Day three:

It is 5:45 pm and I have just left Moshe by Via Urbana. His name isn't Moshe. But seeing as he comes to sunny Rome from the ultra orthodox community in New York where internet access is not allowed, I don't think he would appreciate being published on it. So I won't divulge his name...what's in a name anyway! I will still tell his story. The day started normally. I walked to school, enjoyed my lessons and was introduced to a girl from London by my two german classmates who are flats sharing with her near school. I bolt out of school because I am FREEZING and I can see the sun is beating down on the piazza outside! The weather is glorious and I decide today is the day I go and see the Spanish Steps. Its a little walk from school, around 25 minutes but I take my time taking photos and taking in Rome's seemingly everlasting supply of new scenery. When I reach the steps I am shocked by how small the site is. I really thought there would be more of them! Not deterred however I make a beeline for an empty spot on the steps. I take off my rucksack and my shoes and sit on the warm stone. The sun feels so wonderful on my face and arms and I feel totally content to be right there, right then. I drink some icey water that I made before school in my aluminium flask and eat a pink lady apple I have been carting around with me, saving for just the right moment. Its lunch time and its hot, so that moment is now! It is the most perfect apple I have ever eaten and I can taste beautiful blossom and tropical fruits in every bite. Just when I think this day is going to be totally, but reassuringly, ordinary I hear a voice behind me. I see Moshe conducting a full blown photo shoot for a very large, very muscular man who is posing on the steps. He is trying (with limited success to his credit) to clear the frame of bystanders. Moshe is wearing a hat and is unmistakably an ultra orthodox Jew, so this is quite an interesting scene playing out in front of me. The model thanks Moshe for his dedicated work and Moshe plonks himself down on the step above me and takes off his shoes. I am not going anywhere and clearly he is settling in too so i decide to introduce myself and ask him where he is from. Moshe is the first ultra orthodox person I have ever met and the anthropologist within me is rubbing her hands with glee. We talk for an hour about all sorts of things. About our life choices and what has influenced them. This is Moshe's first time visiting a place that isn't Israel and in fact is only stopping in Rome for a few hours before heading to Jerusalem. We talk about how we are both in Rome to broaden our horizons. He tells me he heard a saying once that always stuck with him: "never let your schooling get in the way of your education". This resonates with me and we both sit for a minute contemplating its wisdom.

He looks exhausted and it transpires he's been awake for nearly two whole days. He isn't tall and he is quite slight but has managed to zip around town doing most of the major sites all before 2:15. He is beaming. There is one more thing on his to-do list: the trevi fountain. He asks me if i want to come with him, but I politely decline and explain i have been there lots of times. Moshe won't take no for an answer. He says he has been alone for two days and he needs company or he will go mad. Not wishing to witness such a spectacle and mindful of how I myself have relied on the kindness of others to feel welcomed in this city I agree to go. He has been having people take his photo outside all the landmarks today and seeing as I have wifi for google maps and opposable thumbs I make an excellent companion for the last leg of his Roman monuments marathon. We set off and conversation is flowing once again. He speaks yiddish at home which fascinates me as it is all but dead in London. He also learned a bit of Italian a few years ago and we try to have a conversation in Italian. Try being the operative word. We reach the fountain and its much much bigger than I remember! It really is a very impressive feat of architecture and after I take a few pictures of him in front of the fountain we find a nice seat in earshot of the gushing water. Suddenly he pulls out a very large danish pastry almost the size of the brim of his hat. He begins to devour it, offering me a taste of course. He has brought this pastry all the way from new York as really there is nothing kosher in the vicinity that he could eat. He says he is used to going many many hours without food because he would rather be adventurous and hungry than the alternative. I am impressed. After he is finished he rummages in his bag once again and pulls out something else, obscured from view by lots of plastic wrap. He gives it to me. "Open it!". I do. Inside the plastic is about 500 handmade flashcards on tiny squares of coloured paper with Italian words on one side and the English translation on the other. Marta would be horrified. He tells me he made these many years ago from an Italian book he had. We start going through them testing each other and starting to get just a tiny bit competitive. We sit there for ages and do the whole lot! Just as he is carefully packing them away, the unthinkable happens. I feel something heavy hit my forehead. Finally. The rain...had come. And in big juicy droplets that splash as they collide with you, not like the constant wet mist we get at home.We jump up and I hurry to put my camera away before it gets wet. I see that my phone only has 11 % battery left so I tell Moshe I need to get back to my neighbourhood so I don't loose the functionality of the supremely precious google maps and get lost. He looks sad. He says he still has 3 hours to kill before he needs to head to the airport. I say he can walk with me and I will show him the residential less touristy part of Rome where I am living. We head to Rione monti stopping along the way for many photographs involving him putting his hat on signposts while posing underneath them and perching somewhat perilously on parked motorbikes looking triumphant. Finally Moshe's energy seems to wane and he looks for a place to hang his hat for a short while. Literally. We settle on a cafe. His options are a bottle of coke or a bottle of coke. But there is wifi which he is very excited about. I order a pizza and try to eat it between his close up shots of "a real italian pizza"!. We talk in the cafe for a good 2.5 hours. A quick bite by Roman standards. Its getting late and Moshe needs to get the train from termini to the airport. I pay the bill because he is now, somehow, my guest in Rome and we exchange numbers. He sees that my background on my phone is my parents and I tell him I took it at the airport when I was saying my somewhat emotional goodbyes. He asks me if my parents miss me. I tell him I think they do a little bit. He laughs loudly and says "then they don't have enough kids". He is one of 10. I take his point. He plans the route and I gather my things to head back home. At the time of writing we have just parted company and I am really hoping he managed to get to the airport on those few approximate screen shots of the route that he took while he still had wifi. I worry for a second, having been his personal tour guide most of the day, but then I think about it. He has made it all the way to Rome from one of the most insular communities in the whole world, with just a danish to his name. With his kind of adventuring spirit I have a strong feeling he will be just fine.