30-Day Solo Travel in Europe | Day 23: Michelangelo’s Young ‘Bacchus’ at Bargello

(Previous chapter of my journey: Day 22: A Three Tenors Night Without Nessun Dorma)

It was our last morning in Florence, and we wanted to make the most of it before heading to Rome. We rose early and made our way to the Bargello Museum, home to one of Michelangelo’s most famous early works — his striking sculpture of Bacchus, the god of wine. The museum also houses other magnificent pieces, including Donatello’s David.

My friend said that this trip had sparked a genuine love for sculpture in her. In Hong Kong, it’s rare to encounter artworks of such scale and breathtaking craftsmanship. ‘Exquisite’ hardly does them justice. While I’ve always felt a deeper connection to classical oil paintings, standing before these sculptures left me in quiet awe. The way the artists captured the golden proportions of the human body, especially the tension and movement expressed in three dimensions, is nothing short of remarkable.

By midday, we felt we had seen most of what Florence had to offer on this visit. It was time to make our way to Rome.

When we finally arrived in Rome, we switched to the metro. The ticket machines at the station must rank among the slowest in the civilised world, perhaps worthy of protected heritage status? After selecting options on the main screen, we waited an eternity for the next page to load. Several more slow steps later, the payment screen finally appeared, only to show ‘loading’ endlessly before displaying an error message. The whole process took nearly ten minutes, and all for nothing. I began to suspect the machines were purely decorative. In the end, we joined the long queue at the ticket counter. As the line barely moved, my friend couldn’t help missing the efficiency of Hong Kong. I thought to myself that this particular Italian job, ticket seller, might be one that even AI cannot replace anytime soon.

After all the effort, we finally checked into our Airbnb in Rome. Compared to the old Florence apartment where we had to drag our luggage up three flights of stairs, this place felt like heaven. The room was spacious, well-equipped, and best of all, it had proper hot water. We took long, blissful showers, and my friend’s mood instantly lifted. She went from quiet gloom to her usual cheerful self.

She happened to have a friend in Rome, so we arranged to meet for dinner at a restaurant just opposite our accommodation. The place specialised in wood-fired pizzas, but their handmade pasta was equally impressive. We ordered a fresh margherita pizza, Neapolitan mixed fries, tagliatelle with fresh tomato sauce, and tiramisu. Every dish was delicious, and the prices were surprisingly reasonable.

Travelling by train in Italy feels a little like going into battle. Passengers drag enormous suitcases and push forward with surprising determination, only to discover that the luggage racks are woefully small. We often criticise Hong Kongers for being self-centred, but travel has taught me that this kind of selfishness is universal, transcending nationality, language, faith, or culture. On planes, the person in front reclines their seat the moment the meal is cleared, regardless of whether you’re still eating. At ticket machines or food counters, some people spend a long time browsing while ignoring long queues formed behind them. In Florence, we watched groups of Korean tourists ignore traffic lights and cross roads in one big wave.

On this particular train ride, my friend and I witnessed our own little drama. An American family of four arrived with oversized 30-inch suitcases and huge carry bags, charging onto the carriage. The luggage space above our assigned seats had already been taken by others, so we moved further down to find what little room remained. Before we could settle, a middle-aged American woman put out her hand and declared firmly, ‘This is reserved for my husband.’

I tried to explain, ‘Our space was taken too.’ She replied coldly, ‘I don’t care.’

Her husband was still somewhere in the distance, struggling through the crowd with another enormous case. In the end, we had no choice but to wedge our luggage in front of our seats and rest our feet on top of it, sitting with our knees tucked up for the entire journey. Meanwhile, the family stretched out comfortably and chatted loudly across the carriage. Thankfully, the ride to Rome was only an hour and a half. We endured it with as much grace as we could muster.

After dinner, we wandered around the city centre at a relaxed pace, quickly ticking off a few tourist spots. We’re not particularly drawn to overly crowded attractions. While strolling past souvenir stalls, we discovered one of Rome’s more entertaining local keepsakes — calendars featuring handsome Italian men! There were hot priests, muscular gladiators, and various charming figures for each month, each with its own flavour. Unfortunately, our suitcases were already too full, so we had to leave the twelve handsome men behind. Perhaps we’ll continue this ‘Roman romance’ on another trip.