Over Packing
When you think you have thought of everything, a perfectly planned itinerary, every ticket purchased in advance for museums, tours, and major attractions, and all details carefully arranged, you assume the trip will begin smoothly. Instead, it begins as a small nightmare.
Yes, before we even left the house, she over packed. And when I say over packed, I do not mean too many clothes. She arrived at my home with bags and boxes of things she wanted to bring that clearly would never fit into a 22-inch wheeled suitcase and a large backpack.
The worst part? She forgot all of her undergarments. Not a single bra or pair of panties. A quick emergency shopping trip was required because two weeks without those essentials was not going to happen.
While she was at the store, I began organizing everything into like items. That was when I discovered the true extent of the packing situation. She had enough family sized hand warmers and foot warmers to supply an entire ski resort. She had packed so much over-the-counter medication that she could have opened her own pharmacy in Rome, and most of it was expired. She brought six pairs of pajamas. Six.
After removing expired medications, excess warmers, multiple soap bars, extra mini shampoos, conditioners, body washes, and other “just in case” items, everything finally fit. Sort of. Some of her belongings had to be spread into either my luggage or my niece’s, who at nineteen years old had never flown before in her life. A memorable start already.
Flights and Airports
The next morning, we left with two 22-inch suitcases, one for my mom and one for my niece, my 20-inch suitcase, and each of us carrying a backpack. My niece and I had small crossbody purses. Mom, of course, had a very large one.
Check-in went smoothly. Boarding went smoothly. Then we realized they had separated all of us on the first leg of the flight. It was only an hour and fifteen minutes, but it was one of those flights with turbulence so strong that people were reaching for the barf bags and beverage service was canceled.
My poor niece, who had never flown before, was terrified and none of us were sitting near her. Thankfully, a very kind gentleman seated close by helped keep her calm. That alone restored my faith in humanity.
For the long flight to Rome, I planned ahead. I booked my seat far away from both my mom and niece, who were seated together, and chose a seat on the opposite side of the plane. Sometimes separation is a form of self-care.
Then came the wheelchair request, which is an entire adventure of its own. It is amazing how many secret doors an airline uses to maneuver passengers who need wheelchair assistance. When we landed in Rome, those secret doors found us.
My niece and I walked down the jet bridge and waited for my mom to emerge through the gate doors. She did not. That was when we learned there was a secret door we had walked right past. We asked where she was and were told she would be taken directly to baggage claim.
So my niece and I continued on to passport control alone.
By late 2025, the European Union had started replacing physical passport stamps with a digital entry system using facial images and fingerprints. My niece went through without issue. I did not. Two machines and one confused assistant later, I was directed to the traditional passport control line.
My niece had to follow me, and she ended up with both a biometric sticker and a passport stamp. Since this was her very first flight, the stamp was infinitely cooler than the sticker.
We headed to baggage claim. Miraculously, our luggage was the first to arrive on the conveyor belt. Unfortunately, there was still no sign of mom.
After about fifteen minutes, my phone rang. She and the other wheelchair passengers had been taken to a holding area outside passport control. Most of them had family who followed them through the secret doors. We did not know those doors existed.
I asked if she could walk far enough to make it through passport control on her own. She said yes and found someone to help her. Meanwhile, my niece and I stood scanning the crowd while trying to manage our luggage and her very heavy suitcase.
Finally, she appeared. She looked exhausted, slightly frazzled, and completely confused.
We reunited, exchanged our versions of the great airport separation, gathered ourselves, and headed for the taxi stand. Not bad for landing at 7:23am and leaving the airport after losing mom, by 8:33 am.
And just like that, after chaos, confusion, secret doors, and missing undergarments, our Italian vacation officially began.
Arrival in Rome: Where the Trip Truly Begins
Stepping out of the airport in Rome felt like exhaling after holding our breath all day. The stress, confusion, and exhaustion faded as the cool air and unfamiliar sights reminded us why we had come.
We were finally in Italy. Not in a terminal, not in line, not chasing luggage or wheelchairs. We were standing in Rome, together, and the adventure we had planned for months was officially real.
We walked over to the taxi stand and took the next one available. I gave him the hotel address and confirmed the standard fifty-five euro flat rate into the city center. As he began loading our luggage, he lifted my mom’s suitcase and paused. Then he said, very plainly, that it was heavy.
My niece and I immediately started laughing because we could not have agreed more.
It was a huge sigh of relief and a very quiet drive to the hotel. I had booked our stay based on past experience in this area and recommendations from friends, Hotel Albergo del Senato, located near the Pantheon. It is a beautiful hotel with excellent staff, and the breakfasts were a wonderful treat to start each morning.
Once we checked in and got settled, my mom wanted to take a nap, completely against my recommendations because of jet lag. I took my niece for a short stroll before our 3:30 PM golf cart tour, which covered historical spots around Rome over three hours. I highly recommend this type of tour for anyone traveling with an elderly family member who has limited mobility. It allows them to see the city without physical strain while still feeling fully included in the experience.
After the tour, we decided to eat at a restaurant near the hotel that was familiar to me. The service was excellent. My favorite server happened to be on vacation, but our new one was just as fun. The food was equally wonderful, with traditional dishes you would expect and refreshing aperitivo drinks served with light snacks like olives, nuts, and cheeses. It was the perfect way to wind down and make an early evening meal before heading to bed.
After a day that began with chaos, confusion, secret doors, and missing undergarments, we finally ended it exactly where we wanted to be. Tired, fed, and officially in Rome.
Day Two: Markets, Museums, and Metro Drama
During the planning stage months earlier, my mom discovered Pinterest. More specifically, she discovered Pinterest posts titled “Must Do” and “Must Buy” in both Rome and Florence. This led to a long list of mysterious souvenirs that someone somewhere claimed were essential. Many of our adventures would later become dedicated searches for items that none of us truly understood, but she was certain she needed.
We started the morning with another wonderful hotel breakfast and then headed to the taxi stand for what would become one of many taxi rides on this trip. Our destination came straight from one of those “Must Do” recommendations by a complete stranger, Porta Portese Market, the most famous and largest Sunday market in Rome, located in the Trastevere neighborhood. This massive open air flea market runs every Sunday from approximately 7:00 AM to 2:00 PM and offers everything from vintage clothing and antiques to books, music, and household items.
We arrived around 8:00 AM and enjoyed wandering through the chaos. A few small treasures were found, spirits were high, and we decided to Uber back to the hotel to drop off our purchases and refresh before our first museum visit of the trip, the Borghese Gallery.
We arrived early enough to eat lunch before entering the museum, which houses some of the most breathtaking sculptures and paintings in all of Rome. After our indoor visit, we followed it with a golf cart tour of the enormous Borghese Gardens. Because of my mom’s mobility issues, we asked the driver if he could end our tour near Piazza del Popolo so we could continue our afternoon there.
My main reason for bringing her to this piazza was the Basilica of Santa Maria del Popolo. This eleventh century church contains remarkable works by Bernini and Caravaggio. Unfortunately, she decided that she was finished walking and chose to sit on the lower steps outside. My niece and I went inside for a very brief but meaningful visit while she waited.
Then came the great transportation challenge.
We spent nearly two hours trying to get a taxi to take her back to the hotel so my niece and I could continue exploring Rome on foot. It quickly became clear that this was not going to happen. Rome was especially crowded that evening because it was the Feast of the Immaculate Conception, a major holiday. So instead of a taxi, it was time for the metro.
The metro was packed, loud, and fast moving. My mom struggled to understand that boarding and exiting required immediate action. We finally managed to get her on, with me pushing from behind and my niece pulling and guiding from the front. It was a full team effort.
By the time we were heading back toward the hotel, it was already around 6:00 PM. We had lost hours trying to arrange transportation. But we were not done yet. After the metro, we still needed to transfer to a bus.
Getting off the metro became its own episode.
She did not move when the doors opened. Instead, she extended her cane to stop the doors from closing. The doors closed anyway.
My niece was left standing alone on the platform while we were carried away inside the train, her watching us depart with a cane sticking out of the closed doors like something from a cartoon.
We rode to the next stop, exited, circled back, and returned where we left her. She was nowhere in sight. After several failed attempts to reunite, I finally reached my niece as she had started walking back toward the hotel on foot. Thankfully, she had doubled back to meet us. I then noticed a taxi stand nearby, and it felt like a miracle.
That taxi became our escape from the chaos of the last two hours.
Once back at the hotel, 7:30ish, we settled my mom in, made sure she was comfortable, and finally took a deep breath. Then my niece and I headed back out.
We walked through the Christmas market in Piazza Navona and found ourselves crossing Ponte Sant’Angelo, the Bridge of Angels. There, we stumbled upon the most charming Christmas festival. It felt like we had wandered into a German Christmas market, complete with food stalls, lights, and mulled wine. We ate, explored, and soaked in the atmosphere.
We returned to the hotel around 10:00 PM, tired but happy.
We prepared for the next morning and our next Turtle Tours golf cart experience, this one called Hidden Gems. And somehow, despite markets, museums, and metro chaos, Day Two became one of our most memorable days.
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