postcard from roma.

Helen and I were dead tired. Lack of sleep on a red eye flight caused our hands to shake. Managed to get a little shut eye at our layover in Frankfurt. The harsh German barking over airport intercoms were no match for my exhaustion. Conked out until our shuttle plane arrived to take us to Rome.

Upon arriving, we were greeted not by "Welcome to Italy" signs but by sexy half naked David and Victoria Beckham modeling in Armani ads. First immediate lesson I learned was how extremely laid back Italians are. You will hardly ever get a solid answer from anyone. We were picked up by a tour group shuttle which promptly drove us to the wrong hotel.

"You want that light building," the man at the front desk pointed from the wrong hotel, "I show you. Ehhhhh, you walk, three, four, five blocks over there."
"Great," I sighed.

Helen and I gawked at our hotel room. Two beds neatly cut out like blocks of tofu were waiting for us in what looked like my closet. Right. Space is limited in this city. Got it. Dropped our bags, got into some fresh clothes, and headed out for our first taste of Italy.