the VIP Treatment

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Kay, so you all know that I’m on a study abroad program in Rome. If you didn’t know this…see the last few blog posts. A lot of you probably also know that my program is not the only one in Rome this semester…far from it. There’s like a bajillion. There’s this one, though, that’s fairly close by. The John Cabot University is a study abroad program fairly close to us. We at the ICCS (aka the Centro) are sometimes a little envious of the people in this program. A few kids know some others at John Cabot, and they basically seem to do no work. More of your typical study abroad program, where you’re really just getting to explore the cities (read: the cities’ bars and/or nightclubs).  Our program is not like this. In fact, that’s why I haven’t written that often. Because I legitimately spend a large percentage of my time either in class or doing homework…or eating. I love to eat. And I really love to eat Italian food. But I’ll save that for another post.

Point is, these John Cabot kids have it easy. It’s a little absurd.

But as of our site tours in the past week…I can tell you I will never be jealous of the John Cabot kids again. Ever. No qualms about it. In fact, they should be jealous of us. Hmm, you say. Why in the world would anyone be jealous of you suckers having to get up at 6 or 7 every morning and work straight all day? Good question.

It’s because we get this incredible VIP treatment. You know you’ve got it good when your 50-something-year-old professor looks at the group and smiles and says, “So, actually, I can’t tell you that much about the interior of this church. Because I’ve actually never been before.” Seriously. When someone with a doctoral degree in the subject who has worked in Rome on and off for years has never gained entrance to a site, you know it’s gonna be awesome. I can actually picture the red carpet being rolled down. Except the carpet is a dusty travertine floor from the late Augustan restoration in the first century CE.

I’ll just tell you a bit about the sites, since you’ll unfortunately not get to see them. (I swear, this isn’t going to my head or anything. The reasons the public can’t see most of this stuff are legitimate: primarily, the sites are really, really old and in need of restoration, so they don’t trust just anyone.) You already got a sneak peek at my trip to Tarquinia and Cerveteri, where I climbed through a bunch of tombs. This week, we also hit up:

The Fons Juturnae: in the Roman Forum, this is where Castor and Pollux supposedly appeared miraculously during the Social Wars. Two beautiful, strong young men had shown up at the battle of Lake Regillus and helped turn the tide to victory; before news could have spread back to Rome, reports cropped up of two youths watering their horses at the Fons and telling everyone the good news. Though the magistrates of the time sent minor officials to search the city for these men, they were never found. The Romans then decided that the Dioscuri, twin demi-gods, had shown them divine favor, and founded the Temple of Castor and Pollux nearby. You can see this temple as a normal visitor to the Forum, but the Fons is hidden in a fenced back corner.

Santa Maria Antiqua: admittedly, this isn’t quite as old as what I normally study. BUT…it’s right next to the Fons, and since we were already there, the incredibly nice guard went and had a chat with the art conservation team that was working inside. He convinced them to let us in, as long as we promised to touch nothing, take pictures of nothing, and stand really far away from everything. The church itself dates to the fifth century, and there were a bunch of Byzantine frescoes from the 600s and 700s of saints. The plaster is detaching itself from the walls because it’s so old, hence, the current restorations-in-progress.

Temple of Portunus and Temple of Hercules Victor: These two temples are right next to each other, immediately to the east of the Tiber island. The Temple of Portunus is the oldest extant marble temple in Rome, and the Temple of Hercules Victor dates to about the same time period; the two survived primarily because they were used as Christian churches after paganism fell.

Sorry there aren’t pictures of all of these places.  I have pictures of some of them, but my computer refuses to upload at the moment. I’ll be a better blogger someday, I swear. Maybe next time the uploader will cooperate. But til then, ciao!

Et Tomb, Brutus?

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Ok, I apologize, that was a really dorky joke. But we’re all really dorky here, and the joke makes sense. Or it will, if you keep reading.

Last time we spoke, I was headed off to an exciting  three days of rest, relaxation, and reading a lot of stuff written by old guys. Luckily, I managed to get all three in.  After spending a thrilling Friday doing homework, I hit Campo de Fiori in the morning for shopping and the evening for exploring the city’s many bars. It’s amazing how the place changed from an open-air market to a piazza teeming with drunk Italians and Americans in the space of a few hours.

I followed up that Saturday with a Sunday spent at the beach in Ostia. For those of you who don’t know ancient/modern Rome (most of you, I’m guessing), it was once the port area for the city, and is now a bunch of beaches. It’s only about an hour and a half on public transportation down there, and thanks to the magic little piece of paper we students were given when we first got here, it was totally free. As long as you don’t mind a bit of a crowd getting there and at the beach, it’s really worthwhile.

Back home, the weekend always had the most exciting highlights of my week…but here? What I loved most about my life since we last talked happened just yesterday. After struggling through a fruitless Monday filled with professors who didn’t let me finish my sentences and never leaving the Centro (our building here in Rome), I was in need of a cool moment to remind me why I really do actually love classics. And as fate would have it, that was just what was on the agenda.

CUE INDIANA JONES THEME

We spend every Tuesday out on a full-day tour in Rome or the nearby area. This particular Tuesday, we woke up hellishly early to go to Tarquinia and Cerveteri, ancient Etruscan burial sites. And then we got there, and I really woke up. Etruscans practiced this odd form of inhumation in which they dug a deep pit into bedrock, built a burial chamber, roofed it over, and threw all the dirt on the top. After doing this a few times, a family burial area can end up looking pretty silly (imagine ten or fifteen ten-foot-tall hills scattered around). Luckily, archaeologists have discovered a lot of these, and we can actually go in them! Inside, they’re polychromed (art history fancy term for COLOR) with scenes from daily life and about funerary customs. The ones at Tarquinia are closed off by glass doors which we couldn’t open, but at Cerveteri, my professors gave us a free hour to go “stick our heads in whatever interesting holes we could find.” Apart from that unfortunate wording, it was actually good advice, which my friends and I took very literally. There’s a bunch of crevasses going off of the side tombs that are very teeny tiny…we had to take our backpacks off to make it in, and duck and squirm to avoid enormous spiderwebs (and their equally enormous spiders!)

Well, my Latin class on Caesar’s Civil Wars starts in forty minutes, and I have some reviewing to do. I don’t really want to walk into class and mangle the language as badly as I did in my blog title now, do I? Ciao.

Whirlwind Beginning

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Ciao, y’all…and doesn’t that phrase sound a little ridiculous? I’ve caught myself saying it more than once in the past five days since I arrived in Rome, and the more I say it, the sillier I feel. Yet at the same time, why not? Rome is an ancient city and a modern city, where women parade around in stilettos as tall as Trajan’s column and Vespas zoom past the Circus Maximus‘ dusty track, moving far faster than any chariot I saw in Ben-Hur. (Or at least they would, if traffic wasn’t always so congested in the city.) It’s amazing how humanity thrives surrounded by stone buildings over 3000 years old.

I’ve spent a lot of time getting settled and learning the citta (city). The first day was squandered wandering around in a jet-lagged stupor with the girl I shared a taxi with, searching for any place willing to serve food to two desperate, wide-eyed American girls on a Sunday. We ended up with pears. Italians don’t seem to believe in working at all on Sundays…or in the mornings/afternoons/evenings of any other day of the week.

Though I’ve had troubles with banks and restaurants, the Centro itself is fantastic. They feed us three square meals a day: dinner always has two courses, plus dessert, and lunch often has a second course. Monday evening, they had about 12 bottles of wine provided for dinner, including the prosecco, which my Latin teacher taught me how to open. I get the feeling that we’re going to get along just fine.

All the pasta and bread I’m eating should make me about a hundred pounds heavier (I swear I’ve eaten my weight in noodles already), but we’re doing a huge amount of walking this week, to orient ourselves to the city. I have, therefore, seen the Piazza Navona, Campo de Fiori, Trastevere, the Circus Maximus, the Spanish Steps, the Capitoline Hill (and its museum), the Pantheon, the Villa Aurelia, and the Colosseum. And so, of course, I also have a million pictures already…I’ll try to post a few every time I blog, but no promises.

Tonight begins my weekend, as I have no class tomorrow. I’ve got some translations to do (not too much), and then some tough shopping and visiting beaches and bars to get to. Not quite sure how I’ll manage such difficult stuff, but I’ll letcha know. Arrivederci, champs.

How to Pack for Four Months in One Fifty-Pound Bag

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Yeah, you read that right. One bag. Fifty pound weight limit. Four months. And I know what you’re thinking. This task is a little too difficult, a little too Herculean. Just get another suitcase and suck it up and pay for an additional bag.

Not. Happening. It can be done with one suitcase.

And so, without further ado, HTPFFMIOFPB:

  1. Circle around open, empty suitcase warily. Look for convenient extra pockets and a belt to keep all your stuff in place.
  2. Open your closet. Cry a little.
  3. Pull out basic, layerable tops and two or three pairs of jeans. Don’t forget a rainproof jacket, a winter coat, and at least one going-out outfit.
  4. Make sure all of your items can go with one another. Oh, they can’t? Put half back, try again.
  5. Now look at your shoes. Your glorious, 30-something pairs of shoes. Now kiss them goodbye, and pull out black booties, black flats, black sandals, apair of flip-flops for the shower, tennis shoes, and hiking boots.That’s it.
  6. Suitcase feeling full? Hope not, you’ve still gotta pack toiletries and accessories. Throw in a few scarves, two or three necklaces and pairs of earrings, a black belt.
  7. Next, toiletries. While you’re in the bathroom, go ahead and stick your bag on the scale. 40 POUNDS? HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?
  8. Unpack a few more items. Resume.
  9. Oh, toiletries. For real now. Unless you know for a fact that a product you absolutely cannot live without is only available in your country of origin, only take one of it. You don’t need three tubes of Colgate.
  10. Pat yourself on the back. You’re done.
  11. Ten minutes later…forgetting something? Like maybe your books? Like maybe your books that, sweet baby Jesus, weigh 16 pounds all by themselves? Whoops.
  12. Unpack some more so you can stuff your books in. Feel a little like you’re Sisyphus, and your clothes are many, many boulders.
  13. Realize there’s a whole slew of odds and ends that also need to go over with you. Stuff them in random corners until you cam hear the seams of your bag creak.
  14. Pat yourself on the back. Seriously. And send up a devout prayer that TSA doesn’t subject your bag to a random search. Because you’ll never be able to close it again.

And the Countdown Begins…

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Two weeks to the day until I kiss my folks and Georgia goodbye and head to Roma! As if it weren’t official before. As if I haven’t been counting down since I was accepted on April 4th, 2011, at 8:53 am a while ago.

Whatever. Even if I did have a countdown running in my head all summer (and this isn’t an admission that I did), the creation of this blog makes me feel as if the date of my departure is much closer.

Because what college student doesn’t make a travel blog, right? I would be doing whoever is reading this (hey, mom) a huge disservice if I denied them the opportunity to read all about my life. “Well, today we read Poem 31 of Sappho and my arms almost fell off carrying my middle Liddell and I ate tomato soup…”

Hopefully it will be more exciting than that. Maybe. We’ll see. In 13 days, 6 hours, and 59 minutes (and seriously, I’m not excited or anything). Til then, arrivederci!