Benvenuti a Roma

We arrived in Rome after a high speed train ride from Venice and jumped in a cab at the Termini train station. Twenty minutes later, we pulled up in front of our apartment… the one we’d been looking at on Google maps for months. Yup, the same orange paint, the same green shutters. This was our home for the next 2 1/2 months. Google maps didn’t really do justice to the vibe of this neighborhood. Well, the website pics and descriptions of the apartment we rented online didn’t really match up either. But how could pictures and words really convey everything anyway.

The massively peeling paint of the building entryway had me worried a bit. As did the picture of the Virgin Mary hanging above the mailboxes. And lugging our monumental assortment of baggage up the stairs really made the “two flights” real. I’d actually forgotten that Italian second floor is really the third floor since the ground floor is called zero. 71 steps, actually. Doesn’t sound like a lot, but dzamn, it is. After a couple of weeks here, I can make it up about 50 before I need to stop and “admire the view”. The other day, one of our neighbors said “Duro! Duro!” to us as we arrived on our landing and shook her hand like she was flinging water off of it… which I took to mean, damn, that climb is hard, right?

Our landlady and landlord couldn’t have been nicer or more adorable. The apartment was super cute, and very clean, in spite of very strong spicy smells in the kitchen and a seriously intense blast of mothballs emanating from the bedroom. I think the landlady was relieved to meet us in person and see that it was reasonable to trust us with her home. She kissed me on both cheeks very enthusiastically after they’d finished explaining things like how to use the washing machine, how to turn on the furnace, how to operate the t.v. and which drawers and closet were free for us to use.

I went out onto the balcony and watched them make the final adjustments to their carload of belongings – hoping to wave goodbye to them – but they never looked up before they drove away. And then, it was truly our apartment and we’d finally arrived in a place we’d spent months imagining.

Starting to unpack, I have to admit, I had some misgivings. It wasn’t how I expected it to be. We weren’t arriving in some sterile, generic apartment just waiting for me to make it home. It was, in fact, already someone else’s home. My landlord / landlady actually live here when they aren’t renting it out. So instead of random sheets and towels and pillows and dishes that you’d get at a typical rental flat – we were using THEIR sheets and towels and pillows and dishes. And, although it was warm and personal, it was also so personal that it felt like being at someone else’s house. After packing up and moving out of our apartment in California, I was looking forward to making a new home here. We’d already been traveling for a month, staying at other people’s houses and hotels, and I really wanted to feel at home instead of being a guest again.

And, as warm and friendly as our hosts were, they had so much stuff, it didn’t really feel like there was room for us – to the point that it was actually unwelcoming. The bathroom shelves were crowded, every surface except for a long table in the living room, was covered with doodads and personal items. Not that they weren’t cute and charming and homey, but where the hell am I supposed to put MY hairbrush and MY soap and MY personal items. We were given two drawers in the bedroom dresser and half of one of the three wardrobes in the bedroom – mostly the unreachable half that you’d need a step ladder to reach.

I was actually kind of pissed when I started unpacking. Like, how can you rent out a place with so little accommodation for your guests? Especially when we are staying so long? I mean, the ledges in the shower were still filled with their shampoos and soaps! And the desk in the bedroom had not only decorative / functional items, but folders and notebooks. Was I really supposed to sit there at that desk for the next couple of months with their stuff right where my stuff should be?

So I climbed up on the step ladder and moved all of their belongings in the wardrobe to the unreachable shelves so we had somewhere to hang our clothes. I cleared out the shower and the most convenient two shelves in the bathroom and moved their items to a far away shelf by the door. I just went through the house clearing things enough to wedge ourselves into the place. And Jose turned around the mournful picture of the Virgin Mary on the dresser in our bedroom.

Over the next couple of days, I bought a new set of sheets, a couple new pillows, our own towels, a few things for the kitchen, some incense and scented candles – and even a new tablecloth. I just couldn’t get comfortable while worrying about ruining her stuff. And I’ll confess, I’m slightly germ phobic. Not like my friend who can’t answer her phone at work without using a kleenex to hold the receiver, but I just can’t use someone else’s wooden spoon. Heck, I even label our pillows with a Sharpie so I’ll always know which one is mine.

After a couple of weeks now, I feel settled in… and that this place has finally become our home. The eclectic collection of original artwork (several prominently featuring aliens) and interesting little objects actually remind me of our former home. Some things that might be considered inconvenient are cracking us up: like how almost every chair here has hideous deformity that makes sitting nearly or totally impossible – or how the lightbulbs come on really dim and then ever so slowly brighten over the course of ten minutes – or that the front door is opened by a skeleton key in very janky old lock that requires a nearly magical touch to open and close. I’m sure these are things that we will miss about this place and remember for a very long time.

The only thing that still bugs me is the smell of mothballs. Good god, these moths must be hardcore if that level of moth protection is required. The smell almost drives me away… I can’t imagine there is a moth within a mile of this place if mothballs really do work.