If you really want to learn something about a city, and it’s people, head to a 24hr McDonalds in the early hours of the morning. I have spent the past two days exploring the rich cultural history and architecture of Rome - from the impressive grandeur of the Colosseum, to the lazuline beauty of the Trevi fountain, and the vibe of endless plazas where children play, parents sip coffee, and tourists snap photos wielding selfie sticks like the ancient romans wielded their swords as they swept across Europe in ages past. It wasn’t until this morning, however, that I felt immersed in the daily lives of this fascinating country. And it took a 24hr McDonalds.
Trevi Fountain
It’s 5am. I’m sitting at a stall in McDonalds across the road from Roma Termini, the central train station. I have a ticket to Florence departing in a few hours. I couldn’t sleep, deciding to leave my hotel, about 10 minutes walk down the road, early, and knock out some work projects. As much as I fight it, mornings are where I fit the best. The streets are quiet and I walk with a smile upon my face, blissfully exploring the streets by the dim lamp light. McDonalds is a safe bet to have wifi. Pity about their coffee.
Four people, three men and a women, all in their early twenties are crammed into the stall in front of me. They are happily drunk, as are the majority of other patrons, save for a smattering of asian tourists huddled in a corner, and the occasional elderly person inflicted with the same curse of mornings as I am. Conversations flow melodically. Italian is a beautiful language that always appears to be spoken with emotion. I can’t understand a word, but I love listening to it. My Spanish doesn’t help at all, especially when the words slur together, interspersed with laughter.
The Spanish Steps
The woman in front of me gently caresses her boyfriends neck. Her long auburn hair looks like a tuscan sunrise, spilling over her shoulders in a golden waterfall. Her eyes are dark pools of brown, lips pink, the color of passion. She is quintessentially Italian. In such a short time, this city has gripped me like this woman’s beauty. I’m fascinated by it all. Italians, it seems, know how to live. They live with a passion you don’t often see. It’s somehow different to the rest of the world. The Spanish and South Americans live with a rhythm like they always dancing to music only they can hear. The French live with an inherent style in both food and fashion. The British live with a sense of a reserved sensibility. The American’s live thinking the world should bend to them. And, the Australian’s live like the world could pass them by, and she’s be just fine mate. Even the cars here embody a passion.
I may have found my next car
The cacophony of drunken conversations lull. It’s late enough the party goers are stumbling home, replaced by the shift workers that begin to arrive preparing for their day at the office, or construction sites. Their conversations are more muted. The melodic tone is still there though. Soft lilting conversations with colleagues discuss the day ahead. They smile, but the laughter is gone. They sip their coffee slowly delaying the inevitable. Eventually the sun with rise. Eventually they will have to go to work. Eventually my train will arrive too. For now, however, I can continue to savior the culture of another day in Italy