*insert witty title about Rome here*

In our memory of this day, we will always be waiting for trains.

We headed to Rome with optimism!  We had our lunch stuffed into Rebecca's purse, tickets to see the Sistine Chapel, and faith that we could navigate the maze that are Rome's streets.

Instead we got the gritty Rome experience, got lost in the ghetto, and tried to breathe and clung to Cathy's belief that help is on the way, 100% of the time.

Our adventure started when we were sold train tickets for a train that left three minutes later. It was not the train we would have chosen, but that is all we could get the lady to understand.  We BOLTED to the platform, hopped on the first car we saw, and promptly got stuck behind a tour group that seemed to think that riding on a train=standing in the aisle with their suitcases, chatting about nothing in particular.   It was a stressful way to start a trip, but we finally got to our seats and were on our way!

We arrived at Termini Station in Rome, and headed to a commuter type train.  However, it was confusing, and we were unsure if we needed the F1 Train or the Metro.  After staring at a map/consulting Google Maps, we decided it was the Metro, so we ran down to catch a train.  Rebecca went in, but Cathy's ticket refused to work.   She went over to the booth, and had a chat with a lovely, kind English speaking woman did an interpretive dance until the bored lady in the customer service box understood that her ticket was not working.  She stamped the ticket and let me in just in time for us to realize that we did need the F1 train.  We ran back up the stairs just in time to hop on our train a train going to opposite direction.

NOooooooOOoOooO!  We realized that we were in the wrong train fairly quickly, so we decided to get off and take a bus.  We got off in a quaint neighborhood the ghetto and found a bus station.  However, the information at the station made ZERO sense.  We finally decided to ask a lady waiting at the bus. She did not speak English, but Cathy remembered that she had a translator on her phone, so she did that, and it helped enough for her to tell us that we were not even close to where we thought we were and wanted to be.  She gave us directions to the nearest bus that would get us closer, and we started the trek to the bus.

This is when it started raining.

We walked and walked and walked and walked, and finally got to the bus stop and were able to get on the number 64 bus.  The number 64 bus, as we later learned via Google, is known as the pickpocket line, which explains the guy that shoved into Rebecca and seemed a bit odd.  He'd been playing the violin before that, and then went around begging and "falling" into people.

We got to our first bus transfer area and got on a bus and promptly missed our stop.  Luckily we realized this fairly quickly, so we got off at the next stop and walked back.

We decided to depend on Google maps to get us to the Vatican, and we made it, but we walked around the ENTIRE Vatican first.  The. Entire. Wall.   By this time, we'd missed our reservation, we were hot, we were sweaty, and we were hungry.  We smelled fresh and clean like dirty, wet goats, and looked as happy and friendly as we felt.   We were not even sure we were in the right place, but we figured that we would go with it, and if we were in the wrong place, they'd tell us.

We were in the right place.  They kindly agreed to accept our reservation and we were on our way to the Sistine!  It was C-R-O-W-D-E-D, but amazing.  It was stunning how much art they'd crammed in.  Even the building itself was art.

The Sistine Chapel was packed and loud.  The guards kept shushing us, and at one point, pulled out a bullhorn to shush the crowd, but we think it just made everyone louder.  Despite the crowd, it was amazing to see the art and stand under it.  We were not allowed to take pictures, but you can find lots online.

After we saw the Sistine Chapel, we ran to the Vatican to see the Basicilla. We had to fend off vendors and some guy who kept trying to sell us a secret entrance map or something.  The dude was NOT hearing no, and kept insisting that it would take us at least three hours.   We ignored him and headed to the line:

We were able to get through security in about an hour. We realized that we may have accidentally cut in line, but then decided that we did not care. :)

Here's a fun aside- years ago, Rebecca's parents came to the Vatican and her mother's clothes did not meet the modesty standards.  She bought a dress at a nearby store.  Rebecca wore that very dress for our Rome visit!

After our visit, we decided to just ask the best way to get back.  We were directed to the Metro.  En route to the metro, a woman giving a tour poked Rebecca with the flag she was using to guide her tour group, and then used the flag to physically push her out of the way.   Really?  Really.

We made it to the steaming, stinky, crowded metro and promptly got on the wrong train.  The trains here look like a prop from a 1980's movie about New York City, graffiti and all.   We decided to ride it out, thinking that it would go in a circle.  Nope.  We got to the last stop, got back to where we were, and got on the correct train the wrong train.  It was close- but it branched off into another area.  So we got off, waited around for yet another train.  That train was crammed to the brim with people. We tried to stuff ourselves in, but we would not fit and were left on the platform.  I will neither confirm or deny both of us bursting into tears at this point.

As we were not NOT sobbing on a platform of the grosses subway ever, we decided that we were getting on the next train no matter what.  We had finally reached that zen moment where you simply no longer care what had to be done to get out of the situation.  We shoved ourselves on to the next train, and in turn were shoved further in by people behind us.  There was a woman in front of us that did not appreciate the crowding and elbowed Rebecca's chestal area really hard, which was unfun.  She also yelled at Cathy when Cathy uttered the super rude words of "Excuse me" as she tried to pass her to get out of the train.

Rebecca cannot eat gluten, and there was no gluten free food that we could find while we waited for our train.  She had potato chips.  Cathy had an okay sandwich.  We were so tired that we sat on the ground near on our platform.  Rebecca narrowly saved Cathy from sitting in gum, so it could have been worse.  We'd like to take a moment to formally apologize,  in writing, to the good people of Train Car 9, who had to endure our "sweating through Rome" aroma.  This excludes the DudeBro who:

• spent the entire trip dancing (if you can call it that),
• ignoring the obnoxious ring on his cell phone except when he was talking loudly on it
• rolled a cigarette (we think) getting tobacco on the floor due to dancing and talking loudly on his phone.

Rome didn't burn again thanks to the following people

• The nice lady at the bus stop who did not speak English, but did her best to help us anyway
• The nice lady at the Vatican who helped us find our way back to the Metro
• The ticket taker at the Vatican who did not notice that we accidentally (but did not correct our mistake when we realized it) cut in line
• Our train ticket taker, who for reasons that we cannot explain here, totally had our back.

Our take on Rome in selfie format:

We're not sure we look despairing enough, and we're aware that you cannot smell us through the internet.  However, this is the best we could do.