RealityEquation

∗ April Trip: Frankfurt to Rome

The first Airbus in the trip was refreshing. Although I suspect the ridiculous seat pitch in the Economy seating of Lufthansa’s 747 also has something to do with it. The smiling and (always) friendly flight attendants serving on the short 1hr-30mins hop from FRA to FCO kept things light and easy - a sandwich for food, two drinks, and was there a way I could visit the flightdeck and meet the captain? No. “It’s different now, after what happened in America. I’m sorry”. No problem, didn’t see any harm in trying.

The Swiss Alps are beautiful. They’re small, of course, and perhaps the very thought that you can fly over–actually over–the mountains is, I think, part of that beauty. Especially if you’re from Nepal. Even more so if you haven’t dared venture into the majestic realm of the Himalayas yet.

I was under the impression that Rome had three airports: Leornado da Vinci, which I knew we were flying to; Ciampino, which I remember Binayak mentioned is really, really small; and Fiumicino, “the other-other airport”. Turns out FCO, Fiumincino, is in fact Leonardo da Vinci. I only discovered this quite a while after landing and driving out. But the airport itself needs more talking about.

Upon being notified by the captain that we would now be making an approach to the airport, I noticed something was missing. A minute or so of deep reflection and I noticed a lot of things were missing. Like roads. And cars. And buildings, and streetsigns and, by ubergrazi, people! Where on earth was this 4-(or-more)-airline-codeshared flight taking us? I thought we were going to Leonardo da Vinci airport - the main one. But this…?

And that was lesson number one. Rome looks very… primitive on the outside; “looks” is the keyword there. Lesson number two was “if, after waiting for what seems like eternity (get it?! huh?? the eterna… ah, nevermind) in the baggage claim, wondering why understandably jetlagged pieces of luggage were floating around for nobody to call their own and after following the signs out–very well marked, by the way–you find yourself out, you are, in fact, out”. What this means is, there’s no Immigration to go through. Sad, in a way: now you have no record of ever having entered Rome, boarding pass excluding. Oh well, “looks” remains the keyword.

Which brings to my first impressions of Rome. Four words: european (quaint, different, alien, to-discover); small (cars, the city, the buidlings); simple (fountains, pizzerias, sit-anywhere-and-grab-a-bite ares); sexy (fashion, architecture, brands). The same list also qualifies for impressions of Rome, in general.

A word that I omitted but really shouldn’t have is “expensive”. The reason I left it out is because Rome doesn’t have to be so; it just so happens that it is. Especially for us, travelers who try understand price levels by doing a rough mental calculation from the Euro to the US Dollar to local currency, which in our case is Nepali Rupees. Suddenly, those decimel points that you round off in your SAT tests now require a lot more deliberation. A difference of point-five is at least Rs. 50, equivalent to five bottles of Coke. And add the service charge (17.9% in the Western Union exchangers, no kidding) plus the exchange fee and you’ve got yourself more than just a few bottles of insanely popular sugarwater-poison. The sooner this hits you on the face and knocks you down and goes, “Get that?!”, the lesser your chances of drowning in Euro-hell. But you have to be there once to climb out of it. And you have to be trite every so often to start fresh, wide-eyed and bushy tailed, feeling, quite reasonable, very animal.

But Rome is about wild - subtle, cultured wild. And I even think it’s unleashing an hidden, hibernating wild in me - that part which, so far left stifled, now screams in sudden illumiation, “people matter”. And so they do. There’s more to it than getting it right, reaching the top and getting there alone. First. A Ferrari is only worth so much in the presence of someone who knows. Which reminds me: the first car, besides the Mercedez Benz we took to the hotel was a Toyota (even saw their HQ on the way) and I haven’t seen a single Ferrari. Alfa Romeo, Hyundai, Smart, BMW, Kia. But no Ferrari.

Rome impresses. Surprises. But makes sure you’re broke (but rich) by the time you’re ready to leave.

Note:
Photos aren’t linked to this article yet, but you can check out the Rome shots in the Gallery.