You're Either on the Bus or Off the Bus

Rome: Last chance for a get-together for the group of 44 or so; we had been traveling from December 27 through January 3 hell bent by bus through Italy on Brendan/Globus’s Italian Treasures tour. 12 cities in 11 days, counting the flights from LAX to Rome, the time lag, something like that (which one was Siena?). My wife CM wanted to spring for the extra 100 Euro ($140) escorted walk with the group to Trevi Fountain, which we had already seen on our own, and then go have a goodbye dinner with many in the group. I convinced her it was time to throw off the security blanket. Head out on our own, relatively speaking. The price of having your hand held is not just about the money; it’s the chance for serendipity you lose when you don’t get lost and have to (get to) talk to strangers, non-Americans. Besides, we could read the map, I wanted us to see the Pantheon, and I made it our singular mission to find it. It is true; if you’re not lost when you travel, you’re not trying.

So, it was just after dark, rush hour in Rome, when we caught the 881 bus near our hotel around the Colosseum. We immediately missed the stop to transfer to the 46 bus. We walked back through a lighted tunnel, cars and Vespas whizzing past, to the stop. After CM tried to bolt across the street to take the bus back to the hotel, I asked in my best broken Italian if we were at the right stop, and got assurances: “Questo, si!” Mashed our way onto the 46, got off where we had been told to by the hotel concierge. Lost again. Walking around, trying to figure out go left or right from Victor Hugo, the main road. Another tourist stopped to help (Mi scusi). Whipped out his tour book. Both of us looking at our maps. I mean, there are no signs in Rome: “Pantheon, this way. 100 meters.” Street signs, when there are any, are plastered high up on corners of buildings. That’s what you see in Rome, all the big Italian cities: people stopping and pondering their maps. Finally, after meandering up some narrow corridors, we stumbled upon the way there. The Pantheon is the most complete ancient Roman building left standing today. Built in 27 B.C. by Marcus Agrippa, its dome is as wide as it is high; held up by pillars hidden in the walls.

Then we settled in for an al fresco candlelight dinner, which included ¾ of a-bottle of Chianti Classico, topped off by a too-sweet dessert of Millefiglie, at a restaurant right on the Piazza della Rotonda with the giant forest of the columns of the Pantheon as a backdrop.

Getting back to the hotel turned out not to be as easy as simply retracing our steps. We gave up on the 46 bus after 45 minutes and took the 62 bus instead. Driver said the bus passed right by the Vatican, which we had seen on the way in. Well, it passed by the Vatican all right---but first it took a couple of wide right turns off the beaten trail, swung around the front of the Vatican and came to a sudden halt. Everyone got off the bus except us two. Uh, oh. The driver went right into his break time. Probably union rules. We just sat there. Then when I asked him where to from here, he didn’t look too happy with me and let out with a long stream of Italian, which I took to mean he was kicking us off the bus. Fortunately, there was another bus just pulling out and we jumped on that one, following an Italian couple whom we had talked to on the 62 bus. The man was good enough to piece together my ragged description of which bus (otto, otto, uno---881---and c’e un tunnel—there was a tunnel and fermate a cuarenta e sei) we were trying to get to, and we finally straggled back to the hotel. You can’t buy such excitement on a tour.

But a tour has its strong points, and I recommend a good one. There are many ways to see Europe: independent travel by train or car, cruises, bus tours, hitchhiking, walking. In the interests of promoting marital peaceful coexistence, I acquiesced this time my wife CM and I went to Europe and agreed to take an escorted bus tour instead of tour independently. The last time we went to Europe, in 1998, my wife did not appreciate what I call adventure---buying Eurail passes, striking out on our own with guide book in hand (my wife calls it walking aimlessly), getting lost, walking all over hell schlepping our bags around, trying to find a hotel, the never-ending search for the cheapest whatever take a right, get directions from a helpful local, go straight 100 meters, find yourself totally lost. Nine years ago, in ’98, we had two hotel reservations in our three weeks in Europe----the first night in London and the last night in Paris. It was frustrating at times. CM is the spender of us two; I am the one who fears getting taken by the locals and knows there has to be a better deal up ahead. This time we went to Italy, and we spent the money up front for door-to-door hotels, meals, guided tours, hand-holding. I have to admit my wife was right. We had a great time. Didn’t meet a lot of locals, but got to see a lot of sights

The tour is especially good if you are in your late 50s, you’ve got the usual two weeks allotted, and you don’t know when---or if ever---you’ll get back to Europe. Many places to see, so little time. But, unlike a sea cruise, it’s on land, so you see more, and you’re thrown together with other people whom you have more chances to interact with. . It was a better trip. Saw more, less hassle, and, most importantly, enjoyed it more with energy reserves to spare. Toured three big cities---Rome, Venice, and Florence---- and 11 others in between in 13 days, and didn’t have to drive, look for sites, wait in lines, be daunted by the task of getting our bearings. You stand inside the Colosseum, stroll the Uffizi Galleries, tour the Bridge of Sighs, the ruins of Pompeii, and you actually see it come alive with the commentary of a local guide. By ourselves, we would look and not understand. Nothing I missed about being lost in Europe. With a map, when you know where you are, you still get disoriented and disgruntled, lost like a mouse in a damn maze. Still don’t know which way the Plaza de la Republicca might be. Nothing finer than two people arguing about which way to go, and usually one of you has no clue.