We were close to one of the biggest tourist attractions in the world, this much was true.
But our proximity to Vatican City did not justify the fact that a margherita pizza, a side salad and one artichoke-cream bruschetta set me back €16 (approximately $21.91).
As I left that café, I actually felt the delighted glare of the greedy restaurant owner on my back. In my imagination he counted my money as he watched me leave, chuckling “Gotcha!” to himself.
I made a silent oath to a) avoid main streets which tend to cater to tourists and b) spend far less money on food for the rest of my time in Rome. (Click here to read about other silent oaths I have failed to keep.)
The next day, my oath essentially forgotten, my two friends and I found ourselves strolling past obviously superb restaurants, the kind you can tell are wonderful because the smell of the food permeates the air 10 feet away from the front door. We stopped every 20 feet or so to read each and every menu.
“ooOOoo.”
We uttered a collective sigh of longing. Every one of these restaurants was serving fried artichoke, a Roman delicacy I was dying to try. Hardly one to miss an opportunity for a good meal, I suggested we stop and split the €6 dish three ways, €2 a person.
“No, I’m not really hungry,” shrugged one girl. What happened to, “When in Rome”?
As we turned left off of this street, I could feel my stomach pulling me back in the direction of the perfectly crispy yet oh-so-tender artichokes.
“Damn!” I thought to myself. “The next time I come to Rome I am coming alone and doing things my way and…”
And then my friend pulled out an apple. She was obviously hungry. Suddenly I understood that she did want to try the artichokes; she simply wanted to save her money for other things.
That little oath I had made to myself a mere twenty-four hours ago came zooming back to the forefront of my mind.
I had €18 left in my pocket. I was again determined to make them last through the following day.
A dinner of spinach and ricotta ravioli smothered in a sweet red sauce wasn’t too shabby. Add cover charge and the price of water (gets me every time) and the total bill came out to €11. That left €7 for all of Sunday.
Breakfast was relatively easy–it was included at our hotel. I followed my friend’s lead and stocked up on some fruit from the buffet to snack on later.
By 2 p.m. I was over the fruit. Without enough money to sit down for a meal at a restaurant (that damn cover change and the price of water), I strolled into a take-out pizza place. And there it was. Huge amounts of spinach, broccoli and mozzarella rolled up in a perfectly browned bun. It wasn’t a fried artichoke, but it was quite delicious and more than enough to keep me full until the train home at 5:45 p.m. And the whole thing was only €3!
Arriving back in Florence with €4 left, I felt a small sense of accomplishment.
To reward myself, I scurried to the nearest ATM, refilled my wallet and bought a gelato from my favorite gelateria. I am pleased with my self-control, but next time I’m going to get that artichoke.
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