Ah, Rome. We arrived still singing praises to the Italian taxi driver in Bari (and wishing slow painful deaths to the crew of Superfast Ferries), and made our way to our hostel. The metro was crazy - no order, no direction; just hundreds of Italians pushing and shoving and brandishing pokey-ended umbrellas (the better to skewer you with, my dear). It was crazy. We somehow managed to get off at Flaminio station and, deciding the hostel couldn't be that far, opted to walk the street until we hit it. Oops. After the first few blocks, we stopped in an information booth to check how far it was and to make sure we were on the right "via Flaminia". Well, we were on the correct street, but about an hour and a half away by foot. Instead, we had to take Tram 2 (to the end of it's line - we'd started walking at the beginning) and then bus 200 for another half hour or so.
Serendipitously, we did indeed arrive at our "hostel" -- turns out it was a cabin in a mini-camping park -- we had one of two rooms in a cabin the size of a small trailer, joined by a shared bathroom. There was no one in the other room the first night.
Despite the difficulty/delay in finding the place, it was nice to have such a quiet, secluded setting - the trees and critters were a welcome alternative to the city centers.
The village (Flaminio Village) had a small restaurant on the premises, where we ate a delicious dinner before crashing after a long day of hectic travel.
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