Unlike other hostels so far, our accommodation in Roma was classified as a Party Hostel (LINK The Ivanhoe LINK). It did not disappoint. Not even remotely. Located on the 1st floor, just below an Hostel run by Nuns, run by in turns a crazy Brazilian named Fabio or a guy claiming he was knocked unconscious fighting two tigers at once and woke up in the Colosseum, something was always going on.
Being a party hostel, there was partying…constantly. This was aided by the supply of 3 euro all you can drink cocktails. After the first night of pseudo-sleep, being woken up alternatively by the music, someone vomiting noisily out the window, and the 2 drunk dutch girls falling onto me before throwing various items of clothing around the room, I decided the only way to survive was to join in. From then on every night was a big one, some ending in disaster (read: broken toe, still not sure how that happened), others in disgrace…skulling a bowl of cocktail is never a good idea.
The first morning, after removing a discarded bra from my face, we headed out to see the sights. First stop was the Colosseum, and seeing the lines we realised we really should plan our sightseeing more throughly. A quick coffee break before stopping on the steps of the Santa Maria Balisca for a quick lunch, a plan was hatched and we continued sightseeing. An unfortunate game of hackey in a park resulted in a hole in my lip, 3 loose teeth and a minor concussion, but nonethless we soldiered on.
The next day (Monday 20th July, if anyone’s keeping track), was stopped by St. Peters church nice and early, managing to avoid all the lines. With my broken toe and swollen lip, I’d set a bad precedent for sightseeing, but thankfully managed to avoid any further injuries walking through a church. Yay me. 3 hours and one Vatican later, I retired to the hostel to sleep off some of the culture.
That eve we headed to the Spanish steps, following the crowd to a Lunar Celebration which culminated in a free Moby Concert at the Piazo Po Polo, partying till the early hours of the morn.
After touring the Colosseum and surrounding ruins for the most of our next and last day in Rome, we decided to make this night a big one. As some of the pictures show, it was perhaps a bit too big.
Wednesday the 22nd, 7am. After 4 hours of sleep the 3 of us heading to Dubrovnik (James parted ways, heading north to Split) rolled out of bed, still drunk. Our aim: get to Bari, catch a ferry from there to Croatia. To be honest, most of the trip is a blur. Honestly cannot recall how we got to the station, let alone found the right train. One thing I do recall is a dodgy lock imprisoning me in the toilets on the train, and me kicking the door open. Turns out the lock wasn’t dodgy, I was just unable to operate it my inebriated state. Brilliant. Thankfully the train was a sleeper train, with individual compartments, so sleep came swiftly.
Bari, although a nice seaside town, isn’t that spectacular, and the 8 hours we spent waiting for the ferry were agonisingly boring. Finally the time came, and we boarded and started our crossing to Dubrovnik. Croatia, here we come.
Unlike other hostels so far, our accommodation in Roma was classified as a Party Hostel (The Ivanhoe Hostel). It did not disappoint. Not even remotely. Located on the 1st floor, just below an Hostel run by Nuns, run by in turns a crazy Brazilian named Fabio or a guy claiming he was knocked unconscious fighting two tigers at once and woke up in the Colosseum, something was always going on.
Being a party hostel, there was partying…constantly. This was aided by the supply of 3 euro all you can drink cocktails. After the first night of pseudo-sleep, being woken up alternatively by the music, someone vomiting noisily out the window, and the 2 drunk dutch girls falling onto me before throwing various items of clothing around the room, I decided the only way to survive was to join in. From then on every night was a big one, some ending in disaster (read: broken toe, still not sure how that happened), others in disgrace…skulling a bowl of cocktail is never a good idea.
The first morning, after removing a discarded bra from my face, we headed out to see the sights. First stop was the Colosseum, and seeing the lines we realised we really should plan our sightseeing more throughly. A quick coffee break before stopping on the steps of the Santa Maria Balisca for a quick lunch, a plan was hatched and we continued sightseeing. An unfortunate game of hackey in a park resulted in a hole in my lip, 3 loose teeth and a minor concussion, but nonethless we soldiered on.
The next day (Monday 20th July, if anyone’s keeping track), was stopped by St. Peters church nice and early, managing to avoid all the lines. With my broken toe and swollen lip, I’d set a bad precedent for sightseeing, but thankfully managed to avoid any further injuries walking through a church. Yay me. 3 hours and one Vatican later, I retired to the hostel to sleep off some of the culture.
That eve we headed to the Spanish steps, following the crowd to a Lunar Celebration which culminated in a free Moby Concert at the Piazo Po Polo, partying till the early hours of the morn.
After touring the Colosseum and surrounding ruins for the most of our next and last day in Rome, we decided to make this night a big one. As some of the pictures show, it was perhaps a bit too big.
Wednesday the 22nd, 7am. After 4 hours of sleep the 3 of us heading to Dubrovnik (James parted ways, heading north to Split) rolled out of bed, still drunk. Our aim: get to Bari, catch a ferry from there to Croatia. To be honest, most of the trip is a blur. Honestly cannot recall how we got to the station, let alone found the right train. One thing I do recall is a dodgy lock imprisoning me in the toilets on the train, and me kicking the door open. Turns out the lock wasn’t dodgy, I was just unable to operate it my inebriated state. Brilliant. Thankfully the train was a sleeper train, with individual compartments, so sleep came swiftly.
Bari, although a nice seaside town, isn’t that spectacular, and the 8 hours we spent waiting for the ferry were agonisingly boring. Finally the time came, and we boarded and started our crossing to Dubrovnik. Croatia, here we come.
Rome Photos, Moby Concert Photos
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Roma
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