"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.