A Week of Firsts

"You've had a lot of firsts this week, haven't you?" Sanna commented. This astute observation came after I said, for the umpteenth time, "I've never done [insert activity here] before!" And it's true. I've done a lot of things most people my age haven't. But there are a lot of things that I haven't done. So...my week of firsts in Sweden:

I went to Sweden.

I ate wild strawberries, rasberries, and blueberries.

I love rasberries.

And tried cloudberry and lingonberry jam.

Photo courtesy of Sanna. Cloudberry jam courtesy of her grandmother.

 I played darts.

I shopped in loppis (Swedish secondhand stores).

I went to a Swedish sing-a-long. I'm sure my pronunciation was horrific, but I gave it my best.

I helped rescue a bird.

And...I went fishing! I didn't catch anything, but it was still fishing, I think. I wouldn't know any better.

To Grandmother's House We Go

Exploring the garden.

Surprises everywhere.

Spoiling our appetite.

We finally pulled ourselves away from exploring the garden, as dinner waited within. We had pork pancakes (so delicious) with lingonberry and cloudberry jam.

With a fancy glass of milk to wash it down.

Sanna took this picture of her taking a picture. So meta.

Seeing my Swedie

I arrived in Umea late in the evening, tired after three (surprisingly stress-free) flights hopping from Rome to Paris to Stockholm to Umea. But I was immediately cheered to see a set of distinctive red bangs hovering at the top of the crowd, waiting for me. Sanna drove me from the airport to her family's apartment on the outskirts of the city. It was a very exciting experience, though that may have been the haze of exhaustion.

For my first day in Sweden, Sanna and I wandered around Umea, shopping and catching up. Not even a surprise rain shower could dampen our spirits, as we took shelter in a cafe for hot chocolate. When we returned to her apartment, I was introduced to my new favorite anime, Fairy Tail.

What otaku we are.

The next day, we walked down by the river and got snacks, enjoying the return of the sunshine.

We didn't stay out long, as my migraine attacks returned with the sunshine. Sanna was a particularly good nurse, putting me to bed right away and making me tea when I got up. She distracted me with Fairy Tail until my headache finally dissipated and made me pancakes when I felt well enough.

The next day, we prepared to go to the summer cottage. We were delayed, however, by an unexpected guest Sanna picked up in a local puddle. He called shotgun, tried to drive the car, made us pull over for snacks, and didn't even say "thank you" as he took his leave. Of course, we still don't know his name. Or whether he was a he or a she.

行きましょう！

Investigating the Vatican

The Vatican. I would like to say that my grand entrance into that bastion of Christendom was a graceful one.

But no. The Line A of the Rome Metro was in a tizzy, so I escaped from the underground for a bus and some fresh air. Crowding onto a bus with other tourists and some nuns, I bobbled about until, judging by the mass exodus of said nuns, I had reached the stop closest to St. Peter's. Bypassing semi-desperate tour guides in search of an audience, I proudly presented my reservation to the guard at the Vatican Museum. He was not impressed, but he did let me in, so I didn't quibble with him.

And then I got lost. Now, my ability to get positively turned about in a building has added numerous gray hairs to my venerable mother's head, particularly when she lost me in a massive Hobby Lobby. I was 16. Too confused to find a map, I just followed the signs and the tour groups.

This does NOT help with disorientation.

Somehow, it worked. Eventually I realized that I was, in fact, seeing everything I was supposed to. The Hall of Maps, the Laocoon group, the Raphael rooms, the Sistine Chapel, etc. etc. Being slightly lost made the whole experience like exploring, which was fun in a dizzying, confusing sort of way. I really enjoyed the museum. The Sistine Chapel was beautiful, though the security guards seemed to have been chosen for their anger management issues.

I got lost again finding the exit, but once again I followed my feet, and managed to stumble upon the Basilica. I went through metal detectors and under the inspection of the Vatican fashion police, on the lookout for spaghetti straps and miniskirts. I felt like I was back in private school, tugging down my skirt for a particularly strict teacher. Having been deemed suitable for entrance, I was set loose on the Basilica.

I spent most of my time craning my neck, trying to get a better glimpse of the beautiful ceilings, and the statuary placed at inconveniently high levels. St. Peter's is the product of centuries of decoration, and it was slightly overwhelming. I couldn't figure out where I was supposed to look, so I just kept looking. Even as I was leaving, I was turning around trying to catch a last glimpse of it all.

Returning to the sunshine, I accosted another tourist to take my photo.

Castel St. Angelo was closed, so I walked through the covered market before returning to the hostel. And yes, I got thoroughly lost. Domes, it seems, aren't particularly useful landmarks in a city full of them.

I got up early the next morning and trundled my suitcase back to the train station. It was a thoroughly uneventful trip, a pleasantly anticlimactic farewell to Italy. The flight from Rome left on time. The gate in Paris was near food and restrooms. (It was even the same exact gate for my flight from Paris to Rome last month.) I didn't get lost in the Arlanda airport. And, waiting for me in Umea, was my dear friend Sanna.

When in Rome...Do Stuff

I "slept in" today, which meant I got up after 8. Most of the other girls in my room had already up and went, allowing me to get ready in relative privacy and quiet. I tried to keep my pace slow, but inbred habits (thanks, Mom) prevent me from strolling for too long.

My first stop was the Musei Capitolini, home to some amazing statuary and other bits of ancient Rome. From colossal statues of Marcus Aurelius and Constantine (poor Constantine was in impressively-sized pieces) to the famous wolf statue with Romulus and Remus, I enjoyed wandering through the blank gazes and broken noses of the museum's collection. My favorite part was a selection of busts of Roman women, with the emphasis on their elaborate hairstyles. In fact, a lot of the museum's focus was on the cultural context of Roman statuary, making it popular with history and art history students (who get in for 2 euro, the lucky dogs).

I dragged myself down from the museum and back into the streets of Rome. I sauntered past the blindingly-white monument to Vittorio Emanuele II (also known as "the wedding cake"), examined Trajan's column, and wandered to the Trevi Fountain. As the hour drew closer to 14.00, I returned to the train station to meet Chelsea, a classmate of mine from Perugia. She had a few hours before her flight back to the States, so we dropped her luggage off at an office in the train station and set off for a little mini-adventure before her departure. She was glad for a chance to wander around Rome, and I was glad for some companionship. My internal dialogue gets stale after a while.

We found lunch, which can be a little difficult around 15.00. We went to the Trevi Fountain and took pictures and threw in our coins, which is supposed to guarantee our return to Rome. We wondered if our chances or quality of said returns were lessened if we threw in a two cent coin versus a whole euro or two.

If the quality of my return trip is based on how much I threw in, let's just say that there aren't any 5 star hotels in my future.

We went to the Pantheon, marveling for a short time at its beauty before realizing that Chelsea needed to go back to the train station ASAP. The nearest metro station, funnily enough, was right next to the Spanish Steps. Since it wasn't high on my list of places to go (Perugia's steps take precedence in my heart), it was nice to stop for a minute or two for a picture and have a reason to move on.

I didn't want those flowers...

After shoving the half-wilted roses back into the hands of a dedicated vendor, we hopped on the Metro and went back to the Termini. It took a bit of a jog and the help of some moving walkways, but we got Chelsea onto the express train to the airport just in time. It was also just in time, conveniently enough, for me to call it a day.

Vado a Roma

Trying not to think about leaving my new friends behind and worried about making my connection in Foligno, I boarded the train departing from Perugia with a rather weighty heart. For the past month, Perugia has been home, with all of its ups and downs (quite literally, as it's a hill). It wasn't easy leaving it behind, so I listened to upbeat music (thank you, Michael Buble and Michelle Branch) to take my mind off of it all.

Nothing went amiss with the trains, which is quite the victory considering the very common occurrences of delays, cancellations, strikes, etc. I did, however, get sexually harassed at the train station by an old man who tried to give me my first kiss (evasive techniques were deployed). Using the shelter of my guidebook to ignore him, I sent a little prayer of thanksgiving to the heavens when another Stranieri student from Perugia purposely cornered my attentions until he went away. Even though she spoke no English, I understood one word: "maniac."

Needless to say, I was kind of shaken by the experience. I rarely get any of that kind of attention in the States, so I was unprepared for the comments as I walked down the street to class or the grocery store. It didn't really matter what I was wearing or the time of day. And even though I knew that this kind of thing is common in Italy, I didn't expect it to be this frightening. The constant reminders that I am being objectified was/is terrifying, and it's not something I'm going to miss.

I had recovered from my experience by the time I reached Rome. The sunshine did a great deal to get me out of my funk, to which I promptly returned as I dragged my suitcase to the hostel. Thankfully, it wasn't far, and I put my feet up for a while as I contemplated my map. I decided to seize the hot afternoon, making my way to the historical center of Rome. Taking the wise advice of my guidebook to heart, I skipped the long ticket line at the Colosseum and bought a combined ticket at the Forum/Palatine Hill entrance.

Colossal, yes, but not as much as the amount of people trying to get in.

With no one else to entertain but myself, I wandered aimlessly through the ruins. The people watching was, I have to admit, just as fascinating as the ancient columns and tumbled stones. Many tourists sat on those stones, overwhelmed by the heat of the day, the same thing my brother, mom, and I did when we last visited the Forum eleven years ago. Some things, I guess, don't change.

After deciding that my symptoms of dehydration were starting to dwarf my enjoyment of the ruins, I exited to be promptly ripped off by a nearby vendor selling cold beverages to desperate tourists such as myself. Fortified by Green Mango Powerade, I tried not to smile too triumphantly as I breezed past the long line of people waiting in front of the Colosseum to enter with my nifty combined ticket.

It's hard to picture crowds of people cheering on gladiators and various wild animals, because now the crowds are planking on ancient stones and posing for pictures with cheery smiles. The most realism I found was in the exhibit of Roman graffiti, with stones carved with fighting gladiators, snarling beasts, and praises for the crowd favorites. All done, I'm sure, during half time or a time out for a commercial break.

When they weren't waiting in line for the Roman equivalent of hot dogs and nachos.

Snapshots

My own little corner, my own little chair...

The Ham Palace

Panna cotta... Yum

Corso Vanucci

Sitting on the Steps, enjoying my final afternoon in Perugia.