More on ferries and taxis, adding a train to the mix and The Writer's Retreat

So, when we left our story, Alex and I were all cozy in our white robes, drinking prosecco and being fed grapes on the luxury ship Superfast II. Okay, not so much. We were all tucked in for what we thought might be a rocky night at sea. For the first time on the trip, and after many boat rides of differing types and sizes, I took some Dramamine due to the surprising amount of motion on the large ferry. After dinner, walking to put our trays of uneaten food in the receptacle, I noticed a distinct weave to my step. No alcohol had been consumed since the Funky Gourmet on Saturday night, so the ship was to blame. Here's the thing though. Apparently I like being rocked to sleep by the waves. Despite the 3 inch thick mattress and the one lousy pillow, I slept better on that boat than any other time on the trip. Alex reported the same when he woke up. I think someone needs to invent a large, adult size rocking swing like the ones that currently only come in baby sizes. Being rocked to sleep is a comfort at any age.

After landing in Bari, we executed what is now apparently our routine of seeing the city via a quick taxi ride followed by sitting for an hour or two waiting on a new mode of transportation. This section of our trip has been the longest travely part aside from our initial 26 ours of plane horror. In Bari's train station, we ate decent food, browsed a bookstore full of Italian titles, avoided the sun and thought of our hats and watched folks going about their day. I tried my very rudimentary Italian a few times. My accent must be terrible, because after a sentence in Italian, the person I'm talking to just switches to English to complete the conversation. It's probably for the best. 

The train to Rome was pretty decent, minus the hot temps in the train car. We sat across from a foursome of older Italians, who were alternately gave very stern looks at us for unknown reasons and then smiled with us when minor mishaps occurred such as dropping items from our table as the train gave a particularly rough jolt. There was a husband and wife pair among the group that must have been in their 80s or 90s, that had probably been married a long time. The man was frail, but insisted on helping his wife with her bags. Occasionally they'd reach for each other's hands. They didn't speak to each other much, but their love was obvious. I said goodbye to them in Italian as we left the train. 

Arriving in Rome, we grabbed our Roma museum passes at the station and taxied to our next Airbnb. A surge of happiness came over me as we careened  (riding in an Italian taxi is like being on the world's flattest but most thrilling roller coaster)  through the streets of Italy's capital. Our home for the next five nights is called The Writer's Retreat. If you're inclined to trek up 60+ stairs to this oasis in the middle of old Rome, it will charm you. We were inclined. There must be over 2000 books in this little apartment, in Italian, English and other languages. They mostly live in the middle room of the place, where books can be found floor to ceiling on all four walls. A small red leather sofa, a desk and a day bed also occupy the room. And then surprise! One of the book shelf walls opens up to this bedroom tucked under the eaves of the roof. Magical. The main bed sits just below a skylight. And the bathroom somehow fits into the only space tall enough to stand. To make the location work, the bathroom door is curved like a semi-circle. Off of the living room, there's a private terrace and an outdoor washing machine. It's all ours for the next 4 days.

Our host recommended a pizza place close by for dinner, which when we sat eating our first real Italian food, prompted Alex to look up the best pizza places in Italy. Most of them are in Naples, but we are going to try to get to the few that are Roman. We are staying in the historic section of the city, which is close everything and full of charm. Tomorrow we venture out to get lost in it all.