After waking up, feeling relatively peckish (in New Zealand boys terms, meaning we expect 2 cows and a roast dinner) we stumbled down the stairs to a patiently waiting Wyatt trash (thank you Sam Devlin for the amazing nickname, he really likes it) and "Yeeeeeeeeeeah Drury" so we could therefore head to our restaurant for our "Continental" breakfast. cough, bull. honky. It turned out to be like Paris.
A bread roll and cup of orange juice later, we were all ready for a 8 hour tour of Rome. erhm.
Our tour guide thankfully spoke English (otherwise it would have been kind of awkward) and her name was.. umm.. Ottinmello...ing? And lets just say, she certainly knew her stuff. It was helpful, when we could understand her. Italians tend to end everything with the "ah" syllable.
In one day we managed to cram in the Roman Forum, Pantheon, Collosseum, the Trojan collumns, lunch, the place where Johnny Cash killed Dumbledore.. (i don't get it either) at the start of Gladiator, and where Russel Crowe exacted revenge. (Seriously, what? Thanks to DJ for those) as well as St Peters, containing the terrifying mummified ex-popes, preserved Snow-White like in a glass coffin. It was odd. Then it was the bus ride back to our accommodation where we said goodbye to Ottinmelloing [citation needed].
We entered our rooms, to find that the prison cells had completely vanished, and in their place, a cozy bed filled paradise, free from Roman Ruins, Catholic Cathedrals and Italian commentary.
Woomph. Snooze time.
P.S Wyatt commented on how him throwing ONE coin into the Trevi fountain worked as he returned to Rome, but TWO did not, as he's still a player. So he tried his luck again this year, with a comment we would like to share with you, but have been silenced by the man himself. Trust me, its real funny.
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