when I couldn't pull my large bag up the stairs. Before I even reached the steps, a nice middle aged italian man helped me pull it up and into one of the compartments. The first catastrophe avoided. WHEW
The whole ride to the Termini I was hyper on the inside, but I tried to stay calm. I just sat quietly looking out at the countryside with a contemplative expression on. Once at the Termini, I got off and thought it looked pretty easy...until I started walking. I walked, and walked, and walked on dozens of those annoying moving sidewalks and then was sent on another maze through the underground mall of the station.
When I got to the subway entrance I was relieved. Until I saw the stairs. There were about four flights of marble staircases for me to go down. I dragged my bag and continued on to the subway level, only to find out I needed to go down more marble stairs, and more. Then I had to go up all of those marble stairs. I trudged along looking like a complete tourist that was definitely on struggle street. Somehow I made it up and down the endless marble stairs despite the fact that my arms should have fallen off or turned to jello by this point.
Right as I get to the top of the stairs and think I am at the right place, I see a sign for a detour I need to take to get to the platform that has the metro going in my direction. I have to go up and down even more stairs and through a big crowd of commuters. Right as the little amount of hope I still had was scrivling up I saw an escalator. It took me to the platform and I was absolutely relieved.
I wait for the metro and when it finally comes (of course just my luck) it is filled with people. I am left to stand with two bulky bags in the middle of a crowd. Once I get off and relief is beginning to shine through, I see the last set of stairs leading to the street. Using the last bit of energy and adrenaline left in me I begin pulling my bag up. Within seconds, a good samaritan asks if I need help and picks up the handle of my bag. Carrying it with me all the way to the top.
We put the bag down, I say grazie, over and over, and then begin walking. After a block I look up to see a red flag flying outside of a building on the next block with the St. John's logo on it. Relief floods in as I finish off the last stretch and pull up in front of a set of sliding-glass doors. They open and I walk inside.
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