All Railroads Lead To Rome

Although Christmas is not my holiday, I can embrace it in a sense. In a world where nothing seems to stop and everyone communicates constantly, taking one day out of life – as Madonna has so aptly said – would be a holiday. And, again in the words of Madonna – which seems apropos for Christmas because in a sense it is kinda’ the Mother Mary’s day – we need a holiday.

When I’m in the Christian world on Christmas, it’s a gift. Everything goes quiet. There’s no work to check on, no errands to run, nowhere I have to go. I can let go and exhale. In places like France – where the spirit of the holiday seems stronger than the commercialism –  Christmas has a quiet beauty to it and I enjoy being witness to the best of Christianity.

Last year, I was quietly holed up on Patmos and Christmas was the penultimate silence in an already quiet holiday season. The year before, the kids and I were in Cannes which became quiet in the way that snow falls. It was gentle, sweet and delightful. We stayed inside, ate a lot of cheese and some gourmet ravioli.

This year, we pushed December 24th to the limit – or at least mine.

I slept fitfully knowing we not only needed to get up earlier than usual (the kids have been sleeping until between 9:00 and 10:00), but we had to have everything perfectly packed, the apartment cleaned up and to be at the Vaporetto dock between 10 and 10:30 to make sure we had time for things to go wrong. Given most of Italy was experiencing a rain and wind storm, it seemed reasonable to assume things could go wrong – especially when dealing with taking a boat to the train station – and on a line and from a stop we haven’t used before. But first – to even get to the Vaporetto dock, we would need to have three people – two of them children – drag five bags – three of them wheeled – across a bridge, down a canal and across an island in the rain and wind.

I suppose the adage, “It’s better to be overprepared and underwhelmed than underprepared and overwhelmed” applied in this situation. I was prepared. We were dressed appropriately, the kids understood the plan and the challenges they may have been facing, the apartment was clean, I had tissues and wet wipes in my pockets, I made sure Sennen took a Zyrtec, I left the 40 euros for tourist tax on the kitchen counter and put the key back in the lockbox. Our bags – already full with winter clothing – were extra heavy from the treasures the kids had acquired in their shopping. I know we’ll need an additional bag on the way home – but that seemed like a bad idea for today.

Happily, nothing went wrong. Not to be mistaken for things going easily. Just not wrong. We braved the wind and rain. With my large backpack on and the smaller one (containing everything valuable such as devices and passports) over my left shoulder, wheeling a third bag with my right hand, I somehow managed to lift the bag Ailyn was rolling over the bridge. I’ll never be able to explain how. Everyone had a good attitude until we came to the Madonna dell’Orta Vaporetto stop which faces out into the open lagoon, not to a calm canal. In other words, it’s on the outside of the Venetian island. The dock was rocking like a fishing boat lost at sea – and Ailyn doesn’t like small boats even on glass-smooth water. The fear swept over her face. Whether it was because she understood the necessity or because a couple of octogenarians who looked like a stiff breeze could blow them over (although there was clear and present evidence to the contrary) walked on to the dock as if it were nothing, Ailyn put on her determined face and said, “It’s okay – let’s go.”

So we carefully dragged our belongings aboard a dock that was doing only slightly better than the SS Minnow. I quickly offered Ailyn her sea sickness wrist bands. Sennen immediately said, “Give her the herbal Dramamine!” Ailyn declined and stared out to the water. It took ten minutes for a boat going the right direction to arrive – and the help of the Vaporetter “conductor” or the first mate – or whatever he is – to get the kids and the bags aboard. Still, we did it and headed to the inside seating to stay safe and dry.

Sennen and I assured Ailyn the boat was fine – but honestly, I was kind of shocked at how high the waves were coming up alongside it. After three stops, the Vaporetto turned into a canal and everything stabilized. Another two stops and we made a right on to the Grand Canal. Two more stops and we were dropped off in front of the train station.

From the train station onwards, things got easier. The Venice train station is modern, pleasant and has a variety of food service establishments. We had an hour and a quarter until time for our train, which we used to grab breakfast and a supply of train snacks. When it was time for our high-speed train to board, we were fortunate to be among the first to board – allowing us to get our many items into the baggage hold at the end of the car before it filled up.

With devices, homework notebooks, power banks, school laptops, card games and snacks, everyone was able to settle in for an uneventful four-hour journey – with the train sometimes going up to 160 mph (not as fast as in France, Sennen reminded me). The train even had great WiFi which allowed Sennen to finish catching up on school work at the unimpressively low speed of 140 mph.

About an hour from Rome, it occurred to me that relying on a taxi to take the three of us and our now five and a half bags thanks to the one holding snacks and train activities might not be smart. Luckily, I was able to schedule an Uber passenger van to meet us at the station for our arrival time for only a few dollars more than regular Uber car service. It turned out to be an inspired move. After making our way through the incredibly large and busy Rome Termini Station, a very nice man named Filippo with. great English was not only waiting for us, but found us in the crowd and helped carry our bags through the rain to his van.

Fifteen minutes later, we were at the door of our Airbnb apartment.

It’s not often an apartment is better in reality than in the photos online – but in this case it is. I was amazed at how warm, elegant and spacious the apartment was. With dark hardwood floors, giant windows with traditional shutters, wood beam ceilings and a large kitchen with butcher block counters – it is a stately Roman apartment in the Trastevere district. The kids were thrilled – especially because it is a lot more polished and homey than our Venice lodgings.

Of course, there was no time to luxuriate in our new abode. At 4:45, we had an hour and a quarter to do our grocery shopping before the local supermarkets began to close for Christmas. Google said we had three within a six minute walk, but the closest – a Carrefour Express – turned out to be right across Viale di Trastevere.

I had not had any lunch or snacks on the train. So, walking into Carrefour was problematic for three reasons: 1. I’m always partial to a French supermarket chain 2. my anxiety to make sure we were stocked up before the world shuts down for Christmas was in high gear and 3. I was REALLY hungry. We all know the adage about not shopping while hungry.

Needless to say, our kitchen is now more than sufficiently stocked, I spent more than I had intended and we have some very nice treats for the holiday. Of course, not all are indulgent. All of us were happy to enjoy some fresh produce and we have some great fruit and enjoyed a nice salad with dinner.

At 6pm, the church bells began ringing and did so repeatedly for the next two hours. The more times the bells rang, the quieter the city became. Right now, the rain is louder than the traffic and there is no one in sight from our window. Christmas is here.

What will we do tomorrow? Clearly, we’re going to finish the strongest, best tasting truffle brie I’ve ever had (which came from France, of course). Beyond that, the kids aren’t sure if they want to stay in and watch movies, go for a quiet walk around town, or both. In the tradition of American Jews, I checked all the movie theater listings – but none of our English options interested the kids. And if we want them, we have dinner reservations which I made well in advance with the help of my credit card concierge service.

However tomorrow goes, it will be low-key and restful. We’ll take it easy and while neighbor-down-the-road – The Pope – goes to work on one of the most important days of his annual calendar. He’s American, so he has solid work ethic. Hopefully, he has a great first Christmas in his new job. We’ll be rooting for him and appreciating the rest of Rome.