Rome is not Champaign

Last night I discovered this little fact the hard way, along with everyone else. Our plans were as follows: Go to Testaccio, an area of Rome just South of where we live (Trastevere), and enjoy its extensive club district. We were doing a fairly decent job of navigating ourselves there until we discovered that a right turn instead of a left was taken. The amount of graffiti increased as the amount of buildings and seemingly inhabitable places decreased. Eventually we hit a dead end and decided to turn around; however, upon turning around we heard music coming from behind two large, tagged up doors. Immediately we rationalized that we had found the nightclub.

Upon our entry we noticed a few things that quickly convinced us we were dead wrong. The first was how empty the room was. Also there was a plate of lasagna on a table in the middle. Not too nightclubby so far. The last giveaway that we were in the wrong place were the other patrons. They were wearing dirty coats and dirtier moustaches. It turns out we were in a very loud, very hip homeless shelter. Needless to say we decided not to stay.

We eventually found the bar scene, but some of the girls were tired and probably terrified, so I accompanied them home. That turned out to be a good decision as drinks in Testaccio cost as much as the cab fare and then some. All and all it was a good night...maybe. We'll see how I feel about it tomorrow.

In other news I just booked my flight to Prague next weekend! I'll be there during my birthday, so hopefully the Czech Republic has a lot to offer, both culturally and otherwise.