The Adventures of Maria, Luigi, and Toadistoola

If you're curious about the title, think back to old-school video games. Mario Kart, anyone? These became our Italian names for the week. And oh, what fun it is imitating the Italian accent! Yes, your long-lost French blog-writer has returned. I've been back in France since last Saturday night.

I've been wondering how in the world I will recount all my stories to you in one blog entry. There's the strategy of my friend Clare: write the highlights. And there's the strategy of my friend Stephanie: write in installments. However, I love words... AND details. So, unfortunately for you, you get neither highlights nor installments. You get the whole kit and kaboodle. Fortunately, however, I have not yet had time to write about Greece. So you'll get one post now about Rome and the next post at the end of the weekend about Greece. I would suggest grabbing a cup of coffee and sitting someplace comfortable. For those who dare, you have a lot of reading ahead of you...

I left Friday morning on a train from Nantes to Paris. I always find myself people-watching on the train- there was the 40-year old man sitting next to me playing video games, the couple across from me eating fruit cake, and the business women chatting in French (a conversation I actually understood)! Arriving at the airport, I discovered that I had plenty of time to spare. I bought an overly priced sandwich for lunch and plopped down to read my newly purchased French version of Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants. When it was finally time to check in and go through security, I started to get nervous because not only was everyone’s carry-on bag much smaller than mine, but the airline was making people pay for and check these small bags. As I stepped up to the counter, I thought Please, God… I can’t afford to check my bag! The woman had me weigh the bag and I have to believe that God somehow blinded her vision because she said nothing and handed me my boarding pass. Praise the Lord!

After waiting in a cramped waiting room for an hour and a half, we finally got in line to board the plane. I heard a guy behind me ask, “You’re American, eh?” as he pointed in the direction of my passport. This guy and I began talking and we discovered that we were both studying in France, just in different cities. We began comparing notes regarding American culture and French culture – a conversation that lasted our entire “wait-in-line” time. We agreed to meet after our flight to take the train into Rome together. It was incredibly nice to have a traveling companion because up until that point, I had begun to feel a bit lonely. Finding the train was a process but having Mike there to lead the way was great. Fortunately he was a good conversationalist because we spent the next 30 minutes on the train talking too. He also had a terrible traveling solo experience during his semester abroad and we both agreed that having someone with you is the way to go. When the train arrived at Termini Station in Rome, we parted ways and I went running towards Colleen and Clare (my two friends from Hope who are studying in Spain and with whom I traveled in Rome) who were waiting near the platform. It was the most wonderful sensation to see familiar faces and to hear familiar voices. As we walked towards our lodging, we were like three long-lost friends who hadn’t seen each other in years. We couldn’t catch up fast enough – cutting each other off and telling story after story after story. It was great.

We actually ended up spending most of the week with Clare’s brother, John. He is a grad student studying in Rome this semester. A program through his school facilitates a housing situation – a mini “dorm” of sorts run by a man and his family living in Italy. But there are probably only 15 or so students who live with them, most from John’s school in the States. Anyway, for only 15 euro a night, we could stay in their spare room and eat a free lunch. We didn’t know this until we arrived, though, so Colleen and I had already booked hostels. We were able to cancel all but two nights.

The first night we stayed at John’s. So we settled in and then headed out for some much-needed dinner. John took us to a really cool part of town (after a stop at the Colosseum) for pizza at this really authentic but cheap Italian restaurant. We sat outside eating the most delicious margherita pizza and catching up some more. We spent some time after dinner walking around Rome and a mere half hour later, I had fallen in love with the city. There were restaurants left and right with outdoor seating at cute tables and twinkle lights hanging above. Everything was so historic and picturesque. It was simply quaint.

The next morning Colleen and I headed to our hostel, which was in a city outside of Rome called Ostia. It was quite the trek and we were both thankful we would only have to make it for two days. The hostel was huge and certainly nice but it was too far from the city for my taste. Additionally, on the website they had advertised its location on the beach. The beach, however, was quite dirty and not exactly the definition of serene. Col and I picnicked on the beach that afternoon but it was not exactly “top-notch” despite the fact that we only paid 3 euro each for quite a feast!

That evening we met our roommates, two Belgian girls, who seemed quite nice. After a rousing game of ping-pong (ha!), Colleen and I wandered around Ostia for awhile before finding a cute Italian (of course) restaurant at which to eat. I had a most delicious salmon-fettuccini mix and Colleen tried gnocchi. We learned that in Italy, you must ASK for the bill (after waiting close to an hour for our check) and there is always a service charge/bread charge for sitting down and eating. There was a little girl sitting at the table next to us who was completely enamored by us and our English. She couldn’t stop staring! We also discovered the “flower-sellers” of Italy. The immigrants, unable to find other jobs, wander around selling toys and roses. It wouldn’t be all that unusual except for the fact that they’re allowed to come into the restaurants and bother the customers. We were approached no less than three times during dinner by the same man trying to sell us roses!

When we arrived back at our hostel, we discovered that one of our Belgian roommates was sick (she had the trash can strategically placed at her bedside). Colleen and I reasoned that they must have extra beds somewhere as big as the place was (and neither of us envied getting sick for our first few days in Rome). So we explained the situation to the front desk and they very kindly moved us to our own room! And we were thus able to sleep in peace.

For approximately five hours. We woke up at 5 a.m. to make our hour’s journey back into the city in order to meet Clare, John, and another girl from John’s school named Heidi. Colleen and I had a little bit of trouble finding the train station in Ostia, a challenge that had us making a mad dash in our church dresses after a bus heading in the right direction. If only there had been someone tape-recording us…

We surprisingly made it to our destination on time. The five of us met a friend of John and Heidi’s named Bistra, a Bulgarian woman who has lived in Rome for 5 years. She was a welcome addition to the group and so sweet. We made a quick stop at the most delicious pastry shop for chocolate-lemon pastry gooeyness and a cappuccino. We then headed to Palm Sunday mass with the Pope. The mass was held in Vatican City in front of St. Peter’s Basilica. John managed to get us each a ticket and we made our way through the mob to get some relatively good seats. The mass was one of the most interesting experiences I’ve had. It began with the procession of bishops, cardinals, etc… followed lastly by Pope Benedict himself. We were standing quite close to him at that point, but the procession eventually moved to the front of the basilica. The mass was close to 3 hours long and it was spoken in multiple languages, although the primary language spoken was Italian. Even though I didn’t understand what was being said, I used the mass booklet to compare the language to French. They’re surprisingly similar. Near the end of the mass, the Pope gave a “shout-out” to various countries, speaking in their respective languages. This was the most intriguing part because any people in the crowd from whichever country he was addressing would begin screaming and yelling at the beginning of his discourse. We quickly learned that the Spanish and the Polish were the best represented and consequently, the loudest. Graffiti signs made especially for the pope were held up and a loud chanting of “Viva el Papa!” resounded among the crowd. It was most certainly a very different Palm Sunday from that of Knox Presbyterian.

After watching the Pope ride through the crowd in his Pope mobile, we headed in search of gelato. Having mandatory daily gelato became a sort of joke between us throughout the week – but we took this joke VERY seriously. Not a day went by that didn’t contain the wonderfulness of Italian gelato. It was of course necessary to try new flavors and to search for the-best-price-for-the-most-gelato place. This task, though, did not prove to be difficult (how could it?) and we were able to find the most adorable gelato place (as we did all other days) after mass on Sunday. I’m also fairly certain that most all of the Italian words I learned that week revolve around ordering gelato.

After gelato, we stopped for lunch (spaghetti) and then did a little sight-seeing. We saw Piazza Navonna (a little plaza with a bunch of vendors selling their artwork), the Pantheon (the famous “dome” rooftop that apparently keeps most of any rain out despite the open hole at the top of the dome), and the Trevi Fountain (fondly dubbed the “Trygve” fountain by Colleen). We dutifully threw a penny over our shoulders into the fountain which is supposed to signify your return to Rome one day. I can only hope it works!

After a little down-time and a stop at the grocery store for dinner (where an Italian woman so kindly rolled her eyes at us for attempting to buy chicken by speaking Italian), we headed out for the evening. Bistra wanted to take us to a Bavarian bar, so we met up with her and Heidi, and the six of us made the walk across town. On our way, Bistra showed us her “lucky fountain” that she insisted we drink from. These little fountains were all over Rome and I truthfully failed miserable at mastering the art of drinking from them. The Bavarian bar that Bistra took us to was really cool and while I don’t like beer very much, I tried a sort of fruity, sweet beer that I actually enjoyed. It was a fun night with lots of laughter and when Colleen and I returned to our hostel later, we were ready to hit the sack!

The next morning, Col and I checked out of our hostel early only to run into rush-hour metro traffic. Talk about being claustrophobic! We settled in at John’s place and then Clare, Col, and I set out for a morning at the Vatican. Although we made a solid attempt at getting there early, we still ended up waiting in line to the museum for close to an hour. The tour of the Vatican museum was phenomenal – we saw gorgeous painted ceilings, sculptures up the wazoo and the famous sculpture Laocoon, which I remembered learning about in senior year Humanities art history class. Everything was gorgeous and gave me a new appreciation for art and the talent these painters and sculptors must have had! The grand finale was the Sistine Chapel – a masterpiece worth seeing in every way. Michelangelo painted a beautiful chapel and it was amazing standing in a room so historically famous. I especially loved the “hand of God” portion located on the ceiling where Michelangelo paints the hand of God outstretched towards man. I was able to get a few pictures despite the big, balding Italian man who screamed in the most wonderful, big, booming Italian accent “NO PHOTO” and “SILENZIO” at everyone in the room.
For lunch, we ate “pizza by the kilo,” a genius Italian idea. You choose however many kinds of pizza you want, they cut your slices into small squares, weigh the squares, and then you pay “by the kilo.” It’s fantastic and cheap. So after pizza by the kilo, I tried my first canoli (delicious!) and we headed to St. Peter’s Basilica. The church was as beautiful on the inside as it had been on the outside Sunday morning. The famous Pieta is located inside, a most precious sculpture to see. We took turns petting a statue’s foot (which was incredibly worn down by years of human touch) – a traditional thing to do in St. Peter’s in order to symbolize your pilgrimage there. Memorials of various popes were everywhere and we learned later from John that everything in the basilica (even all of the “paintings”) is mosaic. This astounded us and John called each of us a “Doubting Thomas…” Unfortunately, we didn’t know about the tombs of the popes in the basement or the aerial view of Rome from the top of the church, so we missed out on those. I, however, just consider them reason to go back!

That evening, I received a worried call from my mother (who was demanded to call me by my father) in regards to the earthquake in Italy the night before. Ironically, I had woken up during the night to find my bed shaking. I figured I was dreaming and fell back asleep. It wasn’t until the next day that I realized it had indeed been an earthquake. Aquila suffered a large number of deaths and much damage. So to be fair, Dad had some reason to worry. However, we were absolutely fine. After reassuring my parents that I was safe, the three of us girls, John, Heidi, and Mario (another guy from their program) went for gelato and to see the Spanish steps. It was a great gelato place and a slightly unimpressive monument but a fun night to hang out with old and new friends while seeing the beautiful city of Rome at night.

Tuesday was our day trip to Assisi (a little historic town north of Rome). We had all agreed that it would be nice to get out of Rome for a day and it only cost 20 euro for a round-trip ticket. John came with us and acted as leader for the day as he had already been there. On the train, I fell asleep while in the middle of doing a Sudoku puzzle. Evidently, the pencil I was using fell out of my hand after I nodded off. Because a very nice Italian woman getting off the train picked it up and attempted to place it carefully on me while trying not to disturb me. I felt the slightest touch, though, and jumped a foot in the air (apparently believing someone was trying to rob me). The poor woman was quite startled and started apologizing in Italian and saying that she was only picking up my pencil for me. It was quite the interaction – poor thing!

Assisi was such a pretty little town and it was cool to see a bit of the Italian countryside. We began the day with a visit to the Church of St. Francis, one of the most important saints in the Catholic faith. After seeing that church, we hiked down a very scenic path to a little church called St. Damiano. This church was much smaller and located in a very quiet, serene part of the village. The hike back up was quite a task (we did SO much hiking/walking that day) and by the time we got to the next church (St. Clare’s), we were sweaty and exhausted. After seeing the tomb of St. Clare (which was decorated Arabian-style with beautiful azure blue ceilings) and reading some of the famous words spoken by her, we decided to go for lunch. Finally all our hard work would pay off!

Unfortunately, we failed to remember that many restaurants in Italy close at 2:30 and don’t re-open again until 7 or 7:30. John (who we fondly dubbed Giovanni) promised us that they would re-open around 4:00. So we decided to eat our mandatory gelato to tide us over until then. After finishing another yummy gelato, John informed us that after asking some of the locals, it looked pretty unlikely that anything would open until about seven o’clock. Before the three of us could groan and moan, he suggested eating pizza by the kilo for something more substantial than gelato. We quickly agreed. We then made the trek to the top of Assisi where a castle of sorts overlooked the whole city. We had some incredible views of the picturesque village. While climbing down, we made two very important decisions regarding eating. Number one: it would make more sense to take the train back to Rome and eat dinner there rather than to wait in Assisi for two hours in order to get food. Number two: although we were not hungry for dinner, it was probably a good idea to stop at the pastry shop we had passed earlier in order to eat a canoli. We declared this particular day our “fattest” day in Italy.

When we got back to Rome, John took us to a favorite restaurant of his. It was quite lovely (I had tuna spaghetti) and John treated us to wine and a cheese plate. I informed him that such behavior was that of a Frenchman! The waiters at this little restaurant were these cute, old, Italian men who said things like “Gratzi, Bella” and brought you a spoon to eat your spaghetti when you fail with a fork and knife. I liked the place immensely.

Wednesday was my last day in Rome with Clare and Colleen. Our first stop of the day was to a prison were the apostles Peter and Paul had once been imprisoned for preaching the gospel. What a humbling experience. We walked into a pit of sorts that was literally the size of our living room. There was one hole in the ceiling that evidently did nothing but allow the prisoners to hear the laughs and jeers of the guards. Heidi, Mario, and John explained that at any given time there were most likely 50-100 prisoners crammed into the prison – all living in their own feces. It was humbling to see how Christians were persecuted then and yet how strong and persistent the apostles were in their faith. The experience made me once again very grateful for the freedom we have in our country to worship God. However, I was also saddened to think about how many people are still persecuted today for their faith in Jesus.

Our task for this particular morning involved a hunt for a dessert affectionately called “Benedicto cake.” John told us about this to-die-for cake that they had eaten once from a bakery in the Jewish ghetto. The cake is apparently called Benedicto cake because it is most loved by Pope Benedict himself. Therefore we HAD to go searching for it. John, Heidi, and Mario were slightly unsure about where precisely the bakery was located. Heidi went into one that looked promising and asked if they had Benedicto cake. The woman replied that of course they had it and pointed to a cake that bore no resemblance to the real Benedicto cake. But after more searching and no Benedicto cake, we were just as happy to accept a slice of “fake” Benedicto cake. Walking farther down the street later on, we found the location of the bakery, but due to Passover, they weren’t making any unleavened goods and therefore, no Benedicto cake. Such is life... although, on the bright side, we did get a delicious slice of cake and another reason to return to Rome out of the deal.

Wednesday afternoon, John, Mario, and another guy in their program (Brian) took us to St. Paul’s Basilica. Of all the churches we visited, this one was by far my favorite. It was a perfect mixture of simplicity and ornate. The architecture was traditional but the decoration held a lot of meaning. Around the top of the ceiling there were circular portraits running the length of the church. The beginning of the portraits began with Paul and then commenced down the lineage of Popes. Pope Benedict’s portrait was lit up to signify his current service. Above these portraits were paintings that, in order, told the story of Peter and Paul’s discipleship. In the nave there was a large painting of Jesus that people could pay to light up. And in the center of the church was St. Paul’s tomb; above the tomb hung the actual chains that held him in prison. It was a very cool memorial to a truly devoted apostle. Overall the church was lovely and I enjoyed taking some time to just think and pray.

We had every intention of seeing the Catacombs after our visit to St. Paul’s, but by the time we made the trek out there, they had closed for the day. So we took a walk instead… all the way down Appean Way. Appean Way is one of the oldest roads in Rome and the road many (including Peter and Paul) would have used to reach the city back in the day. As the old expression goes, “All roads lead to Rome…” and this one certainly did. It was a neat experience walking the same path that the disciples and other important figures once walked. You could even see the chariot marks in the stones! After taking some pictures and enjoying the most lovely evening weather, we took the bus home (which involved waiting for the bus on a very busy road of cars with drivers who liked to STARE; many a staring contest took place). After relaxing for a bit, we spent our last night in Rome at the cheap little restaurant that we loved so much the first night, eating a most delicious tiramisu AND mandatory gelato (I’m pretty sure I gained ten pounds in Italy), and going to an Irish pub with John, Heidi, Bistra, and Brian.

The next morning was “doomsday” in a sense. I had been dreading the morning of Col and Clare’s departure all day Wednesday. It had been so wonderful to be with old friends and I wasn’t ready yet to say good-bye to familiarity. The poor girls had to get up at the crack of dawn, so I woke up with them… briefly. Attempting to hold back tears (dramatic, I know), I hugged them goodbye and went back to sleep. Thursday was kind of a lonely day. John and Heidi were sweet enough to take me out to coffee after lunch and then pointed me in the direction of shopping. I shopped for a bit and then found a little coffee place where I could sit down and journal (what you’re reading right now)! Normally I yearn to have days to myself and I love spending hours in coffee shops. But for some reason, doing so in a big, foreign city has a different feel – and frankly, it’s just a tad bit lonely. I ended up meeting my friend Alyssa (with whom I traveled to Greece) and her friend for dinner. The night, however, ended there and I headed back to “my room” and hit the sack.

Friday dawned and I spent the morning packing up and bidding my good-byes to John and Heidi. I then met Alyssa for lunch and to do a bit of souvenir shopping. Later on, we made our way out to our hostel – a camping site way outside the city. We picked it because it was cheap and they had an airport transfer service, which we needed to use very early the next morning.
When we first arrived, I thought to myself, what in the world have we gotten ourselves into? We were given a key to a mini log cabin with five beds and told that the bathrooms were not far (TRUE camping). Shortly after we dumped our stuff in our woodsy-scented cabin, a girl walked in who looked to be our age. We introduced ourselves (her name was Grace Ann) and discovered that she was American as well! We then compared our answers to the “Which state are you from?” question and found out she’s from Ohio. What was even more ironic was that she goes to Eastern Michigan University, which is located 25 minutes from my house! I just adore small world connections. We then met a guy named Alex from Minnesota and the four of us decided to have dinner together. We compared study abroad stories (us from France, Grace Ann from Norway, and Alex from England) all throughout dinner. After dinner, we walked along the beach. It was dark and impossible to see hardly anything but the almost-black waters of the Mediterranean Sea. We built sandcastles and dipped our feet in the water and all remarked what an awesome experience the night had been.

YOU’VE MADE IT THROUGH THE FIRST WEEK! Greece to come hopefully Sunday (along with pictures)!