I decided to pack up and leave England, my beloved family and my fantastic friends for so many reasons I can’t put them into one sentence. Primarily I was looking for a better life, dare I say it the “Dolce Vitaâ€. I wanted sunshine, good food and like minded company. I also wanted to experience living in another country and another culture and chose Rome because the city is abundant with the stuff. I was also fed up with paying 99p for an Aubergine in Sainsbury’s.
Some might say that a 24 year old woman who has just begun her career in Journalism might not be making the most sensible move, uprooting oneself and ones prospects only to become a tour guide around the Colosseum, but I would beg to differ.
Having no ties, no mortgage and a good University degree I think this is the best time to become a bona fide “ex-patâ€. “Nothing ventured, nothing gained†and all that.
So I quit my job writing for women’s magazines, saved some money and booked my one-way ticket on well known lost cost airline. I was to begin a new life in a new country for a mere £17.
So far my experiences of Rome have been full of contradictions. Especially in terms of my emotions and in turn these mirror the everyday happenings of the Eternal City. I am a new hatched chick, scratching around blindly wondering where the hell I am and what I should do. Instinctively I search for food which of course is a pleasurable task with more pizza, pasta and gelato than you can shake a stick at.
Next comes human contact which is surprisingly easy. On my very first day I meet a fellow brit and I am pleased to report she is lovely. A few ex-pats here and there and finally a fantastic group of Italians girls and boys. Here, I must confess, I cheated. I was in Rome last September with a friend and we stayed with his cousins. Therefore they were willing to help me with my new adventure. So much so, Francesca, (kind, sweet and beautiful) even managed to find me a room in an apartment with her friend Bianca (also kind, sweet and beautiful). Lucky.
So far so good. With a roof over my head, a mobile phone that works and a barrage of people to continuously kiss (only in greeting unfortunately!) I set off for one of my walks. These usually involve me getting lost, getting red-raw blisters or having some kind of bizarre episode. Today I am fairly lucky and sit at a relatively cheap bar at Campo De’ Fiori.
As I watch the pink tourists eat mountains of ice cream and the businessmen in their linen suits greet women with legs up to their armpits, I cannot help but feel pure elation. This is my city, my home. I have dreamt about this since I was a desperately Romantic 14 year old girl on holiday with my parents in Tuscany reading Wuthering Heights. Ten years on and I am here. Now all I need is an Italian Heathcliff to come riding by. Oh well.
Instead I have decided that Rome is to be my new lover. I argue passionately with its atrocious street crossings, I am calmed by the gentle soft hills that watch over me and I am ignited by the devastatingly beautiful architecture that is so abundant that I feel spoilt.
I have already fallen in love with my new beau. Its terrible noises, insane people, colossal vistas and that hot, dirty, worn smell that at this time of year is fragranced with Jasmine as it covers every wall like a white carpet of smoke.
But as in any relationship, the question remains. Will it last? Could it be just a quick, fickle affair that starts off with far too much lust and gusto and ends with boredom and taking each other for granted? Will everything that seems so charming, so unique at the beginning become irritating habits that make you want to tear your hair out? Or is this the start of beautiful and life-long partnership which will give years of happiness together?
Of course I don’t know the answer (if I did I wouldn’t be single) but it going to be one hell of a ride finding out.
Luki will share her experiences of Rome through her "A Roman Diary" column every two weeks.
