Coliseum and Farewell to Rome

This was our final day in Roma. We finished packing and bade farewell to the sweet sister who was so attentive to us during our stay at the guest house. We rode the packed number 64 bus once more to the Termini metro (subway) station and eventually found where to store our luggage for the day.

We set off for the Coliseum, the final big tourist destination on our list for Rome. As we heard from several sources is wise, we stood in a short line at the Palatine Hill to purchase our tickets instead of the ridiculously long line at the Coliseum. But we needed fuel for our bodies before we walked around the sizeable area of ruins.

In the end we decided to pay for a guided tour of the Coliseum, in the hope of getting more out of the experience by hearing the historical context. It turns out we got the world's most long-winded guide and discovered that we could read from signs the main things we needed to know so abandoned the tour group (as did others). By that time we were too tired to walk back up to and around in the neighboring Palatine Hill area, so sat for a few moments with our smallest (stingiest) gelato yet, then got on the underground back to the train station to collect our luggage.

On day 12 of our 21-day trip, Ellen is showing signs that her lack of sleep is catching up with her. For example, there was a glazed look in her eyes as she said she could find the bathroom in the train station by herself; it was clear that I needed to accompany her. Good thing I did. Even with me there she tried to take off in the wrong direction with only about 6 minutes to spare before our train departed.

We caught a late afternoon train to Firenze (Florence). It was lovely to travel that way in the daylight so we could see the mountains off to our right, the towns built on hills in the foreground, the vineyards and rows of other unknown crops. That is, when we weren't in a tunnel and trying to pop our ears from the pressure changes as we zipped along at 249 km/hr (155 mi/hr).

Ellen insists that the 249 kph is comparable to our bus rides to and from Subiaco, though she concedes that the train tracks do make for a smoother ride. She was able to sleep on the train; on the bus, she was literally holding on for dear life.

It was a good thing we got to Florence earlier than expected. Ellen napped during much of the 90-minute train ride but was still exhausted by the time we drug our suitcases the long way around to our hotel over cobblestone sidewalks. Dinner at a pizzeria (where Ellen found a light French beer she likes and Steph paid for water yet again) was all we could manage before bed.