La Vita Dolce

The End of an Era...

   Well this is it...everything that could have happened in Rome has happened (except for going skinny dipping in the Trevi fountain at 3am, which apparently is a really bad idea because we'd be arrested on sight by the polizia, who always carry machine guns with them). We had our last finals yesterday, celebrated a little during the day as we saw our last sights in Rome and bought souvenirs, and then celebrated AGAIN that night at the farewell dinner with the whole program, the whole staff, and the professors, doing things that are generally frowned upon in America. Marianna, our adorable Italian teacher cried because she said she would miss us, but I think it's possible that we might miss her more. We wandered the dark streets of Rome after the farewell dinner (armed with digital cameras, pizza, and a pineapple that Mike stole from who-knows-where), saying good-bye to the Trastevere neighborhood, cobblestone roads, and the sleezy Italian men that make what can only be described as "mouse noises" at the girls.  Now people have already started to leave for home, and the wild times of these past few days have been bittersweet because we know it is only a result of the fact that we are in Rome for just hours more.  For myself, I leave in about 8 hours for GREECE--yoo hoo! This is my last blog from Rome, (but I still have 7 months to blog for free, so I doubt this will be the last blog ever) and I feel it's fitting to describe the events of the past two weeks in Rome that culminated in the farewell dinner last night...

May 1st:  Primo Maggio!! This enormous outdoor concert in Rome marked the beginning of the end of our time in Rome.  At St. John's Lateran,  which used to be the residence of the popes until the 1300s (what the Vatican is now), the hottest bands in the Italian music scene came out to play from 2pm to midnight, including the Modena City Ramblers, one of my new favorite bands! Imagine 800,000 people from the far reaches of Italy between the age of 15 and 25 rocking out, smoking out, and hanging out. So fun, so crazy, quite the big deal in Rome. Though I almost got squashed to death in the metro station, but that's a whole different story that is better told in person! So ask!

May 4th: Potluck for Marianna, our Italian teacher! One person I hope to always keep in touch with, simply because she's so inspirational. Every oral exam with her was just our own little gossip session. And if someone falls asleep in her class, she doesn't get mad--she pours some coffee from her thermos and gives it to them with a smile. She always asks about what kinds of things we do in Rome, and if anyone ever says they were studying on a Friday she always says, "But you're in Rome! You have to go to the stadium! You have to go to the club and meet Italians! You have to live!" Marianna is so wise.

May 5th: Cinco de Mayo!! Not much to say except it was good times in a sombrero, with some Michael Jackson and Tom Petty blasting on the speakers on the patio.  The countdown to Rome continues.

May 6th: Ostia Antica!! Sarit (my roommate) and I frolicked amongst these ancient ruins of the port city of Ostia, near Rome. They're similar to Pompeii, except there's fewer people there, you can climb on the ruins, and a massive volcano didn't bury the entire city.

May 9: Went to L'isola sandwich place for the last time, where Sergio and Fabio serve up the best sandwiches in town. That was a sad day indeed when I said good-bye to the sandwiches, but life goes on. I invited Sergio to come live with us in California, but he declined, I don't know why!

May 11th: Today. Woke up, did my last load of laundry, chatted with the roommates, went and played soccer with the boys, went to dinner with a big group of peeps (at the same restaurant where our wecome dinner was--how fitting), said tearful good-byes to my Rome peeps, and packed up my room. Correction: I haven't packed up my room yet, but it's about to happen... I swear. By 3:30 am I will be all packed...seriously though. sigh.

Now I have a week of Greece, a week of Florence and Venice, and a week of Southern Italy. Back in the states June 4th, then doing summer school at Davis. If anyone would like to hire me to do ANYTHING for the summer (preferably in Davis), lemme know. And hopefully I will be blogging again in June, when my life gets settled again. I'll see everyone soon!!

It's been a good run, and I definitely went out with a bang. It's so weird to be done with it, but as they say in Italian, HO FINITO.

Against the Odds

   Of all the trips I've taken thus far, this trip to Sardinia (Sardegna in Italian) was the one that REALLY wasn't meant to be, and was cursed from the beginning. But ironically, it turned out to be perhaps my favorite trip thus far (or at least a close second behind the trip to Cinque Terre). Clue number 1 that the trip wasn't meant to be: When we found ourselves still debating between going to Amsterdam, Sicily, or Sardegna with just TWO DAYS until we were supposed to leave for one of those places! Clue number 2 that the trip wasn't meant to be: After we finally decided on Sardegna Sarah and I spent 3 hours straight in the ACCENT office, pulling our hair out, trying to find the right hotel for us to stay in, making ourselves crazy, getting dizzy from the choices, and finally closing our eyes and picking one without knowing a thing about it.  Clue number 3 that the trip wasn't meant to be: The weather report for all of Italy, including Sardegna, said nothing but RAIN for the whole weekend. Clue number 4 that the trip wasn't meant to be: On the morning we left for the train station there was a nationwide bus/metro strike (as usual) and we had to find a cab to the station instead, but all of the cabs were packed and all of Rome was in a traffic jam because everyone had to take a cab that day because of the strike. After 30 minutes we ended up finally flagging a cab down, threw our luggage in the back, told the driver we had 15 minutes to get to the station to catch our train, and watched him weave through the traffic and try as hard as he could to get us there on time. Despite his efforts, we missed the train that would take us to the port where our ferry was leaving from at 3pm. Clue number 5 that the trip wasn't meant to be: We caught the next train but it didn't arrive at Civitavecchia until 2:53pm, and we had to find the port, and load onto the ferry to Sardegna in 7 minutes!  With our luggage on our backs we walked as fast as we could towards the port, but it was at least a kilometer from the train station. A man driving a shuttle bus (who we later started calling "dad" because he took us under his wing) saw us walking, pulled over and asked us where we were trying to go. We told him we had to make the ferry to Sardegna at 3pm, and he looks at his watch, and then yells, "Alright let's gooo! Get your stuff!" He threw our stuff in his bus and raced to get us to the port, but we looked to our left as we drove up to the port and saw our ferry just leaving the dock. It was straight out of a cheesy movie, when timing is everything. Ugh. A few "Mamma mia!'s" later our driver composed himself and told us he would take us to get tickets for the next ferry. Not only did he wait with us to get new tickets and teach us how to say "one-way ticket" in Italian, but he even tried to get us a discount because he had connections. So we finally got tickets for the ferry at 11pm that night, gave our luggage to "dad" to keep in his bus for the day so we wouldn't have to lug it around with us, and spent the day going to a parade, eating McDonalds', and wasting time for 8 hours until the next ferry came. OK, we've finally reached the end of the bad omens. From here on out, it was the best trip ever. Omen Shomen.
   At 10pm, with the three of us eating McDonald's in the empty train station, a policeman came in and said, "Are you trying to catch the 11pm ferry? You guys need to get on the bus outside! Vai vai! Hurry! You're going to miss it!" Oh man, not again. So we grabbed our stuff, and raced out the door to the bus, which was NOT about to leave by the way. We looked back and the cop was totally laughing at us because clearly we were totally paranoid and would basically run anywhere someone told us to run! Haha, but whatever, we got on the bus and were OFF TO SARDEGNA! The ferry took all night, and we arrived at 6:30 am, checked into our hotel, and passed out until noon. We explored the forest and beach around our hotel that day, settled in at a beachside cafe drinking wine and finally relaxing. And indeed it did rain for 2 minutes and 45 seconds while we were at the cafe, but that was it for the weekend. How do I descibe Sardegna? Picture a dark green wool knit sweater with lumpy stitching, if you will. Now drape it over huge mountains, add some green-turquoise water and some rocks down below, and there you go. The whole part of the island that we stayed in had green mountains covered in trees and shrubbery, with the Costa Smeralda  (Emerald Coast) next to us--the most beautiful water I've ever seen. Oh, and it's all untouched by people. Every beach we went to might as well have been a private beach because no one was there. It's a far cry from Rome, where you can't walk without tripping over a tourist. The next day we rented a car (yoohooooo!) and explored the coast, going from beach to beach to beach to beach...to beach. I forgot how fun it is to drive in a car that's NOT a taxi.
   That night we wanted dinner at the hotel, but we didn't want to pay 25 euro a person to get it, so we asked the manager if he would just make us some sandwiches instead. Not only did he make us three huge mozzarella/tomato/ham sandwiches, but when they came into the lobby to give them to us, they didn't just walk in. They DANCED in, singing and twirling. Oh, silly Sardinians. So us girls ate our sandwiches with a cheap bottle of wine in the lounge, and talked for hours. At around 11pm we looked up and the manager, the bartender, and the waiter had come into the doorway holding a bottle of wine and 6 glasses. They sat down with us, and poured everyone a glass of the "fancy" wine. We learned that the bartender was from Rome, so that started us all singing "Roma, Roma, Roma" and other songs, with all of us forgetting the words of course. The waiter invited us to the discoteca near the hotel, but we declined for 2 reasons: first, we had to leave for Rome at 7:45 am. Second, considering we were the only people under 65 at our hotel I could only imagine the scene at the discoteca... So after our random hotel staff-bonding night, we thanked them for the wine and said our good-byes.
   The next day after our ferry ride we were back in Civitavecchia, walking to the train station to go back to Rome, and who should we run into but "dad" giving people shuttle rides! He saw us, ran over to give us kisses on the cheek, threw our luggage into his bus, and drove us to the train station. Our trip had come full circle. All in all, despite the rocky start, we really felt like the Italians had come through for us that weekend, helping out us American girls in any way they could. At one point during the weekend when I was thinking about how we managed to make it to the beaches of Sardinia, I said, "You know, it takes a village..." We exploded into laughter, but it was so true. And without the Italians being who they are (some of the nicest people I've ever known), our trip to Sardegna would have been one of the worst instead of one of the BEST. 

(ps. the photo album "Sardegna" is up, check it out!)

Last Big Weekend Trip...

Hey kids,
  So after much flip-flopping, indecision, price hunting, and overall disgust for the internet, some friends and I have decided to go to Sardegna this weekend--YAHOO!! Amsterdam was too expensive and last minute, and Sicily simply lost out for the fact that people say Sardegna is better. Sooo, we're crossing our fingers that it doesn't rain all weekend since the forecast says that all of Italy is supposed to have a big fat raincloud over it for the next few days. And when I return I'll have to tell you all about it, as well as the vespa-riding adventure we had on Tuesday.
Ciao, ragazzi!

The Most Beautiful Place in the World

This weekend I went to Cinque Terre on the coast of Northern Italy, and I must say it's one of the most picturesque places I have ever been to. Touristy, yes. But so worth it. It's made up of five seaside villages at the foot of terraced hills that "fall steeply toward the sea". We arrived on Friday after a long train ride with an old Italian man (78 to be precise) who told us all about his ability to pick up on the 50 year-olds still. He leaned over to the sorority girls we were sitting next to, showed them his picture from 50 years ago, and asked "Ti piaco?" (Do you like?)  Then he told me I was the brightest star in the sky, and that he could see in my eyes that I would go far in life. Then he said if he was 50 years younger he would ask me out, and that's when I started to get creeeeped out. But anywaaaaays, we finally got to Cinque Terre (me and a group of 10) and started the obligatory frolicking around town.
  We wandered around the first town (Riomaggiore) and watched Nick jump off a rock into the water from 3 stories up (with a bunch of French tourists lined up cheering him on, total peer pressure). And what was funny is I explored a waterfall in a cave, and lo and behold, I found someone had put a laundry line up and was drying their clothes above the waterfall. I swear, Italians will put clotheslines ANYWHERE. That night I ate my first swordfish--amazing. Of course it helped that it was basically taken straight out of the ocean hours before.
   On Saturday we all went kayaking along the coast, and much to the boys' delight, the place to rent the kayaks was at the nude beach. haha. The rest of the day involved a lot of laying on the beach, buying souveniers, and eating mediocre frozen lasagna. But that night we ate like kings in the most beautiful restaurant above the water on a cliff. My big moment was when I tore the head off of my shrimp for the first time ever! The head had the eyes and everything, just staring at me. Ugh. Jeff had to coach me and give a little pep talk, but I did it. But I have to mention our waiter, Marco (who was a spitting image of Hank Azaria),  was perhaps the most confused waiter ever. He got our food wrong, kept forgetting the bread, but was very cheerful (and possibly tipsy?). The funniest part was at one point he sat himself down in an empty chair at our table, folded his arms, and said, "Well guys, how ya doing? Is the meal good? Oh by the way, I forgot the fish. Yea, I didn't put the order in. But don't worry, it's coming. Oh and we're having a party tonight, you guys should come!" So he sat there for a while, and then he eventually decided he should get up and wait some tables, so he did. Pretty funny. Despite the food being slow and wrong, it was amazingly delicious and cheaper than we expected because he gave us the fish for free. Not only that, but he gaves us free limoncello for all after the meal, so he was ok in our book. So on full stomachs we walked back to the train that would take us to our hostel, had a group hug in the cold to keep us warm, and passed out into a food coma until the morning...
   Sunday was the best day I would say because Adrian, Dan and I hiked through 4 of the 5 towns all day, walking through vineyards and olive groves above the villages.

The most amazing part of the hike was the section on the way to Vernazza. I almost fell so many times because I kept looking out at the view and not in front of me. It was addicting. One of the whole points of going to Cinque Terre is to do the hikes between the towns, and we'd been lazy all weekend and didn't do it. So it felt good to get up and just do it, and get all sweaty and watch some of the classy Europeans try to hike in dress shirts and slacks. What loooosers! haha. Overall it was a beautiful weekend, capped off by an old couple sitting with us on the train ride home, singing old Italian songs for us, just like Grandma Flops would. Plus, we got to train through the green rolling hills of Tuscany which is always a good thing. Good times, good times. 

Holy (Moley!) Week

 

Being Jewish in the most Catholic of Catholic cities, while approaching the holiest of holiest religious holidays in Italy (Easter), when I'm miles away from ordinary, at first seemed difficult. That is, difficult until I realized that there were 15 other Jewish kids in the Residence Candia who were going to make it their mission to make this year's Passover one for the ages. ROCK ON. While Catholics of all ages were parading in the streets and traveling by the thousands to the Vatican, 15 Jewish kids from Cali feasted Wednesday night on matzah, haroset, parsley, matzaball soup, bottles of wine, slabs of chicken, luscious salads, boiled eggs and onions, steamed vegetables in garlic and cream sauce, fresh strawberries, and lots of macaroons. It was a potluck and everyone made their favorite Passover dish from home. Evan led the seder using internet printouts, rushing through the boring parts but making sure to explain things as we went. We all dipped our pinkies in wine and chanted the plagues, dipped parsley in salt water and chomped down, sang a horrendous version of "Dayenu," reclined on pillows, sipped on wine, hid the afikoman, and listened to our Egyptian friend Mike as he gave a speech thanking us for letting him be a part of the seder, despite his "Egyptian-ness." The night was one of the best. Earlier that day, as we all were cooking and talking about it, all I heard in the hallways were other people wondering what was going on and saying they "wanted to be Jewish too". But if they had seen us all crammed into Evan's kitchen areau, telling Jewish camp stories, cheesy jokes, and devouring haroset like there's no tomorrow, it would become clear that this seder just isn't for everyone.
   But the Jewishness didn't end there. That Friday night I decided to go to Shabbat services with Evan at the synagogue in the Jewish Ghetto. Because of the bombing there in the 80s there are armed guards there now and heavy security. After our thorough pat-down we made our way inside and I had to go with the women up in the balcony area while Evan had to stay down below with the men. The service was beautiful even though I had no idea what was going on. Why was it beautiful? The inside of the synagogue for one. HUGE MASSIVE ceiling with ornate decorations and columns as only Rome can do. The second reason it was beautiful was the male choir that sang throughout a majority of the service, with the awesome acoustics in there. Tiiiight.
   But I can't leave this entry without describing Easter Sunday mass at the Vatican. Our landlord, Gianni the Rockstar, is best friends (from childhood) with the pope's driver. You can imagine the connections he has. So about 60 of us met him outside the Residence at 8:15 Sunday morning, walked down the block to St. Peter's Square where mass was to be held, watched as Gianni talked to 4 Vatican guards (which I have on film by the way), led us straight past all the guards, walked past all the people in line, walked straight into the ticketed seats, and sat ourselves down closer to the front than even some nuns behind us. heh heh. Between the marching band, the procession of the Swiss Guards, the tens of thousands of people behind me stuffed into the Square, the pope making his grand entrance and leading mass, the boys choir and the male choir singing pretty much the ENTIRE time, sitting next to my Cali peeps (the only ones who've seen all of Italy with me and who can tell me it is real, indeed.), the flowers everywhere, the lady in the audience holding the flag for peace, being blessed by the pope in over 30 languages, and watching as some of my friends went up to take the host, I'd say it was one of the most unique experiences of my life. Although for myself, it wasn't a religious experience, it was simply an experience that will probably never happen ever again. But at least it happened.

Top 10 List: The Little Things About Rome

10. Sure Rome has the Prada, Fendi and Louis Vitton store window displays like all the other big cities, but do the other cities have windows next door displaying fashionable nun and priest outfits on mannequins ? Didn’t think so.

9. Buses here are so silly—I’ve been riding the bus for 3 months, and have yet to need to buy a ticket because they have never checked. Ever.

8. They had an anti-war protest on the 3^rd year anniversary of the war in Iraq. They hate Bush too! Imagine that.

7. Mullets galore.

6. Their obsession with Gavin DeGraw. It’s like the soundtrack to the city, everywhere you go.

5. The organized chaos…or just plain chaos: Stores open whenever the owner feels like it, cops sit outside their cars smoking with one another, traffic lanes don’t really exist.

4. They sell wine for .97 euro.

3. The line to get into the Vatican Museum and the Sistine Chapel that wraps around 3 or 4 city blocks every day, where I always see good old Alfredo in his black shades, passing out flyers for his shuttle service to gullible tourists.

2. The accordion players on the metro.

1. When I go into a café, order a sandwich, pay for it, and when I leave the sandwich maker yells “ciao ciao!” as if we’re old friends and he’s going to miss me so much until I come back tomorrow.

Capri, Sorrento, and Pompeii

This past weekend I went to Capri, Sorrento, and Pompeii, on a trip organized by ACCENT. We got onto a ferry at Naples, landed at Capri, which was perhaps the most beautiful place I have been to in Italy so far. We had lunch and then went on the Blue Grotto ride. Basically you go in a rowboat into a cave where the water is the bluest I have ever seen, and the guides sing to you while you float around the cave. Then we took a ferry to Sorrento, but I didn't see much of it because we just stayed the night there. But our hotel was 4 stars and AMAZING. Everyone had their own balcony, with an amazing view of the mountainside. After staying in hostels  all over Europe, a fancy hotel is just unreal. The next day, after all 90 of us wreaked havoc in the hotel, we were off to Pompeii. Pompeii is very cool. It is huge though, and there was  lot that I didn't see. But seeing some of the bodies in the shape they took as they died was unforgettable. I took tons and tons of pictures (of course), but there is absolutely no internet at the Residence. None whatsoever. Niente. So pictures may take a while because it will be at least a week, or perhaps longer, until the internet comes back on. And yes, I know I haven't dished about spring break yet, but time is short. We're all reaching that point where we 0nly have a month of school left, therefore only a month of Rome left. Plus we all want to travel every weekend, and soak it all up before we have to leave. So therefore, writing and blogging huge longgggggg stories and spending hours uploading pictures has had to move to the back burner for a while. But I'll do my best to keep up with myself. When one packs so much into every day, every week, and every weekend, it's hard to write about it all. Just trying to live la dolce vita while I can.   

Rome, it is a-changin'

I returned from my 10-day break to Germany/Czech Republic/Austria at 3pm on Sunday to a Rome I could barely recognize. I could feel the change in the Termini train station as soon as we arrived in Rome—it was a sensation I haven’t felt in months: Warmth…dare I say HEAT. That’s right. For the first time since my arrival in Italy on Jan 18, I could walk outside without a coat and scarf, or even a sweater. FINALLY I was back in Cali weather. To celebrate this joyous occasion I dropped off my luggage at the Residence and then went on foot (wearing nothing but a t-shirt and capris!) to explore Rome. The truth was I had an assignment to walk a specified route for my Urban History class and write a term paper on it, and I hadn’t chosen a route all semester, so it was now or never. But being forced to walk the streets of Rome on a sunny Sunday afternoon is like being forced to eat brie and crackers during a Swedish massage given by a hot Italian, while he sings “Volare” to me.

 So I walked past Castel Sant’Angelo, across the Tiber River, pen and paper in hand, making deep and profound observations about the urban fabric and the integration of nodes, paths, and edges of the city. Right. It was during this time that I realized Rome has changed in another way besides the weather: The population seemed to have tripled in number from 10 days ago. And this is only the beginning of tourist season! Dodging confused tourists, dogs, and scooters, I made my way down the narrow cobblestone streets, trying to take notes for my paper. I made it to a piazza, rested on the steps of a church, and listened to an electric guitar version of Eric Clapton’s “Tears in Heaven”. Gotta love the Italians that can sing any American pop song but can’t speak a syllable of English. I got up, wandered through Piazza Navona (packed with musicians, artists, magicians and you know, just a wee little handful of tourists), walked back across the Tiber, and was walking toward St. Peter’s Basilica when I noticed something ELSE that was different about Rome. Television reporters from all different stations were swarming around, a helicopter kept circling, police were lined up all around St. Peter’s, and of course there were thousands of tourists. Approaching St. Peter’s and seeing this scene made me feel like I was a parent walking through the front door after leaving the kids home alone for the weekend. When all chaos has ensued and you’re afraid of what you’ll find. Except in this case, instead of finding beer stains hidden on couch cushions and cigarette burns in the rug, I found thousands and thousands of pilgrims from all over coming to pay their respects to Pope John Paul II on the 1-year anniversary of his death, as I soon learned.

   So of course I had to join in—home was just a few blocks away, but it could wait. People handed me a candle, a program of events, and a brochure on why they want to make John Paul II a saint. I hung out in the square for 20 minutes, realized the sunny afternoon had turned into a cold evening, ran home to change clothes, and ran back to the square just in time. It was getting dark and the memorial was about to start. I had a really good spot, right behind the barrier next to all the bishops and cardinals who were seated. We started lighting our candles and the choir started singing. In front of me all I could see was the glowing blue dome of St. Peter’s, and behind me and all I could see was a sea of candles—thousands and thousands burning for John Paul. I listened to the songs, listened to the speeches, listened to the prayers and repeated back aloud in Italian the parts I was supposed to, watched people waving their signs and candles furiously when the TV camera was aimed at them, and watched as the pope popped out of the highest window to lead his prayer. Pilgrims had come from Poland, the States, Asia and of course Italy to be at this event, to pay their respects. I just had to walk home and stumble upon it, but stumble upon it I did. The mass of people was overwhelming, and while I’ve seen St. Peter’s Square full during the day, there is a whole different feeling at night when you can only see candles instead of faces.

So, why don't I have my own castle?

I'm finally back from spring break, but before I can blog about that never-ending extravaganza plus the adventures of today, I have to blog about my day a few weeks ago at Castel Sant'Angelo: T'was a rainy day, but I was stoked because I'd waited 2 months to see the inside of my favorite castle ever (because I just know soooo many castles...)  It was a class fieldtrip/site visit with my  Renaissance Literature class, and I'm sure there was some educational and important reason  that we went there, but honestly no one cared because our teacher is evil and the class is boring. So we played in the dungeons, saw where the author Cellini was imprisoned, saw Pope Clement's bathroom during the Sack of Rome, and just soaked it all in (the atmosphere, not the bathroom). The climax of the tour was when we walked along the  pope's secret passageway from the castle to the Vatican. One of the best moments in Rome to date. Details below...

  Before I talk about the passageway I have to talk about how big the castle is. The castle is enormous. It’s a labyrinth. In fact, throughout the 2 hour tour, different sections of the class got separated and lost 3 times. So, towards the end of the tour we were all finally headed to the secret passageway, the big moment! (This "moment" was only made possible by our professor emailing the castle staff for years and years, begging them to let her bring a class onto this passageway... Why did they finally say yes this particular semester? Who cares!) But on the way to the passageway, me and 8 other kids got left behind somehow (I think some obsessive picture-taking might be to blame). But there we were, making desperate laps around the castle, sure that we had missed out on the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to walk on the pathway to St. Peter's. To this day I don’t know how we found the group, but we opened a random door, walked up a flight of stairs past the library, and ended up on the roof where the rest of the class was. And just in time, because moments later everyone followed the tour-guide down to the passageway. We walked through the glass doors, walked outside, and made it 50 feet along the passageway until we hit the covered portion of the walkway. Only then did we realize 11 out of 24 kids were missing. As my roommate Jayna later put it (who was in this group that was left behind), "We were all walking together, and the group turned a corner and instantly disappeared. Was there a door that you had to blow on for it to appear or something?" Ahh, the magic of the castle. Well, our professor called one of their cell phones, trying to pinpoint exactly where they were, while the rest of us frolicked in the secret passageway, took pictures, acted like tourists, and absorbed the fact that no one else in our program will EVER be able to do what we were doing, let alone the other crazy tourists in Rome.

Just as we decided that we totally rocked, the rest of the group finally found us and we all started walking the tunnel (Angels and Demons anyone? I forget a large portion of the book, but I’m sure this tunnel was a part of it…) Anyway, partway through the covered passageway there was a staircase leading up to the part of the passageway that you could walk on TOP of, so you were outdoors. We walked that the rest of the way, getting a fantastic new view of Rome. We walked past a university, and 2 Italian students ran over to the window, opened it (they were on the 4^th floor or so, but it was level with us on the walkway) and started yelling and waving at us, completely disrupting class. That was one of my favorite moments because I really think people rarely get to walk on that walkway, and it was clearly a big deal. So we made it to the Vatican border by St. Peters, took advantage of the photo ops, and headed back to the castle. I walk by the castle every single day when I go to school, and every single day I have wanted to go inside it. Not only did I go inside it, but I walked the secret passageway. Who knew. Now if only I can find a way to sneak a keg of beer into the pope’s shower, my life will be complete.

Peace Out!

Well it's about that time again. I'm off to Munich tomorrow! The blog will be back in action in early April. In the meantime, I will be traveling/partying/relaxing/being touristy. For those who were wondering, I survived midterms and papers, and even slept a little this week too. And amid all of the chaos of midterms, our dear friend Ross brightened up our week. He built a shrine in the hall of the dorm to honor the "Router gods," who have clearly been unhappy with us for the past 2 weeks. People sacrificed an empty bottle of jaeger, gum, paper, a cigarette, a penny, an old potato, and I donated some italian salami. Apparently these sacred relics weren't enough to appease the gods because the internet in the Residence still didn't work the whole night and the whole next day.  Finally I suggested we offer the gods a goblet of human blood. Fortunately, before we could decide on who would be sacrificed(probably Dan), the gods looked fondly upon us and granted us at least a day of sufficient internet. I guess this has made me realize that all Rome is really lacking is the St. Limewire internet basilica, because clearly there are a lot of believers.