La Vita Romana

I explain in my best italian to our shuttle driver we are staying near the Spanish steps. He replies in french which really confuses my sleep-deprived brain. I am searching for italian meaning and coming up with nothing. When i show him the address, he keeps asking "This is it?" Si. Again "This is it?" Si ,si. But this is outside of il centro. Not at Spanish Steps. Ah. Well a month long misunderstanding begins to unravel at this moment. Our accommodations are not where i thought at all. It will cost us each $20 to go there. Va bene. He is nice, helpful, and let's us grab un caffe. Certo! È italiano! The friendly cab driver mutters profanity to the crazy drivers as 3-4 lanes of traffic try to squeeze into two lanes. Helmeted vespa -ites in business suits hold cell phones between their shoulder and face. They slip with agility through unimaginable small spaces as they wind their way through traffic. The cab driver seems unflustered by these helmeted two wheelers grazing his bumper.  We arrive at Via Acqui, 16. Home to Pier Luigi ( his internet password says Luigi god of light), and Charlie the cat-size dog, who naps with us. There is laundry hanging out on the balcony across the way. The sounds of Rome come in on the breeze through the open door.   Rome. The Patheon beckons, but so does sleep. Once my wired and confused body remembers how to sleep, i drift for an hour. Rome, we have returned to adore you.