Betsy and our extraordinary VRBO host Felipe in front of the Trevi Fountain at 6 a.m. on the morning of our departure. He was a great host, very helpful, and lugged our heavy luggage up and down stairs even though we protested that he was doing too much. Also, we highly recommend staying at the apartment he managed. Super clean and perfectly located.
Rain interrupted our trip only once and that was the last day
We awoke to a rainy last day in Rome. We made our way to the Campo di Fiori market, which we had been looking forward to for days, only to discover it was a far smaller market day than expected. We attributed that to it being All Saints Day. We stayed for just a few minutes, bought nothing, and then decided to return to the Irish Pub that Betsy and I had visited a couple of weeks earlier. There, we shared two orders of fish and chips, some drinks, lots of laughs, and then went back to our apartment for our last siesta.
Oh, how we will miss those siestas.
Irish Pub lunch in Rome
We were back out around 5:30 looking for a place for drinks and dinner. However, because of the hard rain, there were very few outdoor spaces, and all were taken. Plus, Italians don’t eat dinner at 5:30, not even the senior citizens, apparently. Dinner is served at 7:30 at the earliest. We decided to buy some wine and go back home. After a glass or two of wine, we decided to get takeout since it was our last night and the rain was coming down even harder outside. A toasty panini and a pizza made for a tasty dinner.
Betsy and I left for the airport at 6 a.m., though our flight was delayed about 45 minutes. Bonnie, Emily, and Lisa left at 8:30 for their noonish flight to Atlanta.
One last shot of Trevi Fountain just before dawn, sans crowds
On the cab ride to the airport, we stopped next to the building that houses the Bocca Della Verita, a marble face known as the Mouth of Truth. It was featured in the movie with Gregory Peck and Audrey Hepburn, Roman Holiday. Legend says that if a liar puts a hand inside the mouth, it will bite off some fingers.
Betsy and I sat in an airport cafe for a bit and then boarded our United flight bound for Newark. It was a comfortable flight. We watched Supernova, a sweet love story starring Stanley Tucci and Colin Firth. We wept as quietly as we could all the way through it. Then we watched Summer of Soul, a 2021 documentary about the 1969 six-week Harlem Cultural Festival that celebrated Black history, culture, music, and fashion. It was fantastic.
It was actually Caffe Kimbo, but this is all I could see from my seat. Because of the flight delay, we had plenty of time to hang out at the airport.
I know the pork has a fancier name, but after three weeks, it tastes like a ham sandwich to me and those couple of bites are my last for a long, long time.
Ready for take-off from Rome to Newark
Betsy’s brunch on the plane. She only ate the fruit and eggs.
Betsy and I always enjoy the flights home. In addition to watching the films, we spent time reminiscing about the trip and making notes about how we’ll pack more efficiently the next trip – we took too few clothes this time. And, after 33 years together, we also managed to tell each other stories we’ve never heard before.
Wish I could end this post on that happy note, but no.
In the words of Bob Wallace (Bing Crosby) in the movie, White Christmas, we had ourselves a “slambang finish.”
As we boarded the plane in Rome, a woman placed her enormous Gucci bag in the storage bin designated for Betsy’s seat. I complained, but the woman said, no, it was fine. Betsy could use a different space and she took Betsy’s bag and placed it a little further back. Betsy had a bag of duty-free goodies we purchased at the airport she was going to stow with her bag, so I took that from her and put it above my seat, with my backpack, another bag of souvenirs, and my purse.
My purse.
There’s a running joke among some of my close friends about my history with purses. It goes like this, “No trip is complete without Kim’s blood-curdling cry of ‘Where’s My Purse!'”
That’s because I would leave it everywhere I went. So, about 25 years ago, I stopped carrying one. I stuffed everything into my pockets or, most often, handed my stuff to Betsy to put into her purse.
However, when we got to Rome that first day on Oct. 12, I couldn’t resist the urge to have a purse. We stopped at a little leather shop and found a perfect one that I could carry as a crossbody bag. And, we even sprung for a little leather wallet for me to carry inside of it for our debit/credit cards, my driver’s license, etc.
So, on this trip, unlike any other in the past, I took responsibility for our documents. For three weeks, I kept up with our covid vaccine cards, passports, credit cards, money, Betsy’s allergy card, everything. And it went great.
Until it didn’t.
When we landed in Newark for our connecting flight to Nashville, I got everything out of the overhead bin except my purse. I noticed it was missing when I went to pay for something at an airport restaurant.
“Where’s My Purse?!!!” Our trip was complete. Dammit.
Fortunately, we had our passports, but all the rest was gone. No going back into the International Terminal. In fact, they warned us on the plane that we had to make sure we had everything because there was no returning once we stepped off the aircraft. With bags of stuff in my arms, I thought I had everything. I was wrong.
I checked online about what to do and then went to the United Customer Service area very near our departing gate. There, I didn’t get any help with recovering my purse, but I did get some perspective.
A non-English-speaking family of five was at the counter trying to get rebooked after missing a flight. Two young parents and three crying children. They were told they couldn’t fly out until late the following day. At the other window, an elderly woman from Ghana was crying because she had lost documents and couldn’t board a plane. My heart went out to all of them. All I really have to do is cancel some credit cards, update some auto-pay stuff, get a new license and replace our Covid cards. It’s a hassle, but nothing more than that.
Oh, and I have to stop carrying a purse. Or, at least only carry one on foreign soil.
The connector flight from Newark to Nashville was a tiny, rattling plane.
It was late afternoon on the flight to Nashville and after realizing my purse was lost, we decided to have an inflight cocktail.
A beautiful sunset over Nashville as we flew home.
We’re back in Nashville safe and sound and filled with pasta and great memories.
Now, where to next?
Ciao!
Kim & Betsy 
Never mind your documents – your beautiful Italian leather purse! I have totally enjoyed your trip!
I’m sorry to read about your slambang ending, I truly am. However, I’m humbled by your positive attitude about it. I can’t wait to read about your next adventure and I hope it’s soon.