For the past several years, I have had a bit of a problem making New Year's plans. It always seems to come down to 10:00 on New Year's Eve, and I am still sitting at home trying to decide where I want to go and what I want to do to usher in the new year. This year, it came close to happening again. It's not that I couldn't find things to do; I had plenty of options. I just couldn't make up my mind which celebration I wanted to join.
I've always dreamed about celebrating New Year's New York style, with massive crowds of people, tons of commotion, lots of action, and buzz throughout the whole city. I've never spent a single New Year's like this. Most of the time, I join friends for a quiet and laid back party in someone's house, and the most exciting moment happens when we all gather around TV and watch the ball drop in Times Square for the second or third time that night (depending on if I'm in AZ or TX), count down to the New Year, and blow horns and throw confetti when the clock strikes midnight. Sound familiar? That's all I've ever done really. But I enjoy it. Here in Italy, people traditionally dress up for New Year's Eve and either go out to a very fancy dinner (and by fancy I mean at least 100 euros per person) or get together with friends at a local venue or someone's house. I was invited to a small party similar to this, in addition to several other options: Zoila told me that they were having friends over on New Year's and I was welcome to stay, I heard about a party in a pub with the friends I've met in Foligno, and I read about an outdoor concert in the main piazza in Spoleto, a nearby town. As you can see, it was quite the decision to make. On top of all that, I knew that Rome is only two hours away and might offer the most exciting New Year's of my life.
I agonized over the decision for almost two days, going back and forth and back and forth (what a surprise...), until I finally spoke to my friend Jess in Rome. In a brief conversation with her (in addition to the suggestions of quite a few people on facebook), I was convinced that I should go to Rome to celebrate New Years like I never have before. And boy did I ever.
At around 4:00 on the 31st, I started getting ready for my busy weekend. Jess and I had planned to go to Orvieto (a town in Umbria about an hour away from Foligno) for a jazz festival that was going on that weekend. Going to Rome meant I had to pack not just for the night, but for the whole weekend, so I took my time, putting together all my necessities for a jam-packed schedule over the next few days. I knew I didn't want to miss my train, because that would mean pretty much missing out on New Year's, so i left a whole thirty minutes early to walk to the train station and buy my ticket. I was so early, in fact, that I even stood in line to buy my ticket, rather than using one of the automatic "fast" machines. I wasn't sure where to check to find out which platform my train was on, but I looked at the printed schedule displayed on the wall of all the train departures and arrivals, found my train and platform, and headed to Binario 4.
As I was getting on the train, I saw two girls about my age and asked them if this train was going to Rome. They replied yes, and we all got on and sat down. Sitting in the train, I noticed something a little strange. I knew that it was not going to be a busy night for traveling, since it was a holiday, but it seemed eerily empty for a train that was headed to Rome of all places. I waited for the train to leave at 6:30 and was quite disappointed when I realized it was 6:35 and hadn't left yet. As I was sitting there in the empty train wondering when it was finally going to leave, I looked outside at a couple platforms over. There was a ton of people standing outside and they all started cheering as the train arrived. I wondered to myself where all those people were going that they would be so excited about, and then leaned back in my seat and told myself to be patient for my train to leave.
Twenty minutes later, I was quite antsy that we were still sitting on the tracks and had now figured out that that meant I wouldn't be getting into Rome until nine instead of 8:30. My morale was quickly dropping. In confusion and frustration, I tried to ask the other girls what was going on and why we hadn't left yet. They were just as confused as I was, so they couldn't give me much of an answer. We spent about five minutes looking for a person to talk to and trying to figure out if our train was broken and delayed or even where it was heading. I'm not sure how the answer finally came about, but a few moments later my heart sunk when I found out what had happened: we were on the wrong train. I heard someone shouting about platform 2 and had the awful realization that the train that I had watched come and go with dozens of excited and rowdy passengers was my train into Rome, and it had left me behind for another two hours to miss out on my highly anticipated New Year's celebration.
By this point, I had been excited about New Year's in Rome all day and couldn't wait to finally get there. Once I got on the train (the wrong one), I had texted Jess that I was on my way and she said she would have a delicious dinner of pesto gnocchi waiting for me when I got there. I was thrilled, seeing as how gnocchi is my favorite pasta and pesto is my favorite sauce, and my grumbling stomach was anxiously awaiting the savory meal. When I found out that I missed my train and would now have to take the next train two hours later, I completely lost it. Maybe being around crying children all the time is rubbing off on me a little, but I could not stop the tears from flowing. I called Zoila and Aurelio in desperation, frustration, and a bit of hysteria, and they told me Aurelio would be on his way to pick me up from the train station so that I could come home for a little bit before my next train left.
I was home for a grand total of 30 minutes I believe, but I was very thankful for some loving words and helpful encouragement, along with a little food in my stomach, before Aurelio was kind enough to drive me, once again, back to the train station and escort me onto the correct train.
During my second trip back to the house, I grabbed my Italian book so that I would have something to read while I was on the train. I spent the two hour trip to Rome studying up on some Italian and trying to improve my very much lacking language skills. I think it may have helped a little :)
Once I got into Rome, I had to get off the train and take the metro to meet Jess near the Colosseum where she lives. I could not believe what I came across. I went into the metro to the place where you buy tickets to get on and couldn't even find the ticket booth. It was completely hidden by an enormous crowd of hundreds of people, all waiting in line to get onto the metro. I pushed, shoved, and fought my way through the crowd to try to get to the ticket machines, but ended up having to wait in line just like everyone else. By this point it was around 10:00.
I finally got a ticket, then braced myself to join the fury of the crowds as I fought for my spot on the metro. Several trains came and went before I found myself at the front of the line (although it was not a line, it was a mass group of mayhem) and was able to step onto a completely jam-packed, no-room-to-move, not-even-room-to-breath metro.
Fortunately I only had to go two stops, so I knew I wouldn't have to be stuck in the claustrophobic chaos for long. Unfortunately, everyone else only had to go two stops as well. The entire train exited when we got to the Colosseo stop, and the madness only seemed to relocate itself from the inside of the metro to the entire metro station.
Let me illustrate this crowd for you. High schoolers, twenty something year olds, teens... young people, groups, friends....yelling, shouting, singing, cheering, chanting.... champagne, beer, smoking, drinking, on who knows what.... drunk, high, buzzed, crazy.... excited, anxious, exhilarated... busy, packed, pushing, shoving, squeezing, moving, going,
everywhere. I couldn't move, I couldn't breathe. I simply rode along with the crowd, following wherever it led and wherever it would allow me to go. And it grew in intensity. I thought back to quiet Foligno and the empty train station there; I couldn't even comprehend that this was out in public, in the city, and there were this many people all doing the same thing and going to the same place at the same time. As I floated along with the crowd up the stairs to the entrance of the metro station, I heard a soft chant begin to echo through the tunnels. It gained more and more spirited participants until it became a full-on Roman cheer sung by all the drunken soccer fans that were using their popular cheer to unite the people of Rome together on this festive evening.
That was not the last time that night that I heard that song. But I didn't think much more about it because only a few minutes later, I bursted out of the mouth of the cave, running for space and fresh air, when Jess showed up without my even realizing it, grabbed my arm, and got me out of the pandemonium. We took a quick picture to document my official safe arrival into Rome, after hours of obstacles, frustration, and disappointment, because I had actually, finally made it!
We briefly stopped by her house so that I could drop off my bags and finish off the rest of the gnocchi, then we headed out once more into the hullabaloo on the streets. As we walked past the Colosseum, sparks flew, fire burst, and the sky filled with smoke and bright lights. It wasn't even midnight and fireworks were already going off all around us. Our destination was a concert by a famous Italian artist, Claudio Baglioni, that was taking place about a half mile away in the Piazza Venezia. We set out towards the Piazza but it wasn't long before we realized it was a futile attempt. The further we walked, the thicker the crowd got and the stickier the ground got from spilled champagne and beer. We weaved and swerved our way as swiftly and quickly as we could through the people, without much luck. During our journey through the crowded streets, we came across something strange. The people suddenly disappeared and the crowd dispersed, leaving a random clearing open in the middle of the street. Jess and I were quite ecstatic about a moment of fresh air and traffic-less walking, so we darted through the middle of the open circle to cut across to the other side of the street. Not a good idea.
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| The crowd... |
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| ...Followed by the random clearing |
If you are ever in a war and there's an area that no one is walking in, surrounded by crowded streets, it's probably for a reason. It's likely to be a dangerous area, perhaps with landmines or hidden perilous devices. Don't think that a street festival in a large city is any different. Before Jess and I even realized what was going on, we heard cracks and booms next to us and saw lights sparkling at our feet, followed by immediate shouts from Italians who were clearly trying to get us out of the danger we had gotten ourselves in. Luckily we made our way back into the safety of the crowd and continued on our trek to the other end of the mile-long street. All the while, fireworks were booming in the sky, firecrackers shaking at our feet, and sparklers spewing everywhere. The thuds were so thick I could feel the earth shaking and the pounding in my chest when they went off. It was never clear where they were coming from either. We kept walking and every so often we would hear someone yell, see a bunch of people quickly jump out of the way, and then hear a loud bang.
Have you watched a war movie? Have you seen what it's like when there are air raids on a town or village? When all the people in the town are ducking and running for cover, and all they can hear are the booms and bangs of the bombs going off around them, not knowing where the next one will strike or how close it could be to them...? This is what I felt like. I was just waiting for the moment that a firecracker would go off right next to me or that I'd accidentally step on some ticking time-bomb and create a few more sparks than I really cared to see. I've truly never seen anything like it.
When we got about halfway to the Piazza, I turned and looked at Jess and said, "I don't think we're going to make it." It was 11:50 and at the rate we were moving, it would have been physically impossible to make it to the stage, dodging all the people and fireworks, in ten minutes. We decided to retrace our steps backwards, just a little, so that we could be a little closer to the Colosseum and park ourselves in a good spot for the count down.
We ended up next to a group of four Italian guys that were very happy to introduce themselves to us. We started talking and learning a little about each other when the madness suddenly became a roar and the tens of thousands of people on the streets starting shouting out, "Sette, Sei, Cinque, Quattro..." The Countdown had begun, and I was
not prepared for it to be in Italian! I can count to ten no problem in Italian, but counting backwards is a whole different story. I pathetically and unsuccessfully attempted to join the countdown, but by the time I was able to think of the right number, the count was over and the New Year had begun! We yelled Buon Anno, gave each other Italian cheek kisses, and whooped and hollered that it was 2011. Then I started to notice a light mist. Champagne was pouring down from the sky, shot out from dozens of people all over the streets. The mist quickly turned into a downpour, and Jess and I were ducking and hiding behind others to avoid getting completely soaked. It didn't work. I thought I had successfully escaped the wine shower, only to touch my hair a few minutes later and find it completely drenched. It was quite unpleasant.
Since everyone else was enjoying Champagne toasts, I decided one was in order for us as well, so we found a vendor on the street that was selling it and bought a bottle. Now I have to set something straight - this whole time I've been writing, I have been calling the popular drink of that night Champagne. However, Champagne is from France. Here in Italy, Italians drink a similar drink, but it is not called Champagne because it is not from Champagne, France. Instead, it's called Spumante, although it tastes pretty much exactly like Champagne to me. That being said, we got a bottle and split it between the six of us, toasting off to the new year. They let me be the one to open it :)
After our toast and a fantastic fireworks show, the crowd actually began to clear out, for real this time, and Jess and I looked at our new friends to see what their destination was. They had no plans, and neither did we, so we all decided to be adventurous and have our first experience at a Rome disco. The metro was too crowded to get on, so we sat down on the steps of the Colosseum to wait. While we were waiting, we found out that our new friends are all in their first year of military training in a nearby suburb of Rome. They all had to work early the next morning, so I think they were planning on taking it easy that night. That didn't so much happen. :)
By the time we got to the disco, it was around 2 am, just the time that Italians like to go out at. It wasn't a very big place, but we enjoyed the lights and the music and spent the next few hours dancing away. When we walked out of the disco, I looked at my cell phone and was shocked to see that it was 5:00. At that point, Jess and I weren't sure how we were going to get home, since public transportation shuts down at night, but we figured it wouldn't be too much longer before the metro opened back up again for the morning. Our friends waited with us until they had to leave for their train at 6, and then Jess and I were left waiting indefinitely in the chilly morning light. To keep ourselves occupied in the meantime, we went into a cafe right by the metro station and asked them what time the metro would start up again. To our great disappointment and frustration, we were told it didn't open until 8:30, meaning we had been waiting there the whole time for no reason (mind you we were tired and very much ready for bed by 7:00 in the morning...). We resolved to call a cab, but one of the guys working at the cafe started telling us about a friend or brother or someone that he knew that was on his way back to the cafe and could take us to the Colosseum.
The guy seemed pretty nice and not shady or intimidating, plus we couldn't really figure out what he was trying to say, so Jess and I figured we'd sit and wait for this guy to come. We were told it would be twenty minutes, but I knew that in Italian time that could mean an hour. We really weren't keen on waiting, because we just wanted to go home, but we kind of felt expected to stay after his offer. After 20 minutes of waiting, the guy brought us free water and chips. After 40 minutes of waiting, Jess and I were upset. After 45 minutes, we told the guy we were going home, and he looked at us understandingly and said okay, sure, no problem. UGH. Our biggest fear had been not being able to find a cab and truly not having a way to get home. We walked out of the cafe, saw cab, got in, and were home in ten minutes. We had waited
two hours to get home and we had only been a few minutes away.
We were exhausted and tired, but feeling a little bit awake when we got home because of our breakfast, walk, and the sun that was now rising and streaming through the windows. Our plan for New Year's Day was to take the 11:00 train to Orvieto, and considering that it was 7:30 by the time we got home, we knew that meant only two hours of sleep followed by misery for the rest of the day trying to wake up and stay awake. We didn't want to do it. We figured we would feel fresher and more energized if we just skipped the sleep altogether and got on an earlier train to Orvieto. Then we could get to Orvieto, figure out our plans there, and have time to sleep sometime later in the day.
Things never go as planned.
After showering and getting ready, Jess and I left the house 15 minutes before our train was supposed to depart. By this point, I have had more than enough experiences with trains and knew that we would most likely not make it with that little time. We tried anyways. To save time, we got in a cab. We told the cab driver to go as fast as he could to Termini station. As he was driving, we got stuck at a stoplight. At the stoplight, something pressed me to speak of my own experiences and how horrible it is to miss a train by five seconds...the amount of time that is spent at a stoplight or tying your shoe at home or getting out of the car...just enough time to run up to the train and watch the doors close in front of you. And I emphasized how one stoplight like that one can make you miss your train by mere seconds. When we got to the station, Jess paid and I ran out of the car to check our platform. There are over 25 platforms at Termini station. Our platform to Orvieto was... that's right... the same one my train to Foligno always leaves from - the
farthest one in the whole station. It is literally so far that it's not even in the station, it's somewhere on the outside of it. I felt the slap of defeat when I looked up at the board and saw the horrible platform's number written next to our train, but I looked at Jess and said with determination, "We've got to run." I've done this run many times before, but never,
ever like this time.
We ran. And ran and ran. And it was not a slow run. My backpack was bouncing on my bag, my purse was falling off my shoulder, and the end was nowhere in sight. You see, Jess is in good shape. She actually gets out and goes for a run every now and then. Not me. In fact, I don't think I ran once the entire year of 2010. So throw some heavy luggage on me, zero hours of sleep, and a determined and in shape runner alongside of me, and you've got a miserable and pathetic Sarah. I ran to the point that I thought I could not run anymore, and then I ran some more. My chest was bursting, my legs were burning, I couldn't breathe. And Jess kept jogging on ahead of me. All I could think was, I can't miss this train just because I'm too lazy and too out of shape to run... that's ridiculous! So I ran some more, even though every muscle in my body was screaming at me to stop. We finally got close enough to the train and I could see a lady next to us run ahead and jump on it. I wanted to scream to her hold the door, but I figured surely she would. I also knew that Jess was close up there next to her and would probably make sure she held it.
But when Jess got to the door, ahead of me, it was closed. I finally reached the door, and we motioned to the woman inside to open it for us, but it was too late. The doors had locked, literally seconds before we got there, and we has missed it. We sat there and watched the train back away from the station and, once more, I got to see my train leave without me.
The next train wasn't for two more hours. It was the train we had originally planned to go on when we were planning on sleeping. Good thing we didn't sleep....
Since we had two hours to kill, we knew we couldn't sit down or we would fall asleep, so we took the metro to Piazza del Popolo and walked from there all around Piazza di Spagna and Via Veneto. It was a nice morning walk. When we finally got back to the station, it felt like it was 2 in the afternoon. It was 10:30.
We said Good Riddance to Rome, hopped on our train (on time) and set our for a quiet and relaxing weekend of Jazz music and good food in Orvieto.
And the whole time we just kept thinking, "
What are we doing???"
Jess and I ventured up the main street of Orvieto into the center of town. It was very empty and quiet. For a few minutes I was surprised that a small town with such a big festival could even have a moment quietness, but then I realized what time it was: siesta! The time that Jess and I had planned (well, re-planned, since this was already Plan B) to spend walking around the town finding some neat shops and cafes was thoroughly hampered by the fact that all shop owners were at home sleeping, leaving us not many options except window shopping. As we walked, we enjoyed the festive decorations that were hung throughout the town and the sound of jazz music floating through the streets, until we came across a small, modern-looking cafe where we finally decided to sit and rest.
It felt quite refreshing to be released from the boredom and disappointment of the "Gospel" mass. It was around 6:00 and we were ready for dinner. That may sound like a completely normal concept to you, but I assure you that here in Italy it is considered crazy. Jess and I walked into several different restaurants to see if we could eat there, and they all told us that they don't even open until 7:30. We remembered a wine bar that we had past earlier while walking around town and decided to go hang out there until dinner started. That didn't work either, because when we got there we discovered it didn't open until 6:30, another thirty minutes. I can't remember what we did in the meantime, but eventually we were able to go in the wine bar and enjoy a drink and some snacks before we dinner
We ran, bought our tickets, and ended up early enough to stand in line and wait for good seats. The music was phenomenal. The jazz band was composed of a piano player, a saxophone player, and a xylophone player. Every single one of them blew my mind. I could not believe how well they could play, and I knew that half of what they were playing was probably music they were making up on the spot. The best musician to watch was the xylophone player. He really got into. I love seeing his excitement and the joy on his face as he played his beloved instrument. When he got really excited, he jumped in the air as he was playing. Now that's passion.
