Dear Rome,
I remember the last time we met- just like it was yesterday. I remember that we fought. You won. We sorta broke-up.
I never wanted to see you again. You were *so* not my favorite.
You and your stinking non-existent road signs. I mean seriously, do you actually want people to visit your damned city?
Were you plotting a cruel trick on me, by not advertising a huge underground parking structure like that? Do you think that is the best way to say "Welcome to Rome" ?
Send your visitors to drive aimlessly, round and round your ancient city until we were so freakin' exhausted and fed up that we just decided to call it a day and head back from whence we came?
Ah, maybe that's it. Drive 'em crazy, get 'em lost and then they will leave with a bad taste in their mouth- never to return again!
Not. very. mature.
Perhaps that debacle is all on video tape, to be played in front of a Papal audience, so that they and the Pope could get a good Sunday laugh at the Americans expense? Eh?
Well, it wasn't funny!
You and your ridiculously overpriced everything. My God Rome, I am not made out of money! I could've spent a fortune trying to keep up with you.
You and your history, ancient ruins and museums. The Vatican, the Colosseo, the Trevi Fountain, the Spanish Steps, the Campodiglio-do you really want me to go on? When your nickname is the Eternal City, I should have guessed it was because it would take an eternity to know you completely. You are so complicated!
It was constant on-the-go with you. You know I don't enjoy marathon museum hopping. It was all such a whirlwind, that I just couldn't keep up and I was losing myself in the process. We really never had any *us*time.
You were overwhelming me. I never caught my breath.
Granted, I didn't spend nearly enough time with you. Three days is hardly enough time to get to know someone with your depth and 2,000 plus years of stories. Oh, the stories.
Now, don't get me wrong, I did like quite a few things about you. Your glorious food, your pretty language, your cobblestones, your stunning views, your wine bars, your cafes and your gelato. Oh My Gawd, your gelato!
I just wasn't quite sure that the good was enough to outweigh the bad. Enough to convince me to give you another chance.
But, thanks to Chris, Delta Airlines, and my friend Miss Expatria, and the fact that I miss my Italy, more than you can imagine, I have decided to do just that.
Lucky You.
But be forewarned. Things will need to be different this go-round, if this is gonna work. Things are gonna need to change.
I am afraid that in the past I had taken a back seat in our relationship. I gave you total control. And you took it, willingly.
This time you'll be following my rules, Rome.
This time, I'm not driving around with you. Nope, I will be enjoying the public transportation. Plane, train, metro and bus. Oh, and feet. Lots of walking, vespa-dodging and taking-your-life-in-your-hands-street crossing.
I am not staying in the city center with all the other toursts. No, sir. I am staying in Monti neighborhood, to see the real you.
Our relationship will not be based on overpriced accomodations, and tourist food that's just not up to par.
Negatory.
If this is gonna work, you better look like seducing me by taking me to all the best local neighborhood joints.
And no marathon history tours, anymore. I'm done with those. I much prefer to wander and get lost in all the nooks and crannies. We can go to a few churches, maybe the Forum. I'd even agree to a garden or two.
Rome, I pray that you are reading this. I hope that you will use this chance wisely. I really do see great things for us in the future. I can see a beautiful Italian romance, a love-affair to stand the test of time. I wish with all my heart that I will fall in love with you this time, but you need to prove to me that you are worthy.
Please, don't disappoint me again.
Eternally hopeful,
Robin
