We got out of the cab, hoisted our bags, paid and thanked the driver. It was only a few feet to the street number where our rented apartment awaited. The door was locked, of course, and we scrutinized the bank of resident names, none of which matched Casa Andree or anything familiar. I pushed a few buttons randomly, hoping to rouse someone, but to no avail. Finally I thought to actually read my carefully prepared notes, which, of course, told me we wanted apartment number 6. We pushed and Monica, the proprietor, responded. The door buzzed open, and up we went. Dad counted 63 steps as we wound our way upstairs.
Monica greeted us and showed us the workings of the apartment. Only one misunderstanding: we had requested double beds for each room, but in Mom and Dad’s room there were two single beds. Monica was very accommodating and offered to have someone come to rearrange them into a double bed. No one ever came, but never mind. Dad and Gino rearranged the end tables, pushed the two singles together, took the mattress of the sofa bed in the living room and put it on top of the impromptu bed. Mom remade the bed with double sheets, and all was well. This wasn’t the first time we had cannibalized a couch to make a bed!
We settled ourselves in, unpacking for our few days’ stay, and headed down into our favorite city. What a perfect location! Our little street was very, very quiet, both during the day and at night. It barely appeared on my very detailed map. Yet, at either end, it opened onto a larger alley which quickly led to piazzas and streets teeming with Roman life.
