A day with the down-and-out of rome

Screw this damned lake.

I slept in and decided to take in some sun at a park, reading one of the guidebooks at the hostel on Germany and Austria. Hey, next summer's only 13 months away...

The Gypsy
I am fascinated with these people, as I think I've mentioned before. These women, carrying their young dirty children all day long.

Their biggest scam, I think, and a successful one at that, is at the ticket machines.

I can't believe I haven't read about this is a guide book. It's incredible.

There are these ticket machines at every metro. The machines are very easy to figure out... instructions are given in 5 languages. You choose from 3 types of tickets, insert money, out comes change and a ticket.

But at Termini, most of the people using the machines are tourists, often bedraggled from the flight they just got off.

The women stand at the machine, ask you how many tickets you want, punch the buttons for you, take your money (they don't steal it), insert it into the machine, and hand you the tickets. Then they hold out their hand for a tip when the transaction is finished.

BRILLIANT!

When I am on line, I watch as EVERY SINGLE TOURIST ponies up a tip.

Except for me.

"No besogno aiuta," I say angrily. I'm faking.

This one was pretty clean, and not too aggressive. The other day, I saw two, at two neighboring machines, being aggressive with this American man who was buying tickets for his family. He was confused and tired. so I say quite loudly to him "don't give her money. She doesn't work for the station. I will help you." She and her friend run away.

The Cat Ladies of Rome

So I get my bearings, and at about 1:00 I decided to get a sandwich for the park, because if I've learned anything here, you have to get food or drink BEFORE you're actually hungry or thirsty. Everything takes a longer time than you expect.

So, on the bus, I read that the Torre Argentina bus stop, location of a completely excavated site, is also home to a CAT SANCTUARY, and they are "always looking for volunteers," even for an hour or two.

So I get there, and sure enough, there are between 200 and 300 cats. They look very healthy, well taken care of, and basically live in this part of the ruins. I decide that instead of the park, this is a much more productive thing to do with my day.

So I go to the woman who runs the place, tell her I'd like to vounteer for a few hours (in my icky Italian) and that I do this at home.

She says, looking very unenthused, "I speak English."

She then says, in the same unimpressed manner, "How long are you here?"

I tell her it's my last day. She looks pissed. She basically starts saying that if I were here for a week, maybe, but now, eh...

Now I don't really care. But I thought it would be a nice thing to do. Maybe brush the cats, play with them...

She says, "I guess you could clean the litter?"

Of course. How silly of me. Poop duty. I say sure. She asks me if I know how. Now, I can't imagine that Italian cat poop is any different than the American variety, or its cleaning method. But maybe the litter is different, or of different quality that we use at City Critters.

She leads me into a room that must have 40 cages of cats, and another 10 cats mulling about, with one particularly vocal ocicat-looking one. She shows me how to clean the litter.

So I open the first cage, and pet the cat who very obviously wants attention.

She yells "Don't touch the cat! These cats are sick!"

How I'm supposed to get the litter box out of the cage without laying my hand on the cat it beyond me. Of course, all the cats that aren't in cages (are they in recovery?) are climbing the cages and harassing the ones that are locked up, so I don't know how the cats are being protected from spreading germs. Oh, and there's no soap in the room. So I can't wash my hands.

I start cleaning cages, doing my best not to touch the sickies. After about the 8th cage, she comes in and tells me I'm doing it wrong. I was wasting too much litter, scooping too much, and they didn't have any money to waste. Oh, and I didn't put the litter boxes in the correct place when I returned it to the cage.

"why are you puttng the box in the middle?"

I told her she wasn't so specific. Really, I just was afraid to touch the cats, and I just put it in so she wouldn't yell at me for accidentally touching the cats."

She shows me on 3 more litter boxes how to clean.

No one is talking to me. The other volunteers are not friendly. They are not nice. they do not smile. I can't wait to get the hell out of there.

I'm sweating like mad, but can't mop my brow because I'm probably covered in sick kitty excrement.

I finish.

Now she tells me to sweep the front of the sancutary.

I really can't wait to get out of there. I ask if there is a bathroom, and there is none. This will be my out (although, true to form, I really did have to go.)

I sweep, and I'm about 50 feet from one of the other volunteers, who comes over, coughs, and says "Please, can you sweep in the other direction?"

Hmph.

I am certainly more trouble than I am worth.

I finish sweeping, I grab my bag, and luckily, the 1st lady isn't there to give me another job. I say "I need to leave... I am assuming you accept donations?"

I give her 5 euro.

She smiles.

Money talks, everywhere. And crazy cat people are everywhere, too.


Men on Crowded Busses
I get some incredible pizza at some random place. The Roman pizza has a very crispy, very thin crust, with lots of topping. Sort of a cross between foccaccia and pizza.

I wait for the number 40 bus, the best bus in Rome because it hits all the major sights, goes to Termini, and is Express. So it's pretty fast.

Which means it's usually pretty full.

So, I'm crammed into this bus, sweating like a pig. I'm next to a bunch of Koreans, and they're mext to a pretty clean-looking older man, but there's evidently something worng. He's wearing a sweater, topped with an overcoat. It's 90 degrees outside, and about 200 degrees inside the damned bus.

I am remembering now what the guidebook said about pickpockets and gropers on the 40 bus. Because it's so crowded. I hold my things closer and keep a watchful eye on the man. And the koreans, who looked like total targets.

Sure enough, I see one of the korean boys pull his things closer, and the old man makes a big commotion and gets off. I on't know if he was successful.

Thankful that I purposefully moved away from this old man, I notice that a rather tall, youngish man is now stading next to me. Perhaps he wanted to get away fro the geezer, too.

We're packed ike sardines, so much so that I think to myself that this young man must have very thin pants on, because I totally feel his package pressed up against my hip. Ick. I turn a bit.

And so does he. I must be imagining this. It's just crowded.

The bus comes to a complete stop, and so do I. I hold my breath so as not to move, because I am now imagining that he is carefully, methodically, rubbing himself against me, up and down.

No, I am imagining nothing.

I make no eye contact, but I say "scusa" to the person in front of me so that I can squeeze myself to a different part of the bus. As I walk away, I can feel the springboard-like action of his now erect penis.

It's not my stop, but I get off.

Just before he could.

I felt that thing on my hip for at least the next 10 minutes I had to wait for the next bus.

Oh, Rik, why did you have to go?