Rome…for a business traveler, can be quite unwelcoming.
When I get off the plane, the airport is nearly empty besides one security
officer watching over the “You cannot reenter once you exit” sign. But to even
exit is confusing because the signs are few and lights dim. It surprises me
that a seemingly normal-looking airport is so complex.
In the taxi line, the only man there, in professional
clothing with a waklie talkie, approaches me and says, “taxi?,” to which I
reply, “Yes,” and he says, “Follow me.” I’m a bit confused… isn’t he the
dispatcher? He puts me in his car, which looks official, except he doesn’t have
a sign that says “Taxi” on top. “I’m paying by credit card,” I say, to which he
says, “then it’s 10 Euros more.” When I say no, he submits and we settle the
rate at 65 Euro. By this time, I know I
got shafted, but I oblige, it’s raining, I’m tired, and at least the car is
nice.
The hotel looks better than I expect on the outside. When
you enter, you know it’s been around for a while, but not in a bad way.
Definitely not the classic modern hotels I've been staying at in Paris and
Berlin. The porter takes me upstairs to my room. I am somewhat shocked at the
interior. A tiny, twin-sized bed, in a hot room with no A/C, and an old dark
green carpet that makes me think of the ‘60s. I really hated that carpet color.
To my delight, there is a balcony and I open the doors to let in the fresh air,
only to also let in some splashes of rain.
The next day, I have non-stop meetings scheduled from 9:00AM
until about 11:00PM. I only had 4 hours of sleep because I stayed up preparing
for work, so I’m tired and my patience, thin. My moderator, who I was to brief
at 9:30AM, arrives at 10:15AM. I am a bit peeved, but I don’t want to sour the
day, so I ignore the situation. When I realize that every single meeting after
that starts late, I start to understand, Rome is not a very punctual place.
On one of the days, I walk into a restaurant at 11:15AM
to try some of their food. The man by the counter says, “sorry, we are closed.”
I nod and ask, “When will you guys open?” He says, “11AM.” I look at my watch,
nod, and smile.
Romans hate credit cards, which business travelers rely
on. This doesn't go well with the fact that they say yes to all questions, even if they
don’t understand you. Before I got into my driver’s car, I asked him if he took credit cards. He said, “yes of course,” but it turns out he never understood
me. I spend some of my first 15 minutes at the airport, looking for an ATM to
withdraw money for my driver. The ATM I use has an English option that doesn’t work…so
I somehow end up withdrawing in French.
And although I paint all of this in a negative light,
it’s not all that bad. It’s quite a relaxing place, where family and fun
matters much and punctuality less. There are lots of laughter, lots of food,
and lots of expressions. It’s nice to observe, and when you don’t have the
stress of meetings and business expense rules, it’s beautiful.
Now I’m waiting for my flight to Frankfurt, but I had
time to write this only because… lo and behold, we’re leaving the airport late,
as planned.
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Update: Funny…
After writing this short about Rome – I somehow
missed my flight to Frankfurt, as well as the connecting flight to Swizterland
due to a rather confusing situation at the airport. Many great, but at times, tense moments I will be able to
share from Rome J.
