3.27.2008 : Verona
3.28.2008-3.31.2008 : Firenze, Pisa, Milano
4.1.2008-4.3.2008 : Roma
Notes from the travel journal, 3/25/08-3/26/08
March 25, 2008 Bon journo, Italia.
7:19 AM. I’m 18 minutes away from Venice: canals, gondolas, gelato, pasta, sunshine, reunions.
We walked out of the station and into sunshine. The weather here is absolutely amazing—I couldn’t ask for anything better, especially coming from snow and cold in Amsterdam. Perfection.
We walked to Bob’s and my hostel, which is in the best location ever: so close to the train station, in the middle of markets and shops, across the bridge from laundry and cafes, and only a 35 minute walk to St. Mark’s Square. I am in love with Italy already.
After tracking down an ATM to pay for the hostel, napping shortly and cleaning up, Kelsey and I met back up with the boys—who had come from the beautiful modern (shithole) city of Mestre and were now with Jesse Steele—and set out to explore Venezia.
It was wonderful to finally be back with J. Steele again, who had been having some interesting adventures since we saw him last. Unfortunately, Rome wasn’t all too great for him—stuck with boring and obnoxious people, trying to figure out what to do instead of go to Greece. Stranded in Rome after his spring break trip ended, Jesse found himself on an American military base, secretly crashing with some girl he knew from high school, an extremely sketch arrangement that I’m happy he’s out of now, and spent hours on end sitting in a Burger King on base because he had nowhere else to go.
Hearing Jesse relay these stories to me, I realized how amazing my stint in Amsterdam really was, even if things didn’t work out directly according to plan (damn tulips). I feel like I can find interesting and unusual things to do wherever I am, regardless of the situation. Granted, he said the weather was pretty poor the last few days he was in Rome, but, still, it was snowing in Amsterdam, and I still managed to have an atypical and adventurous experience. I do feel sorry for J. Steele, though. Luckily he’s with us now.
Wandering in and out of the nooks and crannies of Venice—that’s how we spend the rest of the glorious first day in Italy. We walked along the Grand Canal, finally made out way to St. Mark’s Square, chased pigeons and ruined photos, all the while snapping pictures of our own. The whole time I was strolling the streets, I couldn’t help but wonder what there is to do in Venice—any museums, galleries, key sites besides St. Mark’s Square? However, as I sat beside the sea, ran around the square, I remembered that it doesn’t matter. Being in Venice is doing enough for me. This city is astounding; I could stay here forever and just be here. Just be.
Making our way back to the hostel once more, we stopped along the Grand Canal, sticking our feet out over the water and gazing at the reflections of sun on water amidst bustling water buses and taxis. I can’t believe I was supposed to be in Greece today. And now, instead, I can’t imagine being anywhere else. Kelsey and I really wanted to spend time in Greece, but I truly feel like we are supposed to be in Italy right now. Truly.
Realizing it was too early for dinner—only 4:45 PM when we got back, but we’d been out exploring since 11 AM!—we took naps while the boys hunted down internet and cheap wine. Freshening up and sipping a little vino, we headed across the bridge to a little Italian place, not as authentic as we would’ve liked, but tasty nonetheless. Conversations on Kerouac and the Pope, love and fate, filled the dinner table, and, once we had our fill of wine, pasta and gelato, we met Liz at the train station, and headed back to Hotel Adua.
We finished off a couple more liters of wine, listened to music and talked (loudly, and probably much to the chagrin of the German couple staying next to us). John-Mark, the gentleman that he is, walked Liz back to her hostel to get her stuff because it was much better for her to crash at our place rather than at hers—she had to get up super early to catch a train AND her living situation is completely creepy…
They took FOREVER getting back, so Bob and I were a little agitated, and JM had to go back to ol’ Mestre alone, but a beautiful night indeed.
March 26, 2008 Late starts and lazy days.
Awoke in Venice, after a long day of exploring and relishing yesterday. This morning has been surprisingly productive, even if I haven’t really adone much—finished all of my photos to date, read Women in Love, and now I’m sitting in an Italian Laundromat, doing badly needed wash and wondering what I’ll do today.
Spencer said yesterday that he wanted to sit at a café in St. Mark’s and people-watch. I may do this, although I’m pretty certain the boys are still asleep. I read about a Guggenheim Museum in Venice in my trusty guide book, so my wanderings may take me there. I’m open to anything, operating with the same attitude as yesterday: it’s my last day in Venice , but I’m fine without a schedule, and I’d be even better if I were exploring on my own. We’ll see what today brings me.
Finished my laundry, collected Kels, and departed the hostel in sunshine once more. We bought DELICIOUS sandwiches at a small delicatessen and ate in contented silence as we lingered along the canal, sitting by the water in the sun. The boys finally called us, and, sauntering over to St. Mark’s Square, we met them again.
After chasing pigeons for a second time, we decided to climb the campanile next to the duomo. Actually, we rode an elevator up the bell tower; I guess no one is allowed to climb the stairs anymore. From the top of the tower, we had the most beautiful views of Venezia. I saw water that glistened and stretched for miles, weathered building tops, and thralls of people congregating among birds in the piazza. We were only at the top of the tower for a short while (pretty drafty up there!), but those few moments were truly magical.
Of all the places I’ve been fortunate enough to visit thus far, Venice has been my favorite by far. It’s the one city that has completely lived up to every expectation I had about it—blue skies, scores of Italians, gondola drivers, delicious gelato, and streets to get lost on. Venice makes me want to fall in love, something I never thought would happen, so maybe this city truly is magical.
After descending the campanile and flying aeroplanes through piazzas, we ate dinner, searched for, and were unsuccessful at finding, a night gondola ride, and found ourselves in a bar watching football and drinking STRONG Malibu and cranberry cocktails. Dancing through the streets and home again. Typical.
Kelsey and I split up from the boys tomorrow for a day, heading to whatever awaits us in Verona. I’m excited for it to finally be our crazy selves wandering around Europe alone, even if it is just for a day. We’ll inevitably get way too crazy, way too lost, and way too many funny stories when we return.
White peach and strawberry wine in stow, tomorrow we depart for the setting of Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet. And who knows what the hell is going to happen to us.
Notes from the travel journal, 3/27/2008
March 27, 2008 Strawberry wine…
I’m sober now, so I feel I can coherently reflect on the past 24 hours. Ha.
Kelsey and I boarded our train to Verona at 10:45 AM, and, less than two hours later, we stepped off the train in Verona, drunk off our asses.
I don’t really know where we get these ideas and why we think they’re good ones, but we do it anyways and still come out alive and with all of our clothes on. Success.
So good idea number 4,467: On the train to Verona, we each drank a bottle of Italian Arbor Mist, basically. Hmmm, classy. The really classy thing was that the people in our car laughed at us the whole time. Ha, just jealous.
We arrived in Verona, finished off the last drops of wine and proceeded to find La Tana Bed and Breakfast. After asking directions from a confused-looking police officer, we decided it would be a better idea to take a taxi…two blocks. At least we made it there in one piece.
Much to our delight, our B&B had a life—one we almost toppled over in when it went up (I guess we were drunker than we thought…)—and we arrived on the first floor to a tiny, adorable blonde Italian woman, with a welcoming smile and a short list of English words to help get her through our tour.
La Tana B&B is AMAZING. Huge, comfy bed; free internet; perfect location; breakfast—everything, and a wonderful hostess to boot. Kels and I dropped our bags in the room, and our amazing Italian house mom brought out a map to help us get our bearings.
If Venice was everything I expected it to be, Verona completely exceeded my expectations, particularly because I really didn’t have any at all. After our Athens plans were botched, we basically picked Verona at random, solely based on the facts that Romeo and Juliet is set here and Megan Grundy is studying here, so it couldn’t be too bad.
What we’ve found is a small but laid-back city, friendly and accommodating to tourists but not overrun by them. Luckily, it’s a city easily navigated by two drunk Americans.
We rested a bit, got our internet fixes, and I made plans to meet up with Megan later at night before we departed to procure some foodies. And the pizza, mojitos and glato we found were exquisite. We walked into a restaurant, and were greeted with, “Ahh, what can I do for these beautiful girls?” Oh, how we drunkenly blushed and giggled. Over drinks and pizza, we sent Jamie a drunken Facebook message from Bob’s Blackberry, marveled at the massive arena in the middle of the town square, and laughed at how ridiculous we are.
After lunch, we wandered off to find Juliet’s balcony, though not before taking a photo with a random Roman Gladiator. Of course, we could’ve skipped the Capulet house like my guide book told us to—luckily there were too many tourists to consider going in the house—because apparently the Capulets never lived there.
From Juliet’s balcony, we went back to La Tana and crashed, only to wake up a few hours later and start all over again when we met up with Megan. A wine bar, a retro-decorated place, and a bar full of Italian college students later, and we went home once more, roaming through deserted Verona streets and wishing McDonald’s was open past 1 AM.
All in all, Verona was a really great choice on our part, even if it was pretty random. Tomorrow we resume our slightly less-sporadic traveling, and we reunite with Spencer, John-Mark, and Jesse Steele.
But, oh, Verona.
Notes from the travel journal, 3/28/08-3/31/08
March 28, 2008 Platform 7
I love the beauty that surrounds me as I gaze from train windows.
I sit on this train, making my way through the mountains of Tuscany, thinking that even if life has no purpose, it doesn’t matter. Life is beautiful.
***
Kels and I arrived in Florence and were met by our amazing boys. So happy to be in sunshine and off the train, we dropped our bags at our sleek hostel, located right by the Duomo, and went out to explore. We walked inside the cathedral, Spence and JM taking photos in window light, and marveling at the simplicity of the church.
Jesse Steele was unfortunately in a bad way today—girl troubles—so he left us and went back to his hostel while the four of us moseyed over to the bridge and river to see the golden views of Florence.
Firenze is literally breathtaking. I could never imagine waking up to this beauty everyday. I love studying in England, and can definitely imagine myself living in London someday, but Italy is the first place I actually physically feel I can’t leave. It’s going to hurt to leave here.
I have to come back some day.
March 29, 2008 Lean with it.
Woke up early this morning to catch a train to Pisa to fall over with the Leaning Tower. We all figured it would be a short day trip because there really isn’t much to see in Pisa accept the Piazza Muracoli—Piazza of Miracles—at all, so we planned on hitting more sites in Florence when we returned.
Well, Pisa was even more underwhelming than I had imagined. Overrun with tourists all taking the same photo—pushing the tower back up straight. I guess that’s what you get when you go to Pisa on a Saturday morning.
The weather, though, was absolutely ideal, and we had even more to time to roam around Florence than we had anticipated. Perfecto.
When we returned to Florence, we got a quick bite to eat (after much indecisive deliberation—so silly) and mapped out the remainder of our afternoon. Spence, Bob and I were going to spend all of it at Palazzo Pitti, a palace and museum complex across the river, because the majority of museums and galleries are closed on Mondays in Florence, and that’s the only other day Kelsey and I would have left to visit them. JM and Jesse Steele decided to go see Michaelangelo’s David—the real one—first. We probably shouldn’t have let them go off together without one of us to mediate, but we met up later and they hadn’t killed each other (yet).
Palazzo Pitti is amazing, just like the rest of Florence. We turned the corner and hit right upon it suddenly. We were admitted free because it’s art week in Florence—hurray for supporting cultural endeavors!—and went straight to the Boboli gardens, a massive expanse of greenery, fountains, gravel walkways and marble sculptures. Walking through the mazes of bushes and up what seemed like an eternity of steps, we came to a terrace that overlooked Tuscany.
Ciao, bella. Tuscany is exquisite; there are literally no words to describe the beauty seen from that terrace—snow-capped mountains in the distance contrasted the plush green firs across the way, and I say with my legs dangling over the edge, face in the sun, and closed my eyes, the images before me already in my dreams. This must all be a dream.
***
After roaming around the Palatine Gallery and unsuccessfully attempting to see the Costume Gallery, we headed back to our hostel, dropped of a few things and went to a delicious pizzeria for dinner. I swear, I’m going home 30 pounds heavier—the food in Italy is KILLER. Damnit, I’ll just stop eating when I get back to Leicester…
The rest of the evening was pretty chill because we have to wake up early tomorrow to go to Milan for a football match. Wandered around the streets, through throngs of teenagers drinking outside of bars, looking for a convenience store to buy mimosa-fixings for our train ride tomorrow. ;)
Once again, the feeling of complete relaxation came over me as Kels and I sat in the lobby of our trendy hostel, being the internet whores we are. And I felt completely content with the progress I was making and not at all upset that we weren’t out late or hadn’t visited 30+ museums today.
I feel like some people would think I’m not getting enough out of this experience because I’m not constantly on the go. But for me, just being here, feeling comfortable and happy with my surroundings, feeling like I belong here rather than like I am a tourist, is good enough for me.
March 30, 2008 Milan (clap, clap) Milan (clap, clap)!!
Early, drunken day today. Oh Italy, only you would do this to me.
We boarded our train an hour late—we forgot to account for the time change—and worked a bit on various things before busting out the champagne.
I wrote a few postcards and mapped out a few summer plans; I’m not in any way, shape or form ready to go home, but I am extremely excited about this summer nonetheless, particularly after enrolling classes, finding out about the Mile High Music Festival in Denver (we ARE going!), and talking to Stef last night. I really believe this is going to be the best summer ever.
Once the mimosas started flowing, though, all productivity went out the window. JM was knocking back bottles of wine (which soon proved to be a HUGE mistake) because it was his birthday—22 (OLD BALLS!); Happy Birthday John-Mark!—and we were all swapping horror stories from high school—antics, suspensions, fights (“McMahon goes crazy, attacks Alteri!”. God, I swear I love Kelsey more each day!).
Before Jesse, JM, Kelsey and I (Spence wasn’t drinking because he refused to go into the football match drunk) knew it, we were hammered, glasses of orange juice were being spilled on the Blackberry (luckily it still works!) and we were in the thoroughly modern city of Milan.
Attempting to find our hostel and then San Siro, both at opposite ends of the city, was frantic and amusing, especially since we were all drunk. We eventually made our way to the stadium, despite the Italian assholes who thought it would be funny to give us the wrong directions. Good thing we aren’t as dumb as we look, apparently.
Wrapped in our scarves and holding €5 nosebleed tickets, we ran up the ramp in time to see kick-off. Unfortunately, the game wasn’t too exciting—AC Milan lost to Atalanta, 2-1 and played ridiculously poorly—but now at least I can say I went to an AC Milan game. Priceless.
After the game, we went to our hostel, a journey that seemed to take INFINITELY less time since we knew where we were going AND we had sobered up, in order to nap. Heading out for dinner a little while later, we had to leave John-Mark behind; a wicked wine-drunk hangover had sent in, and his birthday wasn’t even over yet. Poor boy; I hope he enjoyed some of it, at least.
Eating dinner at some Gypsy-Mexican restaurant, I realized completely that, no mater how much they may not want to, people need to accept the fact that things just aren’t the same over here as they are at home. Let’s face it: Mexican food here is NOT going to taste like the food we’re used to, no matter how much we hope. Gah, we should’ve just eaten pasta…
We brought the birthday boy back a Crispy McChicken Deluxe—some birthday dinner! Ha—and I climbed in bed to nurse achy knees while Spence, J. Steele and Bob walked to see one of the few historic sites in Milan, the Duomo.
We all split up again tomorrow: Kels and I go back to Firenze, JM is off to Roma, and Spencer and Jesse head south to the beaches of Napoli.
But we will reunite soon. God, I hope Bob and I don’t spend tons of money or get drunk tomorrow once we part ways with the boys. I’m beginning to fully recognize (and appreciate!) the fact that we’re bad influences on each other…
March 31, 2008 Get your feet off the seats!!
I’m once again writing from the train—and, in fact, it’s on trains that I’ve been doing most of my writing—and gazing out of windows and into the backyards of Italy.
We said our farewells to the boys today and wandered around Milano for awhile, spending too much money (damnit!), photographing the Duomo, and being accosted by friendship-bracelet wielding men outside of metro stations. Lingering over lunch and people-watching, and then on the road again, back to Firenze, where we’ll most likely just stay in, be productive and get ready for what is sure to be a tourist extravaganza in Roma.
I absolutely adore how care-free, nonchalant and laidback Italy is allowing me to be. Perfection.
***
Back at our hostel, and it’s surprising how much things have changed in one day! Academy Hostel is full of people, our beds have been commandeered b new people, and some crazy Irish brothers tried to get us to go on their pub crawl.
Oh, how I love Italy.
Notes from 4/1/08 to 4/4/08
April 1, 2008 Atencion! Atencion! Gypsies!
In many ways, I wish Kelsey and I never left Florence. Oh no, Italy, don’t fail me now.
Of course, we woke up on our last day in Florence with a positive attitude and a bit of a to-do list. Plans to purchase AC Milan footballs, Michaelangelo’s David and ship a TON of crap home, and we were out the door and walking around on a beautiful day in Firenze.
However, the line for David at the Galleria Accademia was way too long, even by our standards. Oh well, I guess I have yet another reason to return to this magnificent place.
We went to the post office instead, and thank God we did, because what a frustrating experience that was. We spent forever inside the post office—which was in a deceivingly swank and beautiful building—spent too much money to ship 3 packages, and almost (well, not really) got our purses stolen by some gypsies.
It’s amazing—Europeans are generally not racist at all, but, for some reason, there is a general consensus to HATE gypsies. And, surprisingly, they look exactly how you’d imagine—long, dark braided hair; flowy skirts; chunky espadrille sandals; tons of bangles. Wow, how surreal. Kelsey and I finally had all of our boxes packed and were called to the postal counter, leaving our purses at the table we had been sitting at because it was right next to us. An Italian man came in and asked if he could sit at the table, and we happily obliged. Luckily we did, because, a few moments later, he said “Attention, attention—gypsies!”. Kelsey and I turned around in time to see two women, one carrying a baby, walk in the post office and suspiciously look at our bags. I immediately went over to pick them up. Ugh, close call indeed.
Rome couldn’t have sounded any better to us after this entire debacle. But we were wrong on many levels.
We got to the train station, got seat reservations and sandwiches and boarded the train. And, for the first time on this entire adventure, I truly handle being in a place where I apparently stand out so much. The stares and gawks and giggles in Italian have become almost too much for me, and, after an evil Italian woman stole my seat—which I had a reservation for!!—on the train and proceeded to be a bitch to Kelsey and me the entire train ride, I really wanted to cry.
I think the frustration and culture shock hit everyone at different points throughout an experience like this, but I honestly never thought it would happen to me. I consider myself an extremely open-minded person, but, in many ways, I’ve come to dislike the European mentality. And it bothers me so much that Americans notoriously have this horrible reputation for being rude and ignorant, when, in a lot of ways, I can count only a handful of genuine people I’ve met since I’ve been in Italy.
***
We landed in Rome, and I think things got progressively better as the day wore on. We made it to our hostel relatively easily, lounged about and worked online for awhile and then went to dinner in Campo de Fiori, a really hip area in Rome, with great restaurants and a prominent bar scene at night. Kelsey knew people who were in Rome, both studying and visiting, so we tried to get in contact with a few of them, and we finally decided to meet up with her friend Becky, who is studying in Wales and on break like us, and went on a pub crawl. Rome really is beautiful at night, and I know I can do this, despite language and cultural barriers, despite feeling like an outsider.
I like the challenge, and I guess I wouldn’t want it any other way.
April 2, 2008 Why would I lie about dirty sheets?
Full day today, and yet we surprisingly made it through in one piece, despite being tired and bullied by horrible hotel managers.
We woke up, not too early, and lazed around for a bit on the terrace of our hostel before heading to the Ancient City, location of the Colosseum, Roman Forum, Palatine Hill, and more.
Kelsey and I left Colosseo station and were immediately hit with a glorious view of the Ancient City: the Colosseum rises out of the ground, ruins in the Forum are in plain sight to the right, and the gardens of the Palatine Hill fill the horizon. It’s amazing how preserved Roma is. I try to imagine what the States will be like in 2000 years, and I cannot even fathom it. The Romans really knew what they were doing.
The two of us ate lunch at a bustling pizzeria right across from the Colosseum. The pizza was really good, although we had a little trouble ordering at first—apparently ordering the “same” here means “sharing.” Ha, how funny. We sat next to some Swedish guys who had flown in to see the Man. U. vs. Roma football match the night before. We had a really good conversation with them, marveling at their whirlwind trip and laughing about mistaken orders, as one of them also received the wrong meal. It’s great to see other down-to-earth tourists.
After lunch, we bought our combined tickets for all three sites and proceeded to spend 4 ½ hours wandering throughout the impeccable ruins. The sun beat down on us, giving our arms and faces a little much-needed color, and we took more photos than we know what to do with.
The Colosseum is one of the most massive, amazing structures I’ve ever seen. I can’t believe how well it’s been maintained and how much history its walls have seen. Part of the floor of the arena has been rebuilt to illustrate what it would’ve looked like when Roman games—gladiators, chariots—took place, but the majority of it is still open, and you can see beneath the stadium and into the cages and hallways under the arena. Wandering through the Palatine Hill and Roman Forum was no less of an experience. Augustus’s house and Livia’s Villa can still be seen, and greenery fills the entire hill. We looked out over Rome and saw for miles, over the ruins of the Forum and farther. When we walked through the Roman Forum, past Constantine’s Arch and next to Roman Baths, it was completely surreal to imagine that people had been here 1500 years ago. I walked around, wondering if all of this was actually real, wondering if any of it could be true. What an interesting concept, to think that there have been millions before you, and there will be millions after you. It really makes you so feel small.
***
Kelsey’s phone was ringing off the hook, with tons of people in Rome trying to get in contact with us and make plans for the evening, so, after our wonderful hours in the Ancient City, we headed back to the hostel.
Before we left this morning, Kelsey and I had to move out of room and into a new one, which wasn’t ready yet, but we had to turn our key in anyways. At Hotel Des Artistes, you’re required to pay a key deposit, which Kelsey paid and I collected when I turned in the key. However, in the morning, the girl at the front desk only gave me €5 back, when I could’ve sworn that Kelsey had paid €10. We were on our way out, so we decided to deal with it when we got back. Big mistake.
When we tried to tell the manager, a deceivingly nice-looking man name Giuseppe, about the mix-up, he basically treated us like we were complete idiots and liars, yelling at me for taking €5 even though I wasn’t the one who paid the deposit, and refusing to let the entire situation go after we said it didn’t matter. We got our new keys, sat in the café area working on a few things for awhile and then headed up to our new room, with the boys, who were coincidentally staying at our same hostel, in tow. I got in our room first, met our new German roommates—who thought we were crazy, probably, from the moment they met us—and saw that my bed, bed 34, still had the same sheets on it from the person who occupied it before me. Great.
So I went back upstairs to tell Giuseppe that I wasn’t trying to be a burden but my bed had dirty sheets and I just needed some clean ones. And once again, he looked at me like I was stupid and not telling the truth. Honestly, who the HELL lies about dirty sheets? After I repeatedly told him that no, I hadn’t just chosen a bed that was being used by one of my roommates, that in fact the sheets had not been changed that morning when the other girl left, he asked to come downstairs with me and see. Jesus Christ. So we went downstairs, and I showed him the bed, but he STILL DIDN’T BELIEVE ME! What the hell? It wasn’t like I was asking for a refund because my bed had dirty sheets; I just wanted new fucking sheets! He asked the German guys if anyone was still sleeping there, looked at Kelsey’s bed and thought I was lying because she had already made her bed, and finally went upstairs to get someone to give me new sheets.
It sucks that Kelsey and I have had such great experiences in hostels up until now because I think we’ve been a bit spoiled by our wonderful hostels. But I really don’t think it’s too much to ask to have clean sheets on my bed. No, not at all.
***
Oh, what a long night. After the sheets debacle, we got ready to meet up with the Michigan Staters Kelsey, JM and Spence met in Budapest, and it was off to the Hard Rock Roma we went. Haha, I love how this was the SECOND time I’ve eaten at Hard Rock Café since I’ve been in Europe. Go me.
We also met Kelsey’s friend Kevin Hawley and his friend Matt, both studying at Lancaster in England, for dinner, and they were awesome. We made plans to do the Vatican with them tomorrow, so it should be another great day.
Unfortunately, I was less-impressed with the kids from Michigan State, but what can you do. After dinner, a few of us went to a bar Kelsey and I hit on the pub crawl last night, and, though I was exhausted, we some how found our second wind and ended up at a club called Gilda. Wow, I’ve never felt so underdressed in my life. So with this in mind, and the fact that I was relatively sober and very sleepy, we just danced like fools for a couple of hours and walked back to the hostel.
Of course Kelsey and I locked ourselves out of our room when we were getting ready for bed, so we had to go get a key from Giuseppe—just another reason for him to hate us—but what an interesting night nonetheless.
April 3, 2008 Robbie’s back!!!!
Kelsey and I met Hawley and Matt outside of Barberini station for a long day of wandering in and out of one of the holiest cities in the world.
When we walked into St. Peter’s Basilica, I was met with an interesting feeling. I think if I were deeply religious, regardless of whether I was Catholic or not, strolling through St. Peter’s would impact me so much more than it really did. In truth, I was severely under-whelmed, to the point of where I just felt like it was like any other church. It was beautiful, breathlessly beautiful, but it didn’t feel unique or special to me in anyway.
Unfortunately, I had the same sort of feeling when I went to the Musei Vaticani and the Sistine Chapel. Walking for what seemed like an eternity to get to Michaelangelo’s masterpiece, we passed through rooms painted with frescoes by Raphael, saw tapestries illustrating maps of Italy throughout the ages, and finally made it to the Sistine Chapel.
Throughout my travels in Europe, I can’t help but wonder if I’m really experiencing these monuments and churches and sites the way I should be. I walked into the Sistine Chapel and was amazed by the beauty that surrounded me. But, at the same time, I couldn’t decide how being there actually made me feel. Viewing the ceiling—which depicts scenes from Genesis and was painted by Michaelangelo bending over, not lying on his back—along with 600 other people really isn’t the way it’s meant to be viewed. And I think I can’t come to a conclusion about my feelings regarding the Sistine Chapel, and everything else I saw at the Vatican today, because this idea keeps clouding everything else. I’ve almost gotten to the point where I wonder if I should even keep visiting these places, or should I just keep the vision I have in my mind and save these spots for the tourists. Some predicament, I guess.
***
After the Vatican, we went back to the hostel, with plans to meet Hawley and Matt later when we met up with the Michigan Staters once more to try take two on party time. And probably the most exciting part of the day was meeting up with Robbie when we got back to Hotel Des Artistes.
Gosh, I missed Robbie so much. How insane to think that we hadn’t seen him in about 2 weeks!! He spent a week in London and just made it to Italy, visiting Milan and Venice before coming to us in Rome. Too bad he couldn’t make it here earlier—we only get one night with him! So we’ll have to make it count.
And, of course, we picked up right where we left, which consists of Bob and I yelling at Robbie for being ridiculous, and Robbie telling us all of his amazing stories from London Town. Ah, the fam is wonderful, and I don’t know what I’ll do when we are all separated this summer. L
We sat in a café for an hour or so and reminisced over croissants and sandwiches, and then we went back to the hostel to work on a few things before heading out to dinner. I swear, since we’ve been traveling, we’ve honestly been boggled down with so much work! And I haven’t even begun to think about my essays. But keeping a blog and travel journal, constantly uploading photos, and being forced to change travel plans has really been weighing us down. Kels was super stressed out because she didn’t know what to do about this whole Dublin trip thanks to her friend who decided to cancel on her at the last minute, so when people kept calling her to figure out dinner plans, we finally just decided to do dinner at Camp de Fiori again with Robbie, Hawley and Matt, knowing full well that if we came back to our hostel after dinner, we would definitely NOT go out, let alone go all the way back to over by the Vatican to hang out with the Michigan State kids and do tequila races.
And it was only fitting that we’d spend our last night in Italy, chowing down delicious pasta and cheap wine, watching strange street performers, and chatting light-heartedly over candlelight.
April 4, 2008 Farewell, Italia.
I didn’t realize how much Kels and I have been packing in the last couple of days, but she and I have really send SO much of Roma, and today can definitely attest to that.
Woke up relatively early on our last beautiful day in Italy. It’s sad to think that we’ve spent almost 2 weeks here, and now the ride is ending. Barcelona-bound, but still, it’s sad.
We did some laundry at Splashnet, ate crème-filled croissants at a café close to our horrible hostel, and went off to explore Roma one last time. And we had a hefty list of places to visit: Trevi Fountain, Pantheon, and Ara Pacis, and then to collect my laundry and catch a train to Civitavecchia to board our ferry to Barcelona!
The Trevi Fountain is probably my favorite site in all of Roma. It was exactly how I imagined it: massive, sunshine beating down on the water, and crowded by tourists throwing coins in in order to return to Roma some day. Of course, no Dolce Vita, no wading into the pools naked in the middle of the night, just like no eating ice cream (though we actually did) on the Spanish Steps like Audrey Hepburn. But, if I had reservations about loving Roma, the fountain definitely helped me get rid of some of them. How magnificent.
The Pantheon and Ara Pacis were both amazing as well. The Pantheon is the oldest surviving structure in Rome, older than anything in the Ancient City, and, in many ways, somewhat more preserved. I really am so impressed by the Romans; this entire city is practically a preservation site, the birthplace of something historic and amazing. We could all take a couple building tips from the Romans, I think.
After our uber site-seeing and eating probably the BEST pizza I’ve had since being in Italy—funny how I had it on my last day here!—we hurried back to the hostel because we were really late to catch the train to the port and our adventures at sea. Luckily, though, we received an e-mail when we got back that said the ferry wasn’t taking off until 9 PM, so we had plenty of time. Good thing those damned cruise ships are always late.
I’m sad to leave Italy but excited to see what Spain and the rest of my travels have in store for me. The adventure continues!
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