Rome looks like this.
Questionable musicians are on every block begging for eye contact and a euro. A tone deaf fiddler plays on the corner on the way to the grocery store. He plays and plays, all day he plays and I try not to wince at the sharp notes when we walk by. I don’t want to hurt his feelings. There’s a woman at the bus station who must be utterly convinced that in a past life she was beautiful opera singer. After passing her on the street, we exchange confused, sour looks and mutter, ‘bless her heart.’

The city lights up at night in gold and orange with a dark blue backdrop. The river mirrors the strange castle that sits on its edge. The white tents that follow the river are filled with embroidered bags, straw fedoras, white linen shirts, and memorabilia covered in pieces of the Sistene chapel. When the city turns gold, orange, and blue, the girls trade their sandals for heels and jump onto the backs of vespas and wrap their arms around men in dark blue jeans and silver helmets. I don’t know where they go but they all look they’re playing a well rehearsed role in a beautiful movie. This can’t be real. I hang out the window captivated by their rhythm and grace.

(Cassie – none of the windows have screens here. Not one.)

Mint green trams buzz around the city picking up and dropping off people after every turned corner. I've grown used to standing up on trains, trams, and buses, though I don't look nearly as cool as the locals. They wrap an arm around a pole and continue reading their newspaper or clicking on their cell phone, I, on the other hand, have to channel every bit of energy into not falling into the someones lap.
(and whoever chose to color the Roman trams mint green should win a prize.)