The only thing I’ve been doing more frequently as of late than blogging on trains is making explicit mention of the fact that I’m blogging while onboard a particularly train. If this irks you, dear reader, I apologize sincerely.
The reason I’m always writing on the go, of course, is because I am always on the go. Most recently, I’ve wrapped up a two-day visit to Rome, one I planned as an opportunity for me to retrace the steps of my 2007 visit there: I retraced almost none of said steps.
There has, not surprisingly, been nostalgia. But reconciling the professional globetrotter I am today with the bright-eyed, bushy tailed backpacker I was the first time I set foot in the Eternal City has brought about some surprisingly big questions.
That I made a beeline for the Colosseum the moment I arrived in Rome back in 2007 is a testament to how poorly-traveled I was at the time. That I arranged a dinner date with the Roman stud at tourist information shows that travel leaves some things unchanged.
I met my this year’s Rome lover, Leonardo, in a similarly happenstance way. My intent was to sample “local flavor,” even if Leonardo is actually from Pisa — but in the outcome: I kissed Leonardo goodbye with a second date already planned; my first Rome fling was over me before I put my clothes back on.
Veni, Vidi, Vici
The extent to which I have seen myself reflected in Rome is profound
A unique fact about my maiden voyage to Rome is that I was vegan. Yes, you read that right: I set foot in the land of pasta and pizza eating neither meat, nor dairy, nor eggs, nor even refined sugars — even gelato was out of the question.
After strolling through the Vatican today, I stepped into the kebab shop I’d visited nearly every day of my 2007 trip. I salivated at the hunk of meat rotating in front of me, one I’d previously looked upon with disdain as I ordered my sauce-only pizza marinara.
Since the priorities of my 2007 trip to Rome had been to get laid and remain vegan, the two days I booked in Rome this year would allow me to cover most of the ground I missed last time. But my intent was, once again, largely the same.
In both instances, the idea was very “veni, vidi, vici” in nature — come (don’t laugh!), see and conquer. Do as much as I possibly can in a too-short time, then leave feeling accomplished at having done it successfully.
I did cover plentiful camera-wielding tourist ground during the past 48 hours, from Piazza del Popolo, to Fontana de Trevi, to another walk around the Colosseum — but none of those places are on my mind as I speed toward Venice at 300 km/h.
An Exhaustive Inventory
The only thing I fear more than the clutter of the Vatican is the clutter of my own emotions
Leonardo is: Our aforementioned second date was epic. We held hands as we watched the sun set over Rome from Villa Dora Pamphlini, the highest point in the city; we danced all night at a techno party set amid ancient ruins.
When I woke up next to him in his tiny, piping hot apartment this morning, the fact that I had a 1:45 P.M. train to Venice was the furthest thing from my mind. My two hopelessly romantic days in Rome have temporarily taken me out of traveler mode.
The thought that I might abruptly abandon my nomadic lifestyle and return to the Eternal City to be with my sun-kissed lover has already crossed my mind on more than one occasion. To buffer such a hasty prospect, I’ve begun an exhaustive internal inventory.
Can I continue my life on the road, but “travel” less and “live” more? Am I past the point where I even need to pay mind to the “popular” attractions of a particular city, as handsomely as Google rewards me for writing keyword-rich articles about them?
The world clearly has more to offer me than photo ops in exotic locales, as bountiful and ever awe-inspiring as they might be — when will I feel sure enough I deserve these gifts that I can accept them?
Robert Schrader is a travel writer and photographer who’s been roaming the world independently since 2005, writing for publications such as “CNNGo” and “Shanghaiist” along the way. His blog, Leave Your Daily Hell, provides a mix of travel advice, destination guides and personal essays covering the more esoteric aspects of life as a traveler.
