The Final Hours

It is somehow, suddenly, my last day in this wonderful city. I walked around this morning, got my last cappuccino at my favorite café, and took in all the sights one more time. And I thought, how strange that it feels like I got off the plane here yesterday. Venice seems like a day ago and Rome a week ago. Paris might have been a dream I only imagined. Yet at the same time, it feels like I’ve been away from America for an eternity. I got comfortable here and it almost began to feel like I’d been here forever, would be here forever. Here, Florence – the city that took me in and showed me Italian life, the best pizza and the best gelato, how to order an espresso and how to avoid the clawing eyes of creepers on the streets. How to walk in heels on cobblestone streets, cook pasta with a boatload of different sauces, shop for the best tomato. In four months, I traveled outside of it too – to three other countries and about ten other cities and towns in Italy. Each one had its own charm, traditions and people welcoming me along the way. Each one I will never forget. And with the best of friends to join on me on these travels, I cannot think of a better way to have spent this semester. I’ll return in less than 24 hours to the land of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, all-day internet access and cell phones that always work. Like I said in the beginning, a novel is like a dream in which everyone is you. I hope this record of my trip has been that for you – a world of crazy Dubliners, historical gravesites, shining monuments and whirlwind bus-rides that you could feel a part of. Ciao, all, and see you back in the States!

The CinqueTerre - a roomie daytrip

CinqueTerre means “five lands” – an area of the coast were five typical Italian seaside towns are lined up along the ocean. Tourists and excited Italians alike walk between the towns on footpaths that connect the adorable communities. The hikes are different levels of difficulty between each town, so my roommates and I stuck to the easier areas, then zipped by train to the final two towns since the walks there are more difficult. Between the first three towns, we took a leisurely stroll along the cliffs of the coastline, winding between tree-covered hills overlooking the water the whole time. It was absolutely gorgeous. Be sure to look at the attached pictures, because words just don’t do justice to the CiqueTerre! It’s a lazy, dreamy kind of place, with not too many people crowding the paths, and just enough quiet to make the waves the only soundtrack you’ll hear. Me, Allie and Colleen were awed by the tourquoise ocean and bright green hills, dotted at intervals with the CiqueTerre towns – miniscule communities of probably 300 residents each, full of multi-colored buildings, laundry fluttering in the wind, and lots of seafood restaurants. Each town sat nestled into hillsides, looking out at the ocean peppered with colorful boats and beaches of tourists sunning themselves. We picked a beautiful day for a CinqueTerre walk and nearly overheated in our sneakers – something even too hot to be wearing in nice warm Florence these days. But it was perfect: eating sandwiches as we “hiked” through paths lined with pink, red and yellow flowers – preserved by the National Park that oversees all five towns. We found a random cemetery at the peak of one hill and a long stretch of what looked like the CinqueTerre housing projects on one path. We think these were actually shacks destroyed by a storm and never restored, since some even had furniture and sinks left broken inside. Other than that point though, the trip was full of sunshine and amazing views. Walking between towns was one great view in itself, out into the water, while each town had its own charm and scenic appeal. The first two were smallest, but the fourth town (Vernazza) had great sunning spots – a small beach and cove with a rocky peninsula scattered with people snacking and chatting and enjoying the view of kids running in the water. We stopped there for a while and called home to say hello (where Mom and Dad were Googling pictures of the CinqueTerre to check out where I was), as boats moved in and out of the harbor. A large “cruise” type boat full of tourists came toward the peninsula, where we were sunning on the tip, and suddenly its driver called out “Scusate! Scusate!” meaning, “Excuse me!” or basically – move out of the way, and fast. It turned out we happened to be sitting on the exact spot where the boat was docking. Woops! We scurried away just in time for the huge bow to hit shore, and moved to a more low-profile spot. After resting, we took the train to the last town called Monterosso. This is the most beach-resort type town, the largest of all five with a long boardwalk of restaurants and a stretching sandy beach. After our day of sweating in the sun, the girls and I hunkered down on the beach among stones and felt the cool water, tried to skip rocks, and prepared for the three-hour ride back to Florence. Of course, that train was delayed, therefore causing us to miss our connecting trains later, and it ended up being quite the five-hour travel home. As usual, the night presented us with its very best example of Italian transportation. I was thinking of journeying to Assisi next weekend, to check out Saint Francis’ Basilica, but after the train disasters so far, I’ll just have to see!

Either way, it’s going to be a great last two weeks here. I went to a photography exhibit with my Photo class this afternoon (no more Italian class, so I can sleep till 2:00!) which was interesting since we got to see lots of original “first-cameras” from the 1890s. Tomorrow is the final day of Art History with a trip to non-other than the Pitti Palace – right across from my apartment, where I’ve been trying to tan on the Palace’s concrete lawn the past few days. And after that, just a review of my sketchbook with my Art professor and one last celebratory weekend before final exams begin. Then, can you believe it, I’ll be taking tests and packing up before Saturday the 16th rolls around and I hop on a plane to JFK. See you then!!

Post-Venice, Pre-America

It’s been a lazy week in Florence since returning from Venice. The weather is beautiful and everyone here is on the edge of their seats because we only have three weeks left in the program. Three! So, I’ve been finishing up Italian classes – last one today, yay – and will take the final exam tomorrow before celebrating for a good 24 hours after. Or at least taking a nap…Then celebrating for the weekend by heading off to the CinqueTerre! It’s a group of coast towns that are all within walking distance of each other. You take a gorgeous stroll along the ocean and visit all five towns along the way – I’ve heard it’s very nice and can’t wait for Sunday.

This week, I restocked food in the apartment and cooked a bunch – asparagus and lemon chicken from the market near the apartment, garlic mashed potatoes and corn another night, and of course all kinds of pasta imaginable, as usual. It was my friend Jen’s birthday this past weekend so we went out for an appertivo with the girls (where you buy one drink and get tons of free buffet food) so that was nice. Afterward, I found a place that was showing the Red Sox v Yankees game and got to watch the last few innings which was great! I miss them so much and am pumped to get home to keep up with Boston sports again. Fortunately, I also found a bar that showed the Celtics Playoff game 4 this week (the one where they lost to Chicago in double overtime…) so that was another fun night and good Bostonian/Florentine memory! In other news, I went to the Duomo Museum where they have lots of original copies of the sculptures and doors of the Duomo and Baptistry before it was damaged in the 1500s. My friend from home was visiting so I took the chance to see some Florence sights I’ve missed so far – and it turned out to be an interesting trip since much of the art there were things I’d learned about in my Art History class here. Speaking of which, we had our second to last class today! It was a little sad, I’ll miss my American teacher Rocky so much. We saw The David and learned all about how Michaelangelo created the famous sculpture (which was originally meant to sit 70 feet in the air on the side of the Duomo). That was my third time seeing The David and it will never get old!

So for the last few weeks here I plan on seeing everything in Florence there is left to see, eating lots of GustaPizza down the street, and enjoying the company of all the friends here I may not see for a while once going back home. Everyone feels a little nostalgic about leaving but also excited to see friends and family at home, and I pretty much feel the same way. It will be nice to have peanut butter again!

Turning 21 in Venice

PICTURES OF ROME AND VENICE ON THE LINKS OVER THERE!! --->


Water water everywhere…That’s Venice. Just to recap, I’ve so far been to Paris for Valentine’s Day, Dublin for Saint Patty’s Day and Rome for Easter...what more could a girl ask for? Venice for her 21st birthday maybe? Yes. And it was fantastic. I’d feel too bad for the other cities if I said that Venice was my favorite of them all – but let’s just say I love love LOVE Venice.

But just to backtrack for a second…on the day before my birthday, last Thursday, I was surprised with flowers and then my roommates set up a whole birthday décor in our little kitchen – complete with noisemakers, signs, champagne, cake, and giant multi-colored cardboard birthday ties. Like a tie a guy wears, yes. Weird, but kind of funny when we got all our friends and Nick to wear them out later, ha ha. Anyway, it was a fabulous day-before-birthday. I went out to dinner with a small group to a place right on the Arno River at the tip of the Ponte Vecchio, then headed home for cake and ice cream and wearing giant ties. Oh, and also I got to wave around a gold wand that Colleen and Allie bought for me, since most girls these days are wearing crowns for their 21st birthdays. I thought the wand was an even nicer idea, and absolutely loved waving it and tapping people with it all night. So, after cake we joined up with more friends, including Nick’s cousin Brianne who was in town for a few days, and went out to a club around here called, fittingly, TwentyOne. Lots of people go there all weekend, and it turned out to be a great night with lots of dancing and good company.

Too-early in the morning, Nick and I boarded a train to Venice for the weekend. It was now officially my birthday and so of course I got to be queen for the day and boss him around as much as I wanted. This pretty much meant I sent him to grab McDonald’s breakfast while I bought the train tickets and we hurried to catch the train as it almost left without us…

And so, we were suddenly riding across a sea of murky but pretty-blue water into the main island of Venice. I was so excited to see what this city had to offer, as it was unlike any other I’ve visited and I wasn’t sure exactly what to expect from this fabled town-on-water. It turned out to be even more amazing than I thought. Leaving the train station, we landed at the edge of a main canal and followed our very confusing printed directions from there to the hotel. At every turn, I took more and more pictures, thinking this must be the prettiest bridge in Venice or this must be the cutest little house in Venice – only to find that the next bridge or the next turn or the next house was even more adorable. And when we made it to the hotel area, I fell in love with the beautiful piazza I found myself standing in. The cobble-stone square was surrounded by colorful shops and cafes, had benches and trees nestled in its center and was full of local Venetians walking dogs, sitting in the sun and enjoying cappuccinos. Though there were still tourists, our Piazza Margherita felt completely genuine Italian the whole time we were there, and never seemed less busy than that first view. From dawn till the wee hours of the morning there were people crowding the square, even when the rest of Venice seemed to still be sleeping. It was gorgeous under the sun and sparkling with life at night – I could not have asked for a better first taste of Venice.
After checking in to the hostel with our very cute old landlord (who we ended up discussing Italian agriculture and water shortages with later in the trip), I dropped my stuff in our room overlooking the square and headed off to explore the city. We ventured first to San Marco square, the main hustle and bustle tourist area of Venice, where pigeons flock by the thousands into the football-field-long piazza. To reach San Marco, it’s easiest to take a vaporetto (water-bus) and walk the boardwalk along to the square – though everything in Venice is really walking distance, even more so than tiny Florence. So we hopped a crowded boat to San Marco and joined the throngs of tourists gaping at masquerade masks, striped T-shirts and captain’s hats that Venetian vendors had for sale along the boardwalk. It seems that everyone coming to Venice wishes they were a gondolier. I’d hoped to ride a gondola, but it turns out they are super expensive and not really worth the money – it seemed better to spend that on a good birthday dinner later in the night. So, we explored San Marco square for a bit and even visited the Doge’s Palace – a huge column-lined palace on one edge of the square where the Doges (or Dukes) of Venice lived way back in the day when they had dukes. It paled in comparison to Versailles, since no palace can keep up now that I’ve seen the best, but still offered an interesting view of old Venetian royalty – especially the Duke private prisons, where he could torture and sneer at any prisoners he felt like holding there in his very own palace. The best room was the Great Council room, lined with portraits of all the old Doges, except for one that had been blacked out – a portrait of a Doge who had offended some officials and been accused of treason.

We left behind San Marco square for the evening and began the search for dinner – a restaurant in a back alley that Anthony Bourdain (of the Travel Channel show “No Reservations”) visited in his food-tasting episode on Venice. Even though I’d only been in Venice for a few hours, I knew already that we would get lost more than once. And sure enough, it took us probably 45 minutes to go in circles and find the place (not the first or last time we’d get lost in these winding tiny streets and curving canals). When we got there, we enjoyed appetizers standing at the bar, where they serve buffet-style servings to customers that want to sample a few things then move on to another place. It’s sort of like tapas, except with a 1 euro glass of wine and a variety of interesting Venetian seafoods. After, we walked along the Grand Canal in the center of the city and by the Rialto Bridge, the largest and most spectacular bridge of the city that has shops on it just like Florence’s Ponte Vecchio. The restaurants along this road were packed with tourists and we sat at one for a delicious birthday dinner of veggie soup, roast chicken and seafood spaghetti (mussels in Venice were great!). Since I’ve been collecting small souvenirs, receipts and ticket-stubs from everywhere I go, I asked the restaurant for a business card – but it seems they don’t speak English as much in Venice, and it was tough to communicate ‘business card’ for some reason, so the waiter ended up handing me some other table’s receipt with the name of the restaurant on it. We ended my 21st birthday watching a jazz quartet at a pub near our square and savoring chocolate mousse at the restaurant beneath our hotel. Perfect!

Saturday was island day. After hotel-provided croissants and cappuccinos, we visited the Peggy Guggenheim Museum of Modern Art – one of the many Guggenheims, and an impressive collection of art gathered by the American heiress. The museum actually used to be her home in the last thirty years of her life, right on the edge of the Grand Canal where she lived among the works of Dali, Jackson Pollack and Picasso. I’d never seen Picasso or Pollack originals in an exhibit before (mostly just Renaissance stuff in Florence!) so was psyched to see the abstract and unusual works Peggy had collected as her life’s work. Outside was a beautiful sculpture garden, a corner of which houses her grave and a plaque commemorating the gravesites of her twenty-some dogs. Quite the “museum.” So, we followed our modern art education with another vaporetto ride to San Marco Square and this time walked through Saint Mark’s Basilica – the main attraction and golden glimmering headpiece of the piazza. Even inside, this church was the goldest, shiniest one I’ve ever seen – and I’ve seen a lot of churches on this whole Europe thing…But Saint Mark’s was the most glittery of all – spires and mosaics and paintings all in gold from ceiling to floor. The interiors of its several domes were plastered with gold and I think even Jesus’ eyes were gold in a few portraits. It was a pretty amazing sight, especially walking up to the balcony to look out on the shining lagoon and San Marco square dotted with tourists scattered like ants far below. You can also view the famous horses up there – four bronze life-size horses that the Venetians stole from Constantinople when they ransacked it in the Fourth Crusade; and now their copies (real ones protected indoors) sit proudly on the upper balcony of Saint Mark’s Basilica.

So after the Basilica, we took a longer vaporetto ride off the main island and out into the vast lagoon to head for the islands. Murano is the biggest one, where we went first, and is known for its world-famous Venetian glass. There, I dragged Nick into about 10 or 12 glass shops, picking out beads for Mom and wondering at all the beautiful objects I had no idea could even be made from glass. There were entire tiny orchestras of glass people playing instruments, glass balls that could bounce, real-size glass violins and giant birds with thin glass wings. Everything was full of color and frighteningly fragile. Whole chandeliers of pure glass hung in the shops and I was afraid to turn around the whole time. We headed off for another island later, one called Burano, which is known for its lace. This smaller island, what my guidebook called “sleepy,” was as colorful as the glass in Murano. Every building was a different bright shade of purple, green, yellow, blue. It was quieter and seemed to span only a few streets wide. There weren’t too many tourists and even the canals were empty of boats or gondolas. Burano offered us a snack and a peek at its pretty lace, but soon I missed Venice and my bustling own square.

We took the hour-long vaporetto back to the main island with a shrieking school group and landed in time for another night at the pub we’d discovered on Friday. This time though, there was a rock band (with a clarinet even) playing soft Italian rock to the movements of a strange showman who gave a little “performance” as the music played. He looked about thirty, scruffy and bearded, and was building something out of cardboard in the middle of the bar room when we arrived. As I enjoyed the music, I watched as this strange man proceeded to put his cardboard contraption aside then begin slicing fruits with trimming sheers and dropping them into a blender on a chair in the center of the room. All these things he materialized out of nowhere. After mixing a smoothie over the sounds of drums and thumping bass, the man slurped down two mugs full of fruit, spilling all over his shirt and then licking it up from the stains on his shirt and smoothie lingering on his arms….And it wasn’t over yet. He then pulled out the sheers again, and this time a whole old-fashioned shaving kit to go with them, and stood at the back bar shaving his curly beard in the mirror. Weird? I thought so. But we started to ignore his shaving after it lasted over 20 minutes, and turned back to the music – just in time for the man to return (without sideburns) and extract a black turtleneck, white pilot’s jacket, goggles and a bomber hat from his bag…then retrieve the cardboard “airplane” (I now realized it was an airplane) and dance around the room as though flying in the flimsy plane, all in time to the music. So, it appeared, after all this craziness, that the man doing strange things in front of the whole room of people was in fact part of the show – though we didn’t know this for a good half hour. Odd? Yes. But it was funny, and added quite the bizarre element to the band – which was actually entertaining enough even without the crazy bomber pilot in a cardboard plane.

And so for our final day in Venice I said goodbye to our little square and little café and hotel room without hot water or electricity – and we spent the day buying train tickets, visiting one final church, and I climbed the bell tower of San Marco square to look one last time at Venice from above while Nick explored the Civic Museum in search of the wing dedicated to Napoleon. It was a slightly raining last day, fitting with my mood since I didn’t want to leave! Venice was just so cute and so gorgeous, it’s definitely one place I’ll be going back to someday…though I guess I’ve said that about everywhere. Not bad, not bad at all for a 21st birthday.

Romaaaaa per Pasqua! ....for Easter

Another magical trip. Allie and I woke up early on Friday and took the 3.5 hour train from Florence to Rome, where we met up with Nick and checked into “David’s Flat” – our hostel only ten minutes walk from the Colosseum. Since the room wasn’t ready yet (typical Italy), the three of us wandered down to the Colosseum while we waited for my roomie Eva and her roommate to arrive from Germany. The walk was a little sketchy, through a park full of what looked like homeless people and down a gravelly hill of youngsters playing soccer among broken Heineken bottles. At the bottom, the Colosseum loomed before us all of a sudden – a huge stone ruin in the middle of a busy rotary, cars churning incessantly around it. Rome is a strange contrast of urban against ancient, modernity against dilapidation. I sipped a cappuccino gazing out at our first view of this city of newness and ruin, amazed that it took only a few hours to go from quaint Florence to bustling Rome.

After Eva and Macey arrived, we set out for the Trevi Fountain and the Spanish Steps. All of the ruins (Colosseum, Palatine Hill and the Forum) were closed Friday because the area was preparing to host the Pope that night for a pre-Easter cross-carrying ceremony. So, we landed at the beautiful Trevi fountain among hundreds of other tourists, tossed coins in the crystal blue water for good luck and started our trip out right. Us girls talked about the part in the Lizzie Mcguire Movie when Hillary Duff visits this fountain, while Nick looked on with confusion. We grabbed gelato – our first of I think 4 gelato stops on this trip – and went over to the Spanish Steps nearby. No one was really sure what the Steps signify or why they’re called Spanish, but they are a pretty breathtaking part of the city. The Steps were over-crowded while we were there, covered in tourists and Italians basking in the day’s sun that shone on the hundred-or-so sparkling marble stairs. At the bottom is another boat-shaped fountain which also signifies something I can’t remember. But, either way, the Spanish Steps are a must-see in Rome and provided us with a nice rest from our full day of walking (since we had gone all the way to the Colosseum only to find it was closed). After, we visited the “world’s largest, most lavish” McDonald’s down the street – a necessary stop for our group of American youth who obviously depend on McD’s as a part of our daily lives. It was pretty big, and yes, there was a large gold ‘M.’ I guess I was impressed.

Then, we headed home to meet Anna – me, Eva and Nick’s friend from GW – at the hostel, where she had flown in from San Francisco. With the whole group finally together, we went to dinner at a restaurant recommended in my Rick Steves’ Italy guidebook. Did I mention that I LOVE guidebooks now? Kind of weird I know, but Rick Steves is the best, and always has great day-guides and tips on how to skip lines, eat at the best gelato places etc. Anyway, Rick led us to a good place, where we enjoyed pasta and tiramisu with the Colosseum glowing in the background. The waiter called Nick “maestro” and “boss” since he was dining in the company of five lovely girls; it was funny. And when we finished, we continued on to the main area of ruins, where the Pope was doing a ceremony on the hill of the Roman Forum, overlooking the Colosseum. It was about 9:00 at night and all the ruins were gorgeous, lit up against the night sky and surrounded with thousands of people holding candles for this Easter vigil. We stood on a hill by the ruins that gave us a pretty good view of the Pope and the crowd; Anna and I perched on the tires of parked cars to get a better view and I even sat on Nick’s shoulders like a five-year-old for a while. I’m too short for this stuff! But it was a fantastic start to the trip, gathering with so many people to witness Benedict XVI speak in Latin and Italian about God knows what. Still, this couldn’t even prepare us for the awesomeness of Easter mass on Sunday…more on that later.

On Saturday, we decided to do the humungous Vatican Museum and Saint Peter’s Basilica, the largest church in all of Christendom that sits grandly in the huge piazza of Vatican City. I had heard that the lines for the Vatican could be pretty long, especially because we were there at the peak of tourist season and also Easter weekend, but nothing could prepare us for the sight of thousands of people circling a six block radius around the museum when we arrived. It was utter chaos, and we finally gave in to the third English-speaking tour guide who approached us asking if we wanted to skip the line – even if we had to pay a tiny fortune to do it. In the beating sun, we agreed to the 35 euro price and figured it was worth it to ensure our entrance to the museum before it closed, since the line would have been about a three-hour wait. Ridiculous! And so, we emptied our pockets to the tour guide and joined a group of thirty other American and British tourists on an English guided tour – complete with headsets and a guide who held her felt flower high so we could always see where she was in the crowd. I thought the streets surrounding the museum were chaos – then I went inside. Even crazier, almost toe-to-heel people traffic throughout the whole museum, moving like snails in one large pack. Our headsets buzzed with our guide’s explanations of famous statues and ancient maps of Italy, before reaching the long-awaited Sistine Chapel at the end. She showed us close-up images of Michaelangelo’s paintings on the ceiling and walls of the chapel, describing in detail the meaning of each. I didn’t really know what to expect of this renowned church, and actually thought that the painting of God reaching out to Adam took up the whole ceiling of it (the famous one with two fingers pointing to each other and almost touching?) In truth, the painting is pretty small and takes up only one section of about ten other paintings in a row along the chapel’s fairly small ceiling. More impressive was Michaelangelo’s “Last Judgment” painted on the largest wall of the chapel, swathed in bright blue sky and angels contrasting with the grotesque images of Hell. One of the people even holds the skin of a man – Michaelangelo himself, where he painted his own body (or just hanging skin) into the painting. According to our guide, Michaelangelo wasn’t even happy about having to do the Sistine Chapel. He was on bad terms with the Pope at the time, who commissioned the work, and had to struggle day and night with a crick in his neck and poor lighting to finish the paintings for which he didn’t even approve the subjects. As Michaelangelo became even more frustrated with the Pope, he changed the subjects of some of the pieces and even painted one figure in the “Last Judgment” with its naked butt facing the Pope’s seat in the chapel – so the Pope would have to stare at some guy mooning him every day during mass. Go Mich.

After the Sistine Chapel (where I managed to take some forbidden photos), the two-hour tour finished and we visited St. Peter’s Basilica next door. The massive church took my breath away as I walked in, staring at the huge length of it and not even being able to see the rest of the maze. Exhausted from the day, we ended up walking in the wrong direction around the church – against the traffic of everyone else – and only glanced at the famous “Pieta” sculpture of Mary holding the crucified Christ. Still, the Basilica was an amazing sight inside and out, with its giant dome and interior marble sculptures of previous Popes and Bishops that outdid any statues I’ve seen in Florentine churches. I even recognized one of the two Medici Popes that ever served, from the Medici coat of arms above his sculpture and my engrained knowledge from Art History class this semester.

Unfortunately, the crypt of past Popes and the Vatican Museum closed just as we finished the Basilica – so we weren’t able to see Raphael’s famous “School of Athens” painting that pictures tons of philosophers and painters like Donatello and Michaelangelo depicted talking together in one huge piece. For some reason, the English tour didn’t take us to these must-see rooms and our guide neglected to mention that the Museum wouldn’t allow us back in after viewing the Basilica. Sad. But, this gives me a reason to go back someday! And so, we grabbed lunch instead and headed to the Pantheon. Again, another structure that no one knew the real significance of – except that it’s a random large dome in the middle of a nice piazza. Nothing is painted onto the inside of the dome, but the light flowing from its ceiling windows makes the circular building a unique place to stand in for a moment. And after, gelato again! This time, we stopped at what Rick Steves calls “Rome’s Best Gelato” – indeed, you could hardly walk through the tiny gelateria, crowded with tourists with sticky fingers and dripping cones. And then, home for naptime, where I caught an hour of sleep before waking up in time for a late pizza dinner down the street with Allie and Nick. The others went out for a pub crawl, but by the time we found out their exact location, it was too late to meet up and go out all together. Instead, the rest of us got a good night’s sleep in preparation for morning Easter mass given by the Pope at St. Peter’s Basilica – the most important Christian man in the world at the largest Christian church in the world, for the most significant Christian celebration in its faith…quite the day.

I actually assumed that we would witness very little of the mass. The square in front of the Basilica can hold 350,000 people, and the mass was expected to see even more than that, crowding the blocks surrounding the church. People with reserved tickets (expensive ones) sat in thousands of chairs set up in front, while the rest of us lowly tourists were meant to pack in through the piazza and beyond. I thought we might get as far as a block after getting off the metro, and then have to watch the crowds in front of us listening to the Pope from nearly a mile away. Well, the day had a surprise in store for us. Nick started following a Police motorcycle making its way through the crowd, with the five girls scrambling in tow, clutching each others’ purses to make an unbreakable line. We landed somehow in the center of the crowd, but still at the very back of the square – probably four football fields away from the Pope, who stood chanting and singing and speaking Latin from a red-velvet-covered balcony in the middle story of the Basilica. At random intervals, the crowd surged forward and we moved with it, not knowing what we were inching towards. Suddenly, we found ourselves at a small entry point in the metal gate surrounding the square – and an official waved us inside. In minutes, I was walking through wide open spaces in the middle of the square, moving easily between people and getting closer and closer to the Pope with the others following behind. We were confused – how did we even get here? Who let us through? Was this a ticketed area? Without hardly voicing these questions aloud, we sped through the sparse crowd and found a good spot in the very center, looking at the Pope from only about 200 yards away. As we looked around in awe at our amazing location, feeling so lucky and baffled at once, the Pope began blessing each country. The crowd shouted and waved flags as Benedict XVI blessed everyone from Russia and Iran to the Phillipines and, of course, America. We whooped and hollered and took a million photos of our unbelievable morning. It was an Easter to never forget!

And to keep the greatness going, we visited the Colosseum, Palatine Hill and Roman Forum for the rest of the day. The Hill is a huge area of old Roman palaces left behind from its emperors – it’s full of temples, housing and a stadium for ancient games. Ruined columns and walls litter the ground at random, while one of the buildings even shows off an interior with painted walls still intact from ancient Rome. From there, you walk straight into the Forum – with its long expanse of arches, temples and lonely pillars from buildings that were once there. I’m pretty sure this is where the Senate of Rome met, where Caesar would have been killed by Brutus on its steps. And best of all, the Colosseum was next. I’d been looking at its grand beauty for two days and hadn’t gone inside yet, so I couldn’t wait to see the oval interior where gladiators fought and ancient Romans battled against captured animals in front of shouting crowds. It was everything I hoped for – sky-high stone walls where I could imagine the laymen sitting to watch duels, and a maze of walls in the center where animals (and people) were kept before fights…surrounded by several levels of tiny arched windows and crumbling stone. It was beautiful but also kind of sad, to remember the thousands of deaths that happened here while a blood-thirsty world looked on. And at the same time, the Colosseum gave me the closest view of ancient glory and architectural splendor Rome provides. Best. Day. Ever.

On our last day in Rome, Eva and Anna and Macey left early in the afternoon to go back to Germany – so Nick, Allie and I wandered the city looking for something to do that wasn’t closed, since it was Easter Monday and most sights are closed on Mondays anyway. We tried to visit Nero’s Golden House, the home of one of the most brutal Roman emperors, but it was closed for renovation. We tried to see the Borghese Gallery of Art but that was closed too, and finally ended up taking the metro to a sketchy part of town where there’s a famous cemetery (right up Nick’s alley) that also turned out to be closed. Luckily, there was a cute little cat village we could see through the gates and a petite marble pyramid built by an ancient emperor when Rome was influenced by the Egyptian fashions of Cleopatra and Emperor Marc Antony. The area was sort of ghetto-ish and we got out pretty quick, back on the metro towards a church called San Paolo that turned out to be probably my favorite church in all of Europe. San Paolos’s Church was the largest in Christendom until St. Peter’s Basilica was built, and it is today the most beautiful – at least that’s what I think anyway. The interior is made completely out of different colored marble: blue, greens, pinks, beige and pure whites created the columns, walls, stairs, railings and everything else. One arm of the cross-shaped church seemed a mile long and was lined with marble pillars on each side, then lined with a border directly below the ceiling that depicts circular mosaic portraits of every Pope in history. At the end of the line (Benedict, who we saw) were empty circles for future Popes. And when we went outside, I realized that the church was even more gorgeous that I saw inside. There is a grassy, palm-tree filled courtyard with white statues and beautiful white pillars in front of a painted, golden peak of the church’s façade. It was the prettiest outside and inside of any church I’ve seen, and we hadn’t even planned to see it. Sometimes the best things are off the beaten path…

Mopeds!! are fun...

The moped ride yesterday had to be one of my favorite days abroad so far. Me and Allie were dressed and ready about an hour before our friends picked us up; we sat legs-bouncing and excited in the kitchen, barely able to contain ourselves for the adventure ahead. Andrea and Mattia picked us up on their mopeds around 3:00 and we headed off into the distance, with helmets of course. Under the beating sun, they drove us toward Fiesole, a small town just outside Florence that overlooks the city with beautiful views. Our hair flapped in the wind but the boys drove slow enough that I wasn’t scared – even on the long hills and curvy curves of the ride up to the city outskirts. As I gripped the handlebars along the sides of the “motorino” I looked out at Florence unraveling below me and knew I was finally a part of this city. The people below were my neighbors and friends, my teachers and café waiters. I was suddenly Italian and so proud of it. And when we reached the hilltops, the four of us scooted off the mopeds to explore the Fiesole antique market. Since it was Sunday and gorgeous out, the town was flooded with native Florentines selling goods and tourists eating gelato in the sun. Even when the clouds came and a few drops of rain interrupted, the streets remained bustling. We wandered for a while and checked out old copies of Shakespeare plays in Italian (so cool!) then hopped back on the bikes for a fun ride back down. In the stop and go traffic, Allie and I could talk to each other from the mopeds and the boys communicated about what streets to take. It was a fabulous day of friendship and fun, and I definitely put that Sunday in my top ten best days in Florence. Not to mention, me and Allie met up with the girls back in the city and went out for some amazing Mexican food – yes, Mexican food is absolutely delicious in Florence, even though you wouldn’t think it. Ciao for now!

La Traviata

It’s been a week of very Italian things. I learned the history of the Medici family during Renaissance Art History class, complete with several references to The Godfather – which I finally saw this week for the first time. Apparently, some of those Medici dukes were not unlike Vito Corleone and the infamous Michael. I’m glad I got the reference. My eyes have finally been opened to the greatness of the Godfather, and in addition, me and my roomies watched our final few episodes of the Sopranos Season 1. We’ve been watching all semester but didn’t have the last couple, so Sheena brought them from the U.S. and we are just dying to start on Season 2 when we all get home. Very Italian, again. And to top off the typical week, me and the girls went to an opera last night! It was “La Traviata,” the story of an ill woman who falls in love with Alfredo, whose father does not approve of their marriage and eventually tears them apart, only for them to come back together as Violetta dies of her long-time illness. Good stuff. It was in a small church near our apartment, nothing big and actually narrated in English before each scene began so that its touristy audience would know what was going on. There were probably about 35 people in the tiny church, but everyone loved it and I’m glad I went – even if I couldn’t understand anything and my ears are still ringing. It was fun to get all dressed up and go out to dinner together beforehand too. We ate raviolis and soufflé overlooking the Arno River, talking about how weird it will be when we all leave here in only 5 weeks. Five weeks! I can’t believe it’s coming so quickly; before I know it, I’ll be packing my things and putting my passport in place to return to the U.S. The weeks until then will be packed full though – Rome, Easter, Venice, turning 21, Meredith visiting and a possible trip to Barcelona. Phew! I can’t wait for the Coloseum…
And one more Italian thing! – Me and Allie are going for a moped ride today with our Italian friends, up to the hills looking down on Florence, and it’s such a beautiful day the view will be amazing! I guess this means I’ll be ready for the Harley when I get home…