六月, 2012: 羅馬， 意大利

 Left the papal state and headed for the Colosseum. For some reason unknown to me now, I always visualize the Colosseum in an rural setting, on the outskirt of the city of Rome. In fact, it was in a decidedly urban setting, it has a subway station right at it's doorstep.


I may be able avoid the queue at the Vatican, but by now, the queue for the Colosseum was already long.
 
Following the advice of my guidebook, I went over to the neighbouring Forum to buy my tickets. The ticket gets you through the gates of both the Colosseum and Forum. The Roman Forum was the civic centre of the city during its empire days.
 
Today, it is a collection of temples, basillica, columns, obelisks and their ruins through the ages.

Further proof that cricket was invented by the Italians. The Titans taught them the game.

By the time I left the forum, it was almost mid-noon, and the sun was bearing down on us. And there was no shelter from the sun. These column might have look great in the good old days, but they don't provide shelter.
Anyone planning a trip to the forum in summer should plan it like a trip to the Angkor Wat: sunscreen, hat, lots of water. The size of the forum ground is deceiving big, and the summer heat is as punishing as equator heat. 
And there are hills to walk up. When going up one of these slopes, and got asked again the question: You been to the Hard Rock Cafe? How do I get there? 

I left the forum for the Colosseum, there was no need to queue for tickets now, but the queue to just enter the Colosseum was itself long. I was hungry and almost dehydrated, I need to find a restaurant first.

Outside, the locals and indians were vying for the tourists' business. The locals, tall tanned men, were dressed in Roman centurion costume. You can approach them to take a picture, with the Colosseum in the background. For a fee, of course. The indians were selling sun-hats and paper umbrella. In this weather, business wasn't bad. Although they need to look out for officials making half-hearted attempt to apprehend them. I am not sure what department these officials were from since there were no uniform, they just shout and point at the indians from a distance and jogged over to them. This give the indians enough time to gather their ware and disperse to other corners outside the Colosseum.

Some of the restaurants have their rainbow flags hanging outside their shop. As a support for the gay cause, or they just need the extra pink dollar, I can't tell. I found one restaurant, the flat-chested tomboyish chef (is chef the feminine form for chef?) was laying out the tables outside. I picked a meat dish which was supposed to be a Rome-speciality. A cold beer on a hot day like this sounds like a good idea. I would never be accused of a bar brawl because alcohol is a downer for me. The heat, acohol and a lack of sleep actually put me to sleep for a few seconds while I was having the meal. I hope the chef don't go into a confident-crisis, seeing one of her customers going to sleep over her creation.

After lunch, I ask to use the toilet and then headed out to re-hydrate. I found a Carrefour mart and went straight to the fridge for a large bottle of Coke. Half a dozen girls were ahead of me. From the way they speak, Malaysia. They were placing basketful of food, fruits and sanitary napkin on the checkout counter belt. One of them have a basket full of nothing other than Nescafe instant coffee. The way she described that rich aromatic cuppa those satchels of instant coffee makes, I was tempted to get a pack myself. When the Malaysian girl in front of me got to the cashier she hand over a 50euro notes. The cashier asked if she had smaller change, she answered with a terse: no. Her friend ask why she didn't just hand in a smaller note, her reply was: "Don't care lah, let her find the change for me. Not my problem."

I down that Coke in one go. I return to the Colosseum to overhear a Hong Kong woman complain that the Colosseum "looks so small."

The Colosseum isn't really small, but it looked like every square inch of space accessible to tourists were occupied.
 
I once saw a Bruce Lee movie set in Rome (The Way of the Dragon, also starring the beautiful Nora Miao). In the final fight scene, Bruce went to the Colosseum for a final duel with a white man (I think it was a pre-Walker-Texas-Ranger Chuck Norris.)
 
In a empty Colosseum, Bruce was calling out to Chuck to come out and fight. After experiencing the Colosseum, I wonder how they managed to clear the Colosseum of visitors. I was practically being swept along by the people behind me. And I stepped on the heel of someone's slipper in front of me.
I got back to the Spanish Steps again after purchasing my HRC bear. The place is now swamped with tourists, pedestrians, horse carriages and vehicles vying for space on the road. 
I was approached by two beautiful ladies (I guessed eastern european), and I knew what was coming.
Yes, they asked where the Hard Rock Cafe is. I gave them the subway station nearest the HRC, and I even throw in the exit they should take.
 
I notice now that there was a gap of about 1.5 hrs when there were no pictures taken, which coincide with the time I was looking for the HRC. The heat was getting to me then,
 
I was probably walking in a bit of a daze. I lost most of my earlier liquid intake through sweating, instead of looking for toilet, I was searching for bottled water again. By the time I left for the station, I would have finished another bottle and two cups of gelato. At one of the gelato shop, a couple of American gals had such sweet tooth and sweeter talk.
 
With each free sampling of the cool sweet stuff, she was praising the boss sky-high.  To them, the gelato was they best they have tasted this side of the Atlantic. The boss was some happy, he was passing them spoonful after spoonful of gelato. I think those spoonful adds up to a cupful. The lady behind the counter had a pained look, I think she is trying to tell the boss to watch the bottomline.

I got back to the Rome station and board my train. My seat was occupied by the jacket of a businesswoman working on her laptop. The third seat of four around a tabletop was occupied by her bags. Obviously, she want that corner of the train to herself. I look for another seat. From experience, no one takes the reserved/assigned seat on an Italian train very seriously. Insisting on taking your assigned seat makes you look like a jerk to your fellow passengers. For the first half hours, I was still able to stay up to watch the fields go by outside the train. After that, I fell into a deep slumber, waking up only when I bump my head hard into the window. I am quite sure I slept with my mouth open, with saliva dripping down the corner.

If Milan Centrale wasn't the terminal station, I would probably have missed it. As I was gathering my stuff, I noticed a Samsung smart phone on the table top across the aisle, the train car was almost emptied now. I grap the phone, and on the platform, shouted out for owner of a phone. No one responsed. I went out of the station to look for a hotel, hoping to get a call on the phone from the owner. If no call come, I will go to the police to hand it over. Who know if there is a tracking application running on the phone. I wouldn't want the Italian police knocking on my door, accusing me of stealing a phone I have no need for. The owner did call before I found my hotel. We told him to meet at a kiosk across the station. The handover ended with a handshake and him thanking me. I think for the trouble I saved him, he should have at least bought me a beer.