Ciao amiche! I feel like I'm truly getting a taste of "the sweet life" of Roma... 75 degree evenings, pizza, gelato, pasta, friends, beach adventures, pizza, kind strangers, pasta, wine, pizza, you name it. This past weekend I journeyed to the beach town of Rosetto on the east coast of Italy and met with another American nanny and some of her friends. My plan was to take a private bus from Rome to Pescara, a beach town neighboring Rosetto. To get there, I took a bus to the underground metro, which I'd never used before. I had forgotten my directions at home but was trying to catch at 5:30 bus so I braved it and tried to make the trip by memory. I successfully made it to Tiburtina's train station with an hour to spare and I was feeling pretty smug about my ability to navigate the city without a little assistance. I got off the metro and followed the crowds to a ticket office where, sure enough, there was a place to by a ticket to Pescara. I bought the 11 euro ticket and wandered around trying to figure out where to catch the bus. The ticket didn't indicate a station or a time to depart, but after the help of one, two, three, four strangers I figured out that I had to look up the bus schedule on an independent billboard that they posted for each day's journeys. I found the stall where I thought the bus would depart but the time didn't match up, and nobody else could seem to figure out the billboard's logic, so I called up my friend and explained my predicament. She too was confused, until I finally walked to the place where the busses were supposed to leave and discovered that there wasn't a single bus but about 5 different trains. It turns out I had bought a train ticket to Pescara, which takes 4 hours longer and left two hours later than what I had planned. I actually needed to walk across the street to the bus station and purchase another ticket.
I ran over to the bus area and got into a long long line of other people eager to get to Pescara for the weekend. I was getting anxious because I wanted to get the 5:30 bus and by the time I got in line it was 5:15. Luckily, I was able to successfully buy a bus ticket for Pescara by 5:25, and I ran out to look for the bus. However, my ticket didn't indicate which of the 20 buses I was to board, so I ran from bus to bus asking "autobus a Pescara?" Nobody seemed to think there was an autobus going to Pescara. I ran back to the bus station and asked in terrible Italian what bus stall for the 5:30 bus to Pescara and she indicated that it had already left. I almost melted-- I had purchased TWO worthless tickets to Pescara?
Then the woman pointed out that she had sold me a bus ticket for 6:30 to Pescara, and that all I had to do was wait at stall 15 and the bus would come. PHEW!!!
The drive over to the beach was worth it all. Absolutely stunning. We wound through the and mountains, passed hundreds of little farms and mansions and towns tucked into the mountains. We sped through tunnels plowing through the mountain and gasped at the giant rainbow that emerged as we came out on the other side. I can't wait for another trip to the east coast.
It was great being able to exchange nanny stories with the other American and get in contact with some friends she has in Rome. She is working for an Italian family and makes far less money than me for far more work, so it made me feel grateful for having such a generous host family. We did some swimming in the Mediterranean and then stayed at her Venezuelan friend's house, a mere 20 step walk to the beach, and exchanged nanny information, lounged under umbrellas, and explored the nightlife. The mother, MaryLou, made amazing Venezuelan food and we ended up speaking in Spanish the whole time so that we could actually communicate.
My bus trip back home was much more straightforward and it almost felt like I was coming home when I saw the familiarity of Rome.
This weekend I have a friend who lives in Firenza coming to visit me here in Rome, so for the first time I will be the tour guide. Surely then I will take lots of beautiful pictures of Rome and I will post them immediately! Next Thursday, I am taking off to Paris for the weekend! One day late of Bastille Day, but it will be a beautiful and lively adventure nonetheless.
Cynthia, thank you for the Pear/Gorganzola recipe, I made it for a Roman friend and WOWed them, a tough feat for someone eats pasta 8 days of the week! It helps that the Gorgonzola here is fresh fresh fresh and pungent. I used fresh basil instead of parsley and it tasted like manna from heaven.
A presto!
