When in Rome

Many of you might be wondering how I handled my first day in Rome. If I gorged myself on Italian pastas and rich pizza only the Romans could perfect? I like to dream I started my time in Rome like the Lizzie McGuire/Paulo montage from the movie complete with Vespa, flowing blonde hair, and gelato. Let me stop the fantasy short. It wasn’t.

I spent my first hours in Rome in Fiumicino, the Roman airport. It was long, it was boring, it produced the worst migraine I have had in many moons.  I took the most expensive taxi I have ever unwittingly acquired and barely made it to my hotel before vomiting extensively and aggressively into the tiny Italian sink in my bathroom. You heard me. It wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t Roman. It resulted in me spending my first day in Rome intermittently throwing up and sleeping.

I slept so very much that I woke up at one point during the night, checked my clock and thought I had slept all the way into the next afternoon. I was freaking Rip Van Winkle. I tried to get up and “adjust to local time” but my brain and my body weren’t having it. Mind over matter right?

I did however manage to wake up at 6am the next morning bright-eyed and as bushy talked as someone like me can get. Why did I wake up that early you might ask?

That’s a story for next time.

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