Ain't that about a bit*h...

The past two days have been an absolute whirlwind! Intense highs and lows, all within a 24-hour time period. You know when every single thing that can possible go wrong DOES GO INSANELY WRONG?!

About 2 weeks ago, just before I left for Amsterdam (still need to blog about that, forgive me), I got an email from a woman who saw my Craigslist ad in search of housing. K is an American filmmaker who lives in New York and keeps and apartment here in Rome. She emailed me and said her place would be available from mid-Nov to late-Dec and from the pictures and description it looked great. Unfortunately it was also out of my price range and I told her so—she said she would email me in a few days and if no one else was interested in the apt I could have it for my price (I gave her a figure at the upper end of my budget). A couple of days later I got the “OK” from K and we scheduled a time for me to view the place. She was in Germany but her French boyfriend B could show me the apt the day after I got back from Amsterdam. I went to see it on Thursday evening and it was absolutely gorgeous. It’s a cozy 2-bedroom apt in a lovely old building near Forum Romano, beautiful indoor courtyard, amazing views of the ruins and a big slice of Rome, all white furniture, working fireplace, new electronics—it looked like a hotel. And the best part is that it would be all mine. I quickly agreed to take the apt and scheduled to come by at 8:45am the next morning to hand over the money and get the keys from B.

That night I was literally on cloud nine. I could finally leave the hellhole of an apt I was staying in and really enjoy my last few weeks in Rome (more on that later). I stopped by the ATM but it wouldn’t allow me to withdraw the full amount so I decided to do half that day and get the other half the next morning. But the machine spit my card back out, giving me the message “Invalid Card”. I didn’t think too much of it, just went home and called my bank. They said they would increase my credit limit so I could withdraw the full amount and my card would be functional again within the hour.

At this time L (the girlfriend of the guy I’m renting my room from) comes by to pick up the money for that month's rent. She didn’t get my text so I had to explain to her that something came up and I would be moving out in the morning. After a little protesting she left but 30 mins later I get an angry call from T (the guy who’s room I’m renting) from Ghana. He was going on and on about how I have to give him the money for the month anyway since I gave him no advance notice that I was leaving. I was going to tell him exactly where he could shove his stinkin’ apartment but once again my mom had (wisely) told me to be polite and calm and just say I was sorry for leaving suddenly but something came up. We ended the call with my telling him I would do my best to try to find someone to take over my room and we would discuss details later.

2 hours have now gone by so I went back to the ATM. Again, “Invalid Card”. I tried several times then decided to walk down the street to another ATM. Still no go. By this time its midnight and I’m starting to freak out. I tried to call the bank again but there was a long wait for a live person so I said to myself, 'Ok I will go to bed and wake up at 6am to try again'. Then I'll have 2 hours to straighten this out with the bank if my card still doesn’t work.

Meanwhile I did feel really bad about skipping out on T. He’s a really nice guy, its not his fault that his roommate is sh*t and he lives in a crappy neighborhood. So I prayed on the situation—I asked God if I had done the right thing and to show me some sign if I had made a mistake. The next morning I go to the ATM to try again: “Invalid Card”. I’m on the phone with the bank for the next 2 hours—alternately running to the ATM and back to my apt to frantically call and tell them its still not working. On their end they said there was nothing preventing my card from working—no block, no hold, my available daily limit had in fact been increased. And the weird thing is they didn’t even see any activity showing that I was attempting to make a withdrawal.

By this time its 8am and I have to head over to the Forum apt to meet B. I tried 3 more ATMs along the way, each one said “Your card is not valid for international transactions”. I was nearly in tears. When I arrived B was in a big hurry—he had to leave at 9am to catch his flight. He looked at me and said, “Where are your bags?” and that’s when I told him what happened. I told him I had my checkbook for my American bank account and I could write him a check for the amount in US dollars but other than that, my hands were tied. He told me that since it wasn’t his apt he’s not sure what K would want him to do. Understood. He said she was flying back to NYC from Germany that day but I could try to reach her. He would leave the keys with the grocer downstairs and maybe in the next day or two it would all be sorted out and I could move in then.

I called K and couldn’t get through to her. So I sent her an email asking her to let me know what we could do ASAP. Meanwhile, L had been calling me nonstop all morning, 15 times in a row! I ignored it. She was in the neighborhood and wanted to come pick up the keys from me. By noon I still hadn’t heard from K and the idea of being homeless on the streets of Rome just didn’t sit well with me. Plus I couldn’t dodge L’s calls and texts any longer so I took a deep breath, called her and gave an Oscar-worthy speech: I told her that I had slept on it and realized that I made a mistake in not giving them adequate notice that I was leaving. That they were really nice people and I didn’t want to leave them in the lurch so I would do the noble thing and pay for one more month. I wasn’t sure if I wouldn’t be able to stay for the entire month but I would let them know if I had to leave before Dec 15th. In any case, this would work out nicely for them as they would not have to scramble to find a replacement. It would put both our minds at ease. (Thank God I my mom made me be nice about it in the beginning or they could have thrown me out on my ear!)

And with that, the Forum apartment was gone. I was irrevocably tied to the SanLo apt until Dec 15th.

By 2pm K finally sent me an email saying she was at the airport but I could send her the money via Western Union and when it posted (next Wed) I could go pick up the keys and move in. Of course, Western Union costs 50 Euros and since I was already exceeding my budget for this apt, I just couldn’t afford the extra expense. Plus by that time it was too late. And there’s no way I could have stayed in the SanLo apt for another week while I waited for the money to clear. So I would have had to move into a hotel and that’s just way too much drama and expense. I tearfully wrote her back saying that I wouldn't be able to take the apt after all.

And wouldn’t you know it, by 4pm that very afternoon my ATM card suddenly decided to work. Now ain’t that a bit*h...

I believe that everything happens for a reason. Yesterday was a strange series of events that made it IMPOSSIBLE for me to get that apt:

1. My card stopped working the day I needed to withdraw money; in the 2 years that I’ve been in Europe (and the 3 years I’ve been with this bank) that has never happened.

2. B had to leave Rome at 9am, if his flight were in the evening instead, my card would have been working again and I could have given him the money.

3. K is traveling and doesn’t have access to phone or internet so I can’t contact her to find out how she would like to handle things. Maybe that US check would have been ok.

4. My cousin arrived from NYC with enough cash to lend me for the rent. But her train got into Rome at 10am, just one hour after B left.

5. By 4pm my card is working again, 7 hours too late.

I don’t believe in a vindictive God so I know it wasn’t that He was punishing me for handling things badly with T and my sudden move-out. God makes no mistakes so I know there must be a reason why I was meant to stay here in SanLo (to work on my patience perhaps?) or why I shouldn’t have been at that Forum apt. I have no idea what it is. And even knowing that everything worked out exactly as it should it doesn’t stop it from hurting (it was soo painfully close!). I just have to swallow the feelings of disappointment and keep it moving… I will stay positive and continue to enjoy my time in Rome regardless. As a wise man once said, “You can make the best or the worst of it. I hope you make the best of it.”

An apartment at the 11th hour

Last Monday I realized I should probably double check with the owner of my pensione to make sure I could stay for another week while I continued my apt search. Seeing as how we discussed this and that the place had been empty for the past week I assumed there would be a room available for me. Nope. She was booked solid from Friday-Monday so I needed to find another place to go ASAP. She offered for me to come back Tuesday, paying 25 Euros/night for my room which is awesome, but would add up really quick. Plus without the benefit of internet or a kitchen, it just didn’t seem worth it. So I called up a guy who’s apt I’d gone to see a week prior (I had already told him I wouldn’t take it, sure I would find something halfway decent instead) and asked him if the room was still available. The apt was decent but the neighborhood was rundown and dirty and way further out of the center than I wanted to live. But by that point I was desperate with few options. Thankfully the room was still free and he was nice enough to let me move in on Friday.


On my first night in the new apt I decided to check out the so-called amazing San Lorenzo nightlife. I invited my new friend Ben (who lives just up the street but on the other side of the “Wall”, within the center of Rome) to come with me. We started out with dinner at Formula Uno, the popular pizzeria down the street from my apt, around 9pm (it was really good but no Da Michele!).

We finished dinner around 11pm and wandered the streets in search of a cool bar to hang out at. After walking around for 10 minutes without finding a decent place to go, Ben started cracking jokes about the neighborhood being full of zombies—he was only half joking. Literally everyone looked like they were strung out and just a little bit off. The streets were pretty empty but considering it was Friday night we figured we were just too early for the party kids. Finally we found this place called Rive Gauche. Its a big bar set up to look like a Parisian café with dim lighting, iconic French posters and a sea of small tables. And the crowd was (thankfully) a little older. It was packed by the time we arrived (around 11:30pm) but we were able to snatch the last table. We hung out there until about 12:30am and Ben offered to walk me home, saying he wouldn’t recommend my walking alone. By that time the streets were packed with people (guess a night out starts at 1am round here). We passed two prostitutes who propositioned Ben (no joke), beggars, homeless people and drunken minors. Lovely.

San Lorenzo is home to La Sapienza University (the biggest in Rome) so the median age is about 23 and the kids all have this punk rock/grunge thing going on. Everyone stays in the neighborhood for everything—lunch, dinner, nightlife, everything... but for those of us who want to be amongst humans, you have to cross into the “city center” which involves walking through a long scary underpass and walking 10 minutes around the train station. And everyone knows the train station is the last place you want to be in a European city, especially at night (the other day my Italian friend cautioned me against rapists who apparently hang out there. Great).

Now I don’t know if I’m hating on San Lorenzo simply because I’m being stubborn and am determined not to like this neighborhood but I’ve come to the conclusion that it sucks—as does the hyped-up nightlife. The only plus side is that since this area is full of students, all the bars, restaurants and even the supermarkets are pretty cheap (there, a little positivity).

I came to Rome for the beauty of the city. I wanted to walk out of my front door and discover neighborhood tratorrias tucked into cute little side streets around the corner from my apt. I wanted to open my window to the sound of church bells and cars driving along cobblestone streets. I wanted to know the freedom of living in a city where you're actually able to walk everywhere. I didn’t want to have to check my watch every 5 minutes when I’m out with friends, making sure I leave early enough to catch the last bus back home (or forgo that last drink or two so I can afford the 15 Euro taxi ride back home). I didn’t want to worry about my safety walking down the street. Unfortunately this apt situation puts a damper on my experience here. But what I try to remember is that when I moved to Paris in 2007 I ended up in a pretty sh*tty neighborhood too. And if I recall how that story went, I'm destined to find a great apt in a fabulous neighborhood really soon. So the hunt is on again. At least this time I don’t have the threat of looming homelessness to make things even more desperate.

Sigh...

Now that my guests are gone the homesickness has finally hit me. I have a “glass half full” kind of disposition so it’s hard for me to feel really down but I’m just lonely. And the other day I spoke to the Signora (at my pensione) who told me that both of her B&Bs are full from Friday-Sunday so I have to find a place to stay for those three nights—the added stress of looming homelessness in a foreign city is not helping matters. She offered for me to come back on Monday at a substantial discount on the nightly rate but the room would still be out of my budget. Plus the fact that there’s no internet, TV or kitchen kind of sours me on the whole place.

So in a nutshell I have no friends, I’ll be thrown out this Friday and I have yet to figure out what the heck I’m doing here in the first place. But the thing is I live for these kinds of life experiences so I can’t help but feel excited at the same time. I’m happy that the city is starting to make sense to me (I often find myself looking up to find that I know exactly where I am and how to make my way back home without consulting my map) and that each day I’m beginning to feel less like a tourist and more like a local. I’m grateful for the people who are making an effort to help me integrate and build a life here (one of my blog readers set me up with her Italian friend and we met for drinks last night. She was with her American boyfriend who lives in Barcelona and they were both really cool, interesting people. She invited me to dinner at her house and is even planning to introduce me to a couple of her single male friends… I won’t say no to that! lol). I’m glad that my classmates seem sort of interesting (specifically a woman named Anna from Brazil) and friendly. I’m grateful for my budding friendship with a cool guy from Brooklyn (a documentary filmmaker here on a 3 month assignment) who is game for just about anything involving alcohol and will accompany me to check out all the bars I don’t feel comfortable hanging out in alone.

The thing about life abroad is that you make these fast and fleeting relationships, which can be really significant and intense and exciting. But on the other hand it makes you realize how far from your old life you really are. Not to make it seem like things are all bad though. I get these little bouts of self-pity that I like to dip my toe into once in a while but 90% of the time I’m pinching myself that I actually get to live here in this incredible city. And my social schedule is filling up nicely. Tonight I’m meeting a new Italian friend for drinks in a neighborhood outside of the center that I’ve never visited before. Tomorrow I have an invite to a dinner party hosted by woman (a black singer from New York) I recently got in touch with through a long chain of email introductions. Saturday night I’m partying with a Roman guy I met through my friend Temi in London… ok, pause. I’m being absolutely ridiculous. (Writing is cathartic) Pity party officially over :)

Two years ago I moved to Paris to find my joie de vivre and now I get to experience la dolce vita in Rome. I'm owed some injections of harsh reality every now and again. Didn’t someone once say that too much of a good thing is bad?

Apt woes

I’ve been searching in vain for an apartment for the past 2 weeks. I honestly had no idea it would be this hard. I lived in Manhattan for many years and moved around more times than I can count. Then I moved to Paris (with their equally notorious housing market) with only a place secured for a week. I moved 3 times before finally settling into my apartment in Oberkampf. It was definitely difficult and draining and stressful but nothing like this. The big problem is that I can’t give anyone a definite time frame for my stay here and no one wants to rent a room or apt to someone who will only be leaving in a couple months. I don’t want to lie and say I’ll be here for 6 months or a year when I very well could be leaving in 2 months. Reason being that my friend BB is getting married in Mexico in December and I promised her I’d come to her wedding—and I really do want to be there. So I’ll either go home just for her wedding (an expense I can’t really afford right now) and come back to Rome in the new year, or I’ll leave Rome for good in mid-December. Its all up in the air right now, it just depends on how thing go for me here.

I went to see a great apt near Argentina (a bus/tram hub in the center of the city). It’s a 3 bedroom and two black American women (one from LA, the other from Queens) live there now. They were really cool, women I would be friends with in real life. Both had come to Rome with the intent of staying a few months but have been here for about 2 years now, for various reasons. We spoke on the phone last night and they won’t be making a decision on their new roommate until they hold their second Open House next weekend—in they meantime they want to meet up for drinks this week. If I don’t get an apt out of it at least I’ll get some new friends :)

In the meantime, the old lady who owns my pensione is the sweetest thing and said that I could stay there for the month (and she would only charge me my rental budget instead of the 50 Euros/night I bargained her down to for my week long stay) if I don’t find anything else. The location isn’t too bad (between the train station and the Colosseum and within a 2 minute walk of my new favorite neighborhood, Monti) but I’m dreading living there because it just isn’t a home. There’s no proper kitchen nor is there any internet access (right now in the McDonald's 15 minutes away from the pensione using their free wifi but its loud and busy and cold and there’s no way I could come here every day and expect to get anything done) and I would have to deal with a slew of strangers coming in and out all the time. The plus side is that there is daily maid service and a free breakfast every morning. I guess things could be worse.

Anyway we’ll see. I’m still hoping I find something else but will probably stay where I’m at for at least a month… unfortunately living in a little pensione doesn’t exactly motivate me to want to stay in Rome long term.

Life in Italia

Last week my cousin Martine arrived in Paris from DC to spend a week in Europe with me. It was her first time in Italy and we were doing 4 cities in 7 days.

Thank GOD for her because I don’t know how I would have managed the move to Italy with all of my heavy suitcases (thankfully the guy at the Easyjet counter didn’t charge us for the overweight bags… sometimes flirting pays off!). We spent my final day in Paris hanging out around B’s neighborhood, Les Batignolles. On the weekends the streets are packed with people shopping at the outdoor market, reconnecting with friends and neighbors and playing with their kids. We got cotton candy in the park, had a couple beers and watched a random stage performance by some pseudo reggae band. That night we went to a party in Oberkampf before heading to B’s friend’s place to spend the night—he lives 10 mintues from Orly airport and offered (or I begged him, rather) to drive us to our 7am flight the next morning.

It’s always so hard for me to leave Paris. It has become my city: I understand how things work, I get the sourly Parisian people, I know where I’m going, I’m comfortable there. Paris is a part of me. But at the same time, I was really excited for the move to Italy. And I remember when I first arrived in Paris in 2007 I felt the same uncertainty and fear so I know that it will pass in time and that things will get easier here (sorry, getting a bit ahead of myself).

We flew into Pisa Sunday morning and took the Terravision bus to Florence where I managed to find this tiny little crap hotel near the train station. For 38 Euros/night, it was actually worth it—two people could barely stay in a hostel for that price, let alone have a private room. Florence of course was amazing, its such a beautiful city. We spent two days wandering around the little streets (finally exploring the “other” side of the Arno, much cuter than the touristy side in my opinion), eating a ridiculous amount of gelato and pasta and just lazing about watching the views.


My friend Shelby lived in Florence for about a year and spoke about the medieval town of Siena a couple times so we decided to go there for the day. Its well worth the 1 hour trip if you’re ever in Florence. We had lunch at a cute little place with just 3 picnic tables perched on the side of a hill (at one point I nearly fell off my chair and rolled down the hill) and a menu written by hand on a couple sheets of construction paper… we shared our table with a really interesting Israeli couple traveling through Italy on their honeymoon. For about 10 Euros each we had .50 liter of (delicious) house wine, an appetizer and pasta dish… I love Italy.

On Tuesday we took the train to Rome. Martine was there for just 4 more days so we did another whirlwind tour of all the famous sites. Rome is incredible no matter what your beliefs but I think as a Christian (or specifically, a Catholic in Martine’s case), it holds a special significance. Everywhere you look is thousands of years of spritiual and biblical history, its very powerful. We went to the church just outside the Walls to stand at the foot of the Holy Stairs (the stairs Christ walked on during His trial in Jerusalem when he was condemned to die) and I just spoke to Him, asking for guidance and help and strength. I don’t know what I’m doing in Rome, why I was called here, but I know this is where I'm meant to be for a while. Its difficult, this period of uncertainty, so I'm asking for patience as well. I hope to make the most of it for as long as I'm able to stay here.

God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change;

courage to change the things I can;

and wisdom to know the difference.

Living one day at a time;
Enjoying one moment at a time;
Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace;
Taking, as He did, this sinful world
as it is, not as I would have it;
Trusting that He will make all things right
if I surrender to His Will;
That I may be reasonably happy in this life
and supremely happy with Him
Forever in the next.
Amen. (Reinhold Niebuhr)