Seeing the Colosseum was one of my main reasons for coming to Rome and it easily exceeded my expectations. If you’re looking to pay uninterrupted homage away from the crowds, locate the Colosseo metro stop across the street. Off to the east is a stairway leading up through some bushes and small trees to the top of the wall above the station. This elevated viewing area is perfect to admire the ancient marvel that has battled the ravages of time and the unstoppable march of progress for the past two thousand years. It stands firm as undying evidence of the magnificent architectural capabilities that the Romans possessed. 

       I walked the entire perimeter of the Colosseum and spent some time admiring the Arch of Constantine before grabbing a light lunch from a food truck that was parked across the street in front of the metro stop. When I’m sightseeing by myself I’m less inclined to sit in a restaurant for lunch. It was a beautiful day, and sitting on a low wall, eating a sandwich and an apple with the Colosseum as a backdrop suited me just fine. Along with my food, I also bought a bottle of water. I held onto the bottle and just kept refilling it all week. In Rome, there are water fountains everywhere. Except for a short period in the winter, it is hot here all the time. I truly believe that the reason Catholicism was able to secure such a grip in this area is that these people are truly frightened of a place that could possibly be hotter than it already is. Fountains aren't just for decoration here. You would literally die if they weren't all over. 

        While I wasn’t accosted by any of the numerous gypsies that flood the area, I did enjoy watching them ply their well-practiced trade on other tourists. It’s amazing how many gypsies suffer from the exact same crippling spinal ailment that makes it impossible for them to stand erect. This hunched-over maneuver is often used to hide their faces so you won’t be able to detect that many of them are not the elderly ladies that they appear to be but actually much younger women. If they’re not wearing gloves, look at their hands and you might be surprised by the lack of wrinkles and liver spots. Of course, this could just be attributed to a strict daily regiment of Retin-A skincare treatments but I wouldn't bet on it.

       At the entrance to the Colosseum, after you dodge the gypsies and the seemingly endless number of peddlers hawking sunglasses and purses, you’ll have the opportunity to be berated by some of the locals dressed as Roman guards. As you walk by, they can be a tad obnoxious with their attempts to goad you into taking a photo with them. If you’re a man, and you agree to have your picture taken, be prepared to have at least one of the guards thrust his plastic sword into your crotch. It seems to be one of their favorite poses. So, if you’re not interested in having your lower extremities speared like a Spanish bull, you might want to anticipate the attack and act accordingly with an appropriate defensive maneuver.

       Similar to the Colosseum, the Roman Forum is another necessary stop when you’re in Rome. The Forum is an open-air museum filled with temples, arches, columns and numerous historic buildings. It amazed me to witness children playing on top of two thousand year-old column fragments like they were on a jungle gym at the local park. I could relate to their unbridled enthusiasm. I was like a kid in a candy store as my head swiveled back and forth trying to take it all in. I would return to the Colosseum and the Forum the following day as part of the Rick Steves tour but I was glad that I had the opportunity to spend a few hours by myself to explore and admire the ancient ruins that had previously only been accessible to me through postcards and history books. 

       The Forum is bordered on the east by the Colosseum and on the west by Capital Hill. Hill, my ass. After spending an entire day trekking around the ancient ruins of Rome, it looked like Mt. Everest. If you entered the Forum near the Colosseum, you’ll probably exit by Capitol “Hill”. Good luck. You’ve got a steep, grueling climb ahead of you. I’m not sure how many stairs I climbed and I honestly don’t want to know. All I know is that I cried a little when I finally got to the top. It was worth it though. Not only for the great view of the Forum but also for the unexpected reward that was waiting for me. A beautiful woman.
       She had chestnut brown hair, luminous green eyes, a flawless olive complexion and was about four seconds away from possessing my unconditional love. She approached me and explained that she was currently on a tour of Italy and had gotten separated from her tour group. They had left for Pompeii without her and she had been walking around for hours desperately trying to find someone who spoke English in order to help her. One thing worth mentioning here is that she had a thick Italian accent and spoke very stilted English. She was obviously Italian. And she was currently in Rome. Why would she need an English-speaking person to assist her? Right then and there I should've realized that it was a scam but as I said, she was absolutely stunning and all my brain was registering was, "Pretty girl. So pretty. Pretty girl talking to me." 
       Now I know that it may be extremely difficult to believe, but most of the time I’m really not this incredibly naïve. But, being a guy, I'm hindered by the same weakness that all of my heterosexual brethren are burdened with. You put a gorgeous woman in front of us and we suddenly have the IQ of a bale of hay. 
      She kept looking at me with her smoldering eyes and I kept omitting the glaring inconsistencies in her story. She told me that she needed to catch a bus to Pompeii. Trying to show her how helpful I could be, I scanned the street for a bus stop. She stared at me like I had just thrown up on her shoes. 
       Frustrated, she finally just blurted out, "You don’t understand. I need money to buy the ticket. Do you have money?" 
       Ahhh. Finally, I snapped out of my stupor and realized what was happening. "Oh. Sorry, I don't have any money." 
       "You don't have any money at all?"
       "No I don’t. Sorry," I said, trying to choke back the tears as I watched her turn and walk out of my life forever. 
        It was 4:15PM and time to return to the hotel. I swallowed hard, attempted to compose myself and wondered if my broken heart would ever mend. How long would it be until I loved again? Weeks? Months? Years? As it turns out, it was four hours.

       At 5PM in the Aberdeen Hotel, I met the twenty-three people that I would be spending the next week with. Our guide, Robin, introduced herself, spoke about her history with Europe through the Back Door and touched on a few basic but important topics such as showing courtesy and respect to your fellow tour members by always being on time. With a jam-packed itinerary, punctuality was of the utmost importance. So far, so good. I liked what I was hearing. Unfortunately, now came the hard part. She had each of us introduce ourselves, tell where we were from and what we were most looking forward to seeing or doing on the tour. 
       I’m just going to come right out and be honest with you here. My short-term memory is almost incomprehensibly bad and my long-term memory might be worse than that. I tried mightily to remember at least a few of the names of my fellow tour mates but failed miserably. By the time it was my turn to speak, I was so confused that I had forgotten my name, where I was from and even the name of the city that I was currently in.  

       Not surprisingly, everyone was slightly reserved during the introductory gathering, but the conversation flowed freely and cheerfully as we enjoyed out first dinner together at a nearby restaurant. For me, it had been a long day of sightseeing and the food couldn’t arrive fast enough. I was glad to see that I wasn’t the only one that was ravenous. The group of us that occupied one end of a table managed to successfully emulate a pack of hyenas on the Serengeti devouring a large water buffalo. It wasn’t a pretty sight. Acting out of self-preservation, the waiter eventually stopped gently placing the appetizers in front of us and simply tossed them on the table and quickly backed away.
       It was difficult to speak with the massive amount of food I was cramming down my throat, but between gulps, I got to chat with Kristy and her husband, Shane who were from California. I liked them immediately and it was clear that they were both enamored by me. No surprise there. How can you not like a guy that needs to be reminded of your name every ten minutes? Sitting across from me was Tamara, a lawyer from Oregon who didn’t say much but that could’ve been attributed to her being completely repulsed by my unsightly eating habits. 
       The meal was a blur of indecent consumption. To begin the process of burning off the two or three thousand calories of food that had just set up camp in our stomachs, Robin led us on a walk through the streets of Rome to the Spanish Steps and the Trevi Fountain. Both locations were overwhelmed with crowds but the atmosphere was vibrant and fun.

       Regardless of the direction of your approach, the roar of cascading water reaches your ears at least a block before your arrive at the Trevi Fountain. In the midst of narrow, winding streets, squashed into the corner of a small piazza, it’s the largest fountain in Rome, standing eighty-five feet high and sixty-five feet wide. At the center of the fountain, Neptune, God of the sea, rides a chariot in the shape of a shell, pulled by two sea horses. The water swirls downward among the figures and artificial rocks and collects in the basin at the base of the fountain where hopeful tourists toss coins. Legend states that you will return to Rome if you throw a coin into the water. You should toss it over your shoulder with your back to the fountain. I fished a ten-cent coin out of my pocket and tossed it in. When in Rome, do as the tourists do. 

       The Spanish Steps have been a meeting place for Romans and visitors alike for several centuries. The steps take their name from the Spanish Embassy, which was formerly located on the site. Sweeping down from the impressive Trinita dei Monti church to the Sinking Boat fountain at the base, the three flights of steps were alive with guitar-playing city dwellers, stylish shoppers descending on the piazza's world-class boutiques, and romantic couples kissing in the shadows. While offering a fabulous view of city monuments and rooftops, the Spanish Steps are also one of the premiere, “see and be seen,” locations in the city.
       With weary legs, I carefully wove my way up the crowded steps. After our substantial dinner, few in the tour group made the daunting climb but despite the very high-probability of suffering an explosive heart attack, I was not to be deterred. Breathing heavily, I staggered up the last few steps to the upper terrace, where I received a hug from Santa Claus. I kid you not. There was an incredibly intoxicated man parading around in a Santa Claus outfit that looked like it hadn’t seen a hint of laundry detergent since 1974. He was doling out free hugs whether you wanted one or not. Lucky me.
       When Santa finally released me from his embrace, I leaned against the concrete railing and admired the view. The city was magnificently lit and the steps below were lively with people. The climb was arduous, and I could've done without the lingering smell of booze and vomit that now permeated my clothes, but the end result was still worth it. From a purely aesthetic perspective some may find the Spanish Steps disappointing, but teeming with camera flashes, cigarette smoke, and flowers, the steps represent the essence of romantic Rome. 

       It is often said that the human heart has an almost limitless capacity for love. Little did I know, but my heart, still reeling from the effects of being decimated that afternoon on Capitol Hill, was ready to love again. Two days ago, if you came up to me and told me that, during my week in Rome, I’d be having a torrid affair with a new love, I probably would’ve said, “Please don’t tell my girlfriend.” 
       Well, I'm extremely happy to tell you that I met someone special.  Robin introduced me to her on a narrow street in the center of Rome. From the beginning, I had a hunch that I wouldn’t be able to resist her, and I was right. The heart wants what the heart wants. Even though I probably should be, I'm not at all embarrassed to admit that in the upcoming days, I would fall asleep at night thinking of her and when I woke in the morning, I’d find myself softly whispering her melodic name. Her name was Gelato and I was powerless to combat her beguiling charms. Especially when she’s chocolate-chip or blueberry. For those that don’t know, gelato is the Italian super ice cream that was developed, but never unleashed, during World War II. More potent than the most powerful mind-controlling agents, it is near impossible to resist. I think they whip it or something.