doing rome wrong

Taking a bike tour in a new city has been one of my most eye-opening experiences on my last few trips. It started off so easy, pedaling through Montreal in wonderful weather - all we had to do was to not be slower than the two chain-smoking French among the pack. Even though there were hills and traffic the experience felt effortless, a testament to the route plan and the drivers alike.

Things haven't quite been the same since. Last year I ate sand in rural Vietnam. This year I thought a leisurely ride through Rome would hit a few of the sites and give our bodies some much-needed movement. It was every bit as difficult, in completely opposite ways.

We arrived early to the bike shop at the Colosseum, and were surprised to be the only people on the afternoon tour. No young or old or emphysemic in sight to bring up the rear, it was us and the tour guide. She slid effortlessly between signs and buildings and flocks of man-birds, somehow managing to keep her feet on the pedals while lowering her speed to .000001 miles per hour. I, on the other hand, acted like I've never ridden a bicycle before - every 50 feet a mallard with legs would suddenly change direction, extended selfie stick whipping within inches of my skull.

Reviews of this company were stellar, secret paths and back alleys avoiding the major clusterfucks. Thankfully this was mostly true, our journey often dipped away from the hordes of people following various colors of panties-on-a-stick - but the narrower the street the higher the chance we'd nearly kill an old oblivious guy checking Facebook. The bike bell built for clearing a path became a liability, drunks would mimic the sound while paying it no mind - more than one lady Brit pulling their loved one aside scolding "the bell means move!". No less than 15% of the time I was pushing these wheels along with my feet, Flintstones style.

The freedom on this ride was ironically when merging back into chaotic streets - paved roads and an assortment of vehicles acknowledging us-as-kin, wrists relieved from the punishment of pebbled paths. We pedaled hard and fast past Altare della Patria, sad once again when we reached another mob scene photo opportunity and the accompanying "It's too crowded, I will wait with the bikes here".

I wish we would have instead done this in Bologna, the only city that made sense by bike. As we neared the end of our 3 hour journey we exhaustedly asked the guide "do you normally ride your bicycle in Rome?". She smiled, blurted a sharp "oh no!", and we all laughed aloud. Oh Rome, you so crazy.