Piazza Walk

On Tuesday our small group did a walk around the north part of town. Our first stop was Piazza del Popolo, which was thankfully located near my new apartment so I did not have much of a walk. Today was excruciatingly hot, easily the hottest day since we have arrived in Rome. In my short walk to this piazza, I was already sweating bullets. While walking around this piazza, I attempted to find any spots that were covered in shade. From Popolo, we moved onto our next destination: Piazza Espagna. It was kind of bizarre seeing the Spanish Steps this early, as there were not many people there. Usually this area is packed with both tourists and Italians, but around 10 AM it is actually a peaceful area. We filled up our water in the nearby fountain, took a break in the shade, and then braved the sun as we headed to our final piazza. The final stop on our journey was the Piazza Republica, which is the area where many of the Italian rallies and protests are held. For instance, when President Bush came to Rome the piazza was covered with protestors waving their posters and belting out anti-Bush chants. This is a very beautiful piazza, and one I did not get to see very often because it is not very close to our apartment. This was a fun walk despite the heat, because it forced us to visit spots that we did not frequent often. It was nice going to different areas since this was my last week in Rome.

Vatican Museum

It took a little over a month and a half, but I finally made my way to the Vatican Museum. It was one of the hotter days of the summer, and the walk was far. By the time I finally entered, I was dripping sweat and anxious to enter the air-conditioned halls. After rinsing the sweat off my face in the bathroom, I was prepared to begin my expedition through one of the most famous museums in the world.

I did not go until later in the afternoon, so the crowd was extremely managable. I could easily maneuver through the halls and was never pushed around. Although many guidebooks suggest going early in the morning, I would actually suggest going in the late afternoon.

The museum lived up to all of my hype. There was so much amazing artwork that it was almost overwhelming. Everywhere I turned something grabbed my attention. As a result, it took nearly three hours to explore the entire museum. I would also strongly suggest the purchase of the audio tour. Nearly every piece of art has a story, and the audio guide does an excellent job of explaining these stories.

No More Cheap Coffee

Although I was never a heavy coffee drinker in America, I would sometimes need it to survive the long and arduous school days. I never really liked the way in tasted, or how you would have to sip it little by little because it was steaming hot. As a result, I never drank it for enjoyment, instead only out of sheer necessity. In Italy, everything changed. I love the quick shots of espresso and the relatively cheap prices. For a euro, I get all of the artificial energy that I need daily in order to brave the early morning wake-up calls. I also really enjoy the taste and friendly service, which will add to my sadness of no more Italian cafes.

I will miss this in the States. I can not see myself going to Starbucks or another coffee shop and spending a decent chunk of change on coffee I do not even care for. My only worry is that I did not become like many Americans: caffeine dependent. I have had some sort of coffee almost every morning for seven weeks, so it would not be too suprising. But I am still holding out hope that I will be able to survive the nine-to-five workday without the aid of American coffee.

Tourist Season

When I first arrived to Rome, I was initially overwhelmed by the hectic city lifestyle. I have never lived in a city before, so the swarms of people driving and walking through the city was different than the sprawling atmosphere that I grew up in. However, after a week or two I learned how to navigate some certain areas properly and I became accustomed to the city. Things no longer seemed too overly crowded, and grew to love living in a city.

However, over these past two or three weeks I have noticed that the downtown areas near school have become far more crowded. Places like Piazza Navona, the Trevi Fountain, and the Pantheon are constantly packed with tourists from all over the world, especially during the afternoon. It is interesting walking around these areas because of the numerous languages that you will hear being spoken. It is safe to assume that we are entering the prime tourist season, which also coincides with the recent influx of extreme heat.

Bank Adventure

For the first time, I randomly received a 100 Euro bill from the ATM. The giant green bill was neat to hold, knowing that the flimsy piece of paper that I was clenching in my hand was worth around 150 dollars. However, my puerile ecstasy quickly evaporated when I remembered the difficulty I would ensue while attempting to find a store that would accept this bill. Most stores do not even break fifties, so using this bill on a random purchase was out of the question. My only option was to enter a bank and change the bill there.

Of course, this was quite the experience. I nervously opened the door at the entrance, simply hoping that the teller would speak English, which would alleviate some of the hassle. Little did I know that the potential language barrier would have no impact on my first time in an Italian bank. As I grabbed a numbered ticket and waited in line, I was glad to see that there was only one man in front of me. When number 164 was announced, the middle-aged man calmly approached the teller. I only had fifteen mintues before class started, so I hoped this would be a swift transaction.

The oppisite occurred. The conversation between the two Italians was initially cordial, but the situation promptly turned sour. Within two minutes, the customer began yelling at the teller. The teller responded while yelling louder. Then the customer started to pound his fist on the desk, which meant the teller had to increase his voice one more decibel. Through it all, no one else in the bank budged. They continued with their work, like this was a normal occurance. Usually in the States, if something turns this ugly a manager comes and intervenes. I have also never seen a worker yell back at a customer either, so this was a completely shocking experience.

After about ten minutes of yelling, I realized that I was low on time and this argument made no progress. I had to leave for class, and hope that next time I try to break my bill I will not encounter this again.

They Missed Me

Earlier this week, I was not feeling too well and as a result I overslept by about ten minutes. After quickly changing and brushing my teeth, I made a mad dash to our tram stop. Luckily, my timing was impeccable and a tram was waiting at the bottom. I arrived to class on time, but sadly I did not have time to stop at the Gi-Ma for my morning shot of espresso. Needless to say, class was a struggle without my temporary injection of energy.

The next day, I made sure to wake up a little earlier so I would not have to battle my morning drowsiness. When I walked in, the woman behind the counter smiled and came to hear my order. As she handed me my cafe latte, she attempted to say "We missed you yesterday." It was a little broken, but I could make out the message. This made me feel good, as it is like I have finally be initiated into the secret coffee society of Gi-Ma. They expect my business around 8:45 AM, and if I am not there they actually notice. Sadly I leave in a week, so they will lose my loyal business.

I am not Italian

Anytime I see an Italian walk towards me, I promptly know what is coming. They are about to either ask me a question or start conversing with me. After they finish talking, I give them a blank, confused look back and simply shrug. However, I am not the only one who feels awkward after these exchanges. Usually the Italian person is visibly ashamed for mistaking me as an Italian. This is very understandable, as I am sure that they do not necessarily feel good about not being able to pick out people of their own ethnicity.

The confusing thing about these mishappenings are that I do not dress anything like a young Italian man. I wear tee shirts, shorts, sandals, and walk much differently than them. For the most part, my Italian counter parts dress much sharper and they have a certain sense of style, something I completely lack. As a result, it amazes me that these awkward encounters are still happening on a regular basis.

Descriptions of Three Places

During the day, the Campo de Fiori is one of the most colorful areas in Rome. There is a vast open air market where you can buy fresh meat, bread, fruit, vegetables, and cheese. To an outsider, the atmosphere may intially seem hectic and intimidating. Hordes of Italians flock there to purchase food and barter with the shop owners. This is ont of the best spots to witness the Italian culture and experience their daily interactions.

The Piazza Navona also offers a daily outdoor market, albeit a much different type. Instead of a food market, at Navona you will encounter a plethora of sights and sounds. Street musicians and preformers line the piazza, so there is a constant flow of free entertainment. By the Fontana dei Quattro Fiumi, artists set up stands where you can purcahse their paintings. Some offer excellent portraits of the Roman landscape or famouns areas.

The Piazza Della Rotonde is located at the front entrance of the Pantheon. During the day, this can be one of the most crowded areas in the entire city, particularly during tourist season. People flock to the Pantheon to behold the massive structure and it also serves as a solid place to meet up with someone. Restaurants and cafes surround the piazza, so it is a great place to relax and enjoy a nice cup of coffee. Like Navona, this piazza is full of talented musicians, vendors, and various preformers. These are three great areas near each other, which all offer a unique slice of the Roman lifestlye.

Three Stop Walk

During the summer days in Rome, there are some particular areas that really bring out the true Roman culture. The Campo de Fiori, the Piazza Navona, and the Pantheon are three spots that are always eccentric and crowded. You will see everything there, and they are great places to go and relax while taking in the scenery.

From the Piazza de Collegio Romano, turn left down Via Della Gotta until you reach the Corso Vittorio Emanuele, where you make a right. Continue on the Corso for about ten minutes, where you will find Via de Baullari, and make a left there. This leads directly to the Campo de Fiori. When you finish at the Campo, turn around back onto Baullari and cross over the Corso onto Via San Pantaleo. This road leads directly to the Piazza Navona. After experiencing Navona, walk through to the other end, which leads to Via Del Coronari. Turn right on this street, and shortly you will find Via Rosetta. Take a right there, and this road leads to our final stop: The Piazza Della Rotonde and the Pantheon.

Hadrian's Villa

Before class today, I never even heard of Hadrian's Villa. However, after some solid convincing by fellow classmate Cole Kitchen, I was sold. After looking at his pictures, the scenery there looked amazing. He has been to both Ostia Antica and The Forum, but he thought this was the best ruins that Rome has to offer.

The villa is a vast area that was the home of some of the finest architecture that Rome has to offer. Part of the intrique around Hadrian's Villa is that a lot of the ruins have yet to be identified. The excavations began around the 16th century, so it is neat that there is still a mystery to these ruins. One of the headliners in the villa is the Maritime Theater. It is a giant circular pool with an island in the middle. To reach the island, you needed to cross a swing bridge. The island was Emporer Hadrian's own private resort. It is interesting that in these ruins you are essentially free to roam wherever you want. You can crawl and climb through the ruins, which helps actually place you in the ancient times.

Vatican Museum

Incredibly, I have been in Rome for nearly two months and I have not yet entered the Vatican Museum. When we visited Vatican City as a class, I was saddened when the Swiss Guard informed us that the museum was closed for the day. Each week, I told myself that I would make it there, but now my time in Rome is dwindling. Sometime in these next ten days, I will finally stop talking about going and actually go.

Of course, the Vatican Museum is one of the top tourist destinations in Rome. People from across the world flock to Michelangelo's Sistine Chapel, particularly The Last Judgment. This is described as a "must see" for all Roman travelers. Outside of the Sistene walls there are also galleries devoted to Egyptian, Etruscan, and Greek art. It would be great to see a museum that has such an eclectic range of history.

Boys' Town

Although all of the boys come from different areas in the world, one common bond that most of them share is their undying love of soccer. Talking to the boys was a little difficult at times, but they knew enough English and the use of universal hand signals aided the conversation. The young Moroccan boy, who is the current mayor of the town, proudly proclaimed that he was the top mid-fielder in the town. When I asked him what place his team was, he proudly raised his index finger while giving a boastful smile. I jokingly challenged him to a match, and he laughed back, saying something along the lines that I would offer minimal competition. At this time, another boy chirped in and decreed that he was the top play. Obviously, these are kids who enjoy sports just like all of us. Sometimes it is easy to forget that they are adolescents who simply enjoy having a good time.

South Park and Boondocks

While flipping through the television stations bored and restless late one night, I stumbled upon an episode of "The Boondocks" on MTV. The show features dubbed over Italian voices, so it was somewhat difficult to follow the plot. However, it is a safe assumption that it was about some sort of racial satire. While watching, I could not help but think what Italians think of this program. Do they view our racial issues in a way that is presented in this show? Do they believe that this is what America is like? They do not necessarily understand that this is a satire, so they could potentially get the wrong idea about our culture.

Following "The Boondocks" was "South Park." Of course, "South Park," fouces on four foul-mouth grade schoolers who seem to grasp more of an understanding of the world than their parents. Although this is a cartoon, once again I could easily imagine Italian citizens thinking that all Americans are immature trouble-makers like Cartman. These two shows are not accurate depictions of the Americn culture, so I hope the Italians do not reach those assumptions.

Every morning when I walk into the Cafe GiMa, I am greeted with a warm smile from the woman behind the counter. She obviously recognizes all of us, and gives a friendly "buon giorno" when I enter the shop. It has reached the point where she expects my arrival around 8:30 every morning, almost like I am a regular. Sadly, our conversations usually end at the salutation stage because of the obvious language barrier. But at least like it seems she genuinely enjoys my frequenting her bar. When visiting some other cafes, often the workers are not quite overly fond of a group of tourists stampeding into their humble cafe.

On the other hand, the other morning is a man probably in his thirties. He seemingly carries a perpetual scowl, and is not much of a conversationalist. In fact, I do not recollect him ever uttering anything more than a "ciao" after we finish our morning coffee. When he takes my order, he solemnly walks to the machine and quickly fulfills my order without ever saying a word. It is still undetermined if it is because I am an American, or if he is just a quiet person.

3-0

As a child, when my grandparents would get upset in front of me they would not want to corrupt my innocent mind with profanities. They would resort to Italian swears, but eventually I started to grasp the meaning for some of the phrases. Before last night, I did not hear many of these words in a long time. But by the time that Italy was trailing 2-0 to the Netherlands in the first half, I heard many of the same vulgarities that my grandparents would specialize in.

Before the game began, there was a buzz going around the city. It reminded me of Philadelphia before the Eagles squared off against the hated Cowboys. As a result, it was not suprising to me to hear the reactions of the Italian die-hards. When the Eagles lose, I thank myself that my family does not have a swear jar. The Italians were extremely audible with their dissatisfaction from the game, as profanities were being thrown around like it was a teamster's meeting. I do not understand much Italian, but every time a curse word was shouted I recognized it, and at the same time I felt their pain. Sports truly are universal. They wield the power to break everyone's heart, regardless of your culture.

Angels and Demons

While walking home yesterday, I noticed that there was a lot of commotion occurring in the Pantheon area. Sure enough, the Ron Howard film "Angels and Demons," is currently being filmed throughout the city. Labeling the Dan Brown novel a blockbuster would be an understatement, as millions of Americans have read the book thinking that they have gained inside knowledge about Roman history.

The area was crowded with people trying to get a clear picture of Tom Hanks or just witness the filming. The one scene we saw was Tom Hanks and one of his co-stars walking from the fountain toward the entrance of the Pantheon. However, before the shot everything was set up perfectly by Howard. He cleared out the entire area except for a few vendors, some random tourists, and a group of nuns, all of whom would be included in the overhead shot.

This slightly bothered me. Since the Pantheon is simply down the road from our classroom, we walk by it frequently. The atmosphere is nothing like the illusion that Howard created. He made the area seem serene, when in reality the area is always so crowded with tourists. It is actually a skill to navigate through the throngs of tourists and reach your desired destination. When people see this movie, they will not be given the true ambiance of the piazza. But I quickly forgave Ron Howard though, because he helped produce "Arrested Development."

Boys' Town Pre-Visit

The Boys' Town near Rome is essentially a town governed by Italian orphans. Children who have a rough life or a lack of family are brought into the town and taught responsibilty and social skills. It was created by Msgr. Carroll-Abbing, who came up with the idea of the boys running the community. The boys have jobs, are elected into the government, and get paid in a fake currency called the Scudo. If a child earns enough Scudo, he can treat himself to some soda or candy. It is basically a bonus for good deeds. Boys can stay in the town until they turn eighteen. However, after they leave the town they are always told to return if they need any help in the real world.

Ostia Antica

Although I may not have enough free time to reach the ancient ruins of Pompeii, today in class we walked around the ruins in Ostia Antica. Ostia Antica is an old port town that was pillaged and ransacked during the decline of Rome. Each side of the main road feautres ancient ruins that have been excavated and preservered. One row of buildings really caught my attention, a strecth of bars and food shops. The insides still seemed perfectly preserved. There are counters where the cashiers would be, and you can see a main open area inside where people probably sat and dined. While looking at the structure, I was using my imagination trying to picture where the line would form for the wine and what types of food the Romans would buy in the stores.

Venice Cafes

While traveling, I feel like it is pointless to sleep well into the morning or early afternoon. You do not go somewhere to see the hotel room you paid for, no matter how nice or expensive it is. However, while believing this, I must admit that I am a horrible morning person. During the school year, I purposely schedule late classes so I never feel tired. This may sound horrible, but I chose many of my classes based on what time they started. Like most college kids, I like staying up late, and waking up late.

When traveling in Italy, all I need is a shot of espresso and I am good for the morning session. When I get in trouble, another shot is the easy cure. In Rome, there are multiple cafes on every street. There are so many, that you even wonder how they turn any profit. You simply walk to the counter, order a coffee, and stand there and quickly drink one. It is a simple yet effective process.

However, in Venice, we encountered a minor problem: there was a serious lack of walk-in cafes. Venice is a notoriously expensive city, and the coffee was no exception. Most places forced you to order more than just a coffee. They wanted you to buy food too, and tried to compel you to pay for a seat. As a result, I had to walk around for hours without any caffeine in my system. I never used to be an addict, but after so many early morning wake-up calls in Rome, I became somewhat dependent on caffeine. While walking around Venice, I was rather groggy and my mind did not seem to be quite as sharp. I tired quickly, so the only option I had was to buy two-euro Cokes. Needless to say, Rome has made me a coffee fanatic.

Rush Hour

Growing up, repeatedly remember my parents lecturing me about always bracing for the worst possible circumstance in regards to travel. If I had a dentist appointment at two in the afternoon, my dad would insist that I leave fifteen minutes early because of rush hour raffic. If I had a basketball game nine in the evening, I was told to be weary of the dreaded late-night rush hour. To my parents, suburban Philadelphia was perpetually gridlock with cars all hours of the night.

Before leaving for Venice early Thursday morning, I wish I heeded my parents’ advice. As we walked toward the bus stop on Trastevere, we missed the first bus that leads to Termini train station. I was unnerved, because we still had ninety minutes before departure. However, by the time the next bus came, the Roman morning rush hour was in full force. The streets were jam-packed with cars and Vespas trying to maneuver through the crowded streets. Our gigantic bus was no match for these conditions, as it was unable to weave around the traffic because of its size. We had no option but to get off and hail a cab. Luckily, the cab driver was extremely skilled in these rough driving conditions, and in no time he had us at the station. I learned a valuable lesson that day: always expect the worst when traveling. I just wished this lesson resonated in my head from the countless times my parents told me the same thing because then I would not have had this misadventure.

Public Transportation Follies

Since I am fairly competent with the public transportation system in Philadelphia, I figured that I would quickly grasp the nuances of the Roman system. However, I was gravely mistaken, and my wallet and sanity can attest to that. When I first got to Termini, the line was extremely long so I tried out one of the quick purchase machines. Worried, I sought the aide of a police officer who was near me to assist me in figuring out the Italian writing on the screen. Graciously, he helped me pick the right train ticket that would lead me to the Fiumicino Airport. After about fifteen minutes on the train, I realized that it was not heading in the proper direction. Sure enough, this train dropped me off at Ciampino, so I was forced to back-track to Termini.

Back at Termini, I refused to press my luck with the machines and decided to excercise my patience and wait in line. Eventually, I purchased the correct ticket, but while waiting I missed the latest train. Finally, I reached my destination of Fiumicino. I was only two hours late for meeting my friend, but she was grateful of my actions. I like to believe that the police officer did not purposely send me to the wrong airport, so I will blame the series of errors on a communication breakdowns.

EUR

This new suburb south of Rome was built as a tribute to Fascism. It was constructed in the 1930's and the exhibition was planned to take place in 1942 but was delayed because of World War II. The sight was never used as it was intended but now holds several museums and government offices. Visitors today can expect to see examples of Fascist Architecture. This includes striking use of white marble, large fountains, and large scale monuments to the old style Rome. The dominating building in this space, the Palazzo della Civilta del Lavoro, resembles the style of the Colosseum. Although it is a taller square building, the Fascist architects kept the traditional style of arches throughout the structure. Another noteworthy building in the EUR is the Museo della Civilta Romana. This structure is actually two buildings linked by a portico, which is meant to represent ancient Roman history and the development of architecture. Inside the museum you will find a large model of ancient Rome, as well as a planetarium. Further to the south you will see the large Palazzo dello Sport which was built for the Olympics in 1960.

The museum is open Tuesday through Sunday from 9 a.m. to 1:30 p.m. but call ahead of time to double check and expect a moderate entrance fee.

To get to the EUR start from Termini train station. Take Linea B metro line to one of three stops. You can get off at EUR Magliana, EUR Palasport, or EUR Fermi. If you are not much for trains, take a bus. From Termini you can take the 714 bus to EUR.

Contributing group members: Brian McDonald, Shane St. Esprit, Dom Cifelli, Josie Moore, and lazy group member number 1 (Jenny Biedendorf)

Directions to San Clemente

From Termini, San Clemente is not a very far walk. To begin, turn left and head south on Via Carvour. Stay on this road until you reach San Maria Maggiore, and stop in. Turn left at the massive church and walk around it until you reach Via Merulana. On your right will be the Mueseo d' Arte Orientale. Keep walking down Merulana until you reach San Giovanni in Laterno. When finished inside there, turn left onto Giovanni in Laterano, a little side street. Eventually, on your right you will see San Clemente

When you go inside San Clemente, which is currently maintained by the Irish Dominicans, be sure to explore the catacombs. Although they are dark and extremely cramped, it is something that you may never get to see again. If you do not like tight areas, just walk around the outside in the courtyard and the upper level of the church. The upper level of the church is not nearly as big as the previous churches you visited, but it is still full of some beautiful artwork.

Directions to Pantheon

To reach the Pantheon from the Termini train station, start by turning left (south) from the Piazza del Cinquencento onto Via Cavour. Shortly, you will reach Santa Maria Maggiore, a very big and beautiful church you should visit. After you finish there, continue down Cavour until it bends to the right. At the bend, if you look on your left you will pass by San Pietro in Vincoli, a church that features one of Michelango's finest sculptures. From there, take a right on Vi Dei Fori Imperali when Carvour dead-ends. Take this road until it ends, then turn left on Via del Plebiscito. When you walk west on Plebiscito, you will reach Via Arenula. There, turn right down the alley. You will see the Pantheon from a distance, but first stop by Santa Maria sopra Minerva, another fascinating church.

The Pantheon is an enormous structure that is nearly 2000 years old. When it was built, it was supposed to be a shrine for all of the Roman gods. Half the enjoyment of the Pantheon is watching the people in the area. It is always packed with tourists, vendors, kids, and street performers. the piazza is generally over-crowded, which means there is never a shortage of entertainment. The inside area is small on the ground, but when you look to the sky you can sense how big this temple really is.

Italians and English

Before we packed our bags and headed off for Frankfurt last week, we realized the importance of having Jared with us. Jared has taken German since he was in the seventh grade, so it was nice having him on our team. He would be our dipolmat, our communicator, the one who could get us out of potentially sticky situations. When we walked up to our hotel, Jared spoke German to the clerk. Immediatley, she replied in English. She could tell by his accent that he was American. This was a common theme throughout the trip. We would go somewhere and attempt to speak the language, and people would simply respond in English. It seemed like they did not want to waste their time attempting to communicate through a language barrier.

On the other hand, in Rome it seems like no one speaks English. When I go to cafes, pizza shops, or restaurants, if I blurt something out in English, they shoot me a confused or annoyed look. To this day I still do not know if they are mad at me or genuinely lost by my words. They usually follow with a question in Italian, and this usually ends with me giving them the same exact look back. It's a vicious cycle, but I kind of enjoy and look foward the complications as weird as that sounds. Trying to communicate with people who do not understand me is like a puzzle or game; a game I usually lose. Sadly, this may be a game to me, but to the poor Romans it is an exhausting chore.

Weather

Just last week, I was complaining about how the rain and cool weather was growing tiresome. I whined that I could not meander around the city without getting soaked and that Rome was not supposed to have this climate. However, a week later I am longing for that brisk weather. This proves the old adage, you always want what you can't have. I guess I was idealistically hoping for a pleasurable balance. Sunny days with a a few clouds and a slight breeze. Those perfect days where you can walk around for hours without feeling the least bit uncomfortable because of the gentle wind. Sadly, I think the days of the cozy spring days are long gone.

I am a firm believer that excessive heat is blessed with the ability to drive people insane. People become confrontational, irritable, edgy, and petulant. For years I have witnessed this craziness as a caddy in Philadelphia. On the hot and humid days, generally nice guys complain for hours about slow play, get upset over pretty good shots, and even throw clubs. I truly feel that this primal behavior stems from people tiring of the scorching ball of fire the looms from above in the summer. Without air condition in our apartment or at school, I am scared that I may slip into a state of senility as the summer progresses. I have always had the luxury of air condition at home, so this next month without it may be the biggest culture shock that I will face on this trip.

Street Walking

When I first arrived in Rome, crossing streets was quite the ordeal. I was certain that at some point a car would hit me; I just prayed that it would not be too bad. The streets are jam-packed with cars like an American city, the only difference is that in Rome there are no apparent rules for driving. This is especially true for the Vespas. As cars are stopped at a red light, the bikers shoot past them and lead the pack of automobiles. When the little walking man flashes green, it is your turn to walk on the crosswalk. At first, I would jump up out of fear everytime while crossing because a Vespa would speed up right where I was walking, always halting in the nick of time.

Initially, I would look at them in shock thinking that they were erratic drivers who despised pedestrians. Through their facial expressions, they would tell me that these roads are meant for driving. As the weeks have progressed, I have become accustomed to the daily chaos in the streets. Now when the motorcycles zip close to me, I am undaunted by them and barely even flinch. Instead of waiting for the green walk man at crosswalks, I have become like the Romans who just bolt out whenever they feel like crossing. Their motto: the cars will stop for us. It is liberating to not fear being hit, but it is also a little troublesome. With one false move, there is a decent chance that my confidence will fail me and it could end horribly. This proves that being confident is not always a good thing.

Aira Condizionata

Compared to last week, which was unseasonably cool and rainy, this weather feels like a hot August day back in Philadelphia. Tuesday was by far the worst. We had a long walk to a few churches yesterday, and by the end of our trek my shirt was soaked and sweat was dripping down my face and back. I was craving a nice long shower to cool me down, but sadly we had more class in the afternoon. Our classroom is right next to some very busy streets, so in order to hear everyone we have to close the windows. It obviously gets even hotter and more uncomfortable. I am scared to see what this classroom will be like by the end of the summer.

While walking home, I walked by Gi-Ma and for the first time I noticed that all the doors were closed at this hour. Curious about this, I walked up to the door and noticed in small red and white print on the glass doors, "Aira Condizionata." Ah, air condition; something that is even better than the cold showers at our apartment. Our showers often feel more like sleet attacking your back than something soothing, so I decided to go in for a minute and cool down. This was around 5 PM, and this was the highest volume of people that I have ever seen in Gi-Ma. To go along with this, for the first time almost everyone was willing to pay a little extra to sit down at the tables while enjoying the artificial coolness. Businessmen in suits were eating paninis and drinking water while fanning themselves. Little kids were running around being little kids. Some couples were sitting at a table just conversing about their respective days over a cafe latte. Everyone was just trying to forget the excessive heat from earlier and relax in a nice, cool place. This was the first truly hot day of the summer, so I am sure that the Romans even need some time to adjust to the intense warmth.

What a fool I am

I have a theory about the Italian restaurants cafes. If it is packed with Americans, stay away. If it is packed with Romans, you stumbled upon a hidden gem. Luckily, right around the corner from our school is Remo's Pizzeria, a small little store that is nothing special to look at. The same man (is it Remo?!) works behind the counter every day, and each day he concocts a different yet equally delicous kind of pizza. Some of the the slices are rather exotic for the typcial American. For example, one that he makes often features eggs, prosciutto, and a paprika-like condiment sprinkled on top of the mozzerella.

Instead of paying by the slice, you tell him how big of a piece you want, usually via hand signals, then he weighs it and tells yow how much you owe. I thought I had this method down to a science, but yesterday I severely botched the order and embarrassed myself in front of my favorite pizza chef. I only had one euro in my pocket but was hungry, so I ask for one euro worth of the cheese pizza. Subconsciously, my four years of high school Spanish seeped into my brain and I blurted out "Uno euro, por favor" as I pointed to the cheese pizza. The man shot me a puzzled look, so I repeated, "Uno Euro, por favor." This time, he looked even more confused and irritated. Brian was standing next to me, so I gave him my own puzzled look. Brian softly whispered, "Spanish," and I finally realized the err or my ways.

The man finally intervened and said, "No. No 'uno.' Es un, un." My face started to turn bright red. As I stated earlier, this is a popular spot for the Italians so I imagined that he was incredibly frustrated over this American kid who thinks that Italian and Spanish are the same language.

Food Differences

Growing up in a completely Italian household has made me love pasta, meatballs, sausage, pork, and everything that we think of as Italian food. However, after arriving in Rome I realized fairly quickly that Italian food in Rome is not very similar to the American version. Here, there are no meatballs, I have seen sausage only on a few menus, and there is no such thing as chicken or veal parmesan. In Rome, the typical choices for food is some variation of pasta, pizza with exotic toppings, or a panini. To go along with this, most of the panini stands and shops offer only one type of meat, prosciutto. As a result, before going to Germany I was craving some delicious meat filled platters that I could gorge.

In Germany, we would stop at basically every vendor and restaurant that we saw to partake in some gluttony. All of the food was incredible. The potatoes were crispy. The sausages were tender and moist. It was everything I hope it would be. Not eating enough meat for two weeks as left me craving protein, so Germany was the perfect cure for this. I ate so much schnitzle, sausages, and brats that hopefully it should hold me for at least a couple more weeks. Until then, it is back to my diet of Italian foods.

Italy vs. Germany

Before heading over the Frankfurt, I thought that it would be a city like New York because of all the hustle and bustle that is so common in major business districts. Frankfurt is one of the main business centers in all of Europe, but if you walked around not know this you would not believe it. On Friday around noon, there were no people in the business areas and it resembled more of a ghost town than a major financial district. There were very few cars on the road, and not too many people on the street in the downtown areas. Granted this was a Friday, but it was early in the afternoon so it was suprising to see only a handful of suits with briefcases. Perhaps Frankfurt is different than the U.S. Maybe they get out extremely early. Nonetheless, this did suprise me.

After getting back to Rome around 10 PM, I immediatley noticed the differences between the two cities. It was pretty late on a Sunday, yet the roads were still packed with cars and Vespas, and there were a decent amount of people walking around. On Moday morning, I was overwhelmed by the mass amounts of people on the street because I became accustomed to the lax German attitude after spending just over two days there. The people in Germany walk and drive slower compared to Italians. In Rome, constantly you are being bumped into and passed by speed-walking pedestrians who are usually in a rush for no apparent reason. Although we flew for just two hours north of Rome, the two cultures are completely different. I kind of like the German easy-going ways because they never seemed rushed and it was more peaceful.

Caffeine

Before coming to Rome, I never thought that I would see a culture who guzzles as much caffeine as Americans. On the way to work, nearly everyone stops by a Dunkin' Donuts or a Starbucks to get the shot of adrenaline that they need to get through another macabre workday. Then during the day, the best way to escape from the dreaded cubicle is to get up and visit the coffee room. However, after going to Cafe Gi-Ma a few times during our lunch break, I see some of the same people there again ordering paninis and another shot of espresso. Italians love their coffee as much as the average American, and they must also get drained from their workdays just like us. Watching people in suits suck down an espresso in order to make it through the long and hot afternoon hours of work. I even think that the hours around noon may even be busier than in the mornings. But this is probably because we usually go around 8:45 AM, so most of the people are already at their jobs.

Analyzing the Romans

I have fallen into a routine with my favorite cafe, but I am curious to see how the actual Italians approach these shops, particular in the morning. Every now and then, I change it up a bit and get a cafe latte. The lattes are great at Gi-Ma, they fill it with whipped cream and then pour some chocolate syrup on the top which makes for quite the delectable shot of energy that I need in order to scrape by the early morning sessions. However, I go there basically every day during the week and I have not seen one Italian order anything other than espressos. This intriques me, as I thought everyone loves a little variety in life, but thus far I have not seen them stray away from their ways. Maybe I have just been there at bad times, but I wonder if they do drink anything else. One of these mornings, I am going to sit there for an extended period of time and really analyze what they eat and drink and how the interact with the workers.

On a positive note about the cafe, the woman behind the counter who works there every morning has begun to recognize us. Every morning, she shoots us a wide smile and tries to converse with us as much as possible. I know that has the days and weeks pass we will become even more familiar with each other.

The Vatican

Today while at the Vatican, which is spectacular by the way, I experienced different type of Roman congestion: the hoardes of tourists waiting in line at the entrance to the smallest country in the world. When we first got to the Vatican at around 9 AM, it was not quite pakced yet so we were able to move around freely and see everything without many problems. However, after some of us were finished walking around the tombs of the popes, we walked outside but made a wrong turn somewhere. Because of the error, we ended up outside of the Vatican and in order to get back in we had to wait in a line that almost reached to the entrance of the city. I wanted to go back in, so I figured that the line would move somewhat swiftly but I was wrong. As more and more people began piling up behind me, I was overwhelmed but the amount of different languages that were being spoken and the sheer volume of people in a condensed area. After realizing that the line was moving at the speed of a slow crawl, I finally gave up and headed home. At least I know I will go back there soon to see everything, so I was not too upset.

Shelter

For the last three-four days, Rome has been bombarded with sudden down-pours and perpetual cloudy skies. Before coming, I was expecting every day to be filled with sunshine and sweltering heat, but so far it has been semi-cool and overcast. I am not complaining about the temperature, but I would like to see the sun a little more. This weather has directly influenced the number of people who go in to the Gi-Ma Cafe during the days. Last week, there was always a steady flow of customers who would come in and out quickly to get a quick bite or coffee. But this week, the afternoon rainstorms has meant that there have been more people packed inside Gi-Ma because they are seeking shelter from the horrendous weather. Instead of being able to casually stroll to the counter and order something, I need to wiggle my way in and stand shoulder-to-shoulder with the people on both sides of me as I eat. Although this has made my lunch a little more hectic, I am sure the owners of the cafe do not mind this weather because it means more business for them.

The Morning Commute

Yesterday morning, I actually slept later than 6:30 which was a first for me this trip. However, the ramifacation of sleeping-in meant that I actually had to take the tram for the first time in the morning. I did not think this would be a problem, but as I waited at the stop and saw the tram pull closer and closer to me, I quickly realized how crowded they get during the morning rush hour. Trying to squeeze in was extremely difficult as there were not many places to move or stand. It was almost like everyone was playing human Tetris, just tryng to fit their bodies into tight spaces somehow. To make matters worse, the roads were full of traffic, so the tram took about 20 minuntes to get to the last stop. Also, we are one of the earlier stops, so as the trip progressed it got more and more crowded. Finally, we reached the end and I got off the tram with sweat tripping down my face. With so many people there, it got extremely hot and uncomfortable. I have been on congested public transportation vehicles before, like the Philadelphia and NYC subways, but there were so many people crammed in that I actually felt uneasy. Needless to say, from now on I am going to try my best to continue waking up early instead of having to deal with jam-packed tram.

Bingo con't

Although Jared winning was probably the highlight of our night, the real reason that bingo was so much fun for us was the two Italian women seated next to us. At first, we thought they knew at least a little English, but we quickly noticed that they did not understand one word we said. This led to an interesting and hilarious night, as we would try to communicate as we flipped through Jared's English-Italian translation book. The pinnacle was when we attempted to order some French fries for the table. After finally figuring out what the Italian equivalent for our nation's favorite appetizer, the women next to us began to laugh hysterically about the name "French fries." Although I could not understand completely, they seemed shocked that we would name a food that is so immersed in our culture after another country. The fries were delicious, they were the thick kind where you can actually taste the potato. The only problem is that they do not use ketchup in Italy. We asked the women, and they seemed surprised that people would dip their fries in ketchup. Instead, the only condiment we received was mayonnaise, which was equally as shocking to us. All in all, it was a very fun night because we were able to have legitimate, albeit choppy and unpredictable, with two Italians who helped us with words, pronunciations, and fed us little tidbits about he culture.

Jared Penn is my hero

Whilst sitting around bored on a Monday night bored because we have no TV or internet, Brian had a stroke of genius. The other day while walking to get gellatos, we passed by a Bingo parlor not thinking much of it. Brian suggested we go, as we needed something to cure the malaise that we were all experiencing. Myself, Jared, and Brian went to the parlor not knowing what to expect. As we walked down the corridor and stairwell into the main bingo hall, we expected the building to be packed with screaming Italian senior citizens, because everyone knows that screaming seniors and bingo is like Forest Gump and Jenny. However, upon entering the main room that was musky from all of the chain-smokers, we realized that this was pretty serious. After finding our seat in a booth next to two middle-aged Italian women, we were thrilled to learn that single tickets were only one euro, so we were headed for a night of cheap, innocent fun. The Italian man reading the bingo balls rattled off the numbers so quickly, so initially it was hard to find the numbers on our slips. Although I ended up losing close to ten euro for the night, the real champion ended up being Jared. In about his sixth game, Jared won the grand prize and turned his one euro into a whopping 140, which he said would pay for the trip to Paris that he just booked. When his last number was called, we all enthusiastically jumped in the air and screamed bingo, not even caring about the scene we just made. Thankfully, everyone there smiled at us because they knew it just made our night.

Soccer Game

While watching the Roma game in the street, an Italian man wearing a maroon and gold Roma shirt approached Cole, Brian, and I and started asking us questions about what had happened in the game thus far. This seemed unusual to me, as clearly we look like Americans by the way we dress, walk, act, and even stand, so why out of a crowd of nearly 100 people in the street would he ask us? Then it hit me, I look like a citizen here. So far, multiple times random Romans at bars, on the tram, or on the streets have tried having a civilized chat with me, the only problem is that I do not know the language. After they find this out, they typically roll their eyes and turn around in disgust. I am not quite sure yet if they are annoyed at me for being an American or if they are just embarrassed for the mistake. Regardless, because of my looks and if I am dressed appropriately, I know that this misconception will not be uncommon, so at least this will give me some practice in cross-language conversation.

how i wish i was a rich man

On Sunday afternoon after watching the Roma game with some real Italian soccer fanatics, we decided to go for a walk in the area around the Campo. After getting somewhat lost and wandering around aimlessly for an hour or so, we ended up on the road that leads to the Spanish Steps. Most people are amazed by the steps, which truly are a sight to behold, but something else caught my attention: the designer stores on the street. Now granted, I know nothing about fashion. My idea of getting dressed up is wearing a pair of jeans and some t-shirt that I found at the bottom of one of my drawers, but these stores were unreal. Out of pure curiosity, we went in to the Gucci store just to see how much a suit cost. Upon entering the glass doors, I suddenly realized that I was wearing shorts and one of my aforementioned so-stylish t-shirts. The woman who was working kind of shot me an awkward look, so I immediatly put my head down and made a direct and swift move to the stairs that led to the men's department. After navigating through the store, I finally found the suit department. The first suit I looked at was a black pinstripe three-piece suit. The price: a modest 1400 euro. The second suit was an all black, and upon feeling the material, I realized that the appeal to these fine suits is that you would feel as if you were walking around so freely, almost like you were not wearing anything. This suit was even more expensive, selling for 1600 euro. Sheepishly, I left the store knowing that I really did not belong there. Someday, after I hit the lottery, I will be the most stylish man in the world after I stock my wardrobe with suits that are worth even more money.

crowded streets

Since day one, or for that matter even before I made my trek overseas, I was bombarded with warnings about the thieves and scoundrels whom possess the ability to accurately pinpoint a tourist and rob them blindly. We were taught to be leery of the pick-pocketers that are supposedly lurking in every back-alley and crowded street in Rome, but so far I have not had or seen any problems. With the aforementioned population density that is omnipresent every morning, day, and night, occasionally I catch myself peering over my shoulders afraid that my valuables will be snatched without me ever noticing. Being cautious about pick-pocketers a culture shock to me, as I have gladly become attached to the friendly confines of State College, where the fear of crime somehow exceeds the scope of being considered an afterthought. However, so far there have been no problems and hopefully there will be none, as that could put a serious damper on my trip.

my cafe

The Gi-Ma Café, located about two blocks from my classroom, is a little larger inside than most of the other cafes that I have strolled past, but it still maintains a quaint and welcome feeling. For a little lover a euro, you can buy either a café latte or an espresso along with a freshly baked pastry. In an earlier post, I already professed my undying love for the coffees here in Rome, so this time I will turn my attention to the pastries. I have been to Gi-Ma about four times since I arrived in Rome, and each time I have treated myself to a different pastry each time, and each one can be described a culinary perfection in my humble opinion. I am no food connoisseur, but I do believe that these are the finest pastries that I have ever gorged, and I will miss these when I go back to the states.

local market

For barely learning any Italian in the three days that I have been here, going to the local outdoor market in Campo di Fiori to buy some food was a bold move to say the least. Thankfully, Jared and his one semester of Italian accompanied me on my excursion. Walking through a throng of customers and vendors screaming and bartering with each other what overwhelming at first, but after getting over the initial shock I was mentally ready to buy some meat and cheese. With Jared standing by my side and an English-Italian translator ready in case of an emergency, we sheepishly approached an elevated booth where an older woman peered down at us, and we began to order. Promptly, we realized that she spoke no English, so it was time to improvise. Attempting to nail the pronunciation down as good as possible, we asked for a “meta” (half) kg of prosciutto and a “quarto” (quarter) kg of mozzarella. After a few failures, repeats, and clarifications, she finally comprehended what we were saying and we got a good amount of food for a modest 15 euros.

My new love

The coolest part about Rome to me so far is the cafes, which offer delicious coffee, quick service with a smile, and generally friendly banter between the server and I. Of course, I do not speak much Italian so our conversations are usually choppy and feature lots of hand motioning. Although the friendliness is a nice aspect to these places, it is unimportant because the crown jewel of these little shops is the coffee. My taste buds experience sheer bliss with each sip of an espresso or cafe latte. Although small, only about 2-3 inches high, the taste of an espresso would make any American coffee aficionado profess his undying love for Italian cafes. After going to these places, I do not think that I will ever be able to go to a Starbucks or American coffee shop again. Unlike those places, these shops are generally fairly priced and offer scrumptious food also. As a result, I am going to frequent the same café and observe the everyday happenings. Hopefully I will be able to analyze the daily interactions that occur in the café for both the average Italian looking for some morning coffee and us students.

The City Life

I feel like I am in New York City. The cars. The hoardes of people. The constant brushing up on people as you try to squeeze by on a crowded street. The only difference is the smell. Unlike most major U.S. cities, Rome lacks to ungodly stench that frequent its American counterparts. This amazes me because the density of rome greatly surpasses any American metropolitan. With 50 million tourists coming every year, the streets are perpetually crowded with both tourists and locals, and I am able to witness this every day as I casually walk 45 miuntes to and from school every day. As I meander down the sidewalks, which are about a quarter the size of the typcial American sidewalk that I am accustomed to, I get bumped and walk into people constantly. But soon enough I know I will get used to both the auto and pedestrian traffic that accomponies this beautiful city.

Welcome to Rome

Welcome friends, this is where i will attempt to channel my inner Hunter S. Thompson and dive into the realm of gonzo journalism via this blog. However, unlike Mr. Thompson I hope that I can provide everyone with my insight and vivid descripitions of Rome without the aid of drug-induced hallucinations. First, I would like to detail my initial encounters with the local Romans, on whom I cannot help but feel that I am intruding on every day. Like the stereotypical American elitist, I came to this country with absolutely no knowledge of the Italian language or customs because I was raised to think that the American lifestyle is the only lifestyle. Naturally, my first conversations with the Italians were awkwardly hilarious to say the least. On this blog, I will continue to update the progress of effort to pick up little nuances of the language over the coming weeks, which will hopefully lead to an improvement in my Italian social skills.