All Roads Lead From Rome.

The next morning I packed up the last of my things in my faithful Dakine pack and joined the rest of the group for the morning's tours. I had a flight out of Rome's Ciampino Airport for 15:05 and so I was planning on doing the morning tours with them, then catching public-transit out to Ciampino, boarding the plane, and heading for Dublin.

In the bus on the way into town, we were all smashed into standing positions in the aisle because we happened to be headed for the heart of Rome at rush hour. All roads may lead there, but that doesn't mean the traffic has enough methods of reaching downtown. As we rumbled into the maelstrom of taxis, buses, motorcycles and vans, I was struck by a strange vision of the herds of humanity. It was similar to that scene at the beginning of the Lion King, where all the animals move to gather at the rock. The buses move like elephants, slow and ponderous, thudding down between smaller beats. The taxis and smaller vans dart in and out, dashing like gazelle or zebra around the legs of the elephants, each trying to get slightly ahead and be slightly further up the line. And around and through all, like a herd of angry bees, are the mopeds and motorcycles, buzzing and whipping through the throng, weaving through small spaces and eternally sailing by their more sluggish and larger competitors.

The vision faded after we entered the subway (at Fermi station I took a moment to stop and pet a puppy. This turned out to be the softest dog in the world. No joke. It was surreal) and we headed for Colosseum. Our stop was in the very core of the city, where we were scheduled to receive a tour of the monstrous amphitheater, the Roman forum next door, and the Palatine hill that overlooked it all.

When we exited the station and were standing blinking in the sunlight, we found ourselves with half an hour to kill, so we hit a small corner magazine vendor and I bought a paper with an article about the Pope who had been chosen the previous evening. So it was that I discovered that Benedicto XVI (the 16th) was to be the new Holy Father. While his picture was terrifying, the article expressed praise for him and his connection to John Paul II, so we smiled and hoped for the best.

The tour we had arranged was with a lovely young tour guide named Valentina, who did part-time work as an archeologist, and was as charming and knowledgeable about the ancient city of Rome as Alphonso had been about Pompei (Pompeii). She gave us a great tour of the Colosseum and I learned a lot. For example, it's really just a Flavian amphitheater. The name Colosseum was only given it because of the Colossus, a huge statue of Nero that stood nearby and predated the building. Another random fact? Women and men were not allowed to sit together. All women (even the wives of wealthy and powerful senators) had to sit in the top sections, further from the action. The information goes on, but this isn't a history lesson. If you want more knowledge, you'll just have to go to Rome!

After that we took a tour of the Roman Forum, also endlessly intriguing but not nearly so sound bite-worthy. We did see the suspected location of Julius Caesar's grave though. It isn't nearly as ornate a spot as St. Peter's, but it holds its own special mystique. To think that the body of the man who once united the world is buried there, just below the surface of his beloved city.

A hike to the top of the Palatine hill put us at the end of our tour and it was time for me to leave. Noon was fast approaching and I needed time to get across Rome and board my flight. So I bid my farewell to the kids, who had by this time become my family. The memories of our great times and hardships made it feel like I was taking leave of my extended family, and it was hard to finally make a break out on my own again.

I said goodbye to them, and my parents, and set out across Rome. I had a lot of ground to cover in the next two hours. A couple metros, a stop in a supermarket, and a bus later I was in the airport, and it was nearing 14:20. I didn't have much time! I dashed into the airport, which thankfully was tiny, and searched the flight lists anxiously. I didn't see my flight, so I hurried to the information desk, fearing they had already closed the check-in for it, and asked the polite and pretty young lady there to check on my flight. She informed me that it hadn't been listed yet, but would have a desk soon.

I was bewildered for a moment, then checked my flight information. Indeed, my flight didn't LAND in Dublin at 17:05 as I had originally thought; it landed at 19:05. It left Rome at 17:05! I had two hours!

So, since I was starving, I found an open patch of floor, sat down, and made myself some lunch, then repacked my bags. Just as I was repacking, I was shooed away by a couple of the airport security fellows. As an aside: here's a message to all airports, everywhere: if you don't want us sitting on the floor, install some damn public seating.

I headed upstairs, found a quieter corner and sat down again, finished my last repacking, went back downstairs and checked in, since the desk had just been opened. Thankfully my pack squeezed just under the limit (14.8 kilos!) and I went to the gate to wait for boarding to begin.

Everything about the flight was flawless, and at 19:05, I found myself standing in the Dublin airport. Tired but happy to be back on my own. Wistful in a way, but with a lighter step and a cheerful whistle now that I was again striking out to find new places alone.