Villa Doria Pamphilij

I know of a place
Where time broke down
And the city ceased to exist

Where statues keep watch
Over laughing young kids
And lovers who come for a tryst

Where stone feet stand guard
Over a well-worn path
And the palm trees that grow far below

Where the fountain won’t work
And moss covers the steps
And the fish in the stream grow and grow

In this special place
Where umbrella trees stand
A sunset can last for a day

And it’s in this place
Where time broke down

That my heart has decided to stay

When in Rome...

Me and Sami the soccer player.

…do as the Romans do.” Or at least try. The Roman will probably do it better.

For our Halloween party, a bunch of us decided to dress up as figures from Roman history and myth. I went as Minerva (note the owl). Two of my professors went as Roman senators. The actual Roman (another of my teachers) forgot to dress up. Jokingly, we tossed him a sheet, and I cried, “Quick, you Roman, you. Let’s see how fast you can put on a toga.” Not two seconds later, there he stood in all his toga-ed glory. He can even orate like an ancient Roman…

Me, Emilio (front), Dr. Paradise, Dr. Davidson.

Other party guests included the Absinthe Fairy, a couple of tourists, a gypsy, Carnevale revelers, the devil, and Josie and the Pussycats. The three-year-old soccer player had the camera for most of the night, so the majority of the pictures turned out something like this:

Whitney as Princess Leia, Shelby as a 1920s flapper, Emilio, Julia as Snow White, Immanuele as a knight, and Ryan as a 1920s gangster.

Gary as a Catholic priest, my head, and Sherri, Anna, and Alex's arm as Josie and the Pussycats.

Turner as a French tourist, Brittany as the Absinthe Fairy.

It’s been a heck of a week.

Well, two weeks, actually. Last week, we went to see the Vatican Museums for one of my classes. Emilio got us prepaid tickets, so we didn’t have to wait in the line that stretches right around the Vatican wall, and we spent most of the morning and part of the afternoon in the museums, wandering from one famous work of art to the next. We all brought our passports, hoping that, since the Vatican City is in fact its own country, we would get our passports stamped, but alas, ‘twas not meant to be, though the entrance to the museums was like an airport security checkpoint on steroids. Metal detectors, guards everywhere, tourists pulling out pocket knives and asking loudly whether or not they would have to give them up. It was fun.

Last weekend, we went to tour the Veneto, the region of northern Italy where Venice, Verona, and Vicenza are located. We took off Friday morning (early Friday morning) and didn’t get back until late Tuesday night. Our day trips to Vicenza and Verona were neat, but it was pouring rain and freezing cold, so that kind of put a damper on things. In Vicenza, we got to see the Theatro Olimpico, a Roman-type theater built by Palladio in the 1580s. It is said that it is the oldest surviving enclosed theater in the world, home to the oldest surviving stage set in the world.

In Verona, we saw the castle, ate (amazing!) Chinese food, and then talked Emilio into taking us to see Juliet’s Wall. Just FYI, they don’t actually allow you to post letters to Juliet on the wall. The thing to do is sign the wall of the tunnel leading to her courtyard. And the house is in the midst of Verona’s shopping district, so the cute little cafes and whatnot shown in the movie are really clothing and leather stores. Needless to say, we were rather disappointed. Some of the girls paid the entry fee to go inside Juliet’s house, and they found some sort of email thing to post their letters, but it’s just not the same thing. It was worth a shot though.

Venice. Ah, Venice. I think that might be the coolest city I’ve ever visited. It reminded me of Labyrinth, the 1986 Jim Henson film starring David Bowie. Imagine narrow streets (I say narrow, and you’re probably thinking charming-medieval-maze-narrow, but I’m talking turn-sideways-to-pass-another-person-narrow) that climb and descend bridge after bridge, run into dead ends on canals, and simply go through buildings instead of around them. That’s the Labyrinth. Now, line those streets with shops selling Carnevale masks that range from breathtakingly beautiful (I bought one of those) to downright grotesque. Those would be the goblins. Add to that the fact that time plays all kinds of games within the city, and it’s not too much of a stretch to imagine a Goblin King playing with a 13-hour clock and singing about magic spells in that palazzo you just can’t quite seem to reach.

We reached the city by crossing the lagoon from the mainland on the train, and when we exited the train station into the bright Adriatic sunshine, I couldn’t help it: I gasped. I’d seen plenty of pictures of Venice and the Grand Canal. I knew that it was there and how the whole system worked, but I didn’t know, you know? The sight of the water buses, gondolas, and yes, even the trash barges, sailing through the glittering blue water between the buildings, like it was the most natural thing in the world, got me. There were no words to describe my amazement. If I remember correctly, the first thing I did in Venice upon exiting the train station was turn to Bonnie and say, quite eloquently I might add, “Wow.”




















These signs were right around the corner from our hotel on the grand canal. The Venetians are so helpful.... Despite their best efforts, we found our way to and from both the Rialto Bridge and the Piazza San Marco (with the Doge's Palace) on our own. Repeatedly. I feel very accomplished.

I suppose I should mention...

...that we spent the morning at Hadrian’s Villa, just outside Tivoli. Also amazing, but less vibrant than Villa d’Este. I mean, because of my background (and particular brand of geekiness), I could see it in living color, maybe not as vividly as I could Villa d’Este, but I still had fun. I know it doesn't look like much now (the pictures don't even begin to do the site justice), but architecturally speaking, this place was revolutionary in its day.





















The so-called "Maritime Theater," named because of a misinterpretation of the space early on. Rather than being a theater, it was actually the Emperor's private home-within-a-home. An imperial villa was like a small city, with family, friends, politicians, and servants crawling all over the place (though the servants were relegated to neat subterranean tunnels and rooms so that they could get from place to place without being seen), and that would naturally try the patience of anyone, so Hadrian built himself a little island, surrounded by a moat and accessed by drawbridges, that he could use to escape from everything else and just think. I think I want one...





















Among the ancient Romans, homosexuality was just a part of life. Hadrian was married, but apparently, he and his wife did not get along, even a little bit, and Hadrian fell in love with a boy named Antinous, who died mysteriously in the Nile (by that, I mean that why he was in the Nile in the first place is mysterious - fall, push, jump - not his actual cause of death - drowning). After the incident, Hadrian built the Canopus to symbolize the Nile, and he decorated it with statues of a deified Antinous so that when he dined in the special triclinium (dining room with three couches) at the end of the canal, he could be reminded of his love.

The Large Baths at the villa have one of the best-preserved roofs on the site, at least from what I could tell. I would have felt better about standing under said roof, had I not just come from several buildings that had massive chunks of their roofs lying on the floor.

By the way, Hadrian's Villa is the reason why my camera ran out of battery at Villa d'Este. I took 86 pictures. I didn't even clear 60 at Ostia, and that was an entire city. Anyway, I enjoyed Hadrian's Villa so much that I used up enough of my battery that I only got 20 pictures of Villa d'Este. Amazing day though, and a few of us are hoping to go back to Tivoli one evening to see both sites lit up. Can't wait!

I used to think Alice was an idiot.

So much trouble and so many questionable decisions, just to get into a garden: drinking magic potions, eating giant mushrooms, taking advice from crazy people, abusing hedgehogs and flamingoes (you know that croquet game couldn’t have been fun for either creature) for the amusement of a homicidal queen, the list goes on and on. Just to get into a garden she glimpsed through a keyhole.

I now know how she felt. I just spent the afternoon in the most beautiful garden I’ve ever seen. It is the garden at the Villa d’Este in Tivoli, about an hour east of Rome. The garden is built in terraces going down the hillside behind the villa, and it truly is a Wonderland. My camera died partway through the trip, but I still feel that I got enough good pictures to let them speak for themselves:

Il Palio...Monty Python Style

Alyssa, Shelby, Sherri, Michelle, Me, and Whitney on top of the Duomo.

At the crack of dawn on Thursday, we began a whirlwind tour through Tuscany. We took a high-speed train from Roma Stazione Termini to Florence, where we spent the rest of Thursday and Friday. Florence was nice, but incredibly touristy. I am pretty sure I heard more English in my two days in Florence than I’ve heard in the rest of the month and a half I’ve been in Italy. We got to see palaces, a science museum from the 19th Century, churches aplenty, and famous works of art (Mom, I did see Leo, but I didn’t get to say hi, as he was a bit busy at the time), and we even got to climb to the top of the Duomo and see Florence from above.

On Saturday, we left Florence for Siena, but along the way, we stopped in the medieval town of San Gimignano, the “Manhattan of the Middle Ages.” It was amazing! We got off the bus near a supermarket and had to climb the hill, but at the top, we were greeted by imposing stone walls and a skyline of towers and clay-tiled roofs. I climbed the tallest tower (54 meters tall, built in 1311) with a couple of the girls, and I was able to admire some truly beautiful views of the Tuscan countryside. And I got a gelato from what is officially the best gelateria in the world (this place actually did win the world championships for gelato from 2006-2009). After San Gimignano, we went to another medieval village, this one named Monteriggioni. Like San Gimignano, this town is surrounded by stone walls, but the wall of this one forms a sort of crown around the top of the hill. This town was pretty neat, but San Gimignano was definitely cooler.

Siena was nice as well. Siena is also where the Monty Python bit comes into play. Il Palio is a horserace that takes place in the Piazza del Campo in July and August every year. Jockeys from each of Siena’s highly competitive neighborhoods don period dress and ride bareback at breakneck speeds around the piazza. To give you an idea of how hardcore this race is, I’ll just point out that both riders and horses are blessed by a priest before the race, and that a horse is not required to have its rider at the end to win. In tribute to Il Palio di Siena, Sherri, Michelle, Whitney and I (Shelby filmed the whole affair – and apparently giggled about it) held a short race of our own:

We spent the last part of Saturday, as well as Sunday morning in Siena, wandering back and forth across the old part of town. On Sunday, we left to head back to Rome by bus, but along the way, we had two more stops to make. First was Pienza, where we saw a church and wandered around taking pictures from the walls, and then came Montepulciano, where we saw what I think is my favorite church to date. After that, it was a couple more hours of driving through the Tuscan countryside and then the suburbs of Home Sweet Rome.

"Inactivity is death."

Have you ever seen one of those post-apocalyptic type scenes that come up so often in science fiction movies? A group of road weary travelers finally arrives in a new place (city, planet, time, etc.) and takes their first steps outside, only to find the place completely deserted. It's the futuristic version of the Old West ghost town (usually minus the tumbleweed that rolls across the main street).












*Scene from the popular science fiction movie "Serenity." *

Fascist Italian dictator Benito Mussolini once said that "Inactivity is death." I think it is interesting, then, to note that the EUR (a neighborhood begun under Mussolini in the 1930s and completed in the 1960s) is just about the most inactive place I've ever been. Even though the place was full of people, I still felt like I was walking through an alien ghost town, and I had the nagging feeling that I should be watching out for zombies as I turned corners. It was futuristic, but at the same time, it was ancient and dead. The whole place was just cold and austere - and downright creepy.

"Try to get lost in Rome at least once a day."

I’m not sure who gave me this advice, only that it has never led me astray. I feel that this is mainly because I have attached another little clause to that recommendation: “…but always have a way out.” Always have some means of getting yourself unlost in a hurry, just in case something goes wrong. Streets in the old city are only occasionally straight, and then only for a block or two, with the exception of the Via Giulia, which was the first straight street in Rome (we actually took a field trip to go see it as a class), and if anything, the streets in Trastevere are worse. I believe the popular travel guide phrase used to describe the neighborhood where I live is “charming Medieval maze.”

I tend to rely on the Tiber River and the Janiculum Hill as my quick fix. At least once a week, I set off from some known point in the city, like the school at Palazzo Taverna, Piazza Navona, the apartment in Trastevere, or the supermarket off Piazza San Cosimato, and just pick a known destination and a new direction. I might follow the known path between two points until about halfway and then take a “shortcut” down a side street, or I might try to blaze my own completely new trail. It depends largely on my mood and how much time I have to wander around town. No matter where I’m going, I always keep track of where I am in relation to the river, since all the bridges are labeled on my maps. All I need to get home is the name of two bridges so I can pick a direction and then follow the river back to my neighborhood. If I am wandering around Trastevere, I just have to get to a relatively wide street, and I can see the Janiculum Hill, which runs along the street right behind my apartment building and is one of the highest points in Rome.

I must admit that I have been relying heavily on the sun this past month to tell me where I am in relation to my quick fix points. I felt amazingly independent and Crocodile Dundee-esque. Until I realized (this afternoon!!) that I have had an actual compass with me the entire time. Last semester, Dr. Paradise, being concerned about Bailey and I walking home behind the frat houses after dark, gave me an emergency whistle with a little red light (which we discovered has the ability to either light the way or blind the user completely, depending on which way it is pointed) and a tiny compass. I carry it on my key ring. I carry my key ring everywhere I go.

Following a wrong turn this afternoon, I got to take a whole new path to get home from school. I made it out of the old city and across the river just fine, but when I got into Trastevere, those “charming Medieval” walls blocked my view of just about everything. The very northernmost part of Trastevere is separated from the rest of it by a little spur of the Janiculum Hill, so I knew that until I got clear of that, knowing where the hill was would not help me much, not that I could see it anyway. I decided to just set off in a general southerly direction, still using the sun as my guide.

It was high noon.

The sun being little help to me, I wandered for a bit, just trying to keep the river generally behind me and the hill, when I could see it, relatively close and off to my right (I really was in no mood to climb the Janiculum, though in hindsight, that would probably have been faster). Consequently, I wandered down four dead end streets in a row, and I made a couple of wrong turns that took me in the completely wrong direction (I got to see the same architecture firm on two occasions, about ten minutes apart).

By the time I made it home, I was tired and rather crabby. My mood did not improve much when, pulling out my keys to get into the apartment, I noticed the little black circle with >, S, E and W on my emergency whistle. And I found my maps on my nightstand.

The best part is, I will probably still pretend to be Crocodile Dundee when I get lost tomorrow.

"Eh... Napoli."

That pretty much sums it up. We just got back last night after a three day weekend in Naples. It was quite the experience. We took off bright and early Friday morning on a high speed (over 300km/hr) train bound for Naples. The train ride was fairly uneventful, as was our arrival in Naples and trip to the hotel, which was little more than a block from the train station. Little did we know that the safest, most predictable part of our trip was now behind us. We took off immediately to see a 13th Century castle on the waterfront and the Royal Palace from the 1600s. Naples was under the dominion of Spain at the time, and the palace was built for the King of Spain, who was going to visit the city. The palace was beautiful! Everything was marble and gold leaf. There were huge tapestries depicting mythological scenes, one-of-a-kind hand-made tables with marble inlays, and tall windows looking out to sea. All of that for one guy, and the guy never showed up. Classy.

Saturday was supposed to be devoted to the ancient Roman sites along the Bay of Naples that were destroyed by the eruption of Mount Vesuvius in 79 AD, but it rained. We went as far as the Villa of Oplontis, but then we decided to head back to the city because we were all getting soaked. To make it up to us, our tour guide took us to see the underground aqueducts of Naples (featured during an episode of the History Channel’s “Cities of the Underworld”). The aqueducts were build (dug) by the Greek founders of the city (Neapolis=New City=Napoli) and later used during WWII as bomb shelters, since Naples was the most bombed city in Italy. At one point, our tour guide took us to the mouth of this long tunnel that had no lights. It was an ancient maintenance tunnel that led to a huge cistern. To give us an idea of how the ancients used the place, we were put into groups of two or three and given candles and told to start walking. The tunnel was only about two feet wide and varied in height from five feet to more than twenty.

Saturday night, a huge group of us went out to dinner. We took four taxis out to the water front, where we found a cute little seafood restaurant (I had a vegetarian penne dish, much to the amusement of my neighbor, who had been hoping to share a lobster dish with me – “You do know this is a seafood joint, right?”) in the shadow of yet another of Napoli’s castles. Dinner was delicious, but a couple of people split a huge crab and were disappointed by how much work it took to get so little meat – this crab had a huge body, but it had short little legs, several of which mysteriously went missing before making their way out to our table. We took more taxis back to the hotel. No one in Napoli obeys traffic laws, by the way. The two taxi rides were terrifying. On our return trip, our driver veered around a corner just as some guy going the opposite direction did the same thing. I swear we nearly collided, but then the other guy sped away, and we did too, swerving in and out of several lanes of traffic. We were all exclaiming our panic, but the taxi driver just shrugged and said, “Eh… Napoli,” and kept on driving.

We went back to Pompeii on Sunday morning, and we got to spend a little time at the forum and markets, and then we were turned loose for about half an hour to explore before regrouping to visit the Villa of the Mysteries. I headed off immediately to find the insula I have spent the past year and a half working on reconstructing for the Digital Pompeii Project. It was almost completely closed off to the public. Out of the entire block, I got to see two of the tiniest houses and a little shop. It was rather disappointing, but at least I can say I’ve been there.

All in all, I can’t say that I particularly liked Naples. I was actually homesick for Rome. Naples was really dirty, with trash piled everywhere, and there were no police officers to be seen all weekend. Here, there are police, security guards, and military personnel everywhere. It’s an off day if I don’t see at least six on my way to school in the morning. Police presence would have come in handy since the men were really pushy and forward, stopping some of the girls on the street and even pulling over to honk and shout about beautiful girls after we crossed the street. I’m glad I went to see Naples, but I’m even more glad to be back safely in Rome.

Favorite Spot

I think I have officially found my favorite spot in Rome: in among the columns of the northern arm of St. Peter's Basilica in the Vatican City.


It is peaceful here. I can still hear the noise of scooters and tour buses going through the gates in the Vatican wall nearby, and I have to contend with throngs of tourists to get here, but once I'm here, nestled safely in the cool shade of the columns, everything but the dull murmur of the masses and the chime of falling water ceases to matter. I sit in my sanctuary and watch children chase pigeons and listen for the bells that toll the hour, and I am perfectly at ease. If I sit here long enough, the pigeons stop minding my presence and come to share my stripe of shade for a bath or a nap after gorging themselves on tourists' bread.


All in all, it's not a bad way to spend an hour or an afternoon, alone or with friends, the stone cool against my back, the starred ceiling above me, and pilgrims and pigeons alike going about their merry way all around me.


Interesting side note: Did you know that pigeons can sneeze? It's actually quite cute and rather epic, as they tend to hop a little bit and then shake their heads in confusion.

First day of school...in a Roman palace!!!

"This place is, like, stupid-pretty."

So spoke one of my classmates this morning as we stood by the fountain in the central courtyard of the Palazzo Taverna, a 13th Century palace located between the Piazza Navona and Castel Sant'Angelo, in the heart of the old city. The UA Rome Center occupies several rooms in one wing of the palazzo, and it is filled with Pompeian-style wall paintings, Egyptian-style chandeliers, and crooked, time-worn steps. I think I could get used to this.

Ostia Antica

Yesteday, we took our first day trip to Ostia Antica, the ancient port of Rome. It is located at the mouth of the Tiber River, where it flows into the Tyrrhenian Sea.

It was amazing!! If a picture is worth a thousand words, then the fact that I feel I excercised great restraint in only taking 58 pictures should speak volumes. Here are a few of the best (and most likely to interest non-archaeology geeks):

You give 'em an inch...

...and they take a mile.

I have been going on tours with my classmates and professors for the past couple of days, and while on breaks, I have learned a little about how things are done here. Yesterday, I learned how to legitimately order in Italian, and this afternoon, I got to test out my newfound knowledge at the little cafe near my apartment. I walked up to the counter, intent on getting a sandwich and water for lunch, and I was pleased as punch that I would be able to order in (faltering and probably terribly mispronounced) Italian. The ladies who operate the cafe are usually pretty good about making themselves understood and taking care of customers, no matter what kind of language skills they have, so I thought it would be a nice, safe place to test myself (and possibly offend someone) while trying to break the language barrier.

I walked up to the counter.

Lady: "Buon giorno. Prego." Essentially, Hello. How can I help you?

Me: "Buon giorno. Vorrei uno panino - tonne e pompdoro." Hi. I would like a sandwich - tuna (which I did not know was tuna at the time - it looked more like pork of some sort) and tomato.

Lady (pointing to the sandwich in question): "Questo? Tonne?" This one? Tuna?

Me (very pleased with the proceedings so far): "Si. Grazie." Yes. Thank you.

Then, with what I have decided to characterize as a maniacal grin (though in reality, it was nothing more than an animated smile), the lady at the counter proceeded to rattle off a bunch of rapid-fire Italian at me, which threw me completely off, so I couldn't even ask her to "Parla lentamente, per favore." Speak slowly, please. My only response to the sudden onslaught was a blank look and shake of the head, to which the lady responded with a disappointed sigh and a rather dejected recital of her usual series of questions in English. I opted to sit outside, and when I passed the cash register, the gal there chattered at me, too, but when I shook my head at her, she too switched back to English.

My first attempt at ordering in Italian was a disheartening (though, in hindsight, rather amusing) failure. However, with this experience under my belt, I will be better armed for my next assault on the language barrier.

.

By the way, due to a misunderstanding of the way my name is printed on all the Rome Center paperwork (it has something to do with the columns on the page, I think), the people here think that my first name is "Katie Lynn," which, with the Italian accent of some of my professors, comes out something like "Kay-ti-ah-lee-na," all one word.

"Across the Tiber"

I am living in a "village within the city," known as Trastevere, which means "across the Tiber." The quarter is famous for its narrow, twisting, cobble stone streets (which, I feel compelled to point out, are potentially fatal to anyone who cannot walk with one eye to the ground -- I don't know how the Italian women do it, walking around all day in sky-high heels). Now, when they say narrow and twisting, they mean it. We went wandering around in the area the other night after going to see the Tempietto, and we managed to get thoroughly lost. Every time we manage to get lost around here, our plan seems to be to head north as best we can until we reach the Tiber, where all the bridges are marked and match our maps. It may not be the most efficient way to get around the neighborhood, but so far, it's been the most dependable. Shops close, graffiti gets cleaned up or added to, ristoranti bring in their chairs, but the Tiber remains faithfully between its walled banks.

I'm not saying that getting lost is necessarily a bad thing, either. Yesterday, fourteen of us got lost, and then split up, and then to the foot of the Castel Sant'Angelo. Sadly, I forgot my camera yesterday, so I don't yet have any pictures of Castel Sant'Angelo or Saint Peter's Square, where we headed next. We watched a little boy chase pigeons around the square for a while and considered going in, but we're hoping to make it on a day when there is less of a line to get inside.

Today, though, getting lost was definitely a bad thing. The day after we arrived, I went with two of the other girls to find the school. We got lost a couple of times, but we made it in the end. Yesterday, fourteen of us went to find the school, and we went out of our way a little bit and split up, but we made it. Two attempts, two different routes, two successes. Today was our first orientation meeting at the Palazzo Taverna, and we were all supposed to be there by 1:45. My roommates and my neighbors and I thought it was at 2, so we were behind from the start. Add in the fact that we missed our turnoff and had to try to find the flying donkey (graffiti-ed over a window) that marks the entrance to an alleyway that opens onto the piazza behind the school and climb up to the third floor of the palazzo, and we didn't get into the meeting until almost 2:10, red-faced and sweating. Heck of a first impression, right? But everyone laughed it off.

When in Rome...

Again.

I know.

But the old cliché seems to have become a motto of sorts for our little group, and I’m simply taking my turn at repeating it.

Sherri and I went walking yesterday with Laura, and we found the school in the Palazzo Taverna (but not the student entrance), the Piazza Navona, the ruins of Domitian’s Stadium, and the Pantheon (all after getting quite lost in the muddle of poorly marked streets—I am happy to report, however, that we are getting much better at spotting street names). When we got back, we got to meet more of the Rome Center students, and we all went out to see the Tempietto at San Pietro in Montorio. As it turns out, our apartment is right at the base of the Janiculum hill, which is sadly not one of the legendary “Seven Hills of Rome,” but is said to be the site of the crucifixion of St. Peter and is the second highest hill in Rome. The church was closed for a wedding, so we only got pictures through the gate, but I think we’ll make it back eventually. If nothing else, we got some neat pictures of the Roman skyline.

After the Tempietto, we (which at this point in the story includes 14 people, mostly architecture majors) went wandering down the far side of the hill through some narrow but lively side streets. Aside from a creepy kid who followed us and made us all compulsively check our pockets for valuables, we dealt well with being pretty much lost. We eventually found a sign that had a map, so we just followed the river back to part of the neighborhood we knew.

I got to have my first Italian dinner last night as well. We all went to a little café down on the piazza about a block from our apartments, and it was nice, aside from the fact that the woman who first tried to serve us got angry because none of the people in the group spoke very much Italian. The food was amazing! Afterwards, we went wandering aimlessly for a while. Now, when I say “aimlessly,” I really mean that our group lacked a single aim. In truth, we had several. Apparently, some people wanted gelato, others wanted bathrooms, and the rest of us were just following along because the others at least appeared to know what they were after. What it all amounted to was us making a big circle through the neighborhood, splitting up, and heading back to various apartments to sit and chat. All in all, not a bad night.

When in Rome...

I MADE IT!!!

So, there were a couple of times when I had my doubts, (like about 3 hours into our 8 hour plane ride across the Atlantic, when I was bored out of my mind and could look out the window and see absolutely nothing) but I made it!


The plane rides over were pretty uneventful. I left out of Minneapolis and made it to Chicago earlier than scheduled, which was alright because I went in entirely the wrong direction looking for my flight to DC. Did you know that Chicago’s O’Hare airport has a dinosaur? Well, I found it. I made it to the gate just in time to board the plane, despite having arrived 15 minutes early. When I got to DC, I found out that Sherri’s plane was running late, so I got to sit and worry about her for a little while, but she made it. She had to run, but she made it before we even started boarding. We also ran into another U of A student, named Jeremy, while we were waiting to board.


I ended up sitting next to an Italian guy who was traveling with his whole family. I didn’t think he spoke much English. For the entire plane ride, all I could get out of him was “Sorry” when he wanted to get up yet again, and “Thank you” when I let him get up with one more smile and a polite “Va bene” on my side. The rest of the time, he didn’t say a word to me, in Italian or any other language. Finally, after breakfast had been brought out and we’d eaten the yogurt but both rejected the banana bread, he became Mr. Chatty Tour Guide. “Oh, I am so glad that the sun came up when it did, so you can see France.” We actually got to see the sun rise over the coast of France. Pretty neat. “It’s so nice that the clouds are staying away. This way, you can see the Alps. Notice how jagged they are?” “That’s Corsica that we’re flying over now.” HUGE wind turbines on the mountain tops of Corsica, by the way. We could see them spinning from the plane. And as we flew along the Italian coast on our final descent to Rome, we could see long rows of sprinklers in some of the fields. “You see, the soil in this region, it is very difficult to grow things in. That is why they are spraying water in the fields. They grow food.”


We landed without incident and made it through passport control, the baggage claim, and customs with only minor difficulties (like trying to lock the bathroom stall doors—we just ended up piling our bags against them and hoping for the best), and we were actually feeling pretty good about ourselves. Until we tried to call the people who run our apartments. Sherri and I ran into yet another UA student, named Laura, who had been standing around in the airport for 2 hours, trying to get through to the apartment people. Only one of the two types of payphones would ring through when we dialed the number we’d been given, and then they just went straight to a scary Italian answering service that none of us could understand. Anyone we asked for help either sent us to someone else or tried to sell us something. Finally, we gave up and went outside to look for a ride to the apartments. Sherri and I knew that one of our roommates, named Audrey, had arrived the day before, so we just hoped she’d be around and be able to help us figure out what to do about getting in touch with the apartment people.


Just as we were all piling into a big black van with a couple of ladies from Connecticut, Jeremy came running up to us, saying that someone was looking for us from the apartment company. Apparently, since Sherri and I had emailed them looking for a ride before we left, they had sent someone for us without letting us know that we should expect them. We’d already gotten payment and everything figured out with our van driver, though, so we decided to stick with him and meet the apartment people at the apartment. That was the scariest ride of my life! Romans are terrifying drivers. They just kind of go until something gets in their way, at which point they honk the horn and/or slam on the brakes dramatically as people and motorcyclists weave in and out between the bigger vehicles, and they all just park wherever they feel like it. Sometimes they parallel park on the side of the street, but other times they just stop in the middle of the street or an intersection of streets and get out to go about their business. Our driver actually parked on the sidewalk to drop off the gals from Connecticut at their hotel. We did get to see the city though, and since our driver didn’t know exactly where our apartment was, we found an open-air market, a pharmacy, several restaurants, and a supermarket in the neighborhood before we even got a glimpse of our apartment.


The apartment is nice: very clean-looking with its white walls and hard-wood floors. We’ve got a red, purple, lime green and sky blue color scheme going on, which somehow works. Sherri and I are sharing a room, and the other two roommates, Audrey and Erica, are sharing the other. The other girls are all very nice. We all share a bathroom, kitchen, and living room/dining room area. We're up on the 4th floor of the building, which is actually the 5th floor, but around here, the ground floor doesn't count. There's a scary-looking half-spiral staircase, but we haven't taken that yet because there's a glass-sided elevator (pictured) that comes up in the central balcony area onto which all the apartments open. Interesting note: there are no window screens here.

Laura lives in an apartment a couple of blocks away from us, and she, Sherri, and I have all kind of latched onto each other. We went for lunch yesterday after we’d gotten into our apartments, and then we braved the supermarket. The ladies working the checkouts are in a really big hurry, and we’ve kind of had to guess at what we’re buying, but it’s not too difficult. There are pictures on most of the items. We even found what amount to boxes of Frosted Flakes and Cocoa Pops!!


So far, so good, and we’re heading out in about an hour to go find the school and then go see the Pantheon and possibly the Vatican, which aren’t too far from that.

Still around....

So, it's been a little while since I last posted, but I'm still around. I think I've got more homework this summer than I have ever had before.

I'm working on Latin, so I don't get too rusty before classes start in the fall. I'm going to be doing Latin online with one of my professors next semester, so I don't get behind while I'm in Rome. I've got to find textbooks this summer though, because I won't be able to get them once I'm in Europe. For now, I'm working on Ovid's Metamorphoses and Harrius Potter et Philosophi Lapis and trying to make myself parse things. I'm really quite bad at parsing, but I can translate just fine. Figure that one out.

I'm also working on a little Italian, so when I land in Rome in September, I will at least be able to read the street signs and tell when someone is making fun of me. Ever see the scene in Maid in Manhattan when those two French ladies are talking about JLo in the elevator, and Ralph Fiennes tells them off in French (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oQkCo4ZoHQE) ? I would love to be able to do that! Anyway, I've studied French, a little Spanish, and now Latin (as well as Greek, but that really doesn't help as much as the other languages do), and I've done some work with Italian for the Digital Pompeii Project at school, which uses an Italian art encyclopedia series as a main source. When it comes to reading signs and stuff like that, I can usually puzzle things out, but it never hurts to practice. I have a phrasebook with grammar and pronunciation sections in it, and I'm going to work on finding something online so I can hear the Italian being spoken. I also have the first few chapters of a couple of my favorite books in Italian, so I'm slowly working my way through those.

"C'era una rampicante bizzarro."

Love it!!

Best Feeling in the World

I did it!!

Finals are done.

Grades are in.

Paperwork is complete.

I have two majors: Anthropology and Classical Studies. I went on overload this semester to try to get a little bit ahead in everything because I thought I’d run out of time to get everything in that I need for those majors. Turns out, I have plenty of time, but I didn’t find that out until I met with one of my advisors a few weeks ago. Anyway, in addition to taking 19 credit hours (including second semester Latin, fourth semester H2P, a special topics course, and two courses dominated by grad students), I started out trying to work on the Digital Pompeii Project and produce a map of painting styles in Pompeii for the Humanities Department, and I found out that I might still be able to go to Rome, so I had all that paperwork and running around to do.

Most of the time, I thought I was going to die.

But I did it!! I did well in my classes, spoke with my professor about being let off the hook for the Digital Pompeii stuff until I get back from Rome, got my map produced (it now hangs in the Digital Pompeii lab, where, according to my professor, the lovely earth tone is “having a bit of an argument” with the putrid orange color of the wall – I just told him the wall went from being orange to pink: more variety that way), and I got all my paperwork turned in. *Insert big sigh of relief here.* I did it.

So, I’m not in Rome yet, but I think I’m well on my way, and I’ve hurdled the first set of obstacles. As hard as it was this semester, I think I’d do it all over again, if only because being able to say “I did it” is the best feeling in the world.

The Best Intentions

Remember back when I said that I was going to get all my paperwork done over Spring Break? Well, as it turns out, I fibbed. I finished up all my paperwork, which was due Monday at noon, over the weekend. Ever try to find an open postal/shipping place on a Sunday afternoon? I don’t advise it. I had forgotten to pick up a prepaid express envelope for the Italian Consulate in Houston to use to send back my visa materials….

But wait: there’s more! (I feel like a used car salesman right now, but it had to happen, I guess.) Not only did I forget about the envelope until the last minute, but I also forgot my $300 housing deposit. I got to call my daddy and ask him to donate the money and a trip to Fayetteville (from Rogers, during his workday) to deliver it to the Office of Study Abroad. Luckily, my dad is awesome and came to campus and even took me out to lunch.

Anyway, that envelope I was supposed to have? I picked up a five dollar prepaid priority mail envelope at the post office in the student union before my Latin class Monday morning. I thought, “Hey! That is the same kind of envelope that the Department of State used to send me my passport in the first place. Sure, it’s cheap, but if it’s good enough for the State Department, it’s good enough for the Italian Consulate, right?” Wrong. It was the wrong one. I had to go to another post office off campus and buy the spendy Express Mail envelope, the one that says, “Urgent! Rush to addressee,” or something like that. And the gal at Study Abroad, who, admittedly, was rather busy at the time, waited until after I’d addressed the cheap, wrong envelope to tell me that it was the wrong one…. On the bright side, I am now the proud owner of a five dollar USPS cardboard folder with a stamp featuring a California bridge that is probably not built up to modern earthquake-resistance standards. It’s even got my address on it, so if I should lose it, whoever finds it can mail it to me in Minnesota.

Ah, well. Bad day, but it can only get better from here, right?

Mightier than the Sword

They say that “The pen is mightier than the sword.” I guess that’s a good thing, because, while I feel I am rather adept at using a pen (or pencil, or sharpie, or bit of chalk), I have absolutely no experience when it comes to using a sword (though, as my brother can attest, I have been known to use lawn chairs as rather effective weapons on occasion).

I have decided that I have undertaken an epic quest to get to Rome. Luckily (or unluckily, depending on my mood), there are no fire-breathing dragons, riddle-dealing sphinxes, or purse-snatching rogues for me to overcome. Instead, there are only the sometimes (though rarely unreasonably) crabby secretaries, mountains of paperwork, and sneaky payment deadlines. As the little side tasks to be completed along the way (you know the ones I mean: help the potions dealer gather ingredients so he will give you an invisibility potion to help you sneak past the Cyclops), I have advising appointments.

I’ve met with my advisors in Classics and Anthropology, and I met with Dr. Fredrick about Classics credit for Rome classes, and I met with Dr. Paradise about which classes to take for Historic Preservation, but I’m still not done yet. I have to meet with my regular advisor (though there’s really nothing regular about him – he’d probably be the legendary young wizard who knows all) tomorrow for “Study Abroad Pre-Approval Advising.” A little ominous-sounding? Like “cross the Bridge of Doom?” Hopefully, the legendary wizard will get me through it.

Sadly, my partner in this epic quest has fallen in battle, or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that she was captured by the enemy? I’m not sure exactly what to call it, but the point is that Bailey will not be going with me on my journey to Rome next fall. Instead, she’ll be staying here to learn to scuba dive and take Anthropology classes. If this were a real fairytale quest, I’d be sitting in the tavern right now, toasting her memory, or storming the castle with my band of misfits in a daring rescue attempt. But, alas, I do not drink, and rescue seems impossible, so we’ll have to settle for going out to see “Clash of the Titans” tonight. My daddy’s treat.

Good Thing I've Got Help...

It’s advising time here at the U of A. You’d think that getting advised would be pretty simple for me, right? Walk in, say hi, pick some classes from the very limited list of those offered at the Rome Center, and leave. Well, you’d be wrong.

I was.

I met with my Classics advisor for the first time on Monday, and not only did I walk out of Dr. Levine’s office with a plan for completing the Classics portion of my degree once I return from Rome (two Classics-related courses per semester and Latin until the day I die – Not really: only three more semesters), but I also left with instructions to meet with two other professors. I met with Dr. Fredrick, who helped me figure out which Rome classes will count toward my Classics degree, right after leaving my advisor’s office. Then, when I finally got back to my dorm (after running a boat load of errands all over campus – I still haven’t finished all those forms I told you about before Spring Break), I emailed the other professor to set up a time to meet with him for Anthro advising. I am meeting with him next week.

I have some of the best professors on the planet. Not only did Dr. Levine and Dr. Fredrick work together to get me where I needed to be as far as Classics is concerned, but Dr. Fredrick informed me that he may be stealing me away from Rome in October to help him with his research on the Bay of Naples. He has applied for a grant to do survey work at one of the ancient Roman cities destroyed by Vesuvius. Dr. Paradise, another of my professors, has also told me I will be helping him with his research in Rome. He’s going to be making a triage map for preservation of the historic buildings and monuments in the city for the “Superintendent of Good Culture” (How cool is that title!?!?). Dr. Fredrick and Dr. Paradise were the two who wrote letters of recommendation for me when I applied for an Honors College Study Abroad Grant. Apparently, they said something good, because I just found out last night that I got the grant!!

Like I said, best professors on the planet!!

A Word to the Wise

Watch your deadlines!!

Spring break is supposed to be a time to unwind a bit from the stress of the spring semester and recoup before that final run to the end, right? Apparently, not so much. For me, spring break is going to be paperwork time! When I first started planning this trip, I was given a list of paperwork deadlines, pre-departure assignments, and meeting dates. During break, I get to fill out forms for my student visa and housing, and I have to look up flight information and such.

Last night, we had a big pre-departure meeting with everyone who is going to be studying abroad next fall. Now, even though I had the list of due dates, it came as a bit of a surprise Monday afternoon, when I got the email reminder about the meeting, to find that the entire pre-departure assignment program (seven online chapters about study abroad--with quizzes) was due by the time of the meeting. Bailey and I got to stay up late and read about travelers’ diarrhea and pickpockets. Tons of fun! To be fair, it was all really important information, and I’m glad to have read it, but reading it all at once was kind of overwhelming….

So, the meeting last night went well, despite the stress of getting ready for it. We got to watch a Saturday Night Live skit (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=egYIz1e84Vg) about why we shouldn’t go off with strange men, no matter what their accent sounds like. If they say poison, STAY AWAY!! We also got to hear a clinical psychologist sing opera in three different languages, and we got to hear from students who had studied abroad before. Apparently, Italians don't believe in peanut butter.

The highlight of the evening though, was when we got to play “The Anthropologist Game.” We were divided into two teams. The first team was the “tribe,” and the second team was the “anthropologists.” While the anthropologists went out into the hallway, the tribe was given a set of rules for communication: you stand shoulder to shoulder with your conversational partner and face opposite directions, and you must wait five seconds after the other person gets done speaking before you can talk. The point of the game was for the anthropologists to come in and figure out our rules without offending us, thereby demonstrating the frustration that can sometimes occur when you’re faced with a new culture with unknown social rules. I was a member of the tribe, and Bailey was an anthropologist. She came in and decided to be mean: she kept turning to face the same direction I did so I’d have to keep spinning in circles in order to obey the rules…. Fun though.

Moral of the story: Watch your deadlines! It makes life way easier!

All Roads Lead to Rome

Well, maybe not all roads, but mine does at least. That's right: I'm headed to Rome. Come September, I'll be studying at the University of Arkansas Rome Center in the heart of the Eternal City!

"Why is she talking about the fall now?" you might ask. "Isn't it a bit early?" The answer: No. Not at all. In fact, had my original plan worked out, this would be a year late. You see, my roommate Bailey and I were supposed to have been in Rome last fall, but our program was completely overhauled, and the trip was cancelled. We weren't even going to go this fall, thinking that the upcoming program is only for European Studies/Architecture students. Luckily, one of our professors informed us that we'd still get a ton of Historic Preservation credit (not to mention field experience!) for going. So, several weeks and several trees worth of paperwork later, here I am, starting a travel blog.