_{This is part 5 in a series. If you’d like to read Part 1: Orvieto, Part 2: Massa & Cinque Terre, Part 3: Montepulciano & Florence or Part 4: Assisi, be my guest.}

I feel like driving in Italy for two weeks is an achievement worth at least 2-3 life XP and I’m very happy that I got through it with only one horn-honk (that I deserved) and one cyclist shaking his fist (that I maybe deserved, but still not sure what I did). I was, however, also very excited to give up our rental car and either walk or be driven around for the remainder of our trip. The plan was to drive from Assisi to the airport in Rome (about two hours), have a brief “layover,” then a driver would pick us up and take us to our hotel in the center of Rome. Easy, yeah?

We figured we’d eat lunch at the airport since we were going to arrive around lunchtime and be there for a couple hours waiting, but I still needed to get gas so as to not get charged extra by the rental agency. It was Sunday, however, and the gas stations along the autostrade all seemed to be closed. I didn’t have much of a choice but to drive up the winding tunnel leading to the rental parking garage with much less gas than required. I was pleased when they not only didn’t ding me, but gave me a credit for some reason I never quite figured out.

We stopped for a pizza at a random chain called Pizzeria Rossopomodoro. I do not remember* what kind of pizza we got or even how it was, I just remember being grateful to have a soda to drink and food in my tummy. We also witnessed what appeared to be some pretty serious restaurant drama transpiring between three of the restaurant’s staff members, though we never quite figured out the problem.

*For the record I don’t “remember” many of the specific details I’ve shared in this series — I’ve been referencing my travel journal this whole time. SMART.

Pizza count: 6

With more time to kill, we chilled out on a bench for a while before deciding to hop over to Eataly to check out the beverage situation. We settled on two €5 stubby bottles of white wine, then snobbily drank them on the restaurant “patio.” I say snobbily because we were handed our cheapy wine with two plastic cups – something I care very little about since I used to drink red wine out of a plastic Butterbeer mug I’d gotten from Universal Studios – but Katie insisted we be given wine glasses. To be fair, the lady had glasses, she just chose not to use them for one reason or another. I don’t know if it made the wine better, but I did accuse Katie of being her mother (in the most loving way possible – love you, mom!). 

Once it was time to meet our driver, we went to the meeting spot and found no one. We waited longer and after some time, Katie called the agency and was told he was at a different gate since that’s where our flight arrived. We politely informed the agent there was no flight, they apologized and called the driver with the correction. When he finally made his way around, we were confronted by this Andre The Giant-looking dude who was not only enormous but was already fed up with our shit. He berated us for making him come to a different place and insisted he was right because that’s where the flight came in. When we told him there wasn’t a flight and his agent should have let him know that, he either didn’t understand or didn’t care – my euros were on the latter.

Our giant Roman driver proceeded to speed through the traffic in Rome all the while giving us a history lesson of the city and pointing out landmarks. I would have found this helpful but I was a nervous wreck riding in the back as he dashed through traffic, narrowly missing curbs along the way. It was also very distracting how he pronounced “The Pope” as “The Poop” and eventually revealed that he was a raging racist who also hated women. To say we were very happy to be dropped off at the front door of our hotel, Albergo Abruzzi, would be an understatement.

In retrospect, I kind of wish I had asked him if he remembered being body slammed by the immortal Hulk Hogan at Wrestlemania 3 at the Pontiac Silverdome in 1987. I really kind of wish the Hulkster could have been there to give this giant Roman racists a boot to the face after our trip.

At the hotel, the bellhop carried our very heavy bags to our fourth-floor room* (all stairs, no elevator) before revealing they had a welcome gift for us – a couple packs of locally produced biscuits and a bottle of crispy Spumante. We were pretty well smoked, needed showers and had a big day the next day. In lieu of going out that night, we had showers, enjoyed our view of the Pantheon (merely feet away from our hotel) and ordered room service.

*Our hotel was actually on the third floor but we learned early on that in European countries, the ground floor (what we would normally call the first floor) is considered Floor Zero, the second floor is the first and so on.

Katie had realized that we’d been in Italy for two weeks and she hadn’t once ordered any spaghetti, so it was time to change that. Our room service dinner consisted of Mussels with Toast and Tomatoes, Crispy Fried Anchovies, Spaghetti with Marinara, Parmesan Pasta with Bacon and an order of Panna Cotta. It was an absolute feast that I regret not capturing with photos, but we polished it all off and stacked our dishes high by the door before falling asleep watching Italian cartoons. 

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Our first full day in Rome started off with the one – and only – sub-par meal of the entire trip. Our hotel offered continental breakfast, but it was unlike any I’d ever experienced. Rather than go down to a restaurant or dining area inside the hotel, the concierge provides you with a special menu that you then carry around the block to a place called Caffé Capranica, a legit restaurant that would serve you for free if you ordered from the hotel’s menu. Seemed fine.

It wasn’t.

We started by ordering caffé and while I don’t remember what we each ordered, Katie liked how mine looked better than hers, so we traded. For breakfast she ordered the “Ham and Cheese” while I ordered the “Ham and Cheese Sandwich.” When they brought the food, Katie had before her a very sad plate of cold cheese slices and a couple ham cold cuts. It was reminiscent of when Eddie Valiant was served a scotch with stones after ordering a scotch “on the rocks” at the Ink and Paint Club in Who Framed Roger Rabbit — no frills, you get exactly what you ask for. Mine was the exact same, only the cold meat-and-cheese combo was sandwiched between two slices of very dry toast. Katie swore she ordered the sandwich, so we traded again. It was the driest, worst ham and cheese on the planet – in a country known for both their ham and cheese, no less – and the shitty toast didn’t help.

On a positive, we did get this great photo of Katie looking very Italian:

With a tiny bit of fuel in our bodies, we half-sprinted across town for our first tour of the day in Vatican City (Stato della Cittá del Vaticano). I can’t tell you what it means to me or what it felt like to tour the Vatican Museum (Musei Vaticani), to see the Creation of Adam in the Sistine Chapel (Cappella Sistina) and to see one of my favorite pieces of art of all time – Michelangelo’s La Pietá – in St. Peter’s Basilica (Basillica di San Pietro). It was a dream come true to be surrounded by such beauty in such a holy place, being sprinkled with Holy Water and seeing the Catholic Church’s many hypocrisies hidden right there in plain sight. I have wanted to see this my entire life and it didn’t disappoint.

After our tour, we needed to grab a quick lunch because we had to go back across town for our second tour of the day. I do not remember the name of the restaurant where we stopped (bad writer!) but we did get a very cool patio spot. Katie enjoyed a Shrimp Risotto while I dug into a surprisingly delicious Shrimp Pizza.

Pizza count: 7

The second part of our day of touring included the Roman Colosseum (Colosseo) and the Roman Forum (Foro Romano). Another breathtaking scene awaited us as we toured one of the Seven Wonders of the World. We stood where anxious gladiators once stood, saw where criminals were fed to lions and walked through the very entrance where they all entered. I told Katie this must be what it feels like to be the Rock.

The day didn’t go as planned, to say the least. Our itinerary had pick-up and drop-off locations for each of our tours that I had plotted on maps and decided they weren’t too far apart, but neither ended where they said they would. Our walk from the hotel to the Vatican was 40 minutes (running, because we were behind), our tour there was probably two-and-a-half hours … then our walk from the Vatican to the Colosseum was another 40 minutes (again, running), followed by another two-hour tour. Our feet were killing us by the time this one ended.

And though it did end, it stopped prematurely due to everyone in the group being exhausted,. Unfortunately, this meant that instead of being finished with the tour a mere four-minute walk to our hotel as originally planned, we were still a mile away. Katie was being Mister Moody’s Store for Men and I was having a helluva time faking my enthusiasm in a poor attempt to keep her spirits up.

We did eventually make it back to our hotel, however (according to my watch, 28,000 steps later). After a bit of lounging and showers, we decided to go out for dinner – but not far, because damn. We landed at a pizzeria called Bistrot Tabaccheria di Rienzo. Here, we had two great pizzas – Katie ordered a Ham-and-Eggs Pizza while I enjoyed a pie with Mushrooms and Sausage. We paired them with glasses of wine and a heaping helping of secondhand smoke. Halfway through dinner we noticed we were the only people on the patio not smoking. It was then that I realized it’s literally in the name of the restaurant – Rienzo’s Tobacco Shop Bistro.

There’s a reason for everything.

Pizza count: 8

Before we retired for the evening, we stopped for gelato at a shop right outside our hotel called Gelateria Mastro Cono. The place was definitely a rip, and I’d later see many complaints online about the place due to how they prey on tourists by jacking up their prices (we paid €15 each for our gelato). The €30 gelato and 30,000 steps were all worth it, though, after hearing Katie say “No big deal, we’re just standing here enjoying Italian gelato … in front of the Pantheon … in Rome,” with a gorgeous smile on her face.

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Our final full day in Rome was amazing since we weren’t in a hurry and were primarily just sight-seeing. I’ve noted that our continental breakfast was much better on this day, but I neglected to record why or what we ordered. Regardless, we were much happier and soon after found a spot called Sant’Eustachio il Caffé where we enjoyed some affogato on a patio table.

From there, we visited an Art Nouveau courtyard called Galleria Sciarra that we’d found on Atlas Obscura before jumping into the literal mosh pit in front of the historic Trevi Fountain (the largest Baroque fountain in Rome and one of the most famous fountains in the world). Katie was dressed for much cooler weather and it was HOT that day, so I did what any good husband would do and I took her shopping for a light, flowy dress. Upon finding the perfect one, she changed in the shop’s dressing room and was looking positively foxy for our Roman afternoon.

We had lunch at a spot called Taberna Patrizi e Plebei. Katie got a very bizarre seafood pizza topped with clams, mussels, shrimp and calamari. Sounds great but it was a horrible concept because when the pizza hit our table, the shrimp needed to be peeled and both the mussels and clams were still in their shells. I was halfway finished with my lunch – Truffle Carbonara – before Katie had finished preparing hers.

I wish I had tracked what kind of sparkling water they served us here because it was the best of our trip. While I’ve had sparkling water many times over the years, the abundance of it in Italy kind of changed my life. Each time you order water you’re either given a choice between still or frizzante (sparkling), or you just get frizzante without asking. I had acqua frizzante with every meal in Italy, I believe, and now we’re that family that buys Pellegrino at Costco.

Before dinner that evening, we found our way to a rooftop bar at the Caesar Roma Hotel. Our goal was to have a single cocktail, check it out and base our next move on how it all went. Katie ordered a Davil Passion (Stoli Vodka, Lime and Vanilla Liqueur, Passion Fruit Foam, Vanilla and Cranberry) and I had a very, very tasty cocktail called Tobacco’s Sweet Sip (Infused Tobacco Rhum, Banana Skin Syrup and Chocolate Bitters). 

We enjoyed it, but thought we could do better, so we made our way over to another rooftop bar with a very un-Italian name: Rooftop Jim’s Bar at Singer Palace Hotel (though I somehow started calling it Big Jim’s). Here, I ordered a very nice Paloma (Patron Tequila, Lime Juice, Ginger Beer Organics by Red Bull, Pink Grapefruit Soda) and Katie ordered a Pornstar Martini (Ciroc Vodka, Fabbri Vanilla Syrup, Fabbri Passion Fruit Syrup, Lime Juice and Hostomme Brut Champagne).

I was very pleased to enjoy some great snacks with our aperitivi that included potato chips, tortilla chips, hummus, cashews and some olives that I tried, but still didn’t like. Fun fact: I’ve never cared for green olives.

We’d spotted a place earlier in the day that we wanted to come back to for dinner, and we followed through. Comodo Mercato Trevi is a market-style table-service restaurant about two or three blocks away from the Trevi Fountain. Wanting to go out the right way, we each ordered some wine and pizza. Katie enjoyed a Quattro Formaggi Pizza that she fell in love with and I had what was to not only be the only pizza that beat the Speck and Mascarpone pizza from Massa, but the best pizza of the entire trip: The Comodo with Truffles and Sun-Dried Tomatoes.

Pizza count: 9

Before we retired for the evening, we were fortunate enough to spot a busker playing an electric violin before a crowd of about 100 adoring spectators. We danced and clapped along with our new friends as he treated us to a rousing rendition of “Bella Ciao,” an Italian folk song dedicated to the partisans of the Italian Renaissance.

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On our final morning, we decided we weren’t going to waste our last meal in Italy on the shitty continental breakfast and settled on Gruppo Di Rienzo just on the opposite side of the square. This was a proper Italian bar with proper Italian caffé and proper Italian breakfast. We enjoyed a pair of caffé Americani, some pastries and two breakfast sandwiches. Sufficient fuel for the very long day ahead of us.

Once we were back on the plane, it’s like the lights had been snuffed out; It was like we’d just left ToonTown and things as we knew them would never be as colorful and bright again. I thought it was hilarious that the airline dared to serve us some pathetic excuse for pasta marinara knowing the fully booked flight was packed with people departing from Rome.

Landing in the United States was a good feeling in that the flight was over, but everything that reminded me that we were no longer in Italia was a bummer. I heard Bon Jovi, which I’d normally like, but not at that moment. I heard some rednecks spouting some hateful rhetoric, which I hate normally but especially at that moment.

And then we ate lunch at Shake Shack. How. Depressing.

While this concludes our Italy trip, it does not conclude this series on Eating Italia – stick around for a retrospective that’s a little more philosophical in nature. In the meantime, don’t eat at Shake Shack.