It’s hard to believe that one year ago I was counting down the days until my parents dropped me at Newark Airport and I took off for ten months in England. Now, having lived those ten months, I’m still learning how to integrate everything that I experienced and learned abroad with my life here.
How do you explain a year of your life? How do you share all of the things that you did, all of the places you saw, the people you met, all of the things that you learned, with people who weren’t there living it with you? I’ve come to the conclusion that you don’t really, because no matter how hard you try to explain, no matter how detailed your account, people are either going to lose interest quickly in your multi-hour tell-all or you’ll find yourself generalizing so much that you don’t say much of anything at all. But I think that’s okay. Going abroad for a year is actually a very selfish thing in the sense that you do it entirely for yourself, so that you can experience a new way of life, meet new people, see new places and expand your own horizons. And yes, many times the best part of an experience is sharing it with the people you love, and I certainly didn’t stop doing that, as my verbose blog posts can attest to. But part of it is absorbing the experience yourself and letting it change you, and that part is inherently yours. It changes your life, your attitudes and opinions, and no one else can have the same interpretation that you do, even if they lived it with you. The things that I did and felt in England have shaped me in ways that I don’t even know in their full extent yet, and explaining that is next to impossible.
This became evident in the car on the way home from Newark. My mom asked me what I missed most about England, and I was at a complete loss for words. This is partly because I’d been travelling for eighteen hours on next to no sleep after saying goodbye to several of my best friends, only to find myself at a rest stop in New Jersey, of all places. Let me tell you, a rest stop on the New Jersey highway is not a gentle transition back into America. Oh man. But there weren’t really words to describe what I missed, which was the people, the scenery, and just the Englishness of England. See? That doesn’t even make sense now, and I’ve had almost two months to think about it. So I gave some horribly inadequate answer like, “Everything,” and went back to staring in dismay at all of the obese people in track bottoms standing in line at various fast food vendors.
I’ve just spent a lot of space explaining to you that there’s a lot that I can’t tell you. Awesome. So what can I tell you? I can tell you that this was without a doubt the most incredible year of my life, and that I absolutely fell in love with England. It’s kind of like a quirky relative – full of idiosyncrasies and absurdities that can be trying at times, but you learn to look past that because they’re family and you love them for all of their quirks, even the fact that there’s no tape in the post offices and three inches of snow results in apocalyptic-type conditions. But it’s okay, because there’s really good tea and chocolate.
Apart from all of the seeing and doing and picture-taking that I was able to do this year (most of which has made its way to this blog), I learned so much about myself and about how to be a person in the world. Yes, technically I went abroad to take classes and do some academic learning (that’s what I had to put on the application, anyway), but most of the education that I got this year did not take place in the classroom. I learned how to plan trips, how to navigate airports and public transportation, not just in English but in other languages as well, I attempted, with varying success, to stick to a budget, and I did a lot of things for myself. These are all invaluable lessons, but they’re only part of what I learned.
I also discovered so much about myself. I have a better idea of what I want out of life now, and maybe even what I want to do with myself after this great thing called college comes to an end in a year. Maybe. But I feel that I grew up a lot and grew into myself more, if that makes sense. I learned to embrace the more spontaneous, ridiculous side of myself, which I honestly thought that I had lost. I know that sounds crazy – I head to the land of people famous for keeping a stiff upper lip and for doing everything properly and get in touch with my ridiculous side. But I was allowed to be the excited American all year, and it was so freeing and wonderful. Going to college taught me that I can’t change the essentials of who I am. Going to England showed me that I shouldn’t want to – I just have to embrace them. And yes, I was laughed at. A lot. But I was laughing, too.
I’m proud of myself for that – that I let myself go and got invested and fell in love with the full knowledge that I would have to leave, and that it would hurt when I did. But that didn’t stop me. For once, I didn’t choose the safe option, which is really what I think study abroad can teach you if you let it. That’s the key, though – you have to be open to all of those experiences and you have to want to grow and change, otherwise you can just recreate your life at home, only with an accent. And home is good, home is wonderful. But it’s hard to appreciate if you don’t distance yourself from it sometimes.
I just finished reading Bill Bryson’s book Notes from a Small Island, an account of his travels through Britain before he and his family moved to America, where he was born, after living in England for twenty years. It was essentially a personal letter to Britain in which Bryson acknowledged its flaws but more or less declared his undying love for its people, landscape, and culture. I connected with it on so many levels, and I think that he puts it better than I could ever do (you’re also probably quite sick of reading my writing by now, so this will mix it up a little bit). This excerpt is from the very end of the book, at the close of Bryson’s farewell tour:
“What a wondrous place this was – crazy as all get-out, of course, but adorable to the tiniest degree. What other country, after all, could possibly have come up with place names like Tooting Bec and Farleigh Wallop, or a game like cricket? Who else would have a constitutional form of government but no written constitution, call private schools public schools, think it not the least bit odd to make their judges wear little mops on their heads, seat the chief officer of the House of Lords on something called the Woolsack, or take pride in a military hero whose dying wish was to be kissed by a fellow named Hardy? . . . Who else could possibly have given us William Shakespeare, pork pies, Christopher Wren, Windsor Great Park, Salisbury Cathedral, double-decker buses, and the chocolate digestive biscuit? Wherever else would I find a view like this? Nowhere, of course.
All this came to me in the space of a lingering moment. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. I like it here. I like it more than I can tell you. And then I turned from the gate and got into the car and knew without doubt that I would be back.” (From Bill Bryson, Notes from a Small Island [New York: Avon Books, Inc., 1995] 316-17.)
I know exactly what he means.
All that’s really left for me to do is to say thank you to the people who made this past year what it was, and to the people who kept up with my adventures through my sometimes infrequent and tangential blog posts. I couldn’t have done this without any of you, so thank you so much. Flatmates, friends – I love you all so much and I miss you all of the time. But I know that, like Bill Bryson, I’ll be back. And I’m sleeping on your couch when I get there.
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Split - Good Call, Ladybird!
So, the saga continues. Cue epic movie music. Although you know what happens, basically - it's not as if I was lost in the Croatian wilderness and never heard from again, much as I would have liked to escape the work that awaited me back in Norwich. Before my return to England, however, there were a few, sunkissed days of adventure left in Croatia.
We reached Split, which is about a four-hour busride from Dubrovnik, in the early afternoon. The drive followed the coastline the entire way - we drove along cliffsides overlooking the gorgeous Adriatic Sea, surrounded by blue hills, for four straight hours, only stopping for a border check as we passed through Bosnia and Herzegovina. Yeah, life is difficult.
Split is more bustling than Dubrovnik is - it's a very busy port city, and there are ferries in and out all over the place. Dubrovnik's old city was also clearly marked by the city walls and by the peninsula that it stands on. Split is more of a rambling city, and the old city blurs into modern streets and buildings. What's really neat about Split's old city, however, is that it is all more or less built in the ruins of Diocletian's palace. For anyone not up on their Ancient Roman history (I mean, who isn't?), Diocletian was emperor of Rome from 284-305, when he abdicated the throne, basically because his reforms were very unpopular. He retired to the Dalmation Coast, so the Ancient Romans knew that Croatia was a top-notch holiday destination. Vendors sell souvenirs and crafts in the palace's subterranean passages now, which is just wicked cool.
Here's a look across the harbor at Split - the steeple that you can see is the belltower of St. Domnius, which we climbed for gorgeous views of the city.
This is a close-up of St. Domnius (or part of it - sometimes I like to pretend that I can take artistic photographs). You can see the Roman-inspired architecture.
It was two days before Easter, so there was an installation of the Last Supper in the square outside of St. Domnius.
Looking over Split from the top of the belltower - do you see why I keep going on about how gorgeous Croatia is? The entire Dalmation Coast is a postcard!
View out over the harbor - the massive boats with the unprounceable name are the same as the ferry that we took from Bari to Dubrovnik. But seriously, can you imagine living here and seeing this every day? I wonder if people ever start to take it for granted? I certainly hope not.
Looking up the rickety staircase of the St. Domnius belltower - as terrified as they make me, I seem to have a habit of finding Europe's more questionable staircases. This one had massively steep steps and very low ceilings, as I found when I cracked my head on a brick. That was fun.
This is not Merlin, as I had sincerely hoped that it was. Just take a moment to think about how absolutely bad-ass Split would be if it was home to a giant statue of Merlin. I know, right? Instead, this is Gregory of Nin, who introduced religious services in Croatian in 926.
We woke up very early in order to catch the 6:15 a.m. ferry from Split to nearby Brač Island, and were lucky enough to watch the day dawn over Split. There's nothing quite like being on the water in the early morning, when it's still cold enough to see your breath, and seeing the sun start to peek over purple hills, bathing everything in a rosy-golden light.
After a harrowing taxi ride over the winding, hilly road (there's only one) that cuts across Brač, we arrived at the beautiful little town of Bol. Check out the glittering action on the water here.
We picked our way over some fairly treacherous ground in search of Zlatni Rat, or the Golden Cape, a beautiful, hidden gem of a beach in Bol. There were some very sharp rocks, and we had some very unhappy feet afterwards!
The Golden Cape itself more than made up for our rather painful trek there - a white, pebbly beach on a peninsula surrounded by gorgeous, clear, aquamarine waters. It was incredibly, incredibly beautiful, and we had it entirely to ourselves. Never did I ever imagine myself lying in the sun on an island in the Adriatic Sea, worrying about absolutely nothing but just being. It was amazing.
Finding our cab to get back to the port on the other side of the island proved to be a bit of a kerfuffle, and our driver quite literally flew over the mountain roads. She was a champion, and we made our ferry back to Split right on time. After a relaxed lunch (everything about Croatia was relaxed. It was wonderful.) and one last gelato run, we parted ways - Sarah B. and I headed to Zadar, a bit farther north, while other Sarah and Caitlin left for Zagreb, Croatia's capital, which is in the north-west part of the country. We'd booked different flights back to London the next day, so we had officially reached the end of our adventuring together. What a trip it was.
Croatia taught me a lot of things about travelling. I definitely saw the advantages to waking up and getting an early start in the morning. That has always been my preferred method, anyway, but after watching three Croatian sunrises, I was absolutely convinced. The morning is a beautiful time - it's so quiet and calm because most of the world is still in bed, and you feel a certain sense of community with those few souls who are up and about with you. And the sunrise itself - the transition from purply-grey to the pale oranges and pinks that proceed the sunrise, and then watching the first rays of liquid gold light crest over the Croatian hills - there is nothing like it.
I also learned to relax in Croatia. Coming from tourist Italy, where everyone was rushing and jostling on the pavement and where people talked quickly and loudly, Croatia was quite literally a breath of fresh air. We spent a large chunk of our first morning in Dubrovnik sitting in the sun at a cafe, drinking cappuccinos, and it was absolutely wonderful. We had vague plans of what we wanted to do, but we weren't terribly worried about following them, and we didn't have to rush from one site to another in order to get everything in like we did in Italy. Not that I didn't enjoy Italy - I absolutely loved it. But our time in Croatia was purely for enjoyment. And we were much more flexible. Everything in Italy had to go exactly to plan - train times, museum entrances, what have you. In Croatia we realized that sitting by the water all evening with a bottle of wine was perfectly acceptable. In fact, it was absolutely fantastic. We were going to try to get to Plitvice Lakes National Park on our last day, which would have been stunningly beautiful but would require several hours on a bus, and we decided that going to Brač was just much more feasible. Am I disappointed that we didn't get to see the natiional park? Absolutely. But I also had an amazing time at Brač, and I don't regret the decision for an instant. Besides, now I have a reason to go back to Croatia and explore its beauty even more. And I am definitely okay with that.
We reached Split, which is about a four-hour busride from Dubrovnik, in the early afternoon. The drive followed the coastline the entire way - we drove along cliffsides overlooking the gorgeous Adriatic Sea, surrounded by blue hills, for four straight hours, only stopping for a border check as we passed through Bosnia and Herzegovina. Yeah, life is difficult.
Split is more bustling than Dubrovnik is - it's a very busy port city, and there are ferries in and out all over the place. Dubrovnik's old city was also clearly marked by the city walls and by the peninsula that it stands on. Split is more of a rambling city, and the old city blurs into modern streets and buildings. What's really neat about Split's old city, however, is that it is all more or less built in the ruins of Diocletian's palace. For anyone not up on their Ancient Roman history (I mean, who isn't?), Diocletian was emperor of Rome from 284-305, when he abdicated the throne, basically because his reforms were very unpopular. He retired to the Dalmation Coast, so the Ancient Romans knew that Croatia was a top-notch holiday destination. Vendors sell souvenirs and crafts in the palace's subterranean passages now, which is just wicked cool.
Here's a look across the harbor at Split - the steeple that you can see is the belltower of St. Domnius, which we climbed for gorgeous views of the city.
This is a close-up of St. Domnius (or part of it - sometimes I like to pretend that I can take artistic photographs). You can see the Roman-inspired architecture.
It was two days before Easter, so there was an installation of the Last Supper in the square outside of St. Domnius.
Looking over Split from the top of the belltower - do you see why I keep going on about how gorgeous Croatia is? The entire Dalmation Coast is a postcard!
View out over the harbor - the massive boats with the unprounceable name are the same as the ferry that we took from Bari to Dubrovnik. But seriously, can you imagine living here and seeing this every day? I wonder if people ever start to take it for granted? I certainly hope not.
Looking up the rickety staircase of the St. Domnius belltower - as terrified as they make me, I seem to have a habit of finding Europe's more questionable staircases. This one had massively steep steps and very low ceilings, as I found when I cracked my head on a brick. That was fun.
This is not Merlin, as I had sincerely hoped that it was. Just take a moment to think about how absolutely bad-ass Split would be if it was home to a giant statue of Merlin. I know, right? Instead, this is Gregory of Nin, who introduced religious services in Croatian in 926.
We woke up very early in order to catch the 6:15 a.m. ferry from Split to nearby Brač Island, and were lucky enough to watch the day dawn over Split. There's nothing quite like being on the water in the early morning, when it's still cold enough to see your breath, and seeing the sun start to peek over purple hills, bathing everything in a rosy-golden light.
After a harrowing taxi ride over the winding, hilly road (there's only one) that cuts across Brač, we arrived at the beautiful little town of Bol. Check out the glittering action on the water here.
We picked our way over some fairly treacherous ground in search of Zlatni Rat, or the Golden Cape, a beautiful, hidden gem of a beach in Bol. There were some very sharp rocks, and we had some very unhappy feet afterwards!
The Golden Cape itself more than made up for our rather painful trek there - a white, pebbly beach on a peninsula surrounded by gorgeous, clear, aquamarine waters. It was incredibly, incredibly beautiful, and we had it entirely to ourselves. Never did I ever imagine myself lying in the sun on an island in the Adriatic Sea, worrying about absolutely nothing but just being. It was amazing.
Finding our cab to get back to the port on the other side of the island proved to be a bit of a kerfuffle, and our driver quite literally flew over the mountain roads. She was a champion, and we made our ferry back to Split right on time. After a relaxed lunch (everything about Croatia was relaxed. It was wonderful.) and one last gelato run, we parted ways - Sarah B. and I headed to Zadar, a bit farther north, while other Sarah and Caitlin left for Zagreb, Croatia's capital, which is in the north-west part of the country. We'd booked different flights back to London the next day, so we had officially reached the end of our adventuring together. What a trip it was.
Croatia taught me a lot of things about travelling. I definitely saw the advantages to waking up and getting an early start in the morning. That has always been my preferred method, anyway, but after watching three Croatian sunrises, I was absolutely convinced. The morning is a beautiful time - it's so quiet and calm because most of the world is still in bed, and you feel a certain sense of community with those few souls who are up and about with you. And the sunrise itself - the transition from purply-grey to the pale oranges and pinks that proceed the sunrise, and then watching the first rays of liquid gold light crest over the Croatian hills - there is nothing like it.
I also learned to relax in Croatia. Coming from tourist Italy, where everyone was rushing and jostling on the pavement and where people talked quickly and loudly, Croatia was quite literally a breath of fresh air. We spent a large chunk of our first morning in Dubrovnik sitting in the sun at a cafe, drinking cappuccinos, and it was absolutely wonderful. We had vague plans of what we wanted to do, but we weren't terribly worried about following them, and we didn't have to rush from one site to another in order to get everything in like we did in Italy. Not that I didn't enjoy Italy - I absolutely loved it. But our time in Croatia was purely for enjoyment. And we were much more flexible. Everything in Italy had to go exactly to plan - train times, museum entrances, what have you. In Croatia we realized that sitting by the water all evening with a bottle of wine was perfectly acceptable. In fact, it was absolutely fantastic. We were going to try to get to Plitvice Lakes National Park on our last day, which would have been stunningly beautiful but would require several hours on a bus, and we decided that going to Brač was just much more feasible. Am I disappointed that we didn't get to see the natiional park? Absolutely. But I also had an amazing time at Brač, and I don't regret the decision for an instant. Besides, now I have a reason to go back to Croatia and explore its beauty even more. And I am definitely okay with that.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Jazz Hands for Dubrovnik! And, oh, America
So my plan to finish upating my blog before the term finished in England clearly failed. Ah well. Just pretend I'm still there - that's what I'm doing.
Anyway, Croatia. It's one of those places that I never, ever imagined myself going, in large part because I had never really heard of it before I came to England. My flatmate and Travel Yoda, Laura, had visited Croatia before we started uni, however, and she absolutely loved it. Her photos were enough to convince me that it might be worth checking out. And oh, was it ever.
It has only been in the past few years that Croatia has started to become a tourist destination. This meant, in my experience at least, that there were far fewer people than we saw in Italy and that the pace of life was much more relaxed. Granted, I was in very busy, very tourist-centered areas of Italy, so I cannot generalise for the entire country. But going from Naples to Dubrovnik was akin to going from New York City to the Maine shoreline. Just much warmer. And since Croatia is relatively undiscovered as of yet, the people there are incredibly friendly, I imagine because they haven't been so inundated with tourists that they want to scream (or they could do what Londoners do, which is just walk extremely fast while looking directly ahead, attempting to ignore and/or run over tourists who have stopped to consult a map or who just aren't walking quickly enough) and because they know that they need to entice tourists to spend money in order to build up that industry. In Italy people were generally fairly grouchy (except Giovanni and Pasquale, obviously), I think because they know that you're going to spend your money anyway, so they don't have to be nice. In Croatia, however, the majority of the people we interacted with were so friendly and welcoming. Maybe it's just because they live in the most gorgeous place on the planet, so they're happy. I would be.
Why has Croatia remained an undiscovered gem? It has had an extremely turbulent history, so the region (neighbouring countries include Bosnia and Herzegovina and Serbia, to give you some idea) was not stable enough to support a tourist industry until very recently. Croatia was settled by the Croats as far back as the seventh century, and it has been part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire and, following World War II, the socialist Second Yugoslavia. Croatia only declared independence in 1991, but war with the Yugoslav National Army ensued. The Croatian War of Independence lasted until 1995, when Croatia was victorious, but the area was caught up in regional controversies over the treatment of ethnic Serbs and the actions of the armies on both sides. Thus, it is only recently that people have started to venture to Croatia on holiday. As word gets out, however, I think that this will change, because Croatia's Dalmation Coast has to be one of the most beautiful places in the entire world. I'll stop talking and just show you, shall I?
We took an overnight ferry from Bari, Italy to Dubrovnik, which is on the southern tip of Croatia. The ferry was an adventure in and of itself - I'll just say that Italy made England look like the Land of Efficiency that day. And we didn't shell out cash for proper cabins, so we slept in the bar, which was all kinds of uncomfortable, but makes for a good story. I woke up around half five in the morning to see this, the sun rising over Croatia. It was impossibly beautiful.
This is the view from the side of the highway - not even kidding. The sun literally sparkles on the Adriatic Sea, which is a gorgeous shade of teal, and the water is so clear that you can see all the say to the bottom. It's unreal.
After a gelato break, we climbed the city walls, which completely enclose Old Dubrovnik and lead to some of the most spectacular views that you can imagine. This is the view looking over the city toward the Old Port.
Travel buddies enjoying the sun and the breathtaking views. We all got sunburned up there!
The bells of St. Nicholas Church.
The Old Port - just look at the colour of the water. It's really like that, I promise.
I'm sitting on my couch now wondering, "Why on earth did I ever, ever leave this city????"
Absolutely one of the best days that I can ever remember - great friends, beautiful weather, amazing sights - does it get any better?
After a long day of gelato and taking in beautiful vista after beautiful vista, it's good to sit and dangle your feet in the Adriatic Sea while watching the sun set.
So yes, that was our first day in Croatia, and it was absolutely spectacular. We got an amazing sea food dinner in the city and then caught a free concert given by a travelling orchestra from Antwerp, Belgium. This was especially cool for me because I played in Antwerp when I was travelling with USYE, so it felt like an exchange of sorts. And they played "Lord of the Rings." I mean, come on now. This day could not have gotten any better. The next morning we bid adieu to Dubrovnik and boarded a bus to Split, which meant that we more or less drove a large part of the Dalmation Coast, and it was all breathtakingly beautiful, even from a bus window. More on that in my next post, however.
In other news, I've been back in the States for nine days now, and they have been the longest nine days of my life. Suffice to say that it has not been easy - the transition from Britain to small-town New England is not a kind one, and the Atlantic Ocean seems much bigger from this side than it did while I was in Norwich. It's going to be a "character-building" summer, I think. I'll try to write something more reflective when I've finished blogging about Croatia, and honestly I think that I'm still too upset and frustrated to do it properly at the moment, anyway. So instead of boring you with my current emotional turmoil (which was expected, but that doesn't make it easier), I will leave you with someone else's words, someone much wiser than myself. I found this poem last night when I was going through a particularly rough stretch, and it was perfect. It is a poem by Rumi, a thirteenth-century Afghan poet, who is just incredible.
The Guest House
This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.
Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.
Anyway, Croatia. It's one of those places that I never, ever imagined myself going, in large part because I had never really heard of it before I came to England. My flatmate and Travel Yoda, Laura, had visited Croatia before we started uni, however, and she absolutely loved it. Her photos were enough to convince me that it might be worth checking out. And oh, was it ever.
It has only been in the past few years that Croatia has started to become a tourist destination. This meant, in my experience at least, that there were far fewer people than we saw in Italy and that the pace of life was much more relaxed. Granted, I was in very busy, very tourist-centered areas of Italy, so I cannot generalise for the entire country. But going from Naples to Dubrovnik was akin to going from New York City to the Maine shoreline. Just much warmer. And since Croatia is relatively undiscovered as of yet, the people there are incredibly friendly, I imagine because they haven't been so inundated with tourists that they want to scream (or they could do what Londoners do, which is just walk extremely fast while looking directly ahead, attempting to ignore and/or run over tourists who have stopped to consult a map or who just aren't walking quickly enough) and because they know that they need to entice tourists to spend money in order to build up that industry. In Italy people were generally fairly grouchy (except Giovanni and Pasquale, obviously), I think because they know that you're going to spend your money anyway, so they don't have to be nice. In Croatia, however, the majority of the people we interacted with were so friendly and welcoming. Maybe it's just because they live in the most gorgeous place on the planet, so they're happy. I would be.
Why has Croatia remained an undiscovered gem? It has had an extremely turbulent history, so the region (neighbouring countries include Bosnia and Herzegovina and Serbia, to give you some idea) was not stable enough to support a tourist industry until very recently. Croatia was settled by the Croats as far back as the seventh century, and it has been part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire and, following World War II, the socialist Second Yugoslavia. Croatia only declared independence in 1991, but war with the Yugoslav National Army ensued. The Croatian War of Independence lasted until 1995, when Croatia was victorious, but the area was caught up in regional controversies over the treatment of ethnic Serbs and the actions of the armies on both sides. Thus, it is only recently that people have started to venture to Croatia on holiday. As word gets out, however, I think that this will change, because Croatia's Dalmation Coast has to be one of the most beautiful places in the entire world. I'll stop talking and just show you, shall I?
We took an overnight ferry from Bari, Italy to Dubrovnik, which is on the southern tip of Croatia. The ferry was an adventure in and of itself - I'll just say that Italy made England look like the Land of Efficiency that day. And we didn't shell out cash for proper cabins, so we slept in the bar, which was all kinds of uncomfortable, but makes for a good story. I woke up around half five in the morning to see this, the sun rising over Croatia. It was impossibly beautiful.
This is the view from the side of the highway - not even kidding. The sun literally sparkles on the Adriatic Sea, which is a gorgeous shade of teal, and the water is so clear that you can see all the say to the bottom. It's unreal.
After a gelato break, we climbed the city walls, which completely enclose Old Dubrovnik and lead to some of the most spectacular views that you can imagine. This is the view looking over the city toward the Old Port.
Travel buddies enjoying the sun and the breathtaking views. We all got sunburned up there!
The bells of St. Nicholas Church.
The Old Port - just look at the colour of the water. It's really like that, I promise.
I'm sitting on my couch now wondering, "Why on earth did I ever, ever leave this city????"
Absolutely one of the best days that I can ever remember - great friends, beautiful weather, amazing sights - does it get any better?
After a long day of gelato and taking in beautiful vista after beautiful vista, it's good to sit and dangle your feet in the Adriatic Sea while watching the sun set.
So yes, that was our first day in Croatia, and it was absolutely spectacular. We got an amazing sea food dinner in the city and then caught a free concert given by a travelling orchestra from Antwerp, Belgium. This was especially cool for me because I played in Antwerp when I was travelling with USYE, so it felt like an exchange of sorts. And they played "Lord of the Rings." I mean, come on now. This day could not have gotten any better. The next morning we bid adieu to Dubrovnik and boarded a bus to Split, which meant that we more or less drove a large part of the Dalmation Coast, and it was all breathtakingly beautiful, even from a bus window. More on that in my next post, however.
In other news, I've been back in the States for nine days now, and they have been the longest nine days of my life. Suffice to say that it has not been easy - the transition from Britain to small-town New England is not a kind one, and the Atlantic Ocean seems much bigger from this side than it did while I was in Norwich. It's going to be a "character-building" summer, I think. I'll try to write something more reflective when I've finished blogging about Croatia, and honestly I think that I'm still too upset and frustrated to do it properly at the moment, anyway. So instead of boring you with my current emotional turmoil (which was expected, but that doesn't make it easier), I will leave you with someone else's words, someone much wiser than myself. I found this poem last night when I was going through a particularly rough stretch, and it was perfect. It is a poem by Rumi, a thirteenth-century Afghan poet, who is just incredible.
The Guest House
This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.
Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
The Adventure Continues
Hello, dear readers,
How are things? Good? Excellent. I'm still here, in case you were wondering. I just finished my exams yesterday, so massive sigh of relief on that front. I never have to worry about my Victorian Britain module again! That class is a great example of the differences in higher education between Britain and the United States. At home, we meet for class several times a week and discuss weekly readings that are (usually) linked into a cohesive whole that covers several aspects and/or perspectives of the topic that the class concerns. In Britain, the system is much more independent. Classes meet once or twice a week - for my history class we had one hour of lecture and one hour of seminar each week, and I found that there was no sense of continuity from week to week and no attempt to connect topics. Instead of assigning particular articles or what have you for our seminars, our instructor gave us a massive bibliography that it was our responsibility to go through and teach ourselves the topics. Consequently, I didn't learn anything about Victorian Britain until about three weeks ago when I started revising for our exam. Fun times. I'm not a huge fan of this system, just because I don't think that it's as effective for learning purposes, but it certainly teaches a measure of responsibility and independence that can be absent from the American system. Typical British inefficiency for you, though (I stopped being annoyed a long time ago; now I just find it amusing): the exam period lasts for six weeks. At home, I'm used to having about six days, including reading days. I don't know why it's so spread out here, but it seems like a colossal waste of time and resources, as faculty have to be paid, student residences have to be lit, housekeeping staff have to be paid... I don't know. Mind you, I'm not complaining, as it has given me more time to enjoy being in England, but staying on for five weeks to take my one exam does seem a bit ridiculous.
Anyway, onto the more exciting bits of life, basically those parts that don't involve taking tests. If I recall correctly, I was in the middle of detailing my Easter holiday adventures (referring to it as "spring break" will get you strange looks here). Well, after Pasquale sent us off with what I'm sure were lovely and eloquent wishes for good travels expressed beautifully and incomprehensibly in Italian, we got our train from Rome to Naples, which was a complete change of pace.
Naples is absolutely crazy - it's loud, gritty, colourful, teeming with humanity - people don't stop for tourists here. It's not a tourist city - people live here and have their everyday lives here, which means that it doesn't necessarily have the touristy façade that cities such as Rome or Venice have. Just compare the views of Renaissance churches in Florence or Venice to this one in Naples - there is a marked difference. In its own way, though, Naples is beautiful. Although you literally take your life in your hands every time that you cross the street. I don't know if I could stay here for any length of time, but I actually liked Naples. I know, shocking - me, the girl who nearly had a panic attack in Times Square because of the masses of people and who couldn't wait to leave London for the same reason. Just for the record, I love London more and more the longer I'm here, and I think that I could possibly live there someday. What has this year done to me?
Our main reason for going to Naples was to hit Pompeii, which is about a thirty-minute train ride from Naples. So I visited Pompeii with two archeology majors... So. Much. Archeology. So everyone knows the story - Pompeii was a rather swanky city in the Roman Empire, and then WHOOM! Mount Vesuvius erupted in 79 A.D., burying Pompeii under several metres of ash and effectively preserving it intact for hundreds of years until it was discovered in 1749, apparently by accident. Can you imagine just stumbling across something like that? "Oh hey guys, I just went for a swim and I think that I found Atlantis..." Geez.
The Temple of Apollo.
This is a collection of some of the artifacts that archeologists have unearthed in Pompeii, which has still not been fully excavated, not by a long shot. You can see one of the plaster castes of a body lying on the table there. It was a bit unsettling to see that.
For some reason I never considered that Pompeii is a city, which means that it's big, that you need a map to navigate it, and that it will take you all day to see it, although after a few hours all of the houses kind of start to blend together. It was broken up slightly by a group of Obnoxious American Tourists complaining, "This doesn't look like the Doctor Who episode..." Oh boy.
Here I am giving a dramatic poetry reading in the smaller theatre - the tourists in the background were obviously enraptured. Pompeii was quite big on entertainment - there was this theatre, a much larger theatre right next door, gladiator games, an amphitheatre, and don't even get me started on the brothels. Sarah and Caitlin didn't believe me that Pompeii was famous for being a fairly free and easy place until we got to the National Museum the next day and saw the "Cabinet of Secrets" that holds all of the pornographic artifacts from Pompeii. Fun fact: penises were considered symbols of good fortune in Pompeii, ergo they appear in lots and lots of decorations. Sorry, digression.
The House of the Faun, one of the most iconic spots in Pompeii. This house belonged to a very wealthy family and contains the famous Alexander Mosaic. I was quite bothered by the fact that the faun in question is not actually half goat. I believe that this negates his faun status.
The Alexander Mosaic, hanging in the National Museum, which we visited the next day (this was an incredibly educational trip, if I do say so myself). It's assumed that the main figure is Alexander the Great, hence the name. Clever, right?
There's Mount Vesuvius just lurking in the background, looking all innocent...
There were some amazingly well-preserved frescoes and floor mosaics in Pompeii. This is the Dionysus fresco from the House of Mysteries, which I may have referred to as the Department of Mysteries all day. Don't worry, dear readers, that has not changed this year - if there is a Harry Potter reference to be made, I will find it and make it. I was also extremely archeology-ed out by the time that we got here, so that may have been a contributing factor.
That more or less finishes our jaunt through Italy! The day after we did Pompeii we somehow managed to navigate the cramped, terrifyingly busy streets of Naples to find the National Museum using only the horrible, horrible map in my Europe guide. I'm pretty sure that whoever created that map invented some streets, because we certainly couldn't find them. It was an adventure. But we made it back to the train station and got on our way to Bari, on the other side of the country. There we met my faithful travel buddy Sarah (I know, another one), who had just flown in from her own adventures in Amsterdam, and we embarked on a ferry for Dubrovnik, Croatia! That will certainly get its own blog, as it has to be the most beautiful, incredible place that I have ever seen in my entire life. Oh my.
All that's left for me to do now is wrap things up in Norwich - I head back to the States in four days. I cannot believe that this year has come to an end. It has been the most incredible experience of my life, and I think that I'm still in denial that it's coming to a close. Now is not the time to be sad, however - there will be plenty of time for that when I'm at home being unemployed. Right now I am going to wring every drop of enjoyment from these next four days that I possibly can - carpe diem!
How are things? Good? Excellent. I'm still here, in case you were wondering. I just finished my exams yesterday, so massive sigh of relief on that front. I never have to worry about my Victorian Britain module again! That class is a great example of the differences in higher education between Britain and the United States. At home, we meet for class several times a week and discuss weekly readings that are (usually) linked into a cohesive whole that covers several aspects and/or perspectives of the topic that the class concerns. In Britain, the system is much more independent. Classes meet once or twice a week - for my history class we had one hour of lecture and one hour of seminar each week, and I found that there was no sense of continuity from week to week and no attempt to connect topics. Instead of assigning particular articles or what have you for our seminars, our instructor gave us a massive bibliography that it was our responsibility to go through and teach ourselves the topics. Consequently, I didn't learn anything about Victorian Britain until about three weeks ago when I started revising for our exam. Fun times. I'm not a huge fan of this system, just because I don't think that it's as effective for learning purposes, but it certainly teaches a measure of responsibility and independence that can be absent from the American system. Typical British inefficiency for you, though (I stopped being annoyed a long time ago; now I just find it amusing): the exam period lasts for six weeks. At home, I'm used to having about six days, including reading days. I don't know why it's so spread out here, but it seems like a colossal waste of time and resources, as faculty have to be paid, student residences have to be lit, housekeeping staff have to be paid... I don't know. Mind you, I'm not complaining, as it has given me more time to enjoy being in England, but staying on for five weeks to take my one exam does seem a bit ridiculous.
Anyway, onto the more exciting bits of life, basically those parts that don't involve taking tests. If I recall correctly, I was in the middle of detailing my Easter holiday adventures (referring to it as "spring break" will get you strange looks here). Well, after Pasquale sent us off with what I'm sure were lovely and eloquent wishes for good travels expressed beautifully and incomprehensibly in Italian, we got our train from Rome to Naples, which was a complete change of pace.
Naples is absolutely crazy - it's loud, gritty, colourful, teeming with humanity - people don't stop for tourists here. It's not a tourist city - people live here and have their everyday lives here, which means that it doesn't necessarily have the touristy façade that cities such as Rome or Venice have. Just compare the views of Renaissance churches in Florence or Venice to this one in Naples - there is a marked difference. In its own way, though, Naples is beautiful. Although you literally take your life in your hands every time that you cross the street. I don't know if I could stay here for any length of time, but I actually liked Naples. I know, shocking - me, the girl who nearly had a panic attack in Times Square because of the masses of people and who couldn't wait to leave London for the same reason. Just for the record, I love London more and more the longer I'm here, and I think that I could possibly live there someday. What has this year done to me?
Our main reason for going to Naples was to hit Pompeii, which is about a thirty-minute train ride from Naples. So I visited Pompeii with two archeology majors... So. Much. Archeology. So everyone knows the story - Pompeii was a rather swanky city in the Roman Empire, and then WHOOM! Mount Vesuvius erupted in 79 A.D., burying Pompeii under several metres of ash and effectively preserving it intact for hundreds of years until it was discovered in 1749, apparently by accident. Can you imagine just stumbling across something like that? "Oh hey guys, I just went for a swim and I think that I found Atlantis..." Geez.
The Temple of Apollo.
This is a collection of some of the artifacts that archeologists have unearthed in Pompeii, which has still not been fully excavated, not by a long shot. You can see one of the plaster castes of a body lying on the table there. It was a bit unsettling to see that.
For some reason I never considered that Pompeii is a city, which means that it's big, that you need a map to navigate it, and that it will take you all day to see it, although after a few hours all of the houses kind of start to blend together. It was broken up slightly by a group of Obnoxious American Tourists complaining, "This doesn't look like the Doctor Who episode..." Oh boy.
Here I am giving a dramatic poetry reading in the smaller theatre - the tourists in the background were obviously enraptured. Pompeii was quite big on entertainment - there was this theatre, a much larger theatre right next door, gladiator games, an amphitheatre, and don't even get me started on the brothels. Sarah and Caitlin didn't believe me that Pompeii was famous for being a fairly free and easy place until we got to the National Museum the next day and saw the "Cabinet of Secrets" that holds all of the pornographic artifacts from Pompeii. Fun fact: penises were considered symbols of good fortune in Pompeii, ergo they appear in lots and lots of decorations. Sorry, digression.
The House of the Faun, one of the most iconic spots in Pompeii. This house belonged to a very wealthy family and contains the famous Alexander Mosaic. I was quite bothered by the fact that the faun in question is not actually half goat. I believe that this negates his faun status.
The Alexander Mosaic, hanging in the National Museum, which we visited the next day (this was an incredibly educational trip, if I do say so myself). It's assumed that the main figure is Alexander the Great, hence the name. Clever, right?
There's Mount Vesuvius just lurking in the background, looking all innocent...
There were some amazingly well-preserved frescoes and floor mosaics in Pompeii. This is the Dionysus fresco from the House of Mysteries, which I may have referred to as the Department of Mysteries all day. Don't worry, dear readers, that has not changed this year - if there is a Harry Potter reference to be made, I will find it and make it. I was also extremely archeology-ed out by the time that we got here, so that may have been a contributing factor.
That more or less finishes our jaunt through Italy! The day after we did Pompeii we somehow managed to navigate the cramped, terrifyingly busy streets of Naples to find the National Museum using only the horrible, horrible map in my Europe guide. I'm pretty sure that whoever created that map invented some streets, because we certainly couldn't find them. It was an adventure. But we made it back to the train station and got on our way to Bari, on the other side of the country. There we met my faithful travel buddy Sarah (I know, another one), who had just flown in from her own adventures in Amsterdam, and we embarked on a ferry for Dubrovnik, Croatia! That will certainly get its own blog, as it has to be the most beautiful, incredible place that I have ever seen in my entire life. Oh my.
All that's left for me to do now is wrap things up in Norwich - I head back to the States in four days. I cannot believe that this year has come to an end. It has been the most incredible experience of my life, and I think that I'm still in denial that it's coming to a close. Now is not the time to be sad, however - there will be plenty of time for that when I'm at home being unemployed. Right now I am going to wring every drop of enjoyment from these next four days that I possibly can - carpe diem!
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Little Sirs of Roma
Hello, dear readers,
I hope that you all survived the Rapture alright, but if you no longer read this blog because you've been taken up to heaven, well, I'll understand. If you've stuck around with the rest of us however, and would like to hear about my time in Rome, you've found the right place.
Our adventures in Rome began more or less as soon as we disembarked from the train. It turns out that our hotel reservation had been cancelled and no one had told us - surprise! That was pleasant. So we're in Rome, it's 10:30 on a Saturday night, and we have no place to stay. Rome is full on a Saturday night at 10:30, as we found out when we began canvassing the hotels in the area. And by canvassing I mean begging someone to give us a room. It got a little bit tense - I think that we were all envisioning sleeping in the train station and being kidnapped and sold into an international prostitution ring, and I have to say, that was not on the top of my list of things to do on holiday. So these were the thoughts that were dancing in our heads as we stumbled into yet another hotel, only to be told that they were full for the night. The concierge took pity on us, though, and called around to see if he could find a room for us. After a few disappointments he found what I believe was the only free room in all of Rome that night, and it was just down the street. He gave us directions and sent us off with the words, "The man's name is Giovanni - he's a little weird, but he's a personal friend, so you'll be okay." With this promising start, we troopd down the street to find the hotel.
Giovanni had obviously been warned that three American women were going to be heading in his direction, because he was waiting for us outside his trattoria. Giovanni is probably 5 foot 5 inches on a tall day, he's ginger, and he took Sarah's hand and started kissing it after she said, "Are you Giovanni? I am so glad to see you!" I don't make these people up. He handed us over to his buddy Pasquale, who is probably 5 foot 6 inches on a tall day and speaks no English whatsoever, but is the most delightful person in the entire city of Rome. Pasquale brought us upstairs to our room, and with the help of Sarah's Italian proceeded to show us how everything in our room worked - we're talking light switches, shower, bathroom fan, the lock on the door - the whole nine yards. Turns out that he has a daughter our age, so he took a fancy to us. He even walked us to the cashpoint so that we could get money to pay for the room, and he didn't even overcharge us outrageously, as he could have done. The next morning, he gave us free cappuccinos and lemon cake for breakfast and circled all of the attractions that we needed to see on our map, and he moved our bags to a new room that had enough beds for all of us. We shared a queen-sized bed between the three of us the first night, but we were so relieved to have a room that it didn't matter in the slightest.
Heaving HUGE sighs of relief in our teeny hotel room in Rome - thanks to Giovanni and Pasquale, what could have been an absolutely terrible situation was turned into a rather pleasant experience, and we could sleep well before a busy day of exploring as much of Rome as possible. We're also doing a nice job of representing the red, white, and blue.
Not quite what we expected to see - thankfully, we didn't try to find a room here, as we wouldn't have been able to leave!
Our day of sightseeing began properly with a trip to the Colosseum! It was SO COOL. We were just walking down the street, and then, bam! Colosseum! There were a lot of buskers here, including a gentleman dressed as a Native American who was playing "The Sound of Silence" on his panpipes all day long.
The Arch of Constantine, who was crowned emperor in York - fun fact connection to England!
Looking across the Colosseum to where the important people, such as the emperor, would have sat. The entire thing used to be covered in marble, and the seats were numbered. The games here would have lasted for three months.
When in Rome, go ahead and embarrass yourself. You only live once.
Stadium Palatinum on Palatine Hill, where the emperor used to live. He would hold private gladiator games here if he didn't feel like mixing with mere mortals at the Colosseum. It's good to be in charge.
Palatine Hill, the most important of Rome's seven hills. This is the ruins of the Domus Flavia, where there used to be a fountain. According to our guide, this was the dining room, and meals here could last up to six hours. People would just keep throwing up after each course and then they'd start again because being able to supply your guests with enough food to feed an entire continent was a sign of wealth and prestige. Today that's called a tactical chunder, I believe, to give it its technical term.
View onto the Roman Forum from Palatine Hill - no big deal.
The Temple of Romulus, one of the legendary founders of Rome. Supposedly he and his twin brother, Remus, founded the city, but Romulus killed Remus and took all of the power for himself. Nice guy. Fun fact - the doors on this temple are two thousand years old, and they still lock. Amazing.
We were wandering down the street after leaving the Forum and just happened across Trajan's Column! Alright, so we followed the map, but still, these things are just there. It's insane.
The Pantheon! It's hard to get an idea of what it looks like from this photo, though.
Inside the Pantheon - architects still don't know how the Romans constructed this ceiling, which is pretty cool. While we were there, someone let a balloon go and everyone clapped when it floated through the hole in the ceiling.
Ara Pacis, the Altar of Augustinian Peace, consecrated in 9 B.C.
Making my wish at Trevi Fountain.
The Vatican Museum, 7 a.m. We hauled ourselves out of bed at 6 in order to beat the queues here after our tour guide told us that we shouldn't even bother. Determined to prove him wrong, we beat the crowds and made it into the museum in good time. When we left, the queue stretched around almost three sides of Vatican City. Good decision, us.
Raphael's famous "School of Athens" in the Stanze di Rafaele, built for Pope Julius II in the 1510s. My tour through my art history textbook was continuing nicely.
The famous Swiss Guards at St. Peter's Basilica. I felt horribly guilty taking this picture, but it had to be done.
The altar in St. Peter's Basilica, which is absolutely gorgeous. I have to say, though, that every time I visit a famous church or cathedral like this, I am blown away by how much money the Church has.
Art History 102 continues with Bernini's plan for St. Peter's Square, which was being set up for Easter mass while we were there.
Pasquale, our favourite Roman sir.
So there it is, Rome in under 48 hours. We saw so many amazing things, and we didn't even want to kill each other by the end of it! After doing Vatican City, we stopped for a much needed gelato break (have I mentioned the gelato in Italy? So amazing) and then got our train to Napoli, where the whirlwind continued! That's for another post, though. Right now I'm struggling to a) revise for my exam on Victorian Britain and b) wrap my mind around the fact that in exactly three weeks I'll be somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean on my way back to the United States. It's a terrifying thought. I'm about to leave everything that has defined my life for the past year. I don't know exactly how much this year has changed me, but I know that it's been quite a lot, and it's very difficult to not think of Norwich as home. When I consider being back in the States, I feel as though it will be like going to a foreign country again - I'm going to have to get used to the American way of living again. Part of me is getting more and more excited, but the majority of me just wants to stay here.
I hope that you all survived the Rapture alright, but if you no longer read this blog because you've been taken up to heaven, well, I'll understand. If you've stuck around with the rest of us however, and would like to hear about my time in Rome, you've found the right place.
Our adventures in Rome began more or less as soon as we disembarked from the train. It turns out that our hotel reservation had been cancelled and no one had told us - surprise! That was pleasant. So we're in Rome, it's 10:30 on a Saturday night, and we have no place to stay. Rome is full on a Saturday night at 10:30, as we found out when we began canvassing the hotels in the area. And by canvassing I mean begging someone to give us a room. It got a little bit tense - I think that we were all envisioning sleeping in the train station and being kidnapped and sold into an international prostitution ring, and I have to say, that was not on the top of my list of things to do on holiday. So these were the thoughts that were dancing in our heads as we stumbled into yet another hotel, only to be told that they were full for the night. The concierge took pity on us, though, and called around to see if he could find a room for us. After a few disappointments he found what I believe was the only free room in all of Rome that night, and it was just down the street. He gave us directions and sent us off with the words, "The man's name is Giovanni - he's a little weird, but he's a personal friend, so you'll be okay." With this promising start, we troopd down the street to find the hotel.
Giovanni had obviously been warned that three American women were going to be heading in his direction, because he was waiting for us outside his trattoria. Giovanni is probably 5 foot 5 inches on a tall day, he's ginger, and he took Sarah's hand and started kissing it after she said, "Are you Giovanni? I am so glad to see you!" I don't make these people up. He handed us over to his buddy Pasquale, who is probably 5 foot 6 inches on a tall day and speaks no English whatsoever, but is the most delightful person in the entire city of Rome. Pasquale brought us upstairs to our room, and with the help of Sarah's Italian proceeded to show us how everything in our room worked - we're talking light switches, shower, bathroom fan, the lock on the door - the whole nine yards. Turns out that he has a daughter our age, so he took a fancy to us. He even walked us to the cashpoint so that we could get money to pay for the room, and he didn't even overcharge us outrageously, as he could have done. The next morning, he gave us free cappuccinos and lemon cake for breakfast and circled all of the attractions that we needed to see on our map, and he moved our bags to a new room that had enough beds for all of us. We shared a queen-sized bed between the three of us the first night, but we were so relieved to have a room that it didn't matter in the slightest.
Heaving HUGE sighs of relief in our teeny hotel room in Rome - thanks to Giovanni and Pasquale, what could have been an absolutely terrible situation was turned into a rather pleasant experience, and we could sleep well before a busy day of exploring as much of Rome as possible. We're also doing a nice job of representing the red, white, and blue.
Not quite what we expected to see - thankfully, we didn't try to find a room here, as we wouldn't have been able to leave!
Our day of sightseeing began properly with a trip to the Colosseum! It was SO COOL. We were just walking down the street, and then, bam! Colosseum! There were a lot of buskers here, including a gentleman dressed as a Native American who was playing "The Sound of Silence" on his panpipes all day long.
The Arch of Constantine, who was crowned emperor in York - fun fact connection to England!
Looking across the Colosseum to where the important people, such as the emperor, would have sat. The entire thing used to be covered in marble, and the seats were numbered. The games here would have lasted for three months.
When in Rome, go ahead and embarrass yourself. You only live once.
Stadium Palatinum on Palatine Hill, where the emperor used to live. He would hold private gladiator games here if he didn't feel like mixing with mere mortals at the Colosseum. It's good to be in charge.
Palatine Hill, the most important of Rome's seven hills. This is the ruins of the Domus Flavia, where there used to be a fountain. According to our guide, this was the dining room, and meals here could last up to six hours. People would just keep throwing up after each course and then they'd start again because being able to supply your guests with enough food to feed an entire continent was a sign of wealth and prestige. Today that's called a tactical chunder, I believe, to give it its technical term.
View onto the Roman Forum from Palatine Hill - no big deal.
The Temple of Romulus, one of the legendary founders of Rome. Supposedly he and his twin brother, Remus, founded the city, but Romulus killed Remus and took all of the power for himself. Nice guy. Fun fact - the doors on this temple are two thousand years old, and they still lock. Amazing.
We were wandering down the street after leaving the Forum and just happened across Trajan's Column! Alright, so we followed the map, but still, these things are just there. It's insane.
The Pantheon! It's hard to get an idea of what it looks like from this photo, though.
Inside the Pantheon - architects still don't know how the Romans constructed this ceiling, which is pretty cool. While we were there, someone let a balloon go and everyone clapped when it floated through the hole in the ceiling.
Ara Pacis, the Altar of Augustinian Peace, consecrated in 9 B.C.
Making my wish at Trevi Fountain.
The Vatican Museum, 7 a.m. We hauled ourselves out of bed at 6 in order to beat the queues here after our tour guide told us that we shouldn't even bother. Determined to prove him wrong, we beat the crowds and made it into the museum in good time. When we left, the queue stretched around almost three sides of Vatican City. Good decision, us.
Raphael's famous "School of Athens" in the Stanze di Rafaele, built for Pope Julius II in the 1510s. My tour through my art history textbook was continuing nicely.
The famous Swiss Guards at St. Peter's Basilica. I felt horribly guilty taking this picture, but it had to be done.
The altar in St. Peter's Basilica, which is absolutely gorgeous. I have to say, though, that every time I visit a famous church or cathedral like this, I am blown away by how much money the Church has.
Art History 102 continues with Bernini's plan for St. Peter's Square, which was being set up for Easter mass while we were there.
Pasquale, our favourite Roman sir.
So there it is, Rome in under 48 hours. We saw so many amazing things, and we didn't even want to kill each other by the end of it! After doing Vatican City, we stopped for a much needed gelato break (have I mentioned the gelato in Italy? So amazing) and then got our train to Napoli, where the whirlwind continued! That's for another post, though. Right now I'm struggling to a) revise for my exam on Victorian Britain and b) wrap my mind around the fact that in exactly three weeks I'll be somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean on my way back to the United States. It's a terrifying thought. I'm about to leave everything that has defined my life for the past year. I don't know exactly how much this year has changed me, but I know that it's been quite a lot, and it's very difficult to not think of Norwich as home. When I consider being back in the States, I feel as though it will be like going to a foreign country again - I'm going to have to get used to the American way of living again. Part of me is getting more and more excited, but the majority of me just wants to stay here.
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