It wasn’t the best way to start. Our fancy business class tickets to Rome were no match for my life-long battle with motion sickness. Despite the lovely reclining seats, friendly flight attendants and individual movie selection on British Airways, turbulence in the air made for a sick traveler on the ground. My mom always thought I’d grow out of my motion sickness but no. Still queasy after all these years.
Once we finally arrived, after 17 short hours of travel, we found our apartment in an area of Rome called Trastevere. We’ve rented a one-bedroom apartment for the first 2-3 months, while we learn about the city and find a permanent place. Going forward we’ll get something bigger, with an office for me and a guest room as well (hint, hint). For now, our area is a cute and busy place in the southern part of central Rome and about a 20 minute walk to Paul’s office. Described in a guide book: Rome’s popular Trastevere district is a postcard neighborhood of narrow, cobblestone streets, fantastic restaurants, and overflowing bars and clubs.
Back to the apartment. It’s good, despite the questionable artwork which seems to be a mainstay in any European rental experience. We’ve got a large living room and bedroom. A skinny kitchen and bathroom. And the smallest elevator ever: we put our two biggest bags in, then walked up the stairs to meet them as though they were the two weary world travelers and not us.
In the end we rallied for pizza and gelato before falling asleep for the evening.