I didn’t do any driving in Rome. That’s what taxis are for. The streets are narrow and everyone drives faster than seems safe and no one seems to be paying any attention to anyone else.
The travel agent had masterminded getting us to the hotel and to and from the Colosseum. We were on our own to get back from the Vatican.
We found a taxi stand but the only taxi there was busy having its tire replaced. A few taxis came by but they either were already occupied or were snagged by someone else down the street.
I was considering the possibility of feeling despair. I reviewed the map to see just how long of a walk it would be.
Pam called to me from behind. The guy who’d been fixing the tire on the disabled taxi was finished and had called to her to take us where we were going.
This guy spoke almost as little English as I spoke Italian. We said the hotel name and pointed at a map. He said “OK” and we were off.
He drove pretty quickly thru impossibly narrow spaces. Cars and people constantly jumped into spaces that we were about to occupy but we somehow didn’t smash into them.
At one point, we were approaching a red light on an otherwise clear road. Our light turned green. This is the moment that a dozen folks with a baby carriage (A BABY CARRIAGE!!) decided to cross the road in front of us.
I hadn’t seen traffic this insane since New York.