Il Pigneto

Have arrived for my second 'stagio' in Roma. But not after a near disaster in Stansted!
Being warned to arrive early to enable a long tedious pass through security to go without stress, I escaped from my Hostel at London Bridge, a tiny room with four bunks and no aeration as the Russian wanted to hear nothing from outside, at the early hour of 6.30, foregoing a shower, I just wanted to get out! I had a cursory cornflake breakfast, included with the gracious tariff of thirty pounds! and then took the first bus I saw to Liverpool St Station where the express train to Stansted left every half hour or so.

So I arrived terribly early at Stansted, four and half hours before the scheduled flight departure. But no stress, I was doing as planned, and what could I do in London City in two hours anyway, just walk and look, and drag my trolley bag. So I passed through the very tough security, practically strip-searched, with my printed-out boarding pass, or so I thought, and sat down in one of the many eateries not far from the signage giving evidence of my departure gate, in four hours time!

Time passed, I ate and drank an awful Americano coffee, chatted with a Cypriot couple quite angry with losing fifty percent of their savings invested in the wrong  Cyprus Bank, and when finally my departure gate, number 54, came up, I took my bag and began the long and tortuous trek along corridors, up and down escalators to arrive twenty minutes later at the designated Gate. 

I took my place in the quite short queue, as I was an early arrival, and the efficient woman checked my 'boarding pass'. NO, it was wrong, had not been checked at Passport control, although I had been exhaustively searched and stamped, I thought, on the way. She said I'd have to run back to my original arrival place, and re-do my exit procedure, and get a proper boarding pass, but that I would probably miss the flight as it was now half past and the scheduled departure was a quarter to two. I retrieved my papers from her and began the unbelievable return, against the hordes who were all coming against me, to try and get my flight.

I was literally huffing and puffing, darting and weaving through the masses, thinking, I must get this flight. Of course I HUed. On seeing some officials I stopped to check what I had to do, they said, 'go with this lady and pass back through security and get your pass'. 

It was now eighteen minutes to two, I would miss the flight they said. Finally back at the original desk, they scanned my original pass and said it was the wrong one, apparently I had torn off the other pass and they had kept it in Rome on my earlier departure. As I had been booked, she said, just 'give him a boarding pass and get back as soon as you can'.

Hurriedly they presented me with the invaluable pass and I began my return trip. Running and bumping, it was literally a kilometre to the last gate. I arrived exhausted and no-one was there, the plane was still there, but everything was ocked, and there was no sign of anything.

They've closed the flight, I thought, then a lone voice called out, 'Rome Ciampino is leaving from Gate 46'.  They've changed the flight departure gate! I then noticed someone whom I recognised from my flight walking slowly back, resigned, to the gate which I had passed ten minutes before on my agonised run to Gate 54. 

Finally I arrived at the end of the long queue, took my place with the others, and waited another half an hour before we boarded. While waiting I saw a very angry scene at Gate 44 where an Englishman had missed his flight because he had heard no announcements. ' Ryanair doesn't do announcements' the woman, said, 'But you took my bag', she said. 'Go back to the ticket office and find another Flight.' He was ropable and swore on his way back. Then I saw two young people arrive after me, saying they had just gone to 54 and had to run back to 46. They were not as exhausted as me, but happily I had co-conspirators. Such is life when you take Ryanair. Always check your Boarding Pass especially when you are not a European, you always need a Passport check!

A day later...

Now I have had a lovely night's sleep and am dining alfresco in Via Pigneto, life is sweet!
The Pigneto Quartiere is now one of the hippest in Rome, thanks to arrival of a big black population, all smoking grass, heavily noticeable in the streets wherever you walk.

The ubiquitous street market  is full of excellent food products, fruit, vegetables and even meat. I sit and have cappuccino with a 'bruschetta al pomodoro' and it costs only 2.50 euros. I check the Lonely Planet 'Rome Encounter,' well researched by an Aussie, and discover a bar close by which was frequented by Pasolini, so I must find that. I stroll a few blocks, get lost, but nothing is far away, ask some young people where Via Fanfulla da Lodi is, and it's just around the corner. I find it, and yes, it's already abuzz with clients at 1pm. I note that Sunday is a cheap buffet and mentally note that for next Sunday.

On my way back to the market in Via Pigneto to buy a little camisole I saw, the clouds gather and it's going to rain, big drops, people are scurrying about, umbrellas turned up, preparing for the rest of a wet day. Optimistically I return but the market is fonished, and in process of packing up. Well I'll find another camisole somewhere, I'm sure.
The rain gets heavier and I seek refuge in the bar nearby, very smart, and I order a tea with lemon, and a pastry. I'll wait out the rain, as I am going to a movie at the local cinema tonight at 9.30, I can have a quiet afternoon. 

Tomorrow is a trip to the Tivoli Gardens and Hadrian's Villa. It's going to be a good return I can feel that.