Rome….ing about with the ferals

I’ve just been reminiscing about a fabulous little trip we took to Rome in 2014. What a fucking blast….

 

 

So where do I begin… With the holiday fail? Which was booking  a holiday to a popular city break destination a touch too late and realising the only half affordable flights left to Rome were from Birmingham. Meaning staying awake all night to drive to the airport for our early morning flight! This is not a good start for a feral holiday. Like true soldiers Amelie drove and I stayed awake to keep her company while Clara slept the whole journey as expected, everyone knows she’s a complete crank when she’s tired…..more of that later.

 

If you know us, you know that we were well oiled by the time we boarded the plane and the flight went quickly as per usual. #tenminuteflight

 

The taxi ride to our hotel was relatively quick and when we got to our hotel we didn’t expect luxury but what awaited us was an utter shithole. Sort of clean (apart from the toilet paper being damp and such like) but overall a complete fucking old dump….and we are not fussy at all. Fearing for our lives in a thousand year old lift we arrived at the room. It had beds and an ensuite….. Those are our only requirements for a feral trip really. On the plus side it had a marvellous shuttered window, brucey bonus. This could be a prime spot for smoking forbidden feral fags. After a quick scout about for fire alarms Clara took full advantage.

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With most feral holidays we take a cheap and cheerful approach to accommodation as when are we ever really going to be there? There’s a mutual understanding that we need the extra cash for excessive drinking right?! So needless to say we ended up staying in a not very nice part of Rome, right by the train station but about a ten minute walk to the coliseum, full of tourists by day and hookers by night. Ace!

 

A quick change of clothes uncovered that Clara had not brought any appropriate clothing with her for the trip. Surprise! She had underestimated the weather drastically; coupled with the fact that she’s absolutely dog shit at packing in general. 30 degree heat is not conducive to jeans and jumpers especially when you have form for fainting like our anaemic Clara. I think Rome was unusually hot for the end of October though so we let her off. We headed out straight to the coliseum (Clara dressed head to toe in Amelie’s clobber). We wanted to see that partially sober, well soberish (after the obligatory plane booze.)

 

 

It was fabulous, better in real life but the main attraction there was the amount of hideous brides having their wedding photos taken with the backdrop of the coliseum. Needless to say we took a seat and discussed the brides choices of dresses at length. Poor bastards! We are definitely going to hell. Mithered to death by selfie stick sellers we had to move on after about 30 minutes.

 

Now I know there are a fair few beggars back in Manchester, they ask for 20p every time I walk down market street but the ones in Rome are berserk! Dressed like crippled old ladies, hunched over in weird robes and shaking a money tin, these things are another level of weird. Avoid at all costs! Unless you want to have nightmares for the rest of your lives or get mugged, stay the fuck away!

 

After slating the brides and running from the beggars we wanted to see some other attractions. We summoned the help of a fella with a bike and cart to take us towards the other end of the city. We arrived in Piazza Navona which was really quite beautiful. Gagging for a wine, we stumbled across a small cafe just off the main piazza. Smashed in a couple of amazing pizzas pronto and ordered a bottle of the piazzas own wine which went down a treat! Feral rule… Always sample the local beverages. Another bottle was swiftly ordered and with then we were off, feeling rather loose and limber. After drawing attention to ourselves doing a quick waltz in the piazza to some old bean playing a harmonica we were off again in search of the Pantheon!

 

 

 

Upon arrival at the Pantheon we luckily spotted a wonderful bar with a vacant table out front- we could sit with a great view of the pantheon and have another bevvie. Perfect. Honestly, it was really magical. That’s how us Ferals like to sight see! Having been previously warned about the expense of bars opposite main attractions, we threw caution to the wind, six drinks later and a bill of 80€ (the best 80 euros ever spent on drinks mind) we entered the pantheon. Being truly feral in an important, religious building was a new low for us. Clara proceeded to roll about on the floor whilst we tried to unsuccessfully get a shot of her with the roof in. We were in fine fettle.

 

 

A few dirty looks later we were ready to find the Trevi fountain- but when we got there, fuelled with booze and mischief, we realised it was getting renovated or something, to be honest we were too pissed to care. A fountain’s a fountain right?

Food was needed and we had been tipped off about a spaghetti bar nearby – ‘L’archetto‘. This place sells hundreds of spaghetti dishes! (A must visit!)

We requested a seat outside only to be sat on the same table as a couple. We weren’t really bothered as they didn’t speak English and couldn’t understand a word we were saying. More wine was required along with a few pasta dishes (which were sensational by the way- and cheap!) . Upon finishing our food the waiter presumed to think we were leaving straight away, unfortunately for him we still had a couple of glasses of wine left in the carafe. He proceeded to try and move us on! Is he fucking real?! Feral rules mean once the bottle was open it must be drank in its entirety and he sure as hell wasn’t breaking our code of conduct! He started politely, then got increasingly more agressive! I don’t think he realised what we were about, he was warned,

“We are going to lose our shit with you in a minute mate”

the only alternative to this was telling him to go fuck himself- we stayed for another half hour enduring the scowls. After all we had paid good money and couldn’t really give two shites about the people queuing. We had queued ourselves!

In the meantime the couple next to us started speaking English! Fucks sake! Probably heard Amelie’s comment:

“Jesus Christ this woman is so close she may as well be sat inside my vagina!”

Never mind, that was all very tame for us really.

Royally pissed we staggered off…….

Somewhere along the way we bumped into a lucky lucky man. He had a drum, which Clara started playing aggressively while he looked on in panic -and he managed to sell us three bracelets in the colours of the Jamaican flag…lovely. Made perfect sense for a feral trip to Italy – 😏🤔 but we wore them with pride. I do think we were over charged at three euros a piece though, you wouldn’t even find that shit in Claire’s.

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After a tip off about a cheap and cheerful Irish bar, we set off to have a gander. This Irish bar was fairly acceptable, but not as not cheap as we had hoped for -we had blown the majority of our budget on those marvellous limoncellos opposite the pantheon! If my memory serves me correctly which quite often it doesn’t, we ordered cider and black. This doesn’t happen often! We’re not 19 anymore, drinking in the student union, know what I mean? Drinks like this serve a purpose though, there is a time and a place. This was the time and the place. We were drowning in white wine already and needed a drink that would:

 

1. Get us shitfaced.

2. Enable us to avoid the fifty person deep bar queue as we would drink this slower

3. Not bankrupt us

 

We danced like maniacs and enjoyed our rare ciders immensely. Clara enjoyed hers a touch too much, her mouth became obscene! We knew it was our last round of drinks when she asked a wild Philippino man “How do you say come on my tits in Italian” …just for shits like! She thought it would be a great line to learn! He actually thought she was asking him to perform this act and tried to corner her in the toilets. Disgusting bastard.

We swiftly left.

Truly feral now we were armed with a map. We knew the Irish bar was just along the main road from the coliseum and we knew that was a ten minute walk from home. That’s what we knew. We had this in the bag! Amelie had her gold duke of Edinburgh for fucks sake. I’m handy with the map too…usually.

Clara had already walked too much for her liking that day and was starting to turn into a miserable bitch. Of course we had to look at the coliseum at night! Then somewhere between doing this and a few selfies we thought we were heading in the right direction for home. NEGATIVE. Our map reading skills were failing us. Amelie and I thought it was hysterical and we were still having a ball wandering the streets of Rome two hours later with a mardy arse, tired Clara in tow. (Have we ever told you what a miserable cunt she is when she’s tired?) Five thousand miles later, we knew we were near our accommodation when a fella flashed his knob at us and made some obscene noises to boot! Obviously in the bad bit of town….. the hotel must be close. Shit like this makes a feral holiday! I nearly pissed myself. We were all screaming laughing! I wanted to shake his hand for top notch bants but he was probably riddled with the clap!

We bumped into a few more suspicious types, whores and such like before we arrived back at the hotel. Clara was fucked and went straight to bed but Amelie and I decided we needed one last cigarette to mull over the day. Instead of hanging out of the window in the room, fearing for our lives we went and sat outside- only to overhear the loudest, most outrageous sex from the window just above us! I mean we are talking bed rocking, blow your socks off, fake orgasm sex. Fantastic listening. We were howling! I think we smoked about eight fags amusing ourselves with this.

 

The next morning we were up and out early, still addled with drink from the night before. Clara insisted on ‘no more extreme walking’ we decided to use the public transport to get about. With the train station just up the road we found the underground relatively easy to use. Even for three pissed up, hungover morons.

 

On the itinerary for the day was a trip to Vatican City so we headed straight there.

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Thought we’d pop and see the pope because he’s a right lad, even for us heathen types. Upon arrival we noticed it was incredibly busy. The actual square was cordoned off and there was a lot of chanting and thousands of people striding around in robes. We tried to get in but were blocked by some cunty Italian fellow. We walked around for a better view of what was going on when I saw something fly past on what looked like a Segway! It was only the fucking Pope! He must of known we were coming!

“Hiya Papa Francesco lad!”.

 

 

We needed a better view and we managed to push our way to the front of the crowds. We couldn’t get in….. We tried but we did get waved at by the pope! Winning! Amelie has seen the pope twice now quite by chance, so we now call her ‘The pope magnet.’

 

 

A few slabs of pizza later from one of these handy cafés that sell pizza by the slice we went to see some more sights. What followed was basically Clara climbing up a few statues and a free glass of prosecco whilst we waited for lunch.

 

 

 

After a few hours of sightseeing Clara declared she must go to a gift shop so she can buy her ‘non-mates’ at work some treasures from Rome. (We always joke with her about this, I think they are actually her mates but it winds her up so much we continue with this gag.) Amelie and I throughly detest this part of a holiday with Clara so we allocate her a time slot, where she can rummage until her little heart is content through various shitty gift shops looking for tat to buy. Amelie and I prefer sampling the local alcohol, so we do that instead. €40 later Clara returned with her souvenirs and we had found a bargain bottle of limoncello to purchase.

We had a plan for the night. Someone had told us to take some booze and sit on the Spanish steps to watch the sunset. A litre of limoncello sounded sufficient for this.

 

 

We went for a McDonald’s (which may I add is the most fabulous McDonald’s I have ever been in) down the road for three iced lemonades. Then, armed with everything we needed for a top night we took the short walk to the Spanish steps where we spent longer than anticipated sat there soaking up our surroundings. Feral form happened relatively quickly as we all know limoncello is the absolute devils work! We ended up buying some toys off a street seller…..we said we would never do this again after ‘bracelet-gate’ but when the fella (after an hour trying to convince us to buy them) made them into cocks- we just couldn’t resist, we were impressed and actually I thought they would do perfectly for the kid holiday presents. Obviously not in cock form!

 

 

 

After a bit more pizza and pasta we headed home with relative ease that night.

We only did two nights in Rome….. And actually it’s more than enough time to see most of the big sights. At a push we can do three on a city trip, but I’m left shaking like a shitting dog for ten days afterwards. We’re no spring chickens anymore. Plus with the Birmingham flights Amelie would never have survived the drive home.

 

Would we go back?

Abso-fucking-lutely!

 

In fact the feral trip was Amelie’s second trip to Rome and I’ve just been on an Italian cruise with Mr C, we stopped in Rome and I got to see those marvellous sights again. Give us a shout if you want any more travel tips.

 

Much love as ever,

Freya

X

 

 

 

 

 

 

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