Kosmopolita + Meander

We boarded an overnight train from Berlin to Basel, Switzerland on Friday night. It was originally intended to be a leisurely scenic ride down to the South of France via a family friend in Geneva, but in typical Tehrani fashion, it turned hectic at the last minute. A booked a job in Rome that turned the whole plan upside down. Being too expensive to fly to Nice at the last minute from Berlin, we decided to keep the overnight train plan then fly from Basel to Nice. It sounds pretty simple til you add in 2 small children and 12 - yes 12 pieces of luggage. That meant we all had to fit in taxis, couchette compartments, airport bus links, on cheapo airlines with weight restrictions and last but definitely not least, dragged down several pedestrian-only medieval cobblestone streets on a Saturday night in Nice. We had several mini-meltdowns along the way, but given that we're living the dream right now - it's hard to complain vociferously about the struggle of getting to the French Riviera for heaven's sake!

On the train I slept on a couchette on the bottom with T. A took top bunch with the baby. In the middle of the night, I woke up in a haze and there was a shadowy figure standing over me. For a second I thought it was A and I reached up and touched his leg and mumbled something. Then I smelled the booze and smoke and realized that a complete stranger had entered our compartment. He stammered something incoherent and ran out. I was scared out of my mind but since no one else was awake just lay there frozen with fear til dawn (after I checked to make sure our children and wallets were still there).

No sooner had we arrived in Nice then A had to turn right around and fly out to do an assignment in Rome. As we were rushing around trying to get him fed and of to the airport, he casually mentioned the possibility of us joining him in Rome. I am never one to miss out on that kind of opportunity especially if we can expense most of it! Seizing the challenge, all 4 of us were packed and out the door with a tiny carry-on in under 20 minutes.

So Rome... 48 hours, 4 countries and 3 languages later (4 if you count Swiss German)!!! Who said traveling with kids couldn't be easy!

Did I mention that this marks T's 3rd trip to Italy in as many years? Impressive for anyone, let alone a 4 yr old. This kid was so ready to be done with German and now all she can say to the Italians is danke! Poor piccolo - she's a bit confused with all the languages getting thrown into the mix. I think she'll get over it when we introduce her to the orgasm otherwise known as the Italian gelato.

I can't throw up enough love for Rome. Man, this is one gorgeous city. Here are the facts and someone can chime in if you don't think it adds up to one nearly perfect city. There are palm trees and stunning fountains and architecture and beautifully dressed people literally everywhere. It's in the mediterranean. They speak Italian. The food is well... Italian. The beach is nearby. There is a river and hills and citadels and chiesas and piazzas and palm trees! ( I am a sucker for palm trees. I'm always tempted to forgive LA for it's many short-comings on account of the palm trees.)

Ok, here's the real reason Hedgie loves Rome. I haven't had so many wandering eyeballs upon me since college. The men here don't care if you have two kids hangin' off you or even a husband in tow, they still undress you with their dark swarthy eyes! What's not to love? Alex said it's a cultural obligation among men here, like they see it as rude not to express their approval of a woman. I think they like anything remotely young and attractive because their big fat mamas are all they ever get to see at home. I read that most Italian men live at home until their mid-30's.

Italians and fashion - a national obsession. The complete opposite of the very pragmatic, non-consumer Germans. The only sign you see when you land at Rome's Fiumicino airport is for Emporio Armani. It's a huge neon sign above the airport terminal so if you weren't sure where you had landed you'd just have to put it together. You can love it or hate it - but the Italians work their fashion. Old, young and everything in between - workin' it. Some of the stuff is so incredible and a lot of it is really super tacky. They are crazy for anything shiny, gold, fringed and studded, all at the same time. In any other context it would make one want to vomit, but in Rome it's hot! Don't even try to show up to your job here in an ill-fitting suit. If your suit isn't tailored to within an inch of your life, just stay home with mama.

It's a big city, and smelly at times. And they drive like complete maniacs. Girls everywhere on mopeds wearing stilettos and draped in Gucci. It's just plain sexy. German just stuck in my throat every time I would try to conjugate the simplest request but in Italy I felt like a Fellini goddess asking for a price or the bill or saying arrivaderci! I miss it already.

Rome will always have a special place in our hearts because it's where we learned that Barack Obama will be our next president. I awoke in the wee hours to the glow of a computer in our hotel room and A hunched over it in tears. My first thought was that we'd lost, then he just grabbed me sobbing and told me Obama won! We were and still are totally elated and after the girls woke up we all did the Obama dance before breakfast. Every Italian we encountered that day congratulated us and for the first time we felt proud to present our American passports.