Rome, the first day.

Lets be totally and completely honest: my senses are out of whack. Starting from the bottom, my feet feel bloated with immobility that 9-12 hours on an airplane tend to bring about. My stomach is running on empty, so those few butterflies are making use of the wing-space in there. My eyes are feeling a little more well-rested after a two hour nap, but they are still very busy taking in all the sites and sounds (including a group of Scots in kilts who just walked in to the Hotel Castelfidardo lobby!). And my head, above all, is very, very bewildered. What have I gotten myself into? Rome, as far as I know it from the sites I have seen today, is a city of cigarette butts, muggy gray skies, and fast-walking people who never smile. First impressions, my friends. At the moment I have become attached at the hip to uncomfortability and unfamiliarity-- and I am not liking it. My consolation is the evening of sleep-- and a hot shower-- that await me. I am praying it will rejuvenate me... Its 8 pm and I just got back from dinner to go at a small anonymous pizzeria with Italian women at small tables drinking Heinekens. I got a rectangular slice of a vegetable pizza-- the first bite made everything I had been feeling awful about dissolve. Welcome to Italy, my friend Roz said when she saw the look of satisfaction on my face. We walked and talked about our fears and hopes for the next two months of traveling, as the Roman moon shone above. After a long day of journeys from Seattle to Amsterdam to Rome I have found comfort in a friendly conversation and a good slice of pizza.
And I almost got hit by a motorcycle.