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.

A Retrospective Perspective

Today is my last day in Perugia. It's not over yet: I still have to finish packing, clean, and I have dinner with some friends later tonight. But today has been a day of goodbyes. To friends, to class, and to the places I've come to cherish over the past month.

It's difficult, especially since this month has passed so quickly. I feel like I arrived in Perugia last week, and that there is so much more for me to do. I want another month, or at least another week. But I leave early tomorrow morning, and I'm trying not to think about it.

To use my last day to its fullest, I wandered around Perugia with Helen for a few hours. We went to the Etruscan Well, the remnants of the old fortress, the panoramic view of the city, and to lunch. Later, before dinner, we'll visit one of Perugia's churches. And I'll probably be up late, mopping and sweeping and dusting and throwing things away.

But I'm not ready to say goodbye.

A Jaunt in Orvieto

This past weekend, I made the executive decision to not go on a long trip. I love Italy and I love studying the language and I definitely love traveling, but it's all very exhausting. It's a kind of bone-deep weariness that doesn't leave easily. So I spent Saturday in my pajamas, eating Nutella-stuffed French toast and scrambled eggs with Helen and surfing the Internet.

But when Sunday came, it was time for a change of scenery. Despite the complaints of my body, I got myself up before noon for a short trip. We took a late train to Orvieto, a small Umbrian town about two hours away. It was raining, the trains kept getting delayed, and we spent more time traveling than we did in the city itself, but I have to say that Orvieto is one of my favorite places here in Italy. The Duomo of Orvieto is, according to my guidebook, "funky." The paintings in one of its small chapels inspired Salvador Dali, if you should need any evidence for that description. And yes, the chapel was beautiful, but I kept turning towards the entrance of the church, like a desperate little sunflower.

Despite being worth a thousand words, pictures cannot do it justice.

The proportions were perfect, the ceiling deceptively simple...I could probably rapture about it for much longer than you would care to listen. Helen felt the same way about this particular Duomo, which made me feel slightly less crazy for adoring it so much. It was a wrench to leave. To me, it achieved something beautiful: it made me look up and smile. And that made it feel like an actual house of God, rather than just a particularly magnificent building.

Delayed by the Duomo, we didn't have any time to tour underground Orvieto, so we spent our remaining hour wandering the streets before we took the funicolare (cable car) back down to the train station for the long ride back. It was too short a time, but even a small taste of Orvieto was a treat.

Perusing Perugia

Being at ends on Friday afternoon, Helen and I decided that it was high time that we explored the cultural sites Perugia has to offer. After all, we sort of live here. Now, Perugia isn't the number one tourist destination in Umbria, despite being the regional capitol and (I think) the biggest city. That title goes to Assisi, but that doesn't mean that Perugia entirely lacks culture (even if some of the students here do...)

Our first stop was Perugia's very own Duomo. It isn't the nicest cathedral; parts of the walls seemed to have been finished only because a church ought to have some structural integrity, but it's there and it's free. And right outside the Duomo is the heart of Perugia: the Fontana Maggiore, and the steps of the Palazzo dei Priori. There are always people here: tourists taking pictures, students eating gelato, locals drinking beer, children chasing pigeons, etc. etc. Nowadays, the steps serve more as seats than as a means of ascension into the Palazzo. As a matter of fact, I sat on them my first day in Perugia, gaping at my incomprehensible map while pigeons explored the edibility of my suitcase.

We bought a card that allows us into five of the various cultural sites in the city, complete with the fastest-moving audio guide I have heretofore experienced. While the Duomo isn't much to look at, Perugia does have other places to inspect, like the offices of the old guildhalls. Forget cubicles and fake plants: the guilds hired famous artists (like Perugino, Raphael's teacher) and talented artisans to turn their conference rooms into displays of opulence and wealth that would put Hollywood celebrities to shame.

Along with the old guild offices, the Palazzo dei Priori also houses the art museum. The collection mostly consists of variations on "Madonna and Child," but I can't complain about that without bordering on heresy... Actually, it was interesting to see how different artists chose to paint the Holy Family, and there were some truly beautiful pieces that merited a second look. (And considering how hungry I was at the time, they had to be truly compelling to get me to stop.)

This is where I live, at least for another week. Time flies when you're having fun and getting lost, and I've been doing a lot of both for the past month.

Frolicking in Florence

Helen and I boarded a train for Florence/Firenze last Saturday morning, off on another adventure. We found our hostel easily, both having copied down the directions off the website. And then we were off to meet classmate Chelsea at Ponte Vecchio. Of course, there were many stops for photos along the way.

Travel buddy...personal photographer...Helen has many talents.

After we met up with Chelsea, we went to the leather market. After being schmoozed by several desperate salesmen, Chelsea found a jacket, I found a bag, and Helen found lunch. We were all pretty happy with the results.

We went to the Duomo, of which I couldn't resist taking about 50 pictures, all from various angles and times of day.

This is  photo #45 out of the 53 I took of the Duomo. 

It was suitably impressive, and I was suitably impressed. Not enough to climb the Duomo for the view, but I ended up getting the exercise and the panorama anyway.

We made our obligatory stop at a gelateria (yes, it was obligatory), and then parted ways. Helen and Chelsea went to explore more of Florence, so they ended up in a cafe. I applaud their logic and their priorities. I, on the other hand, went to explore the Uffizi, home of Botticelli's The Birth of Venus. I rather enjoyed traversing an art museum on my own; I set my own pace, elbowing my way through tour groups crowding around the art like the Magi around baby Jesus.

Footsore and overheated, I met up with the now-solo Helen, Chelsea having returned to Perugia. We returned to our hostel to clean up and sit down. It took the promise of dinner to put me back up onto my feet and the streets of Florence.

Rough translation: "There is what there is." And what there was, was good.

Needless to say, we slept well that night. Which was a good thing, considering our adventure on Sunday. We got up, changed into comfortable clothes and sneakers, experimented with the coffee vending machine, and checked out of the hostel before most of the other guests hit the snooze button. Armed with more directions, we found the offices of Florence by Bike for our tour of the Chianti region just outside the city.

We had no idea what we were getting ourselves in to. Which was a good thing, since I'd have probably run away screaming had I known about the hills.

There are prices to pay for views, but the aching muscles were worth it. It was a beautiful sunny day, and we rode through miles of vineyards, olive groves, and quiet towns. There are worse ways to spend a day, and the sense of accomplishment after we braked for the last time, back in Florence after a 20 mile ride, was priceless.

Out of respect for those who would be sitting in our vicinity on the train ride back to Perugia, Helen and I returned to the hostel not only to pick up our bags, but also to clean up a bit and rehydrate. Feeling (and smelling) much better, we walked back to the train station and collapsed into seats in the closest compartment.

To be honest, it took a day or two before we fully recovered from our adventure, and I still cringe a little at the thought of a bike seat, but I'll say it again: it was worth it.