Moving day

After breakfast in the non-moldy side of the Savoy's breakfast room. They do put on a damn fine buffet. 

We'd never really unpacked so packng was easy, checkout took minutes, and the taxi rank is opposite the Savoy. Perfect start to the day.

On the way to the new hotel Emma asks "do you have your phone?"

...

Sure enough, it's missing. It has to be back at the Savoy. It has to.

First things first. We get to the Relais Hotel Antico Palazzo Rospigliosi (hereafter referred to as the Rospigliosi), check in with the charming concierges, and are taken to our room by the grumpiest, creepiest porter I've ever seen. We've dubbed him "Lurch", although Lurch from the Addams Family has twice the personality.

Problem: the room reeks of tobacco smoke. So much for non-smoking rooms.

We head back to check-in, which is an adventure in itself. The hotel used to be a private villa, so it's not designed for efficiency. Finding our way around involves taking a series of random turns, occasionally interrupted by short flights of stairs, with a possibility of catching a lift.

The staff are apologetic, and explain that people disregard the no-smoking rules. Emma has wisely observed that guests might be less inclined to break the rules if they removed the ash trays from the rooms.

Anyhow they find us a room, and Lurch grumps back up to our room and lugs our bags to the new one. It's darker, and still has a hint of smoke, but it's better. Plus we still have a bath, which we requested when we booked, so it's progress.

I ring the Savoy, and yes, they found my phone. I'd left it upstairs during dinner the night before. It's only a 15 minute walk so I head back. 

Once again I get lost. I'd just walked this route the previous day, and I instead I end up at Termini, the main train station. I did have sufficient sense to bring the map, so I eventually manage to find the Savoy, where the staff fail to find my iPhone. After about 10 minutes of searching they ring someone who tells them where he put it. Crisis averted.

Needless to say we go on the hunt for a coffee shop. Lesson of the day: if they don't post prices it's a tourist trap. One price for locals, another for visitors. We're charged six Euros each - over eight dollars - for two coffees by the filthy low-life swindling pirate scumbucket trash bag ho's that run the place. If arson wasn't a crime there would be a big smouldering hole in the ground on the next block.

In the afternoon we take one of those dopey open-air tourist bus rides of the city. Only it's not so dopey. We grab the cheap version, with no hop-on hip-off option, and spend two hours on a beautiful autumn afternoon listening to a pre-recorded tour of Rome. Our hotel faces Santa Maria Maggiore - our room faces Santa Maria Maggiore - and the bus has a stop on the opposite side of the square. From there down to the Colosseum and the Circus Maximus, past the Monument to VE, up to the Vatican, along the Tiber and Castel Sant' Angelo, yadda yadda yadda... Two hours well spent.

That evening we catch up with Simon and another of his programmer friends, a German named Robin, near the Coliseum. Thanks to digital magic of trip advisor.com Robin guides us to a brilliant little pizzeria called "Grazie a Dio è Venerdi" (Italian for "Thank God it's Friday"). Totally unpretentious, with a highly engaging waitress whose lack of English matched our lack of Italian. We ordered way too much food, as usual.

We said goodbye to Simon and Robin who were going out drinking somewhere, while we behaved like the decent and respectable* people we are and returned to our hotel. 

Besides, it's really poor form to show up hungover, worse yet still drunk, when visiting the Vatican.** Which is tomorrow's goal.

* Decent and respectable" being euphemisms for "middle-aged and tired".

** Unless you're clergy, in which case it's standard operating procedure.