I turned out the bedside light and lay in the dark listening to the murmur of customers talking, and the clink of silverware against china as they dined at La Soffitta Renovatio, the restaurant located directly located below our Airbnb bedroom windows in Rome. My daughter Tammie and I had just returned from having a meal there. We shared a stuffed and fried zucchini blossom appetizer. Then I ordered a risotto with baby squid, which I loved. Tammie enjoyed a dish made with long bucatini noodles in a red sauce with pepper flakes and guanciale.

It felt so good to stretch out to rest on the queen-sized memory foam mattress. Traveling from Minnesota to Italy had been exhausting. The sound of sirens from ambulances and police cars regularly punctuated the quiet sounds of the sidewalk diners as I drifted off to sleep.

            The sun was shining when I woke. Instead of staying in bed, I jumped up to take a closer look at the apartment. Flat screened televisions hung on the bedroom and living room walls, but all the stations were Italian. In the kitchen, I found a small refrigerator, dishwasher, microwave, and a two-burner induction stove. Above the sink, I found plates, bowls, and silverware in a drawer. The expresso maker I didn’t care about, but wished I had a tea bag when I saw the electric kettle.

            My daughter suggested, “Why don’t we walk to the open-air market that’s nearby and get a few groceries so we can make breakfast and maybe a meal or two?”

            Sticking to the shady side of the streets as much as we could, we enjoyed window shopping, people watching and admiring blossoms on trees and shrubs along the way. As we walked, leg muscles that I hadn’t used much since I retired began to object. At the market, we bought eggs, salami, grapes, and a small bottle of wine. The hot Italian sun burned our skin as we walked back to the apartment.

            After resting for a while, Tammie and I decided to go see St. Peter’s Square. We could see one wall of Vatican City two blocks from our apartment but had to walk about four blocks to get to one of its gates. Along the way, we stopped at many of the small stores and shopped for souvenirs.

            St. Peter’s Square is a large open space in front of St. Peter’s Basilica. It isn’t square, despite its name. Two long, curved rows of huge columns seem to embrace the cobblestoned area like loving arms encircling a loved one. A tall obelisk stands in the center and is flanked by two large fountains.

            Tammie scheduled one main activity each day. Today’s activity was a nighttime bus tour of Rome. To get to the bus terminal where it started, we had to take the subway to a nearby station. We boarded the upper level of the bus shortly after the golden evening sun had set.

            The bus took us past all the notable sights of the city. I especially loved how the Colosseum ruins were lit up. It stopped for us to have a meal at a place cheesily named Eataly where there were multiple restaurants. We ate at one called Terra. Then we resumed the tour.

Bouncing over the cobblestone streets, the bus bucked like a wild bronco. I commented, “This bus has the shock absorbers of a hay wagon. My ride wasn’t this rough even when Daddy pulled it down our cow lane.” As the bus approached the Colosseum for the second time that evening, it pulled to a stop and the driver announced that the tour had ended.

            I looked at the dark street where the bus was parked and asked Tammie, “Is he kidding? Aren’t bus tours supposed to take you back to where they started?”

            Someone pointed to the Coliseum, which was a couple blocks away, and said, “The metro terminal is a couple blocks beyond it.” Dumbfounded by this unexpected turn of events, my daughter and I slowly, painfully began to walk, stopping at every fence, wall, and stairway to sit down to rest.

Like the amazing person that she is, Tammie somehow figured out how to get us back to the apartment. The final step was taking a bus that didn’t stop any closer than four blocks away.

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            Streetlamps were spaced surprisingly far apart. Tammie and I held hands as we walked. At one point a rat the size of a kitten jumped out of a garbage bin and scurried across our path. It disappeared under a car parked along the street. I shuddered. It ran so close to me that I imagined I’d felt its fur as it passed!

            That night I saw homeless people wrapped in blankets, laying on cardboard to sleep on the sidewalk. I was tired. My legs and feet hurt, but I realized I was fortunate. I had an apartment to sleep in. All I had to do was walk home in the dark to get there.