I woke up the next morning and thought: Wow, this is my last 24 hours in Italy; I can hardly believe it. Have I really spent 55 days here already? It's all been just a minute....
But I don't have time to dwell on that, time is tickin' away!!
So I got up with a spring in my step and a readiness to make the most of my last day in Rome. The biggest item on my agenda was to finish my shopping. Honestly, I had been brainstorming my gift ideas for the fam, but I'd largely been procrastinating the actual purchasing of said gifts. Thus, today I had a date with Via Corso and Via Nazionale: the two biggest and best shopping streets in Rome.
After a quick stop for a standing cappuccino and a doughnut to go (creme filled, of course) I started my way down Via Nazionale, the closer of the two streets. I began my stint with a lot of window shopping, but quickly reminded myself: This is no time to be iffy about decisions. Despite being intimidated by shopping in general, let alone in a foreign country where the women are skinny and beautiful, I've got to step up to the plate and, well, get 'er done.
Thus I had my first Italian fitting room experience. As I'm sure you well know, at home, a person simply picks out their items off the rack, requests a room, and then tries on the clothes and makes their purchase decisions at his/her own leisure. Why wouldn't it be the same here? Well, I don't have an answer to that question, but I'm here to tell you: it's not the same.
For some reason (and I have NO insight as to why), the merchants baby-sit you through the whole shopping process. As soon as they notice you are interested in a specific item, they're glued to your hip. Do you want to try it on? If yes, they take it from you (because of course, you can't be trusted to hold it yourself) and put it in a dressing room. Do you want to try on anything else? Again, if yes, they guide you to the possible options and then take them from you as soon as you give the affirmative that you are interested. Once you've collected all the items you want, they not only escort you to the dressing room, but they help you try things on. No, I'm not kidding. Fortunately for me, what I was trying on was not to, um, intimate, but they seriously wad up the sleeves and hold them there for you to stick your arms through. I felt like I was about 6 years old, when my mom used to help me get dressed for school. It was weird.
Then of course they scrutinize you in the item and I felt compulsed each time to ask if I looked okay (like I needed to get permission to think I looked good in the item and could then buy it.) Honestly, it was a bit stressful and intimidating, but I really didn't have the time to dwell on it, so instead of internalizing and processing the whole thing, I just moved on right passed it and purchased my items anyway.
After a few hours, I was ready to break for lunch, however since I knew the dreaded "dead zone" was coming up, I pushed through. Every moment those shops were open, I needed to be shopping. There was literally, no tomorrow.
Eventually though, the shops began to close and I was so tired I could hardly think. I hopped on the Metro and made my way back to my room to evaluate how I'd done so far. After a little rest (and some creative cramming in my suitcase) I took a deep breath and headed back out there. Just a few items left, and then I was good to go.
At this point I mostly knew what I was looking for and just returning to find the previously spotted items. In the mind's eye, this task is easily and quickly accomplished: no problemo! But in real life....yeah, it takes a while. So after another two and a half hours, whether I liked it or not, the shops were all closing for the day: I was done shopping. I had done pretty well and gotten almost everything on my list, so I felt pretty good. But mostly, I was brain-dead and tired. I just wanted to get back to my room. I figured a shower and a little rest would do me right before I headed out for my final dinner (and date-ish?) in Rome.
I was near a bus stop, so I got on the first bus that went by that listed the Termini station as a stop. It briefly occurred to me that I had forgotten to buy a bus ticket, but I was so tired and just wanted to get home....I promised myself I would make up for it on my way to dinner and buy an extra ticket so I wouldn't technically be stealing the ride.
Unfortunately one stop later, the bus ticket security dudes got on the bus and asked me for my ticket. Uh oh. This, is NOT good. He firstly asked me in Italian and I indicated that I didn't understand what he wanted. Unfortunately he switched to English no problem. I made a show of looking through my enormous bag for my ticket (and all my pockets in my coat and purse...) but he did not tire of waiting. I told him I couldn't find it and he promptly issued me a ticket. I attempted to talk him out of it, but he wasn't having one teeny, tiny bit of it. He said there was a 50 EU fine and I needed to pay immediately. At this point, I began to get distressed in earnest. Well, I don't have 50 EU, I said. (After all the shopping, I only have 40 left in my wallet.) It's no problem, he says, I give you this and you go to the post office and pay double. Double?!? But...but...butbutbut!!
I get off the bus at the Termini station with a heavy step and a long face. How could this have happened? Why didn't I buy a ticket? What was I thinking? I am usually SO GOOD at following the rules, and now I've been caught and penalized for abusing the system. I felt so ashamed of myself. I found that I kept rationalizing what had happened and replaying the scene with the bus authority, but this time I vocalize my excuse, or I explain the disgrace away, or I find a way out of it.
But after several moments of this, I had only made it about 20 feet away from the bus stop and I snapped myself back to reality. The fact of the matter was, no matter the reason or the circumstances, I had broken the rules and there was a price to pay. And I was going to pay it. After all, that was what I believed, wasn't it? That there were consequences for my actions and I was responsible to them? Yes, there is certainly room for grace, but I had received plenty of it thus far on my trip and this simply wasn't one of those times. If I demand grace for my inequities, as though it were my right, aren't I kind of missing the point of grace? So I decided it was only fair that I pay the ticket and that was that.
I made it back to my room feeling slightly better about this resolution, but I still had to lie down and allow myself some time to deal with my feelings on the subject. Despite accepting the circumstances, I still felt pretty crappy about it. But after a little bit of processing time, I decided that I wasn't going to let something like this ruin my last night in Italy. Besides, I had a fun dinner and going out with my waiter to look forward to. And I didn't particularly want to show up with a long face and sour mood. So I plugged in my ipod to the speakers, pumped some good tunes, put on a cute outfit, and freshened up my make-up. If that doesn't make a girl feel better, well, then, I don't know what will.
(Don't worry, there is much more to come - but I figured it was better to post it in pieces. So stay tuned!!)
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