"One is silver, and the other gold"

“We have a lot to do in a week. Like what? Sightseeing. Boozing. Reminiscing. Time-consuming, intense stuff”- "Something Borrowed", Emily Giffin

Sunday morning, instead of taking the train home, I decide to just, not. And stay in Rome. Maybe a day, maybe a week, maybe forever. What, I could skip my classes and I it's not as if I have a flight home yet…

It’s just that I love Laurent’s friends, I love Rome, I love that I am experiencing such cool stuff with such cool people.

So although everybody is tired from being good hosts to me for the past two days, and would rather sleep in, they mask their sleepiness and take me to the best gelato place in town instead. It’s called Giolitti, and I get a cone with three flavors and whipped cream. When in Rome…

Note that this is also after my amazing breakfast that Chap made this morning: French toast with a fresh loaf of bread. No butter or syrup, just toast, caramelized powdered sugar and cinnamon. Yum, yum, and yum.

Then we wander, checking out a couple other must-sees and I pick out a painting from a local artist in Piazza Navona (impulse buy).

Laurent suggests a park with a view of the city and one things leads to another, and next thing you know, we are perched on blankets with fresh bread, cheese, cold cuts, (and Pringles), and peacefully sipping some white wine. It’s a little breezier today so we are all bundled up in cozy sweatshirts and cuddled together for warmth.


Laurent and Chap kick a soccer ball around for a while and after a few hours of chatting, laughing, and dozing off to Bob Marley, we head home for a real dinner.

We eat at one of their favorite places, and I have another round of delicious carbonara while I can still justify my vacation carbs. And then, despite lack of sleep and dehydration, Laurent and friends are determined to give me a fun last night so we go out for a few beers after dinner.

It’s low key, as we are all on our, maybe 8th night of going out, but we get a private little covered booth, and I’m happy to be spending my last night in Rome cozied up with my new friends debating the legitimacy of Glee over a Guinness.

Then finally, Doomsday comes and I must return to Florence. And surprise, surprise, I get lost on my way to the train station (everyone had class so I was on my own). Let me tell you, being lost in Rome is a much different story than being lost in Florence.


Things usually seem to work out for me, but after following directions from a local professor (I mispronounced where I was going), and ending up veryy far off the beaten path, I had a few seconds of sheer panic. And I think, welp, you gave it a good go, now you get to be homeless in Rome for the rest of your life. Worse things could happen. I get lost on my way to the grocery store in Florence, but something familiar is always just a few steps away. Rome can swallow me alive.

But then I remember, hey, I’m from a big city, this can’t be that hard to get out of. My confidence thankfully isn’t put the test because Laurent finally returns my fifteen desperate phone calls and helps navigate me to the bus stop.

I am saved.



I don’t think I’m allowed to feel less-than-enthusiastic about returning back to Florence. Isn’t that against some sort of law of the universe? That when you leave one paradise to go to another, you aren’t entitled to feel like you’re getting jipped? It’s still paradise. But I still can’t help but think about if and when and how soon I can make it back to Rome.

Maybe I am just sad because I got a lot out of my weekend. For example:


A new favorite beer- Guinness. HOW did I never think it could be good before?

Some pretty great pictures.

(A tighter butt, from all the walking I did).

And new friends.

A realization that although so much of what I see, learn, and do in a day is incredible on its own, it’s that much better doing it with people on my level. Experiences can be enhanced so much by the people you’re with.

Sure it will be nice not to have to shower with boys two-in-one shampoo and sleep in a real bed- but I would sleep on the floor forever if every weekend could be like this one.

(I say this now, but I know I’m going to be paying the price for this fun-filled weekend, as my eyes feel like they are going to fall out of my head and my back hurts and I could use an entire bottle of Advil. I don’t think my body would be capable of doing this every weekend.)

Either way, we didn’t do anything particularly wild, or any grand, once in a lifetime things. But just hanging out in Rome, catching up with the old friends while making new ones, and just enjoying being alive and abroad and happy, is, actually, a once in a life time thing.