Pyramids. No, seriously.

Day five - Rome: pyramids. No, seriously.

Everyone in the room left this morning. Early as well. 5am early. No matter, will have to meet the new people later.

Got the metro today. There are two lines. A and B. Easy enough right? Wrong. You don't so much pay per journey, but instead pay for as many trips as you can cram into 100 minutes. Lovely idea I suppose, but it does mean people rush from one station to another. It's €1.50 for 100 minutes or €6 for the day. Don't buy the 'Tourist option' and get the 7 day €24 ticket, you won't use it. The lines basically skirt around the main attractions because of the underground roman archeology. So to get anywhere you have to walk. It's usually just quicker to walk anyway, trains are every 5 minutes or so and go until 1.40am at weekends. Line B is the older, slower less used line. Trains are graffitied and hot. Line A trains are air conditioned and have lovely platforms. They're also big. And fast. Very fast.

Caught line B (eurgh) down to Ostiense or Pyramide as it seems to be called by the locals. Come out of the station and you're confronted by, yes, you've guessed it. A pyramid. Not one of those old massive huge things from Egypt, but this was built in the 1st Century (BC) by a Roman magistrate called Gaius Cestius as a tomb for once he'd died. It's set about 20ft down into the street. Another example of how the city has literally 'grown up' on top of the old ruins and roads. The pyramid is made of white marble and flanked by two Greek pillars dating from 246 BC. That's old by the way.

The neighbourhood of Testaccio (where the pyramid is) begins here and the oldest remaining city wall gate stands next to the pyramid. The gate is called Porta San Paolo and was part of the Aurelian Walls in the 3rd century AD.

I'm getting historically boring now. But not much more, I promise.

From here you walk down to Monte Testaccio. It's a mound, 100ft high, made out of broken pots and rubble. Around the base of the hill, the Romans built walls to keep the mound from falling into the street, and nowadays, nestled into the alcoves and doorways, are the cities bars and clubs. There's about 100 all together. Strip clubs. American bars. Irish pubs. Gay discos. Flamenco ball rooms. And a good old fashion Italian pizzeria for those 4am pit stops on the way home. In the day, it's dead, but at night, all of Rome's (annoying and very pushy) teenagers head down here.

Carried on along the main road to what was supposed to be 'a lively covered market' which in fact turned out to be closed. And had been for 6 months. It was going to be turned into flats. Good one, guide book.

Back to touristy Rome and past the 'mouth of the gods' or something like that. It's a church I think. The queue was massive so didn't bother going in. Might go back later. Probably not.

Made a friend with a pigeon today. Not the one that did a poo on me, but his friend, called Marco. He sat and had lunch with me (mozzarella panini from the people next to me) and then flew off, presumably to tell his friends about how he'd met me.

I think I'm losing it.

I've become very good at knowing when I'm hungry or not. And I can distinguish between hunger pains and wind. Which is nice. It's only taken me 22 years.

Had lunch opposite the Pantheon. Pizza. Again. And a lovely bottle of chardonnay. It's scary to think about actually how many people there are on the planet. I sat there for 3 hours and watched hundreds of people walk past. I don't think anyone can grasp the concept of what 7 billion people look like. Imagine what they smell like!

Applied suncream just before my pizza came. The waiter laughed and simply said 'that won't work'. What does he know? Needless to say, it didn't. I'm burnt. But in a nice, oh lord it's tanning, burnt.

Had a mid afternoon snooze and then headed to the nearest restaurant for pizza. Again. Eurgh. Going to find some fruit tomorrow...

Two new guys arrived today from Toronto. I mean, they arrived from Florence, but they're from Toronto. One's called Sheldon. No idea what the other one is called as I was too occupied with the first one being named Sheldon. If he'd only say bazingha once, oh my god. I wanted to say my name was Leonard, but didn't dare.

They seem pretty cool, but one of them keeps saying 'hello' really loudly. I mean, really loudly. Weird.

Anyway, another say done. Might get up REALLY early tomorrow. Doubt it, but I might.

Loves and kisses

Do it, do it, do it like a 'Roman'

Day four - Rome: Do as the Romans do, or did.

As I got plenty of sleep last night, decided to head out early (ish) at 8am to try and beat some of the crowds at the places I went to yesterday. Backtracked on myself past the Trevi Fountain and the Spanish Steps and then eventually (got lost again) to the Pantheon. They're so much better when there aren't hundreds of people trying to take pictures of the same thing.

I walked down to the River Tiber and then through what was the old Jewish Ghetto put here by, no, not Hitler and Mussolini, but none other than Pope Paul the fourth in 1555. This small 7 acre piece of land was all the Jews had. They were allowed out of the walled area in the day, but had to be back inside the ghetto before sunset when the gates were locked each and every night. Not only were they banned from living anywhere other than the ghetto, they were not allowed to have good jobs or make anything. During Carnival, like Mardi Gras or Pride, the Jews were made to 'flounce' through the city on display for all Christians to shout abuse at.

Not unlike Pride in London today if I'm honest.

Fast forward three hundred years to 1848 when the ghetto was officially closed, and Jewish citizens were allowed to live anywhere, the Jewish community was offered a new place for the synagogue to be built, but instead, they chose to leave the synagogue in the same place and all citizens, not just Jews, gave money for the current synagogue to be built on top of the old one. The synagogue was closed when I went, but the dome is square to differentiate it from a Christian church. Very pretty

From the synagogue you move through the 'Main Street' called Portico D'Octavia which hasn't changed for hundreds of years.

At one end of the road is Piazza Largo. This square was the site of a horrendous act by the Nazi's in 1943. After the fall of Mussolini they arrived and declared that the Jewish citizens would be allowed to stay in Rome if they gave 50kg of gold in 24 hours. Everyone, including non Jewish Romans threw their gold in. The demand was met, but on 16th October of that year, the Nazi trucks arrived, went back on their promise and took 2,000 Roman Jews to the concentration camps. Only around 200 returned.

At the other end of Porto D'Octavia lies a tiny Jewish Bakery (standing room only, one person at a time). I don't really know what I was eating, I pointed at something and the woman grunted and took my money, but whatever it was, it was outstanding. Full of nuts on like a doughy bread or cakey base, it was moist and rich, but not too sweet.

After the Jewish ghetto I walked to Trastevere which is south of the river. Trasteverians here are incredibly stubborn, and it is said that many of them refuse to set foot on the north side of the river. It's incredible beautiful. Much less touristy and full of little arty shops and galleries. There is also the church of St Cecilia, the patron saint of music. Her tomb lies under the alter.

She had a bit of a shit time if I'm honest. She married a paegan man, but told him she still wanted to be 'available' (slag - modern day equivalent would be 'in an open relationship' on Facebook). He then received a martyrdom many years after his death (quite rightly) presumably for putting up with her. St Cecilia was murdered by the Romans because of her preaching of Christianity. They tried to kill her by steaming her to death in her own bathroom. After three days, this failed, and instead they beheaded her.

Made my way to Piazza Campo d'Fiori which hosts the best market in Rome. It didn't have a scratch on Loughborough market, but the fruit was fresh and some strawberries I bought were fantastic. Sadly, there was nothing priced at €1 a bowl, but the Romans can still shout. Stumbled across a tiny fishmongers shop just off of the square. There was a man in there at a table literally peeling prawns. What a job. I spoke with the fishmonger for a good 20 minutes about how my family have been fishmongers for 140 years and he seemed surprised. He tried to test me, and gave me a bass. He said 'filletto'' which I presumed meant to fillet, so I did. He smiled and patted my back, then said I could have it for free. Lovely lunch!

The fish in there was so fresh, but I still recognised the bass and bream boxes. Nothing changes. The Dover sole, an English delicacy, was priced at €3 each. About £2.40 for a huge fish. I was so shocked. He said the Italians don't like it, but they always catch it. I said he should probably export it and make a massive profit in England. This looked like brand new information to him and he grinned and said thank you.

Having gotten lost yesterday, this wasn't happening today. I followed the signs to Piazza Navona and sat and ate my bass (a street vendor cooked it for me for €1) and watched people go past.

Lingered for a while and headed back to the hostel to get out of the heat and freshen up. In hind sight, probably not the best thing to do as being alone in the room made me homesick

Yes. It was bound to happen. Surprised it took as long as it did to be honest. The first time in four days I've thought 'maybe this isn't for me' and wanted to go home. I figured it might be because I'm hungry so I headed out for some din dins

Back into the city and found myself a lovely little pizzeria in Piazza Navona, called Caffè Domiziano. Ordered dinner (carbonara and pizza margherita) and a beer (which turned into six) and sat back and watched the world go buy.

The beer was Peroni. Beautiful sweet nectar from the Gods. So much nicer and colder than English Peroni and on draught at €1.85 a pint, who can argue? The food was fantastic, of course. I think Italian is my favourite cuisine.

Had a nice long chat with my waitress Salvi. Told her how home sick I was and the thoughts I had had. She sat down next to me for a second and looked around and said 'could you be in a city, more beautiful than Rome. Look around, you have all of humanity here'' in the most gorgeous Italian accent I have ever heard. I think I got goosebumps to be honest. She was right. Home sickness... BE GONE.

So for another day, ciao bella.

A Papel Visit - Lunch with Benny

Day three - Rome: Vatican City, the Pantheon, Trevi Fountain and the Spanish Steps

Beautifully sunny day again. Yesterday there were a few clouds but today's just blue sky from side to side. Sadly, I'm going to the Vatican, so have to wear trousers. Eurgh!

So, how British am I talking about the weather?

Anyway, forgot to charge my iPod last night, so doing it today before I go out. It's got until 11.45am to be charged, then I'm going...

Walked down to the Vatican. Got lost. Really lost. About two hours lost.

Eventually found my way back to the Vatican Museum, which, while incredible, was very very busy. I managed to sandwich myself between two tour groups so got a little space now and again. Took hundreds of pictures, I have no idea what they're of, but they're there for me to look at later.

The Sistine Chapel was so busy. The idea of no shorts and no photography kind of goes out the window here. They don't really care...

Was a naughty boy and used the group exit from the chapel down to St Peter's Church rather than go back out and join the queue from the square, which was 5 hours by this point. Clever Olly nipped straight back into St Peter's without queuing at all.

St Peter's itself is very grand. But again, busy. Touched some guys foot (a statue of a pope I think). I think it's supposed to represent good luck.

Wondered back across the square and posted some postcards with Vatican stamps which are apparently very fashionable and collectible. They're just stamps. But never mind. Still cheaper than stamps at home. First class is 12p and second class is 9p. Some of you will be getting a nice little surprise soon I hope!

So lunch was in a roadside pizzeria. It was lush. Had spaghetti. No bolognese. Just spaghetti in tomato sauce topped with parmesan and black pepper. So good.

The afternoon was just mind of made up of wondering around not really knowing where to go. (That's what I call getting lost by the way).

I was, in fact, so lost that I had to ask someone for directions. My Italian is, primitive to say the least. I managed, "Parla Inglese?" which means "Do you speak English?" to which her answer was yes. RELIEF.

Found myself at the Pantheon. Now that is an incredible building. The biggest singularly cast concrete (yes, the Romans invented pouring concrete) dome in Christendom. 145 metres across and 145 metres high (from the base of the dome). If that's not enough to confuse you, the oculus at the top, the 9 metre wide hole in the ceiling, is the only light source and doesn't have any glass in it. So when it rains. The church gets wet. 'When it rains' yeah, right.

From there, headed north-east towards the Trevi Fountain which was quite literally packed full of people. I reckon half of Rome was there. Not as spectacular as I thought it would be. Might go back when it's a bit quieter.

Had a nice gelato and managed to get to the Spanish Steps in Piazza de Spagna easily. I did what the guide book said and sat and watched the world go by. Made a friend with a ginger American girl, also on her own in Rome, but here for three months. She was reading Virginia Wolff. I think our conversation of 'who was the most beautiful man on the steps' was much more interesting though.

From here, headed back to the room. Phoned Henry. Phoned the parentals. Got a little home sick, then realised it was just hunger. I'm too exhausted and I can't be bothered to go out now.

Until tomorrow!

P.S. I hope you realise I've written that despite the fact that I'm exhausted and need sleep! :-)

Cutie pies and ancient ruins

Day two. Rome.

So the lift to my hostel is quite possibly the cutest thing in the world. It's probably big enough for one person and you have to open and close the doors yourself (inside and out) before it will move. I love it. I've named it Maria. I'd love to ride up and down in Maria all day, but I wouldn't get to see much of Rome though, would I?

Spent all night awake. It seems I've found the three loudest snoorers in Rome and decided to share a room with them. No matter. Bought some ear plugs for tonight.

Eventually got up and out by about 11am and started to walk towards 'Ancient Rome' but after 3 minutes found a taxi and got it to take me there instead. Rome is bigger than you think

Now, I'm going to discuss the Italians and driving...

Firstly. Every street, no matter how big or small, within the city limits is cobbled. Every one. So no ride, ever is comfortable. I can imagine in your own car, it's unpleasant, but in a taxi, it's quite frankly one of the most uncomfortable and petrifying things I've ever been put through.

The Italians have a saying about traffic lights, if it's green, you go, if it's amber, you go, and if it's red, you go if you're late. Seriously.

The taxi driver was called Anthony. He was a nice chap, if a little short. (In way of manners, not height)

So anyway. He dropped me off at Capitoline Hill which is the place where the Italians have what they call their national alter. It's in front of Piazza Venezia. Honestly one of the most incredible marble buildings I've ever seen. Brilliant white, so white, that you have to wear sunglasses whether you want to or not.

From there I skirted around the back (no jokes please) of the Forum of Augustus and past Mussolini's bedroom window.... (they don't let you go in apparently) and then wondered down a side street to find somewhere for lunch.

There were loads of little outside cafes offering the same menu at the same price, so the choice was a little overwhelming but I eventually picked Botegga del Caffè. It has olive trees growing around the seating area so there's enough of a breeze, but enough privacy from the passing tourists. Beautiful

Obviously I had chips

Joke, I had ricotta and spinach ravioli with some devine focaccia bread, topped off with a (very) large glass of the coldest, crispiest pinot grigio I've ever tasted. The waiter offered me an English menu, and when I refused and asked for the Italian one, he smiled a little. Gave him a bigger tip for that smile, a sort of 'thanks for making the effort to speak Italian' smile. Lovely.

Onwards from lunch to the Roman Forum, Palatine Hill and the Colosseum.

The Forum was great. Very historic. As in, not just old, but you could see how the younger generations had just built on top of the older. The Rostra, where Marc-Anthony would address his friends, stands at the north end of the forum. It's modest, and understated but some how commands perfect authority. Right next to it is the funeral pyre remains of Julius Caesar. They've put a 'roof' on top of it to stop the rain washing it away, but you have to ask, if it lasted this long, why won't it last the same again... Also, it never rains in Rome.

The climb up Palatine hill, at 1pm, in 38 degree heat was bloody difficult. I am in fact writing this at the top of the hill because the climb has about killed me. Snowdon has nothing on Palatine. Right at the top of the hill there's what said to be the oldest orchid garden in Europe. I'm not one for orchids, but this was gorgeous.

Back down the hill to the Colosseum.

Quite frankly. I could sit here (in the Colosseum) and try and explain to you the immense and incredible size and atmosphere. But, even though I'd try, I wouldn't be able to.

To think that so many men died here at the literal expense of pure entertainment is sickening, yet also kind of awe inspiring. For someone to command another to death so men can pay and 'have a laugh' is wrong, yes, but look how it worked for the Romans. They controlled the masses through entertainment, shock and awe and an inevitable 'you could end up down there'

There have been loads of films shot here, but there are too many to list. Amongst my favourite is Jumper. With Hayden Christiansen. The queues in that shot are probably real. If I hadn't bought a ticket earlier in the day, the queue time was 4 hours. Shocking. But really, well worth it when you get in here.

Just been asked to take a picture for a lovey French couple. I used my GCSE French, finally, in Italy. Ironic, no?

So the temperature is now approaching 40 degrees in the sun, about 32 degrees in the shade which is where I seem to migrate to subconsciously at any given moment.

Found myself a nice little Trattoria for dinner. Lasagne to start. Veal for main. Gelato, of course, for dessert.

I really must stop eating like this.

The wine this waitress brought me was quite frankly vile. However, once I'd found out it was table wine, and that a half bottle costs the same as £3.45 I ordered a second...

The first full day alone was really nice. Of course I'd love to have someone here with me (TRAIN TRAIN TRAIN) but ya know, needs must.

Wondered home the long way through the Vatican. It's so beautiful at night. Can't wait to see it in the day light. A nice Nun gave me a blessing as I left the square. I was probably as shocked as you were that we both didn't burst into flames. But there you go

So for day two... Ciao and buona notte.

Not sure how long I can hold up with one blog a day, or if you'll even keep reading.

Love, lovies.

This is it

In the immortal words of Whitesnake, Here I go again on my own.

Saturday 28th July

Cheated a bit and got a lift to Loughborough train station from one of my best friends. Very emotional send off. Did my best to hold it together

Said goodbye to the fridge and kettle (my favourite appliances) the dog and Mum and Dad...

Such a lovely day. The sun is shining and I've never been so nervous in all my life, kind of

This blog kind of goes over two days because while I'm saying goodbye to my friends and family today, tomorrow I fly and say goodbye to Henry (at the airport obviously).

Sunday 29th July

Getting to the airport was alright. Getting through check in was alright. Getting to security was fine. Letting go of Henry wasn't. If I'd have looked back, I'd have balled my eyes out. The security guy asked if I was alright. I clearly wasn't. Dick.

Didn't set the metal detector off as well. Well proud. It seems odd that they don't let you use mobile phones in the security bit. The knives thing I get, but phones. Still....

Departures is an odd place. Suppose I should get used to departure 'lounges' which in fact, aren't lounges at all. My lounge at home has a carpet, and a big TV and comfortable sofas. This 'lounge' has plastic lino flooring, metal seats and the TV only shows flight information. Rubbish

Total mind blank....

My flights delayed. By at least an hour. Typical. Just what I need to make myself less nervous. Scheduled departure was 14.05, now it's supposed to be departing at 14.20. Didn't expect this from BA. Honestly. I might strike :p

Smiley in a blog. Really Oliver?

Referring to ones self in third person, really?

Oh lord. Flight delayed again until 15.12 but didn't actually takeoff until 4pm. Quite funny because it took only 5 minutes to get over Brighton. The pier looked lovely from 10,000 feet. I've attached a generic 'aeroplane wing photo' in case you all wondered what they looked like.

As I write this, the enormity of what I've done has hit me. I'm leaving the known, the safe, everything, to go in search of something, when I don't even know what it looks like, or indeed if it exists.

Someone asked me a week ago if I was nervous. The answer is probably no. I'm not nervous of leaving. I'm nervous of not finding what I'm looking for. I'm sure you're all reading this thinking 'you pretentious f***er' but the truth is, I'm so nervous, that to stay, would only make it worse.

I went through a horrible five minutes in the departure lounge, just before I had a little word with myself, where I considered, just for a second, walking back through the security gates, getting in a taxi and giving my home address. Once i'd realised it would probably cost about £600, I quickly had a rethink.

I've rambled, and number one rule of blogging is not to ramble. Coincidentally, rule number two is not to mention rule number one.

Just had my complimentary sandwich. Someone care to explain the milk?! (picture attached)

So for now. I'll say ciao. Not strictly in Rome yet, but I'm as good as. Unless someone goes ballistic on the plane and we end up being forced to land in some godforsaken French town somewhere, where the only way to communicate with the locals is hand signals and noises, the next stop is Italy and the adventure, (again, I'm being pretentious) begins.

Much love

Kinda more stuff

Guess who...

So, finally got the trip from Moscow to Beijing sorted through a company called Real Russia. It might have cost me £2,500 but they've sorted out the VISAs and all the transport and hotels and stuff. The guys name was Igor. And I assure you, if I have any problems while I'm in Russia I'll be calling him straight away..... Igor, you have been warned.

So I spilt coffee on Mum's new carpet and new cushions today. She went MENTAL, but once I'd said "I'm going away, you'll miss me when I'm gone" she calmed down straight away. We'll see how many times I can use that before it gets old. I shall call it "the travel card"...

Had some more injections this week too. Rabies, Hepatitis B and Typhoid, and let me tell you, they are no joke. The best part was when I couldn't stand up without shaking. This is all normal apparently, personally, I think the nurse gave me a double dose to kill me. Bitch always gives me evils.

The NHS has gone to pot.

This blog has been a bit different. I've been writing it through the week, adding to it as I went through things, and then posted it at the end of the week. I suppose it's what I'll have to do while I'm away. I won't particularity have wifi unless I pay for it so I'll have to write it through the week and send all my emails and tweets and blogs and texts in one go. (Tweeps, it'll mean I'll fill your feed up and then disappear into oblivion, which, ironically, is the story of my life).

Also, if any of you 12 people that read this want to comment on what I post, that's fine, feel free. I won't charge you for it...

Had my leaving BBQ at home. Mum had a cake made for me. I about cried when I saw it. Another thing to just point out, my Grandparents, despite telling me they weren't going to, have given me money. Quite a large amount. Not really sure how I dealt with it. But, erm........ Yeah. Well. I actually cried when they gave it to me.

Anyhoo, with a week to go, I'm really starting to get nervous now, BIG TIME. So if anyone wants to give me lots of support and love, that'd be great.

See you soon baby boys and girls

20 days...

Yup... that's how long. 20 days. FUCK.

So, I've bought everything that I'm taking with me now. I think. No, I'm pretty sure. Had all of my jabs, except Rabies and the last Hepatitis B, which is nice.

On the subject of infectious diseases, Yellow Fever was my favourite. It felt like I had someone behind my eyes with a chisel. Quite pleasant really. So if anyone ever offers you some Yellow Fever, just say no. You hear me guys.

SAY NO TO INFECTIOUS DISEASES.

Say yes to drugs (the ones that save you from the infectious diseases). Also, I'm an expert on Tropical diseases... will exchange advice for money.

Enough of the dying business.

Now, back to packing. I've filled and unfilled my bag twice now, and it weighs 18kg. I have a limit of 22kg. This is good, or shall I fill it with more clothes? Thoughts?

On a homely note, Mr Murray lost on Sunday... that was a shame wasn't it. I sat in Duke of Yorks Square and got rained on. It was fun. Although I did like how before he lost he was "the first British man to reach the final..." etc, but when once he'd lost he was all of a sudden Scottish, not British.

Oh the fickle British public.

I wonder if the Scottish Independence referendum will go the same way as Andy's tennis competition... all the way to the final, and then fail miserably under the pressure of the general public...

I joke. Andy Murray did wonderfully. Next year, hey?

Some people would read this and entirely think I am not funny, interesting or witty. I'm trying you guise! Think I'll become a travel writer. We'll see.

Twitter update, 1,100 viewers... going to miss some people from it. A lot.

Not really been much about travelling in this post, well, this blog. On a blog, is it a post, or do you blog on a blog, or post on a blog. I don't even know.

Until next time...

x