Pasqua

Holidays are always hard away from home.

They're even harder when you're almost 5000 miles from home.

Contemplative. Though I suppose that's a good word choice for this Easter. Or any Easter, but this one has a decidedly different feel to it than any other I've celebrated.

Mass at the Vatican was an incredible experience. Indulgence aside, it was something I knew I had to do. How can one not be in Rome for Easter and not go? The rest of my program is off on spring break (I leave for lovely Londontown on Tuesday) but I wanted to stay in town, even if that means going slightly stir crazy in my apartment. I've gotten a lot of writing done, which has been nice, but it's been weird being alone all the time. A J.D. Salinger I am not.

But back to Mass. We arrived at Saint Peters around 7 am, grabbed a cappuccino to go and stood until they let us into the square at 8:30. After a mildly mad dash to the front of the square we found ourselves in the 9th row, near the center asile. The front steps were covered with flowers and though the sky was dismally grey, we all watched what seemed like an endless stream of priests and Swiss Guard set up. Benedict himself arrived after a large marching band around 10:30.

It's odd, maybe because I attended Catholic School for so long, but I have a hard time seeing the Pope as a prominent figure in modern politics. I think I've been desensitized to him, PJPII's picture was always hanging in every classroom at JIS, less so at De, but still, I think of him as this weird spiritual leader, a very abstract concept.

So when he rode in on his little cart/car thingy and the entire square thundered with applause I was, I suppose confused isn't the right word. It was unsettling. I guess the Protestants were right when they talk about Catholics paying allegiance to a foreign prince. But if I dwell on it too much I get uncomfortable. So I won't.

Mass itself was mostly in Latin so at least we were all pretty confused together. And my confused I mean I was in my element, spitting off that Agnus Dei in a way that would have made even Brother David proud. It was beautiful.

After Mass Benedict went up to the balcony at the front of Saint Peters to address the crowd. He began in Italian and then went through pretty much every language know to man (which, admittedly, was really cool) giving his Easter blessing. AND THEN HE ADDRESSED THE CROWD IN ESPERANTO. It was a wtf/this is so cool moment. Because there are like 2000 native Esperanto speakers WORLD-WIDE people. It's basically pointless now but they included it. Which is weird because Catholics aren't that inclusive as a bunch.

 7 am (crooked) flowered main stairs

 The crowd

Benedict giving his blessing

It was well worth everything that was involved. Even for the guilt inducing 25 year old nuns (who you just cannot say no to) who actually hand you the tickets at the office you pick them up at. My mother finds that whole story funny enough to tell I think the entire state of Minnesota, so I'm sure when I return to to the great white north in less than a month (eek!) I will often have to laugh when people point to the nearest closet and say "Why don't you go in there and have a nice good confession with a preist from home, then come back when you're done and I'll give you the tickets."

Anyway, I got an indulgence out of the whole thing. I didn't even have to pay for it. I guess that whole counter-reformation thing actually did some good.

Sicilia - Mafia intensive weekend

Sicily was amazing. I still can't even wrap my head around what we got to do on this trip, sorry in advanced if this post is a little scattered but so many things happened in a very short amount of time it all runs together.

The focus of the trip was studying the effects of the Mafia in Sicily. Only a tab broad. We met with community leaders who are fighting against the mafia extortion tax in Palermo, people who work on mafia confiscated lands who are using the land for good now, we went to Corleone (of Godfather fame) to visit a museum dedicated to honoring those public officials and citizens who were killed in the mafia wars of the 80s and 90s. We had a delicious lunch at a farm house outside of Corleone, ate amazing cannoli and gelato.

Sicily is also just so beautiful. It's so hard to think about all the evil that comes out of such a beautiful place. The land is pristine and picturesque and there are these horrible people living and making decisions about smuggling drugs or making people pay extortion fees or killing other people in the same place.

I can't even really write about it. So much happened and we learned so much that I can't even fully write about how I felt there. It was too much all at once of important information and all this stimulation and my brain is fried.

Run it run it

I'm currently lying in bed, which is where I spend most of my time in my apartment, after opening all of my apartment's windows and listening to an accordion on Marconi play Somewhere Over the Rainbow.

Life is pretty prefect.

Time here, I swear, goes faster than anywhere else. Gravity feels the same, but it must be lighter (woooo physics!) because I literally do not know where the past few weeks have gone.

The fam was in lovely Italy for 9 day two weeks ago. It was amazing. Daniel and I ran all over Rome and he translated everything for me and we all ate amazing food. Then we headed down to Sorrento/Napoli to see Pompeii.

I'm pretty fond of history, studying it has always felt very similar to how I love to study Literature, the analytics, though concrete as opposed to pure abstraction, can be viewed in similar ways and I've always liked it well enough. Tedious at time, but I can't complain.

Seeing Pompeii, completely frozen in time was something I could never have even imagined. I've seen pictures, read about the city but nothing compares to actually seeing this bustling town. I somehow don't think of Rome as ever being like Pompeii, even being down in the Forum you can't escape the noise from cars; there is still a vibrant city just across the road. Pompeii is this tiny little microcosm of what life was once life. Preserved in perfect detail, down to the frescos on the walls and the fish bones in the ground.

When I walk around Rome I don't think, and perhaps this is ignorance on my part, "Wow, someone actually was living in the structure 2000 years ago." Though I am constantly surrounded by Ancient Rome it's still abstract somehow, I can push that fact from my mind and just see the living Rome of today.

Pompeii is the polar opposite. It's life, interrupted.

This past weekend I went adventuring in Belgium where I ate far too many Frites and Wafels and in general had a lovely time. Next up is Sicily with my program before London for the Royal Wedding. Anddddddd I have some pretty fabulous people coming to visit the next two weeks. Kelsey arrives tomorrow, Sarah is in town next week, Matt was here all last week and into this one, it's all, in general, pretty rad.

Ecce! In pictura est puella, nomine Cornelia.

Delayed postings because Italy is just too beautiful. And Franzen's "Freedom" is taking up way to much of my time (He messed up molto facts about both St. Paul and DC, next time you're writing a novel, Mr. Franzen, please do more research than just reading the Wiki page for STP. The Star Tribune delivered to a STP address? Come on.)

Life in Roma only becomes crazier with this lovely weather we're having. Mid 60s and sunny all week. Winning.

Last Thursday was (in addition to being Saint Patrick's day) the 150th anniversary of Italian Unification. It, unfortunately, poured all day on Wednesday; the fireworks that we're supposed to go off at midnight weren't lit off but there were Italian flags hanging outside of most businesses on Marconi and little kids had their faces painted with Red, White and Green. Most billboards and flyers up around Rome somehow mentioned the unification and even though it is still a slightly touchy subject for many Italians it was very cool to be here for their cinquecentennial.

Midterms finished last week and I'm not failing anything yet (even finance! But only with the insane curve he had to tack onto all of our abysmal grades) but I'm still exhausted after cramming half a semester's worth of business definitions into my head. I'm also just exhausted. It comes and goes it waves, sometimes life here is the most amazing thing in the world and other days I just come home from class ready to crawl into bed and sleep for the next two days. Walking to class today with Alice I took off my sunglasses and let the warm Mediterranean sun wash over me. There is something about the sum here that is different from anywhere else; it's warmed, yellower, casts it's light in a more pleasing way that makes all colors brighter and everything taste better.

More importantly, the Morizio family will be landing in Roma on Saturday! I'm excited to see them all and have Daniel translate all of the Latin I can't quite seem to translate with my less than perfect knowledge I received from Brother David. We head down to Sorrento next weekend to see Pompeii  and Herculaneum and to make sure there are NO roman carriages stuck in any ditches. If we find any we will rescue all members of the Cornelii family from the million or so chapters they spent stuck in ditches.

When I went down to Pong tonight after dinner they gave me a super large cup for the usual 1.50 Euro small price and from what I understood of the conversation that took place between the woman scooping my Gelato and the owner behind the cash register they were worried because they hadn't seen me in a week or so. Crema and pinoli. So many noms.

"a great frenchy-french time"

Paris was pretty rad.

I ventured outside of the bubble of Italia for the weekend to go see some of my favorite people ever up in France.

Highlights included:

Kelsey and I got carded (is that even a thing in Europe? Apparently.)
I got to see so much Dante related art! Which I was not expecting - this was supposed to be a Dante free weekend but, alas, I can't seem to escape him. Not that I mind. We're basically dating.
We got into the Louvre for free which was terribly exciting.
Bread. Italy has amazing bread but, God, it's so good in Paris. Along with foie gras and champagne on a park next to Notre Dame. This category includes croissants (side note, always book a hostel next to a bakery)

Paris is so different from Rome. Besides the physical differences, the foremost being that Paris is just so damn beautiful, your eyes almost hurt from all the beauty, it's a totally different city. But the green - everything is so wonderful and green. I couldn't believe how green it was, parks everywhere. Rome has it's fair share of Piazzas but Paris is almost more green than brick. It's just such a different place. Plus it's metro is efficient and actually goes places.

But it's good to be back in Roma. This week is midterms week so that's hellish but the four I've had so far, with the exception of Finance, have been fine.

Thursday is Unification Day which is this contested issue in Italy. There is still this huge divide here about what it means to be Italian and there is still tension that stems from the Savoy invasion 150 years ago. I was walking to class on Monday and I was struck by all these Italian flag, freshly opened from bags and most still with deep creases, that were suddenly flying all up and down Marconi. It's not quite as festive as early July at home but you can tell something is happening. On Wednesday night there are several large celebrations planned in the bigger piazzas and up in old Rome with fireworks and such so that should be fun.

It feels like spring has finally arrived, it was almost 70 out today and the sun was shining. This is, of course, a tease as it is supposed to pour for the next two weeks. I took extra time walking along the Tiber today on my way to my exam, some of the trees on my block are in full bloom and the pink blossoms are beautiful against the concrete and graffiti.

The title of this post comes from my Mother via Mad TV (which is scary, I know). It was, indeed, a lovely frenchy-french time.

"And then away to Venice"

We've traded Beyonce for Shakespeare.

Venice is insane. The only way I can really describe it is this weird adult version of Disney World because there simply aren't words that I can use to describe this place. It's so strange. Nothing about the city makes sense. Nothing. You take boats instead of busses. Buildings literally are built up against the sea, foundations sink into the water, houses are connected by bridges. It's beautiful, incredibly beautiful and unlike any other place I've ever seen or will see.

Being there for carnival was amazing. Saint Marks square was a sea (hahaha, see what I did there?) of people, Dad and I weren't masquerading and that drew strange looks, not the other way around. People in full renaissance dress and elaborate masks were seated at tables next to us in restaurants, men had powered faces and women hid behind fans. There was music blaring in the streets/canals, dancing in the campos, it was unlike anything I've ever seen. I can't even describe it with words. It's insane. Absolutely insane.

So Dad and I ate and drank and ate some more. I introduced him to frappe but sadly it will be all gone come Wednesday. We went to Harry's Bar and drank Belini and people watched and ate such good food. It was lovely. And my train ride back to Roma today was quite; an almost nice change from the insanity of Carnival. It was amazing though. It was insane and crazy and so different from anything else in the world. And it was beautiful.

Be With You

Even in the pouring rain, this city is so amazingly beautiful. It's been grey and we haven't seen a glimpse of the sun for what feels like weeks (that downpour that keep us from Assisi just keeps on sitting over Rome) but somehow even in the most dire of weather conditions Rome is still so captivating (even the thunderstorms here are beautiful, watching lightning illuminate the gas meters out my window is amazing). Romans just keep on doing what they've done for centuries, living in a place that doesn't seem to want them. This place would be much better off if ancient people's hadn't settled here, the river floods, the land shifts and changes, the winds are constantly blowing shutters off buildings. But it's so beautiful. Even what shouldn't be breathtaking captures your mind.

The old man who runs the trattoria in my building told me yesterday, after I had ordered my cornetto literally "for the road" (literally. That's how you say "to go" here),  that I was a real Roman now. For whatever reason they've accepted that I'm here to stay and will continue to eat their delicious pastries and sauteed artichokes for the next few months. It scares me how much I love this place, how much it feels like home. When they refer to Rome as The Eternal City I see why. This place never leaves you. You are eternally Rome's.

Papa Morizio is in Italy this week for business in Milan so he and I are going up to Venice this weekend, coincidentally, for Carnival. The rain should be letting up staring Friday afternoon and hopefully everything won't be flooded. We're staying right on the ocean (though I suppose everything is on the ocean in Venice) and it should be amazing. From the pictures I've seen of people who were up their last weekend, it looked packed and festive so I'm hoping this weekend will be amazing as well, if only for people watching.

Of course logistically this will make the trip more colorful, but that's part of the charm of Italy. Dads never been to Venice either, so he and I will both be exploring together. I'm excited to see Dad (my Dad is awesome. Seriously.) but also the draw of a long hot shower where the water doesn't pool at your feet because of drain issues sounds lovely. I'm just going to stuff myself with frappe before they lock up all the pastries for Lent and drink bellini and smell the ocean.

We still haven't made it to Assisi

If my life were a play (which I'm sure one day my life story will be adapted for the stage because it's that super interesting) it would be brimming with dramatic irony.

It's pouring in Assisi today so we postponed our trip for a few weeks which for me means until April or so because every moment of every weekend from here to what seems like eternity are packed with going place/people coming to visit. Don't get me wrong, its lovely, but chaotic. Very much like Rome itself.

That time we never made it to Assisi

Some of the most beautiful moments of this trip happen when everything goes wrong.

Today I woke up at the crack of dawn (okay, like 6:45 am) to meet Abby and her other roommate Kate at the train station right by my apartment building to go to Assisi for the day. The train, according to the website, was supposed to depart Stazione Trastevere at 7:43 and arrive in Assisi around 10 am. That was a plan but, like planed things in Italy, things quickly disbanded when the train (and we still aren't sure how or why this happened) either never came/never was supposed to come. The three of us found ourselves standing in the station, perhaps on the verge of exhausted and stressed tears, staring blankly at the train bin board.

So we decided to get on the next train leaving the station to Bracciano. The only thing we knew about this place was that Tom Cruise and Kaitie Holmes had gotten married in Odescalchi Castle which sits at the top of the hill the town is built on (that was Abby and Kate).

The three of us show up in this tiny tiny tiny little medieval town which is still clearly all asleep save for the occasional cafe and bakery. We wandered through the cobblestone streets, overrun with grass and weeds until we ended up with a breathtaking view of Lake Bracciano. Being on top of a mountain the lake was covered with whitecaps and the wind was insane but it was so beautiful. As far as you could see just tiny little houses dotting the sides of the lake and the hills went on forever.

And then came perhaps the most comedic moment of my life, which, considering my perchance for being privy to some of the strangest and odd aspects of life, was pretty wonderful. You can tour the castle which we obvi wanted to do because Kate and Abby wanted to see where this wedding had taken place and, literally, it was the only thing to do in the whole town. So we go get our tickets and the women behind the counter says to us, in English, the next tour is at 10 am, but it's in Italian, there are no English tours today. And we're all like, yeah that's fine, it'll be us and a bunch of other people so we can just stay in the back and read the signs or whatever and we'll be fine.

The tour consisted of the three of us and our lovely Italian tour guide. The four of us in a castel built in the 1400s. She was amazing though and though we didn't get 100% of the information she was giving us, she went slow enough that my half Spanish half Italian thinking brain could get most of what she was saying. It was beautiful and historic and she let us walk around the rooms behind the roped off areas because, literally, we we're the only people in the entire complex.

Though, if I was getting married in the Italian Countryside I would pick a different town to do so in. Just saying.

Then we wandered around for a bit and went in a few churches before finding the best. lunch. ever. The women who owns the restaurant basically refused to let me order the Ravioli, telling me that all Americans order either the ravioli or the spagetti in red sauce and I should branch out so I ordered her favorite dish, the mezzaluna stuffed with mushrooms.

Amazing.

I mopped up all the sauce with extra bread. That delicious. I managed to get across in my broken Italian that it was the best dish I had ever eaten in all of Italy, not an exaggeration in the slightest. I'm contemplating taking my family to this town when they come to Rome solely for the purpose of eating at this restaurant. Trattoria del Castello. Everyone should come to Italy and eat there.

So tomorrow hopefully Assisi. Train tickets have been purchased so hopefully we'll make it there. If not I could glade go back to that trattoria. It was that good.

Signs

My mom just emailed me telling me she can't wait for my first novel after reading my last post (which, JJ, why after that last post? It was, like the middle of most novels, angst-y and self righteous) so I guess this is an opportune moment as any to discuss my writing in Rome.

I've known I've wanted to be a writer for a while, but I pinpoint the moment when I realized I was made for writing at sometime between the ages of 0 and 3 when I first though I was the dog Pongo from 101 Dalmatians (side note, someone on my block has a pet Dalmatian and I get all excited when I see it hen I'm walking to class). If you're reading this then you know the story but looking back on my formative years when I though I was a dog a few years ago I realized than if I could build this entire fantasy world for myself to inhabit when I was hardly forming complete sentences maybe I could somehow make other people believe in worlds I made with words.

Plus I really just enjoy words. "Perhaps" is my favorite, followed closely by "lovely". Then "Rhizome" (read A Thousand Plateaus for information on the last one then you'll love it too).

I write all the time. I scribble down bits of conversations I hear on the streets (bring in Rome makes this part more difficult as everything is in Italian, but sometimes the English I do hear makes for wonderful banter), quotes on the walls at museumes, sometimes just words I like the feel of.

But mostly I write to keep myself sane. Running is the other way I keep my brain from going too crazy but running here is harder than it is at home so writing is all I have.

Besides this blog I have a class journal I keep, my handwritten stuff, letters, email, facebook correspondences along with my usual bits of whatever I'm working in my folder labeled "Stuff that needs to be made better" which is not to be confused with my "Stuff that's been made better but still kinda sucks" and "Someone actually decided to published stuff that should have never seen the light of day" folder.

But really, I don't feel like I much writing here. Which is weird because I also feel like I spend more time chronicling this experience than any other time in my life besides NaNoWriMo of 2009. And when I do write it's specifically designed for someone, for my professor, for all of my ardent readers here, for the AmLit people. Which is unfortunate, because this city has so much to offer in the realm of storytelling. Rome is just incredibly interesting.

One of my personal exercises, especially when I have "The Block", is to make up back-stories for random people I see. People on the metro, professors scurrying to class, my cab driver, the guy playing first violin at the Kennedy Center, no one is safe from my tendency to play god and give who are probably decent, good people some sort of horrible and tragic life story that inevitably either begins or ends with someone close to them dying in some tragic way.

Tonight my upstairs neighbors got into what I presume was a fight involving several other people and several dining room chairs that were thrown at the floor. At least that's what it sounded like. Lots of yelling. And what sounded like wood splintering. Which is usually such great fiction fodder but, alas, I am writing this because I don't want to work on my two presentations for International Business tomorrow and I don't want to write in my class journal. Writing to procrastinate writing. Talk about meta.

Moral of the story is if I don't get at least a dozen good plots out of this trip it will have been a total waste.

ALSO I think I'm going to make bagels on Friday. Then off to Assisi this on Saturday with Abby to go really make my Ancestors Proud.

Ave Maria/You Oughta Know

Yesterday was the most beautiful day in Rome. I had two friends from Florence staying with us this weekend (which is lovely because my other three roommates are all out of the city this weekend so 1. I wasn't and alone and 2. we had places for them to sleep besides our jank futon.)

But moving on.

I spent most of my time in Rome surrounded by random Catholic stuff. It's everywhere, there are shrine to just about every Saint on every street corner (except in my neighborhood, it's too new here to really have a Saint thing going on plus when they built my building Mussolini wasn't too into the Catholic thing. I mean he was, just not in that way) which is weird. My life at home is pretty infused with things of that nature but here I seem to dream about random things occurring inside of Churches, and not even churches in Rome either, last night I dreamt that we took a class field trip to see this painting in this church in DC (which I don't think is even RC in reality).

This also means my tolerance towards my guilt is rising. Which is good I suppose.

I took Kahla and Lauren to the top of Saint Peter's this weekend; it was the perfect day for it. The sun was brillant and you could see the whole city from up there; its no wonder everyone here is so in awe of the Catholics, it's so tall up there, so important looking and imposing. Then we hopped into the Vatican Museum to see the Sistine Chapel which was as awe inspiring as I remembered it. We also did the Villa Borghese this weekend which was amazing.

The ugly-ness of the outside of this city is completely made up for by the incredible beauty that seems to lie in wait in every building. Graffiti is plastered over ancient brick that hides painting that I've only seen in my De theology textbooks (Brother David would be so proud) and art history books. They don't have names or sometimes even the name of the artist that painted them but their immortal faces still stare downward at those that look upon them. When I think about how many people have looked at the same work of art as I do it's humbling.

Inside the Borghese yesterday for a moment I was alone in a huge room staring at Bernini's Pluto and Persephone. Just me and this amazingly beautiful statue. I had this complete sense of my insignificance in the world. It was like staring up into space and thinking about how we're all just tiny flecks of star dust and nothing I can ever create in my life will match the brillant and beauty of this one statue. Rome does that to you, one moment you're surrounded by grime and the next you are entranced by something so beautiful your emotions freeze. You're life is forever shifting here, one moment you're surrounded by the bustle of a modern city and the next you're lost in some other world where marble is the most beautiful medium you've ever seen.

We're all Italians now (Sorry. I've exhausted my Beyonce lyric capability)

How to live in Rome:

1) Let old ladies at the supermarket do whatever they want. Even if there is no apparent rational behind their actions they are always right. Always.

2) Whatever you do, do NOT let more than two days go by without eating gelato. Ever. It's bad for group moral.

3) The H bus is more irrational than anything ever. Do NOT trust it.

I've spent most of the my free time just wandering around this amazing city. Life is hard here - make no mistake about that - but there is something about this place that I feel so attached to. I shouldn't, I've been here a little over a month (which I cannot believe. Time must be distorted here.) and Rome is becoming more like home. It is home. The people in Pong know me by my order and the family the runs the Trattoria in our building stop and talk to us on the street when they see us in passing. The man who works the front desk of my building now returns my greetings.

This past weekend I saw the most amazing view of the city, it was on my side of the river, high up on a hill and it was breathtaking. It was like seeing the city of the first time all over again. Ancient buildings covering even more ancient hills, terra cotta rooftops that put the slate roofs of DC to shame. It's no wonder poetry comes pouring out of the poets who visit Rome, inspiration flows like water.

I'll stop being moderately angst ridden now. But like I said, it just comes pouring out of you.

This week is more school then my friend from AU Kahla comes down down from Florence to visit and I'm super excited to play tour guide. I was looking at my calendar during Finance Class today and realized I have two free weekends for the rest of the semester. Two. Either I'm going somewhere or I have people visiting pretty much solidly until the end of April. My next trip is to Venice with Papa Bear at the beginning of March. I am so excited. So so so excited.

[Francesca] Interlude

I think, after all of this is said and done, I'll have earned the right to drop the word "Roma" into conversation as opposed to "Rome".

This weekend Alice and I played tourists. This was really the first weekend we had a chance to stay in Rome and not have something Arcadia related to do. Alice loves Roman history like I love Dante, so this weekend she was in her element and played personal tour guide for me (and Abby and Eric). She was an invaluable source of information for the Colosseum and the Forum. She calles me her "Catholic Encyclopedia" and I've dubbed her my "Roman Encyclopedia". She's brillant when it comes to this stuff.

The two of us could make the best tour guides of this city ever. And we're more entertaining than the old expats that usually do them.

Et en Arcadia ego. That's a classical mythology (and, strangely, the name of the university I do this program though), Poussin and Atwood reference. Get on my level, gentle readers (extra points if you can name that novel).

I also was able to see a friend from De, Rachel, this weekend. I'll have been here one month this Thursday and this was the first time I felt I actually had to see Rome. So Rachel came down from North of the Vatican and the Loyola program to Trastevere for the weekend flea market. Which was pretty cool. It's like Eastern Market on Italian crack. And then we got Pong and Rachel agrees, Pong is the best gelato in this whole city.

ALSO. I finally figured out why my street is named "Marconi" and I love off the Piazza della Radio. Marconi (The man) invented the radio! What what Italian inventors. I was p proud I figured that out/remembered that bit of 6th grade history class.

The rest of this week is devoted to the study part of this experience. I'm trying so hard to like my business classes, but, as usual, I hate them. Except, oddly, International Finance, which is the most interesting so far. Lame businesses classes.

What's It Gonna Be

My study abroad is easy. I have very little to worry about in the sense that at any moment a million horrible things could go wrong.

Example A

A guy in my program broke both of his arms this week. He was walking when the little walk sign was on and a car ran a red light (keep in mind it's around 6 pm and he's sober), he jumped back and fell onto a guard rail, threw his elbows back to brace his fall and snap. Double casted for a month.

Example B

My friend Eric (along with a former housemate Eva and friend from AU Hannah) were all in Cairo this semester. All three have been safely evacuated into Turkey, the US, or, in Eric's case, to Rome. He's just bumming around Europe until his home university decides what to do with him. He got outta Turkey, went to Greece and is now in lovely Rome trying to figure out his life (He's thinking Morocco).

I joke about Italy being the only place I was allowed to study abroad half because it's the truth and half because I don't know if I have it in me to not be someplace not western. The midwest isn't exactly the most worldly place. We like life in our little bubble of Lutafisk and lefsa. I love it there only because it was the place I was raised in; it's hard not to have happy childhood memories of running around in six feet of snow and sledding during recess at school. So Rome, for whatever culture shock I have experienced, has been pretty tame.

Which is making my whole Peace Corps thing loom ahead a little darker than I want to think about it. Not in a bad way, just in a realistic way. I like to put things on pedestals, white and shining marble that never needs to be cleaned (like the Alter of the Nation). It's incredibly naive of me but I can't help it. I think it's the midwest in me.

If you want to read Eric's very interesting take (and his overall moderately pretentious view) on the revolution/life in general you can read his travel blog here. It's pretty good stuff.

Dissappear

I keep on coming back to the idea of the “weight of history” that Romans must constantly feel. They live in a city that was the center of the world for a long time that can never be matched.

Before I left I was watching Oprah. It’s her last season in the US and she was talking to J.K. Rowling of Harry Potter fame about having something to utterly amazing, like her TV show and Rowling’s books, and not wanting to feel like she is forever chasing that dream of doing something better than what she already created. I think the Romans must live in a world like that. They walk around their neighborhoods and go to their markets on roads that have existed for almost forever. Even I feel it, whenever I go anywhere in this city I can only think about the people who did this before me; whether it was the day before or a few centuries ago, someone else did this. There is nothing new here, history only can repeat itself so many times before it’s not even repetition, it’s stops existing in a linear manner and everything happens at once. 

Like the last sentence of 100 Years of Solitude by Marquez, “Before reaching the final line…he had already understood that he would never leave that room, for it was foreseen that the city of mirrors (or mirages) would be wiped out by the wind and exiled from the memory of men… and that everything written on them was unrepeatable since from time immemorial and forever more, because races condemned to one hundred years of solitude did not have a second opportunity on earth."

Rome can never be what it once was. Once I realized that this entire place makes more sense.

I took my first trip outside of Roma this weekend, a few of us from the program went up to Florence on Friday and came back tonight.

I noticed two major things.

1) That city is almost as obsessed with Dante and I am. Which is saying something. It was amazing, I got to see his house, his church, where Beatrice is buried. I actually hugged the walls of his church, I hugged something Dante could had touched and I got to recite part of Canto I of Inferno in front of his house. AND I saw the painting that was the cover of the Cambridge Companion to Dante reader I poured over in the fall. Even the fresco in the Duomo is Dantean in nature.

and

2) I missed Rome. Florence is beautiful, but Roma, how I missed thee. Never have I been so happy to hop on the 170 and watch as the bus wind it's way through the city center, across the river to Via Marconi, get off and head directly into Pong (the gelato place outside of my apartment building) before coming back to my room and just looking at the city. It's chaotic and insane here but even being away for three days made me miss it. And I've only been here two weeks.

 What up Dante's house?

The view from the top of the Duomo. 

Where I want to live.

Radio

Moment of uber culture shock.

I'm standing in the supermarket, the one a few blocks down is tiny. It's basically the size of the Eagle's Nest AU people. And it's always packed and it's always confusing. Today I wandered in with a vague outline of what I wanted to make for dinner, figure out how to purchase chicken from the butcher in the back and put together some semblance of a meal that does not center around Ernesto Sauce and pasta (though I did end up getting Pastina and what I think is chicken broth.  I'm still not sure). After almost causing an international crisis when I tried to purchase produce without weighing/pricing it first I'm terrified of buying anything. Anything.

It's such a surreal feeling, standing in this tiny little market using a plastic gloved hand to pick out pepper and spinach, totally lost to any conversations floating around you and then The Fray come on the radio. A sudden English interjection in a completely Italian world. It's bewildering, I had mentally prepared myself before leaving the apartment for a complete immersion and then it wasn't. Not necessarily a letdown but something jarring.

There was this adorable little boy named Gabriel with his father in front of me in line. The dad kept on calling the little boy "amore" and little Gabriel would come running back into line from the display of candy.

All my lovely roomies are at our culture class currently, so I spent the afternoon food shopping and trying to finally put my room together. And pretending to do my Italian homework.

So now I'm off to make what I am hoping is chicken breasts in maybe a butter and white wine sauce.  But I'm just making this up as I go. I need Matt for these elaborate meals involving complex sauces.

I'm also teaching myself how to type properly because I apparently do it incorrectly. Only one space after a sentence! When did that happen? It's infuriating.

I'm currently still in the middle of "Decoded". It's amazing, all I want to do is read rap lyrics and dissect them.

Also: Go Pack Go!

Update : Dinner was delicious. I would have taken a picture but we ate it too fast.

Ice Cream Truck

I really like food. If all I had in the world was books and food I would be pretty happy, all things considered. Since we haven't really started classes yet I'm teaching myself to eat because clearly no Americans really know how to. Last night we went out in search of a taverna to watch the Roma v Lazio game and ended up at a resturant a few blocks from out apartment.  We arrived around nine and didn't leave until midnight. It was perfect, we were the only english speakers in the place and though our three days of Italian classes made communication interesting it was amazing. We were one of the last groups to leave, it is what I think quintessential Roman dinners are like, course after course and the best white wine I have ever had. It was perfect. Delicious and perfect.

I think I've eaten pizza and gelato every day and at least one espresso or cappuccino, usually two.  It's amazing. This place is so hard in so many ways but the world stops whenever you enter  tiny family owned bar and order a caffe. We had a few places we visit nearly everyday and the owners know us and joke with us whenever we come in. Minnesota nice is put to shame here. I struggle to order with correct pronunciation as often as I can and I'm only met with smiles and encouraging eyes.

Yesterday was the first of the programs core course "At Home in Rome: Modern Life in the Eternal City". It's going to be brillant. We spend the classes on site most of the time, visiting different neighborhoods and learning history, culture, everything that makes Rome tick. Our professor is especially interested in the Roma and she's a sociology phD and is really cool.  We went to the old slaughterhouse which is part Kurdish Refugee camp and part an area sort of like Eastern Market in DC.  It's covered with graffiti and parts of it are run down and the other half is brand new.  Gentrification and all that, so the class is quite politically charged.  Being me, I just stay out of it and focus instead on visiting the protestant graveyard whre Shelly and Keates are buried!

My professor knew Im a Literature major so when we arrived at the cemetery she took me right to Shelly's grave.

Some background information about me and Percy.  I once wrote a paper for Dr. Kay on his song "The Indian Girl's Song" or "The Indian Serenade" depending on what edition you are reading.  It's beautiful. Sad and tragic and beautiful.

So my professor and I are standing there, I'm on the brink of tears with this brand new professor and I just had this near spiritual moment where I was overwhelmed with emotion and it hit me - I'm living in Rome.

And then I recited the first stanza and my professor just looked at me and slowly backed away.  Not really, but it was REALLY nerdy.  And then I found a euro coin with Dante on it and I freaked out again and it was amazing.

Roma won last night.  Yay Totti.

Here's the poem:

"I arise from dreams of thee

In the first sweet sleep of night,

When the winds are breathing low,

And the stars are shining bright.

I arise from dreams of thee,

And a spirit in my feet

Hath led me -- who knows how?

To thy chamber window, Sweet!

 

The wandering airs they faint

On the dark, the silent stream--

And the Champak's odours fail

Like sweet thoughts in a dream;

The nightingale's complaint,

It dies upon her heart,

As I must on thine,

O belovèd as thou art!

 

O lift me from the grass!

I die! I faint! I fail!

Let thy love in kisses rain

On my lips and eyelids pale.

My cheek is cold and white, alas!

My heart beats loud and fast:

O press it to thine own again,

Where it will break at last!"

Ego

(Coming up with Beyonce songs that are related to these posts is exhausting)

First dinner of Roma is done!

Yesterday we took a trip to the Italian countryside (45 min outside of Rome) to an Agurotourismo farm.  We learned all about wine making and how they grow things in Italy before a delicious lunch and then pasta making lessons, which I was clearly all over.  My noodles turned out pretty well so tonight I cooked my first meal in Roma.

Needless to say, it's delicious.  I bought some tomatoes and fresh broccoli from the farm, so I sauted that with olive oil and garlic, salt and pepper before adding the cooked noodles and tossed it lightly in the pan.  That and a glass of wine from the farm completes one of the best meals I have ever cooked.  It's so simple and delicious, better than anything in the states.  The food here is so fresh, there are no preservatives so you buy everything right before you cook it and you can really taste the difference.  Amazingly good.

Today we had the first part of our accademic orientation and though classes don't offically start until the 31st, we met with some professors today and out language classes start tomorrow as does our core course "Living in Rome: Life in the Eternal City" which I have tomorrow.  Being me, I am excited about learning both the language and about the history of Roma.  Even the business classes sound interesting - the excursion for one of my classes is to Sicily to learn about how the Mafia does business.

There are also lots of Godfather refrences here.

Today Alice, Annie, Rachel and I were wandering around campus, just getting a feel for the area surrounding the university.  There is, like there is in much of Rome, a giant church accross the road from Roma Tre.  We had an hour or so to kill so we ventured over, never expecting to find such a beautiful building.  The outside is run down but the inside - it's the Church of Saint Paul whose like #2 after Peter if your RC.  Underneath the alter is his grave (WHICH IS CRAZY).  If you remember, after JPJ II died, there was this big CNN crisis about this church in Rome where all the Popes headshots are and there were only a few more spots left in the church and Wolf Blitzer was freaking out because after all the spots are taken it's the end of the world!  Anyways, that's the church where all the pictures are.  So all the Popes are up on those walls.  And there are 27 more spots left so hopefully the end isn't all that nigh.  It's beautiful though, if there is one thing the Catholic Church can do well is make beautiful churches.

Which I can't seem to upload now because chrome is being lamesauce.  Hopefully Pope pictures soon!

Greenlight

I sit typing this in my apartment in Roma, my window looking into a tiny alleyway where old women push babies in strollers and cats walk along the tops of fences.  Rome has been described as "Beautiful Chaos" and, if nothing else, the drive from the airport to our apartments perfectly embodied this idea.

Rome is gritty and dirty, the faces of the people who walk the streets here are not exactly twisted in a scowl, but there is a weight on the people who live here.  There is a certain sense of history that they cannot escape; the burden of living in a city that has been bustling for more than two millenium is evident in almost all aspect of life in this city.  Ancient graffiti covers every available space and while sirens wail and trucks thunder past.  Rome is not a place for peace and tranquility, it is a place of activity and constant motion.

Our flight landed and Will, Alice and I made our way through customs and baggage claim and met up with a women from the University named Susan.  We then borded a bus that ten or so other members of our program were already on, half asleep.  The drive into Rome proper from DaVinci was almost silent, we were all exhausted and the beauty of Italy captivated all of us.

Alice and mine's apartment which we share with two other girls, one of whom has yet to arrive, was the second stop the bus made.  After a minor problem with the key to enter into our apartment, we entered our home for the next four months.

We live in a building with all other Italian families, people who live in the Trastevere district.  Our apartment is right off a pretty big plaza and shops and cafe's line the street.  It's picturesque and coated with a film of exhaust.  We grabbed a bit to eat and drink at the cafe on the ground floor of our apartment and set off to visit another apartment shared by five girls in our program.

Walking around Rome is akin to a real life game of frogger.  Traffic rules are invented as one drives and walking is precarious.  I get to cross the Tiber whenever I walk to class.  How amazing is that?  The Tiber.  You know who drank and swam in the Tiber?  Casear.  And who wrote about the Tiber?  Virgil.  The Tiber is one of the four rivers that Dante through created a corner of the earth.  DC is historic, Rome is legend.

Broken-Hearted Girl

In the odd way that the universe likes to handle itself, there has been a major snafu in the plan to send Italy's lost daughter back to the motherland.


Dad is back in the hospital.


It sucks, but this is not the forum to cry over spots on an MRI.  As of right now he's still gung-ho for me to make my triumphant return to the hills of Roma.  So I guess the five day countdown can begin again.  This is just freshman spring déjà vu.  Except I'll be living in a different country.


I ran into Barnes and Noble a few days ago on a lark and ended walking out with Virgil's Aeneid.  Honestly, I had no intention of walking into the store and purchasing that text per say, but after mulling over the new biography of Cleopatra (which I have since purchased for my Kindle, I didn't even think it was going to relate to Rome so clearly I need to revisit my Bard) I wandered over to the B&N classics section.  Being a moderately pretentious literature major I, of course, have known I've needed to read this text forever.  I've just never gotten around to it.  But after a semester of Dante basically drooling over everything this man ever touched I figured now was as good of any to read the way Augustus by way of Virgil envisioned the creation of the Roman Empire.  I just got through some bits at the beginning, historical notes, the life of Virgil, ect, but it's shaping up to be an interesting text.  And, if nothing else, it's just one more epic poem I can bring up at dinner parties.  I should have just been a classics major.


Packing Panic is making me sick.  The number of converters I think I now own is astonishing, my room is fraught with items I may or may not need in the coming months and I have visions of my suitcase being so filled with things and I'll just have to purchase an entire new wardrobe in Italy.  Like a former teacher told me last night when I was back visiting De, "Just bring an empty suitcase.  Fill it with shoes."


Thanks Mr. Casey.  You're just enabling an addict.


Update:


My Dad did indeed have another stroke.  Italy is now up in the air.