Just a note...

With the school year quickly winding down, things have quickly piled up. From papers to studying (to excuses), there's just so little time left. I've slacked on this whole blog thing, no question about that. BUT, I've decided that despite the fact that I'll be home soon, able to share all these stories with you in person, how it sounds written down versus how it sounds out loud can be two completely different things. I've therefore decided that I will continue this blog until I've let you know about more of my adventures (I've got a few stories). It may be gradual and may last all summer, but I'm going to do it. I'm not sure how many people actually keep up with this, but for those of you who do, thank you for keeping up with me, for encouraging me to update. 

I'm looking forward to seeing all of you again soon!

An Interview with A Camel

We're in AFRICA!

INTRODUCTION TO EGYPT

On February 19, I embarked on my most exotic and exciting journey yet—Cairo, Egypt. Ever since sixth grade when we did an extensive unit on ancient Egypt, I have been fascinated by the history behind the various dynasties and the legacy they left behind to fascinate and perplex generations to come. Needless to say, this weekend was a dream come true…

WALK LIKE AN EGYPTIAN

As soon as our plane landed (sometime after 2am), we headed to passport control to receive my most prized visa yet—for the nice, low price of only $15 USD! Once past this checkpoint, we were on a mission to find another Rome buddy of ours, Elizabeth, who had arrived earlier in the day. Elizabeth has a friend who goes to WestPoint back in the States, but studying for a semester in Cairo. Great thing about this chap—nicknamed Pappy—he is majoring in Arabic. A connection that knows the language, area, and customs…hmm, not a resource that comes around often…not for cheap anyway.

As we moved on past the crowds awaiting the arrivals, we eventually found Elizabeth and Pappy and followed them out of the terminal, but not before being bombarded by at least a dozen men trying to offer us “the best deal” on a taxi ride. Thanks to Pappy, we had one waiting for us and were off to the city in no time. After a 30-40 minute taxi ride, I realized Pappy and I were going to be friends, both enjoying a similar sense of humor and enjoyment for giving people a hard time. When we passed the Nile on the way to our hostel, I couldn’t help myself and asked Pappy if that’s where Moses had been. Without missing a beat, he responded, “Yep, right there.”

*Random note—Our hostel was located in the middle of the Nile. The Nile’s width is massive. All of the pictures I got of the Nile are only one side of the Nile, with a landmass of sorts splitting it into two.

**Song of the day—Walk Like an Egyptian by the Bangles

YOUNG JESUS, THE HARD ROCK, AND UNLIMITED DRINKS & WINGS

The next morning we were awoken by the morning call for prayer.  It was pretty hard to sleep through this, which I imagine is the intent, so we got started for the day. Now, I’ve had a Muslim roommate before, but seeing all of the locals gathered in certain areas of the city, sandals or shoes disregarded for the time being, and being among the very few people walking about, it really hit home that we weren’t in Kansas anymore (or Rome for that matter).

When we met up with Pappy that morning, he led us to the trains and off we were to Coptic Cairo—the Christian section of the city. This was probably one of the biggest surprises I had during the weekend, having no previous or extensive knowledge on the Christian population in Egypt; but, it was a nice surprise. You know the stories that you heard at Religious Ed as a child or even at mass about Jesus as a child? Well, if you’re like me, you may have just taken it as is—Joseph had a dream to take Jesus and Mary and get the heck out of town, they flee and we don’t hear much about Jesus until he’s twelve or so. Well, that whole period of exile—Cairo! Well, supposedly anyway. As we entered this walled area of Cairo, we descended some stairs with a sign above head reading “The Crypt of the Holy Family…Where the Holy Family lived for some times.”  At this point, I’m losing it…Really?! I knew it was Egypt, but I had no idea! Here?! Wow!!!  (Ok, so I’m easily excitable, especially when things click like they did just then.)

We spent a good couple of hours exploring the narrow streets of this old, Christian area, stopping into the various synagogues, churches, etc. It was amazing being able to see a side of Egypt that you don’t often, if ever, hear about. We even had the chance to stop into St. George’s Chaplet, which is where he was tortured. The chains (again, supposedly) which held him to the wall are still there. After taking off your shoes to step into the small sanctuary, you ease your way through the dense crowd to take a turn at placing the neck shackle around your own neck. If you choose not to wait for this very popular experience, you can look along the walls at the various icons and representations of St. George taking on the dragon.

*Random note—Just an observation we made this day…the smell of feet is universal. That’s all.

Around 4 o’clock the same day, per Pappy’s recommendation, we met up with some of his schoolmates at the Hard Rock Café, Cairo. Of all the Hard Rock Cafes I’ve run into, my first one is in Egypt. Go figure. Anyway, we meet up with Pappy’s 15 or so friends (names escape me, but I could make them up if you asked me to) and for the next four hours enjoy unlimited beer and buffalo wings, and of course, some nice conversation. (Thanks to my Italian eating experiences, I was able to keep eating for the majority of those four hours—in my opinion, though, they didn’t refill our plates often enough.) Although Americans made up the majority of the group, there were a couple of Egyptians present. We talked for hours on the stereotypes that Americans have of the Middle East and Muslim countries and got some fresh perspective on the matter. It was very enlightening to hear the other side of the story rather than relying on what the media tells us.

*Random story—In the Hard Rock bathroom, posted on the doors of the stalls are signs which read No Drugs or Nuclear Weapons Allowed. I enjoyed a laugh about it with two other guys in there at the time. “Silly Egyptians!” one of them said. “Haha where are you from?” I asked. He laughed as he proclaimed, “EGYPT!”

In the course of those four hours, we ate a lot, danced to YMCA in front of the entire restaurant (well, I did anyway), got a little tipsy, and just really enjoyed the company we were in. A handful of us ended the night by going to a sheesha bar where we learned that hissing was just a way to grab someone’s attention. (I’m loving the culture I’m picking up here…we picked up some useful phrases as well.) We enjoyed some talk with the WestPoint boys—politics, world affairs, and highly-classified-but-let’s-not-go-into-too-much-detail sort of things. Not frustrating at all. I can keep a secret…think they’d buy that?

*Soundtrack of the day—The Prince of Egypt

**Most useful phrase a tourist in Egypt can learn—La shukran…No thank you

MOSES—THE AWKWARD RIDE, COMING SOON

Day 2 in Cairo was like Christmas for me. I woke up that morning with GREAT (see where this is going?) anticipation of the day ahead of us. After a short train ride, we were in Giza, for you know what! We jumped in a couple of taxis and told them to take us to the pyramids…so naturally, they took us to a great place where we could rent camels to ride to the pyramids, for what we were told was “great deal.” Uh huh. Pappy was skeptical, but gave in in the end. While the girls all jumped on camels, I was given a horse. Wait? Didn’t I pay for a camel? For some reason or another, the remaining camels where we were weren’t in working condition (damn recession has even the camels getting cutbacks), so this cowboy rode the horse down the street at a less than manly speed. After I dismounted, I was given quite a surprise when the camel I jumped on stood up. Hello, Mr. Camel.  Ci-OW!

We got along pretty well…the camel and I, that is. Then, Pappy jumped on. Now, neither of us were too keen on this idea, especially considering the surplus of girls we were with (4), but we went along with it anyway. I didn’t care too much, and Pappy claimed not to either, but he kept making jokes which hinted at his discomfort and I’m mean, so I had no choice but to take advantage of this (yes, no choice)—let’s leave it at that. We were still friends by the end of the journey, and that’s all that matters.

After discussing the tips we gave with our less than satisfied camel guides, we hopped off the camel train (Moses, Tiger, and Mike) and did a little exploring around the pyramids. Let me just say, seeing the pyramids in a picture is one thing, but standing next to them is…wow. To imagine these massive structures in all their glory is hard to fathom, considering how great they still are today…We climbed some of the large stone blocks at the base of the Great Pyramid for photo ops, then got down before the Tourism Police could catch us. As we headed towards the Sphinx, my excitement never died down. We’re in frickin’ Egypt, we kept reminding ourselves.

That night, we traveled into the old marketplace, Khan-al-Khalili  to experience the twirling derwishes (sp?). I’m not entirely enlightened on the subject, but what I was told is that it is basically a way of worship—a long prayer, if you will. With one man singing the prayer, a number playing instruments and dancing, and a handful more spinning in circles with colorful, round-at-the-bottom garments, it was a cultural event to be noted. One of the twirlers spun in a circle for a good 30+ minutes without stopping and even moving around to the music in the process! But, as impressive as that was, I have to say that the man playing castanets was much more entertaining and really worked the crowd.

THINGS YOU MOTHER TOLD YOU NEVER TO DO…TAKE 1

So, you know how your mom told you to never talk to strangers? Yeah, well that’s pretty much impossible when you’re traveling, especially when you’re traveling abroad. Here’s the thing. Pappy didn’t want to go to the twirling derwishes that night (something about a bad experience at one, I don’t know), so he pointed us in the right direction and off we were. We went, enjoyed ourselves, and afterward had only the slightest idea where we were/needed to be. Awesome. So, a random guy with a papyrus shop had showed us the way to the twirling derwishes earlier and told us to find his shop after. Ok. So, the girls wanted to find this shop after so we could ask where to get a taxi. I don’t know. Well, I’m just following along at this point, not quite sure what we’re doing, but making sure that we don’t get separated. A guy asks us (apparently we looked lost...It’s ok, sir. I’ve got my internal GPS handy. But thanks anyway.) what we’re looking for. One of the girls tells him. Don’t try this at home kids. So, he leads us through the old market to a very shady looking building, which held inside its walls on the third floor, Said’s Papyrus (pronounced Sa-YEED). I’m completely stoked when we walk into the store because this is exactly what I was looking for upon coming to Egypt. (Quick note of comfort: I was being very cautious and was totally aware of our surroundings during this whole little excursion.) Long story short, we ended up staying at this shop for about an hour and a half, meeting the family who owned the shop, learning some of the meanings behind the artwork, and sharing in a cup of homemade tea (Did I mention not to try this at home?). All in all, it was a good time and we ended up leaving with a souvenir or six. Only in Egypt!

“PICTURES FORBIDDEN”…YEAH, BUT NOBODY SAID THEY’RE NOT ALLOWED, RIGHT?

So, the next day, after recounting our adventurous night to Pappy (he just shook his head at us), we headed off to the museum.  The Egyptian Museum (up to this point anyway) was easily my favorite non-art, historical museum. Having the largest collection of ancient Egyptian, well, anything, this museum was spectacular.  I especially enjoyed the large variety of relics from the various dynasties, the massive sizes of some of the finds, the floor dedicated to King Tut, and of course, the challenge presented to me of taking as many pictures as possible (Scientific fact…more or less: Your desire to do something when you’re forbidden to do so increases that much more.) Although there is practically an entire floor dedicated to the famous teen ruler, the King Tut room, which held his famous and very recognizable mask, had to have been my favorite.

Later in the afternoon, we headed to the Citadel—an old fortress with a huge mosque in the middle of it. Having never been to a mosque before, this, like the majority of things I encountered in Egypt, was a new experience for me.

Take your shoes off before entering. Before you even enter into the building though, you find yourself in a large, tiled courtyard. The mosque itself—Mohamed Aly’s Mosque—is large on the inside with plenty of floor space for the hundreds of worshipers that would normally gather there. The round glass bulbs, which dimly light the place, hang from the ceiling in a circular pattern, with a couple of chandeliers to keep them company. We took all this in and moved on yet again.

CAIRO WAS A BLAST

As we left the citadel, we split up into two groups for a couple of hours—3 girls to shop with Pappy; Tommy, Brighid and myself to walk to the old marketplace to look for authentic souvenirs. This was fine by us, considering Tommy had walked to the citadel to begin with and had a general idea how to get to the marketplace; plus, it would give us an opportunity to see more of the city outside of a taxi.

So, off we went. Traveling through dusty streets, experiencing so many exotic sights and sounds along the way...I felt like I was in Disney’s “Aladdin” (don’t worry, I held back from singing…I may have hummed though). We bargained for our trinkets, walked around for a little bit longer, and caught a taxi back to our hostel.

That night, our final one, we enjoyed a nice meal at a chic restaurant located along the Nile. It was going pretty well, the perfect conclusion to an awesome weekend. Then Pappy’s phone rang. It was one of his WestPoint friends. “Khan-al-Khalili? No, we’re not there, why?” He listened, and we watched as his face suddenly grew serious. “Thanks. Call me if you find out more,” he told his friend. At this point, we were obviously all curious. He then tells us what he had just been told. A bomb went off in Khan-al-Khalili less than an hour ago. Wait, what?! The story changed so many times from that first hour until we arrived back in Rome, but the fact of the matter was this: we had all been in that area the previous night; Tommy, Brighid and me, only a few hours earlier. It was close enough to hit home and really make all the violence that occurs in the world more than just news; that night, it became a reality. We all just sat in silence, not sure what to think or say. We were lucky. A French girl who was on a class trip unfortunately was not so lucky. Let’s just say, we said our prayers that night as we headed back to the airport…for all those injured, the French girl and her family, and out gratitude for God watching out for us.

*On a personal note, despite the unfortunate event that took place our last night in Egypt, it really was a dream come true. With as many police per square foot as there are churches in Rome, we honestly did feel safe…maybe a little too safe considering I got yelled at for taking pictures of even the Nile…Yeah, like that stopped me.

Short, but Sweet -- Brussels & Amsterdam

After a long week of classes (5 days instead of the typical 4), we only had two days to travel, and we were going to make it count. So, we randomly picked Belgium and Amsterdam to spend our shortened weekend (When in Rome??). Belgium was great! Although we decided to remain in Brussels for our day there, we left feeling as if we got a pretty good taste of the country--especially after indulging in authentic Belgian waffles and frites smothered in ketchup and mayonnaise and topped with cooked onions. My arteries may have shut down for the afternoon for repairs, but I didn’t need them while wandering the city.

We didn’t really have much of an idea what we saw that day to be perfectly honest, but nonetheless, it was a great place to go for my first time traveling outside of Italy. Brussels gave us a chance to see a lot of great architecture, the famous (or so we were told) Mannekin Pis, or “Pissing Boy” statue/fountain, and CHOCOLATE galore. I’d have to say that this was the best part of Belgium. We were even given a chocolate bar at the train station in celebration of Valentine’s Day! (A train ticket and a chocolate, not a bad combo) Speaking of Valentine’s Day, there was a great event going on (which, you guessed it, we stumbled upon in our aimless wanderings) called “Brussels in Love.” Long story short, participants were given a piece of wax paper with some melted chocolate on it. They would then “kiss” the paper, and if they could avoid the temptation of licking their lips for about .3 seconds, (which is definitely harder than it sounds considering it was Belgium chocolate) they would kiss a canvas leaving behind their lip-print. A fine piece of art, I’d say!

               

Sunday was an experience and a half—Amsterdam. The city was probably one of the most unique I’ve ever experienced. (As one of my good friends described it to me, “It’s something you have to experience for yourself.”) Again more or less wandering (and avoiding being run over by the insane number of bicyclists), we found ourselves in the world famous Red Light District. There were a few clues that tipped us off on where we were, but I’m sure if we all just use our imagination here, we can figure it out…just take a deep breath and you’ll get the picture (not to mention in pretty colors too). We didn’t linger like what was in the air, but rather roamed the city, following its many many canals. About mid-afternoon we stopped in the Anne Frank House. This was an amazing place to visit considering the story behind it, and deeply moving...when you walk through the old bookcase that is still in place and go up into the small living quarters that formerly hid eight people trying to escape certain death, you can’t help but feel chills. You are silenced by the power of such a simple place whose very walls tell so many stories.  As the floorboards creak below your feet, you can imagine yourself taking every step into consideration so as not to draw even the slightest bit of attention to yourself… It just so happened that the day we went was Miep Geis’s 100^th birthday (she is one of the people who took care of the Frank family and the other members of the Secret Annex while they were in hiding).

That pretty much sums my first out-of-Italy trip up in a nutshell: chocolate, wandering aimlessly, making out with a piece of canvas on Valentine’s Day and calling it art, questionable sights, tastes & smells, Anne Frank House. Mmm…chocolate.

A very short update...sorry

To all my friends out there who keep up with my travels...

Before I have to go to my last class and head off to London to begin my spring break adventures, I just wanted to let all of you know that I have not forgotten about letting you in on my travel adventures. As I travel over the next week or so, I promise that I will write down my observations and memorable moments that you would all enjoy, AND I will write out what I will post when I get back. Some adventures you can look forward to hearing about in about two weeks...Brussels and Amsterdam, Cairo, Berlin, Marquette's spring break (yes, I got to enjoy this too), London, and Ireland. Until then, please be well and please forgive me for my long overdue updates.

NightTime Stroll

Have you ever noticed how even when you're away from the norm of life, you still need a breather from time to time? That's how I felt last week. I got to thinking one day (a dangerous habit, I know, but one I try to limit), and realized that although I've seen a fair amount of the city, I still haven't seen near as much as I'd like to. It was time to challenge myself.

Last Wednesday night, I was invited by Fr. T to join in evening prayer with himself and some of the men from around the States who are on their way to priesthood (I'm sensing a theme among priests I encounter and their hopes for a young lad like myself...hmm...). Afterward, we had dinner in the dining hall (I know I mention food a lot in these blogs, but it happens a lot here, I feel...yes, food "happens" here), and he gave me my first taste of grappa. For those of you who aren't familiar with this toxic drink, it is made up of the remains of what makes wine (seeds, leaves, etc). Worst. Idea. Ever. I never would have thought it possible for one's facial expressions to be completely out of their control...on account of a drink, but I learned quickly. As hard as I tried to smile in response to the conversation we were having, my mouth denied me the ability. Maybe it was something I ate?

Before we parted ways for the evening, Fr. T showed me around North American College, which is located on Gianculum Hill. My favorite part of the tour was easily the trip to the roof. You could see ROME from here. I realize how ridiculous that sounds, but there's only one other view like that in the city and if you're seeing it from that perspective, you're missing out on seeing St. Peter's.

When it was time to leave, I walked in a direction that overlooked the city, though from a lower vantage point than I'd just been allowed. After about 20 minutes or so of slowly making my way back to where I should go down stairs to get back home, I started arguing with myself. The argument was over which way to take--the easy, mindless way of getting home or the new, unknown and hopefully exciting way. After a couple minutes of debate, I emerged victorious--I was taking the new way. This would be fun. I took about 16 steps in a rightward direction and stopped in my tracks at the sight of 3 large military men. Equipped with guns similar to the machine guns that the polizia carry and decked out in camouflage garb, they were anything but intimidating. So, I did what any sane person would do in this situation...I snuck up on them, shouted "FIRE!", and took off running.

On the rest of the way home, with Orion as my companion, I enjoyed having only a vague idea of the direction I was going. It was very freeing, to be honest. At one point, I found myself on the road where my apartment is. I followed it for about one block then took a right up a random hill and street, to break habit. I found a couple sets of steep stairs a short distance up this hill. Not having any clue where these went (other than up), I felt the need to take them, so I did--two at a time and at a decent speed considering their numbers. In true Rocky fashion, upon reaching the top, I extended my arms into the air...success! I looked back and considered doing laps up and down these stairs, just because, but considered it a little too ambitious and thought it would be better to save my energy for the unchartered territory ahead. Long story only slightly longer, I wandered somewhat aimlessly for a little over an hour. I think I even left the area where I live for the first time (on the west side of town anyway). All that time, I just kept thinking about how much further I could get, AND I was never really too lost--the moon was always to my left to guide me. Who needs a map anyway?

A Few Matters of Business...

Alright, so some of you have been asking about my address out here. It's kind of tricky because it won't come to my actual apartment, but rather to the school. No worries though, if you send it to the following address then I should get it. (I think my mailbox is #563--They'll look me up if you don't put this--might be safer.)

Michael O'Sullivan
John Cabot University
Via della Lungara 233
00165 - Rome, Italy

Also, if you don't have a Facebook account and have been wanting to see some pics of my adventures, check out the following links. If these don't work for you, let me know and I'll post them elsewhere. Enjoy!

Amsterdam

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2138830&id=20311206

Brussels

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2138805&id=20311206

Tuscany (Pieve and Arrezo)

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2137970&id=20311206

Rome Randoms

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2137956&id=20311206

Amalfi Coast

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2136863&id=20311206

First Week

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2136137&id=20311206

Real Italians, Obama, and the Mafia

At this point in my studying abroad career, I have to say that hanging out with Italians is my favorite thing to do. I’m not talking about the quasi-Italians who go to my school for a semester or for all four years, I’m talking about the REAL Italians--born, raised, bred in the good ‘ole motherland. Thus far, I’ve had quite a few chances to just hang out with some, and you know what, I think, in time, we could be friends…maybe (has a back story, I swear).

Whether I’ve been spending the weekend with the very hospitable locals of the country or hanging out in the evening with them, I’ve enjoyed every moment. And, all but maybe one Italian I’ve encountered has been thrilled when they learn my local whereabouts back home. “Chicago? Obama! You like?” Ha ha, yeah. And you? (More of a formality than a question) “Si! Mi piace!” Silly Italians. One night a couple of us met a handful of local Romans (friends of our MU Ital prof’s son) in Piazza del Popolo. When we all were gathered in this piazza (only about 30 minutes later than planned—a lot can be said for Italian punctuality), we walked around aimlessly. Ok, the fact is, we were lost, which was hysterical considering they have lived in Rome for the majority, if not all of their lives. At one point, they started asking people for directions and when they said that we were trying to find Trastevere (the area where JCU is located), I knew exactly where to go and started leading the Romans around. They got a kick out of this!

That night, over my second dinner (hey, it’s needed sometimes), I learned that Italians are the best at three things (“Only three?” I asked). These three things are: 1) Soccer 2) Food 3) Mafia (they said it is one of their exports). After talking about Italian stuff (no one likes the prime minister here, that’s for certain) and showing off our ability to curse in the opposites’ native tongue (they won this battle), we loitered outside the restaurant. When the police drove by we could not have looked any more suspicious as we, in a line along the wall, just smiled and tried to look innocent. It was like something out of a movie, I swear. At the end of the night, I asked jokingly, “Can we be friends?” They totally missed the joke at first. When they caught on, “Sorry, the night is over. Maybe we can be friends another time.” HA! We get each other ;) Mi piace.

School is, well, a little more exciting...

So, I realize that after four weeks of writing (and slacking in that writing…yes, I realize it) I have yet to mention anything about my classes (kinda the whole reason I’m out here, or so I’m told). Well, classes are significantly different from Marquette U that much is sure. I started out the semester with six classes with the intention of dropping one so I didn’t have to worry about working too hard and not have a chance to enjoy life. We had until the end of the first week of classes to make up our minds on which classes we wanted to stay in. I was really happy that they gave us such a generous amount of time to make such an important decision, let me tell you. This disappointment was mainly due to the fact that one of my roommates would come home each day from class, sit down, and switch his schedule around, drop or add classes, or ask us what we thought he should do. Needless to say, by week’s end that form of entertainment was gone. I made fairly easy decisions when I dropped two of my classes: Italian (because let’s get serious, when am I ever going to need this?) and Christian and Byzantine Art (an on-site class that would have killed the idea of fun and sleep alike, however interesting and enjoyable it was). The four classes I’m taking this semester will all count for something back at MU and will finish all but the last few classes in my major up. So, in my four day week (no Friday classes), I wake up around 10 or 11 (sometimes noon), get some reading done and go to class sometime in the afternoon…I’m working on changing this habit and use the time to explore…

                As intriguing as classes are…I’m going to keep talking about them! (I swear, I’ll make this as quick as I can, I just want to give you an idea of what classes are like) My Lit and Criticism class is a class that I could have passed back in junior high, but I’ll admit, it’s a confidence booster compared to my theology class. Pathways of Faith is a theology class that is taught mainly for Notre Dame students (as a matter of fact, it was stressed that it was going to be that level of teaching and if you wanted to bail, right away would have been the time to do it). I LOVE THIS CLASS! I may not be able to hold as “intellectual” of a conversation with the teacher as the Notre Dame kids who all seem to be some kind of religious studies or whatnot majors, but what we’re learning is so fascinating. I’m learning things about the Catholic Church that I never knew and probably never would have had I never taken this class. From history and origins to beliefs, etc., I’m enthralled each class. The best part of it all is that my professor is a priest who holds a high position at the Vatican—he kinda knows the pope, just saying. As we’ve learned, having a teacher who works for the Vatican has its advantages, such as having no class when something goes down at the Vatican or getting into parts of churches/into places that people aren’t allowed usually, if ever. We had our first on-site visit this week to Santa Maria Maggiore (St. Mary Major), one of the four basilicas in Rome; this basilica claims such relics as parts of the manger…pretty sweet.      My Ancient Rome and Its Monuments class is also on-site (on a weekly basis), which means when we have class we go to the Roman Forum or other ancient roman sites. My teacher already likes me because I’m one of two guys in her Classical Mythology class on Mondays and Wednesdays too. Whenever she brings up an ancient myth, she either turns to me to explain (did I ever mention how little self-confidence I have when put on the spot?) or tells people if they have questions about the myth to talk to me—I would love to see how red my face probably gets. Long story short, we’re going to be friends by semester end, I just know it. Just today we were talking about jobs students could get out here (not seriously, of course, because students would never be hired during the school year). We decided that the rip-off centurions who try to rip-off tourists by taking their pictures would be a great job for me. Then we realized my scrawniness. I am now going to be a slave or someone that the gladiators killed. Eh, it’s a living…Photo anyone?

Among the Mountains and Stepping on Nuns

A couple of weeks ago (yeah, I’m slightly behind), I found myself back on an early train heading for Salerno. Now, why would he re-visit a place that he’s already visited before, you may ask. I say to you, a fine question! Well, friends, it just so happened that my good friend, Brighid, has family in San Gregorio—a small town placed among the mountains southeast of the Salerno Coast. As it turned out, the family we stayed with were distant cousins (though, I’m not sure how distant) of Brighid.

When we arrived in Salerno that morning, we were met on the platform by Giovanni . After happily being reunited with his family from America (Brighid), he drove us the hour or so to his home in San Gregorio. Once there, we met his wife and would later in the day meet his 18-year old daughter, Pamela. The feelings that I felt being able to stay with an Italian family, seeing how they live and interact, and being treated as one of the family, was nothing short of wonderful.

                I think Brighid would agree with me when I say that our first surprise and real good sense of being Italian came at lunch not long after we arrived. I thought Americans could eat! I nearly cried when the secondo and terzo piatti came along because when I was offered the seconds of the prima piatti I eagerly accepted. Lesson learned, but not helped (you’ll understand why in a moment).

After my delicious, but never-ending lunch, I rested a bit. Now, this may be punishment for finding ways to avoid eating my veggies when I was younger (and believe me, mom and dad, I did find ways), but after what seemed to be only about 30 minutes (ok, I’m definitely hyperbolating here, but just go with it), we were eating again! Three more courses anyone? Now, this may not seem so bad to most people (after all, a nice, large home-cooked meal is always welcome), BUT they would not stop feeding me! “Magra! Magra! You’re too skinny!” they would tell me as they put more food onto my plate. Despite my pleas of “Basta! Enough!” they would simply smile and add more. The sick thing is that I kept eating. I don’t know how I did it, but I did. After awhile, I was numb to the amount of food they gave me and could keep eating endlessly. That first night, as I rolled, quite literally, out of the kitchen, I eagerly looked forward to breakfast.

That weekend, we met a lot of Giovanni’s family, many of whom lived nearby. I tried homemade Limóncello and vowed never to again. AND, got to drive around in true Italian fashion—it’s much more fun to be in the car of an Italian, rather than outside around a moving one. One night, we went out to dinner with Pamela and her boyfriend, Nikola. They had observed her mother “strongly encouraging” me to eat more and thought it’d be funny to try to do the same to me. Good thing I don’t give into peer pressure (although, I did end up eating more than everyone anyway)! After the fun dinner of many smiles and plenty of laughter (on account of our lack of understanding each other), the four of us drove around for a bit rocking out to such Italian classics as Rhianna’s Disturbia, Brian Adams’ Everything I do, and my personal favorite, Beyonce’s If I were a boy, which was always accompanied by Nikola belting out the same line in a high-pitched voice, much to our amusement.  It was great!

When I arrived back in Rome that weekend, I attended the Papal Vespers at St. Paul Outside the Wall, thanks to a priest who I was put in touch with through a friend at MU. I’m still somewhat unclear on what exactly it was (a type of prayer service I think, only more important), but I do know it was a big deal because 1) the pope was there 2) you needed a ticket to get in 3) it was the feast day of the conversion of St. Paul (not a bad place to celebrate such an event). I don’t know how many nuns I had to step on or bite that day so that I wouldn’t lose my new friend in the crowd, but I figured there were plenty of priests around to confess my sins to…after I got safely inside, of course. This was such a thrilling event to attend on only my second week in the city and it was improved by being there with a Jesuit. For those of you who don’t know, Jesuits know A LOT. He pointed out so many things in or outside that basilica, details that I may have never noticed or details that I probably would never have even guessed the significance of. It was crazy! My favorite topic of conversation that evening involved my lack of attending mass since arriving in Rome. “Why haven’t you?” Fr. T asked me, curious. “Because I couldn’t find a church!” I replied. I don’t think he bought it.

Salerno and the Amalfi Coast Death Hike

On this rainy day in Rome (which seems to be the case more times than not), I am going to catch up on this here blog. I’m going to take you back about a week or so, so let’s go! (It’s slightly lengthy in detail—I apologize in advance!)

                It all began on a Friday morning, around 7 in the AM. Tommy (1 of my 7 roommates) and I needed to leave about 20-30 minutes early from our apartment to meet Brighid (another MU student) in Campo dei Fiori where her apartment is located so we could make a 45-minute trek to Termini train station (that’s a run-on sentence, that is). Phew! (Intake deep breath…and go…) So, after determinedly walking to the train station, we caught our train with a few minutes to spare.  The train ride to Salerno from Rome is approximately 3 hours. After about a 30-minute struggle to keep my eyes open, watching the countryside pass by, I gave into sleep. Next thing I knew, I was being shaken awake and being told to hurry because we were at our stop. Having no idea what was going on, I quickly got my few things together and followed my friends. As we stood on the platform, me, still very disoriented, asked where we were. They both just looked at me and laughed. Everything that followed during that day was pretty uneventful—we walked along the coast and wasted time waiting to check into our hostel, grabbed some gelato, and discovered that not all pizza in Italy is good pizza…one discovery I’d like to not discover again, thank you very much.

                Having had very little sleep that entire first week, the three of us slept like babies that first night (well over 12 hours actually). When we finally got up the next morning, we caught a bus to the Amalfi Coast, which is a very interesting bus ride to take. Let’s just say that with the very narrow roads along the coast coupled with the Italian drivers driving along it, it was exciting. Haha!

                I want to stop here for a moment and explain what we’re about to do and why we were doing it at all. Tommy is a bit of an outdoorsman. He leads hiking trips for kids in Colorado during the summer. He brought us to the Amalfi Coast to go hiking through the mountains. I think the word adventure would definitely define this experience as a whole…

                We began our ascent sometime in the early afternoon. It took a little pointing in the right direction from locals to set us on our way, but once we got to it up, up, up we went. The going was easy at first, nothing past the expected soreness in our legs, but as we kept going, we started feeling the exhaustion slowly set in. I’m not sure how many stairs the first leg of the race was, but it was over 700 if I recall correctly.

                At the top of this back and forth, this way and that, winding stairwell, we found ourselves in a tiny town. We rested for a very brief time and were off again. At this point, I was thinking, “Gee, if that was how this hike is going to be, this’ll be nothing!” Ha! Silly me.

                We followed the red and white trail marks through this little, mountain-dwelling town and found ourselves climbing higher and higher on a forest path. It was exciting to watch as the little town we had started the journey in became smaller and smaller—first due to the elevation, next due to the distance inland we were traveling. From time to time, we would cross little downhill water flows (not quite streams, but big enough to get your shoes wet), or other random elements that make you feel like you are some character in a book or movie, set out on an adventure.

That day, we crossed all sorts of paths…narrow, rocky, slippery, tree bough paths across small bodies of water (although Brighid fell in at this one); my heart was racing from more than the simple exercise, the mere thrill and excitement (not necessarily pleasant) from some of the things we did made sure of that. (There are some details here that I’m going to leave out for the sake of certain people, but just know that there were some points when either myself or one of my companions had to face some obstacles and get over them really fast because of the setting sun. For example, have you ever had that dream when you are running up a hill or stairs and you seem to be unable to make any progress, you just keep struggling with your current position? Yeah, that dream was one of my experiences…it’s scarier in real life!)

                By the time we found our way back to a town, just north of where we started, the sun was setting. Luckily, for us, we were able to follow the ever-winding road down to the coast (with the help of some really random staircases that cut the distance significantly). Long story short (and I know it hasn’t been short, sorry), we made it back to where we started the long day at and caught a bus back to Salerno where we passed out as soon as we got to our hostel.

It's Been One Week...

I’ve been in Italia for a full week now (even though it feels like it’s been much longer because of a lack of certain things…such as a routine). I don’t want to bore anyone with the details of what I’ve seen so far so I’ll sum it all up in a list: St. Peter’s Basilica (inside and out), the Trevi Fountain, Pantheon (inside and out), Spanish Steps, Coliseum (story to follow), Roman Forum, and the Termini (the train station…I know, exciting!).  All of these sites were fascinating to finally see in person.  A picture may speak a thousand words, but there is nothing like experiencing the real thing.  I saw the majority of these things for only a few moments each because the rain or the cold or the effin’ umbrella peddlers set us on the move again. I will definitely re-visit these places so I can fully take them in and enjoy their existence and history in person, but not until another day…hey, I’ve got some time, right?

So, the first time I saw the Coliseum was actually quite on accident. Let’s just say we kind of stumbled upon it—not a bad thing to stumble upon! A friend and I were trying to find our way back to our apartments from the Spanish Steps, and me, being the guy, knew exactly where we were going (built in GPS, right?). Anyway, one wrong turn and we were…let’s not say lost because it implies we didn’t know where we were and I knew we were somewhere in Rome the whole time—problem solved…we were on an adventure!  Long story short, as we started arguing over the possible fact that my internal GPS was broken (or defective), we looked to our left and gosh darnit, Mike had found the Coliseum! It was the craziest thing and my friend was so grateful in the end that I had known exactly where we were going and didn’t want to ruin the surprise. You’re welcome!

JUST A FEW OBSERVATIONS THAT I’VE MADE THUS FAR…

-Girls like to ask for directions when they are clearly not necessary

-Traffic in Italy sucks. Result: crossing streets in Italy sucks.

-Many Italians know some English, however limited, it’s there.

-Power randomly goes off in apartments

-Pizza IS a food group

-When an Italian man asks you your opinion on Italian women…DO NOT respond that they’re not that bad…the male will become upset, if not offended

Bienvenuti a Roma!

So, I made it safely to my final destination of Rome! After months of dreaming and anticipating, I'm finally here! It's still very surreal to me, but I'm sure it'll sink in by morning when  I start walking around the city in the daylight. I'm thrilled to say that I'm in Rome tonight after the many delays in Chicago (can't say the weather is missed) and then the 4 hour or so layover in Munich. It was just tiring and confusing because they switched my airline carrier and then almost wouldn't let me board the plane to Rome because whoever printed out my boarding pass didn't make sure that there was a ticket number on it (apparently this is a vital piece of information when boarding a plane...who knew?).

Anywho, once in Rome our worries were cast aside when we were (thank God) picked up by a shuttle sent by the university and taken to our apartments (we thought we would miss this service with all the delays we encountered). The ride to our apartments was interesting to put it lightly. Let's just say, a lot of people think driving in a city like Chicago is bad...Chicago is a walk in the park in comparison. I couldn't help but laugh though at the ridiculousness of the driving style though, because as far as anyone is concerned, traffic laws are mere suggestions. Dinner tonight gave me a chance to try my first authentic italian pizza and the language a bit. Delicious pretty much sums it up into one word. It was entertaining though to attempt to order such a simple item of food and to still have so much difficulty--I knew what I was trying to say...I guess I'll have to work at it a bit more though to get past the grazie's and ciao's...