HIT
Rome was a definite hit for me. As a typical Kiwi guy, when the first experience of Europe is winding your way along the cobbled Roman vias and you happen to stroll past the Piazza Navona and then stumble upon the Colosseum, it's pretty mind blowing. We had been given the address of a nice, affordable local restaurant. After knocking three times at what looked like cathedral doors in a wall, and standing in a dark, dodgy, silent street in a foreign country, we decided to cut our losses and head back. That's when the doors creaked open and filled the street with light and a mix of raucous laughter and Italian singing. We were beckoned in by a large man resembling Pavarotti and entered a medieval taverna with candlelit tables and fire torches in the alcoves. When our meals arrived, the music stopped and "Pavarotti" came over and performed a proper operatic solo for our little table — the food, the music, the city was amazing!
MISS
We were up early to catch the train, from Rome, to the Italian seaside city of Ancona.
Mistake number one: I accepted the two free breakfast vouchers from the central city backpackers my girlfriend and I were staying at. My two croissants were delicious, if not a little tangy.
What I remember about Ancona was its postcard Italian beauty. Until we came to the port to catch the ferry. The very long Ancona ferry terminal had no rubbish bins. I know this because as the overwhelming wave of nausea slapped me in the face, I stood bolt upright and scanned that terminal like a meerkat. The only non-seating structure was a large planter box about 30m away. I was off and, leaving my pack, passport and valuables, I flew toward the planter.
