Arrividerci Roma

Last night I accidentally discovered Roman nightlife.  I asked Google Maps to get me from my hotel to a specific location, and it showed me a bus, so I headed out.  I couldn't find the bus stop, so I asked a woman in a newsstand, and between my bits of broken Italian and her sign language, she let me know to go down a flight of stairs to an underpass.  Found it!  Got to my location, which was near the Plaza del Popolo around sundown, and the place was hopping.  Everybody was outside having dinner, watching breakdancers and buskers, shopping, hawking tiny lighted drone toys, and just walking around.  It was indeed much cooler than earlier and a lovely evening.  I still can't get used to everyone treating the outdoors as just another room without a roof, as if rain was never a possibility, and flat roofs because you don't have to worry about snow.

I did not find what I was looking for in the store that was right where it should be, but I did find this:

I had read an article about this earlier, how some clothing brand in Europe decided that the Franklin and Marshall logo was the epitome of college style, and built a whole brand around it.  Unusually, the school embraced it when they found out, instead of suing, and both benefit.  It still seems weird, but it seems to work for folks.

Funny thing was, I was looking for T shirts with recognizable characters but Italian words, and I could not find them.  I found lots of familiar name stores, all carrying shirts in English.

After yet another hour spent walking in my fruitless search, I headed back.  I knew what buses I could take, but again could not find the bus stop, but the Metro was right there and I knew where that went.  You wouldn't think it would be crowded, but over the next 3 stops it was jammed with people, and hot.  I was happy to get out an walk home in the cool air.  Last use of my transport ticket.

I went to the pretentious restaurant across the street from the hotel instead of trying to find the other gluten-free restaurant that might not exist, and ordered from their pretentious menu.  They cater to vegetarian/vegan, raw, gluten-free, and regular palates.  Pretentiously.  I had tasteless hummus with gf crackers and veggies, and steamed fish with escarole, and some sherbet-like thing for dessert.  While I ate my gluten-free food, I could see into the kitchen through a glass pane as a chef took proofed balls of dough, floured them, flopped them around as the flour poofed into the air, and kneaded and shaped them with flour-encrusted hands.  I also watched other chefs handle food with bare hands.  I crossed my fingers and hoped.  I seem to have survived the night.

But I almost didn't: I had bought a package of crackers at a little snooty organic food-type store, where the cashier was as bored and rude as I have seen anyone here, and was just about to eat some last night when it occurred to me that I had not checked the ingredient list for oats.  In fact, I had not checked the ingredient list at all, because I picked them off a shelf with gluten-free items.  OMG, they were not gluten-free and I was so lucky I stopped to check.  Well, the cleaning staff can have them, along with the extra euros in the tip for cleaning up after me.  I tried to leave a euro as a tip the first day but it was left untouched, so I'll leave the whole thing now.  I went back today and bought crackers that are definitely gluten-free.

Time to switch from vacation mode to work mode, and vacation spending on my own card to expense account spending on the company's card.  I'm 95% packed, hanging out until checkout.  A car will come pick me up to take me on another terrifying ride to the airport where hopefully all goes well.  I just checked British Airways flights from FCO to BCN, and the first one of the day departed early (3 minutes) - I have never seen a flight leave early!