We sat on the edge of high seats, resting elbows and ales on a wine barrel that had been fashioned into a table. Pigeons cooed on the cobblestones around our feet, foraging for crumbs and shards of cracker crisp crust that rained to the ground as we bit into our sandwiches. I had to hunch over parted legs to keep from covering myself in falling arugula and dripping olive oil as I ate. Mike leaned similarly across from me, his sandwich partially exposed but still neatly cradled in its parchment wrapping, a wad of napkins clutched in his right hand to wipe the corners of his mouth as he sipped and chewed. Over his shoulder I watched my romanticized vision of Rome play like a scrolling vignette, fairytale pictures unfurling from the pages of a luxury travel magazine.
Travel Rome Like an Italian??? First, Ditch the Fancy Heels
Walk down the jet bridge in your comfy cute style, ready for your first day in Rome. Just skip packing your Gucci python print…