Wrote this one quite a while ago...

Well, it has been six weeks since I last posted. Writing has always been in the back of my head-I know I should (and want to) keep up a journal so that I can remember all the great times I've had since I made it to Europe, though at the same time I haven't stopped for a second yet to even catch up with myself. These past six weeks have been a flurry of classes and schoolwork, the park, gym, bars and cafés, travel and culinary adventures. Siena, Sicily, and Madrid have been the major destinations, however I find myself discovering more and more of Rome every time I step outside of the Centro.

The second weekend at the Centro, a group of 18 of us traveled to Siena for an overnight stay. Having already been there, I offered to plan travel and accommodations for all of us. My goal was to find a budget hotel near the Campo, my favorite place in Siena and the liveliest at night. A good hotel wasn’t too hard to find, so I grabbed my Italian-speaking roommate, Courtney, threw my phone at her with the hotel’s phone number, and due to her superior Italian speaking skills, we had a place to stay. Next up was finding a train for all of us—we wanted to make sure we left early Friday to maximize our time there, but just about half the group had art history class Friday morning. This is where it got interesting… The art history field trip that day was to the Vatican Museum, which apparently was going to run over the allotted time for the class. I came along on the fieldtrip even though I’m not in the class, and by 1:30 pm, I was extremely anxious to make our 2:30 pm train (Vatican city is across Rome from Termini Station). By some stroke of luck, we were able to leave the Vatican by 1:45, sprinted to the Metro station (which somehow I was able to remember its location from 3 summers ago when I was in Rome with Lizzy and Shanna), and was at Termini by 2:10. We bought our tickets, found our train and got on… except most of our crew didn’t validate their tickets, a fact we didn’t realize until 2:25 when we got on the packed train. Feeling responsible for the group, and trusting myself to get the job done, I grabbed everyone’s tickets, sprinted off the train, attempted to find a functioning validation machine (a feet harder than one would expect at the busiest train station in Rome), validated the tickets, and sprinted back onto the train. The fates were definitely with me, I made it back on the train with a couple minutes to spare. With adrenaline pumping, I finally found a seat on the train and relaxed for the next few hours of travel.

Once in Siena, we walked into the city center, found our hotel, and discussed our options for dinner. Our hotel was located just about a city block from the Campo, and so was very close to Ristorante da Mugalone, the beautiful restaurant I went to with Paul just a few weeks previous. The restaurant has amazing food, and priced accordingly—we were celebrating Troy’s 21st birthday, so everyone agreed to the restaurant despite our budgets, and I led the way. Once we got there, I immediately recognized the two waiters who led us to our tables—both immaculately dressed in suits, and with the manners of French finishing school graduates. Evan and I shared the antipasto fantasia, a selection of “surprise” Tuscan meats and cheeses, with an olive tapenade crostini and another crositini that I couldn’t quite figure out. I ordered the Tagliatelle alla Sienese, another Tuscan specialty of thick flat noodles with a red cinghiale (wild boar) sauce. We also managed to work our way through four bottles of wine for our table of eight, at which point someone mentioned that it isn’t alcoholism until you’re out of college. Our meal was as delicious as ever, however I couldn’t help but think that we should do something special for Troy. I mentioned that to Evan, who very slyly spoke to the waiter about bringing out a surprise birthday cake. Again, the gods must have been smiling down on us, as Troy was sitting with his back to the room’s entrance, and as soon as we saw the cakes arrive we all burst into song for the birthday boy. To make the situation even better, our cake was more of a chocolate torte, but had a cherry filling—delicious. The bill ended up being much more than we expected (I made the mistake of thinking the bottles were 8 euro each, rather than the 24 that they actually were), but in my opinion it was definitely well worth it.

Once we left the restaurant we ventured onto the Campo, where we sat and hung out while we planned our next move. In search of a bar, we started walking out of the Campo and back towards our hotel. On our way we found a bar where the shots were 3 for 5 euro…the rest is recorded in very incriminating photos. (one thing worth mentioning, we met an Adrien Grenier look alike and made sure to take photos with him).

The next day was our touristy day, so Emily and I started it off well by grabbing cappuccinos and checking out the novelty shops. After a suspect run in with advances from garbage collectors (who later saw me shopping in a lingerie store and gave me a thumbs up… eek!), I found some gifts for my sisters and met up with the rest of our group, who were slowly recovering from their hangovers. Through the course of the day, we walked all around the city as well as the outskirts, but ultimately found our way back to the Campo where we got gelato and enjoyed the warm sun and people watching.

After this second trip, Siena is for sure hitting the top of my favorite Italy destinations, giving Rome a run for its money. Siena is small enough that you could feel like a local within a matter of days, and preserves its Tuscan roots very well. You don’t need to search far for typical Sienese culture like you have to do in Rome, a beautiful city that is far too overrun by tourism and the tourism industry. If I am to live in Italy in the future, as I would like to, I feel that Siena would absolutely be my home base.

The next few weeks I spent in Rome, where Courtney and I invested in gym memberships, and I continued my culinary adventures. About 4 days of the week, Courtney and I head over to Vascello Fitness, our local gym, where we take the step aerobics classes in Italian. At first we were stumbling our way through class, now however we are more confident and having a lot more fun. Our instructor is a tiny Italian woman, with a mass of blonde curls, who is sprightly to the extreme, and has a great attitude. She also has a great taste in music—our classes are basically work out dance classes with routines set to popular dance/electronic music. Yves LaRocke and David Guetta are regulars. Usually Courtney and I go to class after we play a game of football, soccer, or ultimate Frisbee in the park with other Centristi. The usuals are Me, Court, Tiff, Evan, Troy, Jenny, Emily, Caroline, Jacob, Amol, Rich, and Nick (this is more for my memory than anyone elses). At home, I would usually opt out of these games, too embarrassed by my lack of skill in any organized sport, but I’ve learned that even if you are the last picked or no one ever passes to you (factually true—Evan), it makes for a great story later.

Wednesday nights, you can probably find Centristi at On the Rocks, an American bar in Trastevere. Although this isn’t helping our Italian immersion in the least, we know the bartenders and they tend to give us free drinks. I really don’t want to say much more about it, as my plan is to stop going there altogether. I definitely need to start focusing on the main goal of making Italian friends. Thursday nights is more of a chill out and relax night, as most of us can be found getting gelato from Mi Ami, or watching a movie at home. It’s our day of recovery before we go out again Friday night. The weekend is reserved for homework, playing at the park, caffe americanos at Ideal Bar, and adventures out into Rome to find some good grub.

This past week, the Centro made its way around the island of Sicily for 8 days. We have since renamed it “Big Ass Temple Week”, as the majority of our time was spent seeing and learning about the well-preserved temples in Magna Grecia. As the week progressed the temperature steadily decreased until I was freezing my Southern Cali butt off at a frigid 40 degrees. Even so, we continued our on site lectures, all heavily clad in raincoats and sweaters (we did have one lecture in the pouring rain). Every day was a new city and new temples, theaters, and forums. Because we had seven straight days of “big ass temples”, it is really hard to keep all the places straight in my mind. A couple of days I had to ask what city we were in, because I truly had no clue. Regardless, I had a great time—we were put up in four star hotels across the board and ate accordingly. I don’t think I've had that many fabulous meals consecutively in my life before. Highlights were the “homey lasagna”, “gourmet chingiale”, and


Despite the great times, I really messed up and somehow lost my camera. I am still pretty upset over it, because I hadn't uploaded one picture yet from the 6 weeks I have been here in Rome... I went through the entire day that I would have lost it in my head and I just cannot figure out what happened. The battery died at the museum in Reggio Calabria, so I brought it back with me to the bus, where I am pretty sure I put it on the seat next to me, and left it there while we went to all the other sites. Regardless, it’s gone and fortunately enough there is a guy here that refuses to use his camera so he's letting me borrow his from time to time.

The rest of Sicily went by in a breeze…

MORE LATER!

WEEK 1: September 13th, 2009 Rome, Italy – ICCS room

So after an archaeological dig and four weeks of independent travel, I have come to my final destination in Roma. As soon as I touched down into Italy, I felt an immediate release of tension; I was home. I considered why I might feel this way—either it was pure excitement at the prospect of remaining in one place for longer than a week, thus having my own room and closet space, or more simply the extent of my love for Italy. I soon came to the conclusion that it was a mixture of the two. There is nothing more comforting than having a place to call home, wherever that may be and for however long; that place for the next 3 months is Rome, and I could not be more ecstatic about that.

This past week has been filled with the excitement of new friends, new surroundings, and a new routine. The Centro is located in Trastevere, a growing suburban neighborhood just outside of the city center. Many of us have walked around the center and back through the winding streets of Rome to find our way back to the neon blue Madonna from the convent next door. Already, I am able to navigate my way through the neighborhood and beyond; my previous travels have done my general sense of direction some good.

The biggest shocker that I think we all experienced was how much time was required of all of our courses. Monday through Thursday we are in the Centro from 8 to 5 sitting in class; after that we are in the library studying and translating. By no means am I complaining, this is what I came here to do, this program is just not what most other study abroad programs are—with the courses I’m taking, I’m basically taking the same course load and then some as I would at school in LA. I suppose when you sleep, eat, and take your courses all in the same building, its easier to keep your students late. On that same note, I had been considering dropping the Latin class for the beginning Italian class all week, and when today I decided I would do that, I realized that the SC drop deadline passed this past Friday. I have already emailed my advisor, so everyone cross your fingers for me!

Our meals… what can I say about our meals? What can I say that every poet hasn’t already, while staring into the eyes of their beloved? The best part about this, is that I am not even close to exaggerating. For every meal, we have three Italian women cooking the most delicious traditional Italian pastas, soups, secondi, and dessert. I probably have already gained about 10 pounds (which I didn’t gain freshman year, and I’m sure this is my karma now) just because the food is so damn good. The biggest disappointment is that we are only served Monday through Friday. Pina, the wife of our administrative manager Franco, plans and oversees all of our meals. In fact, Franco, Pina, and the entire teaching staff along with their families eat meals with us everyday. Franco and Pina do a great job of making us feel at home, Franco is continually quoted as saying “This is our family… we are all a part of the Centro family… welcome.” We have already had three birthdays at the Centro, and each time Pina brought out a special cake with candles and we all sang to the birthday girl or boy.

We eat all our meals in the basement of the Centro, we take most of our courses on the first floor (where the library and exit to the garden is located), our rooms are on the second and third floor, and we have a workout area on the fourth floor. The girls all live on the second floor, while it is mostly boys on the third. My roommate, Courtney, and I ended up being the only girls on the third floor—apparently there are a few more girls than guys. Our room is on the corner and huge in comparison to most other rooms, it’s a very fair trade. Also, we have a great view of the gate, so whenever we hear people leaving we yell at them to see where they’re going and usually join.

And onto the weather… when we first got here, it was hot hot hot. We were all wearing on our short shorts and flip-flops, and discussing plans to go to the beach. Today, and the past couple of days, we have gotten completely unexpected rainstorms. I feel like the storms make us all feel more at home though. Yesterday, we were barbequing outside when the rain just hit all of a sudden, so we all ran inside and watched a movie together. There was something about this moment that just reminded me of a rainy day at school, seeking cover in a friend’s apartment. All we were missing was the hot chocolate.

Today it started raining pretty early, so when we headed out to find some breakfast I was able to break out my raincoat for the first time. Apparently, I was the only one who found this necessary, because all the East Coasters and Mid Westers wore tshirts, shorts, and sandals. I suppose this would be the first indication that we don’t experience much real weather in Southern California.

Last night we also watched the Notre Dame v. Michigan game. Theres quite a few kids from top 25 schools, so football has become a big topic of discussion. The only Italian thing about last night was the gelato run we made during the first quarter for dinner. Lately, I have been feeling a little homesick; the things we do like this remind me a little bit of home and make me feel a little better.

Being here only one week, I am realizing how easy it is to just stay at the Centro, only leaving for weekend meals. When all your friends are where you live, and when you have as much work as we do all the time, you just get really wrapped up. I’m hoping I’ll be able to drop this Latin course so that my workload will be a little decreased.

As for weekend trips (because I am planning on getting out), my general plan is to stay in Italy. I’ll have my weeklong trip to Spain to see Nicole, and otherwise I’ll be hanging out around here. I have already done a lot of traveling around Europe, and while there are still plenty of places I would love to see, I think I want to focus on having great experiences in Rome and around Italy. Appreciate where I am while I am living there.

Well everyone, I’m signing off.

Ciao

Milan - Just for the night

Well, apparently August is the month where all the Europeans travel. I knew this before hand, but decided not to book my train into Rimini until the last minute. My decision has resulted in a nine-hour layover between the hours of 11 pm and 8 am in Milano Centrale Stazione. I learned my lesson.
Instead of staying in the train station, as originally planned, Mom paid for me to stay at a budget hotel across the street. I was able to shower, get some internet time, and sleep in a clean bed (I had been missing that in Nimes), so I was more than ecstatic. Thanks Mom!
Tomorrow, I head of for Rimini to visit Lorenzo, and Fabri, friends I met through Liz, the last time we were in Rimini, two summers ago. I’m excited!

Nimes

The bus ride to the Pont du Gard cost €10.70. The whole ride I was just hoping to myself that it was worth it… and it definitely is. I am sitting along the bank of the Gardon, with the Pont du Gard to my left, and excited tourists bathing in the river in front of me. Unfortunately I didn’t follow my English friend’s advice in Nice, and bring my bathing suit, so I am stuck in my clothing dipping my feet into the water.
My worries about spending money began yesterday, when I paid €7.50 for entry into La Maison Carree and the Arena in Nimes. Both were quite underwhelming. As I thought before, the Arena is a boot leg version of the Coliseum. The La Maison Carree on the other hand, I had high hopes for. From the outside, the monument is beautiful, well made and amazingly preserved. The inside is another matter. I soon figured out that I did not pay for entry into a whatever century Roman monument, but rather a cinema to watch the “Heroes of Nime”. Instead of keeping the architectural integrity of the building, the Nimean Tourist Association or whoever the blasphemers are, converted the inside into a mini theater! And not only that, but to play the cheesiest bit of propaganda I have ever seen. I realize I sound bitter, but I was. About three minutes into the film I was ready to walk out, but decided instead to appreciate where I was—in an air conditioned Roman temple in the South of France. Alright, I’m okay.
I was super tired from another full day of traveling, so I decided to make it another early night. On my way back, I saw progressively more and more vendors setting up booths along all the roads, and found out that that night Nimes had a street market that spanned the entire Centro. Bands were playing at the main squares, many playing American classics (think Sinead O’Conner and Shania Twain), and street vendors were selling art, jewelry, clothing, food and whatever else. It reminded me of the Sawdust Festival in Laguna Beach, but on a much larger scale. It was definitely a nice surprise to run into that, otherwise nightlife in Nimes is non-existent unless you are one of those commie-bar sorts.
Which leads me to my next story… That night, or rather morning, I woke up to the sound of loud French voices yelling at each other; there were maybe 3 or 4 different voices. My window, four floors up, faces the street so I can hear just about everything that goes down on the street below. My memory is slightly hazy, as I was just barely awake, but I remember the loud voices, one very angry and the other very scared and then a car zooming by really fast. I never really did find out what happened, but that night I distinctly remember having dreams about the Italian Mafia taking moving in on Nimes and grenades being thrown into my window. This is what happens when I let my imagination roam free.
In any case, I am at the Pont du Gard now, enjoying every second of it. If only I brought my bathing suit…

Nice

Well, I’ve found out that I’m not a fan of the traveling days. Being at the destination is great, but getting there really blows. By the time I reached Nice, it was nearing 9 pm and I still needed to find my hostel from the train station. Luckily, Hotel Pastoral is only a 5 minute walk from the station, if that, and finding it was easy. As soon as I checked in, I walked to my door, unlocked it, and broke the handle. To my own credit (and not my superhuman strength, as the night shift guy was convinced) the knob was already pretty shifty and was on its way out regardless. After comments about easing up on the weightlifting, the knob was fixed easily, and I began planning out my next two full days in Nice.
I began my first day in Nice walking through the Cours Selaya produce Market. In an effort to eat cheap, I decided to purchase all of my dining needs here, so that I could throw together lunch and dinner myself from all the fresh veggies and fruit I was about to buy. Ultimately, I’m not too sure how much money I ended up spending, so I don’t really know how cost effective it was, but I did buy all the supplies to make some delicious Bocadilla sandwiches like the ones Caitie showed Liz and I in Spain. Next I hurried off to the Museum of Modern and Contemporary Art, where the works of Yves Klein are on permanent display.
This particular museum was the highlight of Nice for me (well, with great exception to the beach... more on that later). I was able to see a lot of the artists that Rohrer and Heather James display back at home; its always great to make these connections. I only wish that Emily was there to experience it with me and be my guide.
I was back to the hostel next to make my lunch and change for the beach. Little known fact (or maybe I should have just done my research) the beaches in Nice don’t have sand, they have pebbles. Also, the beaches are packed to the shore line—its hard to tell one party from the next. I didn’t let this get me down, rather, I found an inch of beach space, laid out my towel, dropped the rest of my stuff, and jumped into the water. Being at the beach, I was of course reminded of home and how I need to go to the beach more often. Swimming in the warm Mediterranean waters with beautiful people surrounding you on all sides is a very enjoyable experience. Being the most tan I’ve ever been is a huge plus too.
Soon after, I headed back to my room where my roommates (two Canadian women and an English guy) and I would continue to have conversation after conversation about the London Olympics, the English economy, traveling, English and American television, and whatever else you could think of. Hopefully, I’ll have a place to stay for the 2012 London Olympics!! Overall, it is just really nice to talk to people and have a little human interaction through all this solo traveling.
The next day was a lot of the same, I hit the beach, did a little shopping, saw the Chagall Museum (not a highlight, hard to appreciate something you know nothing about), and walked around a lot. Another great day in Nice, I hope to go back soon!

Berlin – from a train to Nimes, August 13th, 2009

When I started planning my tour through Europe, I did the obvious thing and chose destinations that aligned with my interests. Greece was a clear choice, I would get to see the ruins of the ancient Greeks and the white washed homes and churches of the present day islanders. The South of France was easy-beautiful beaches, the Pont du Gard, and croissants. Berlin however, was not much more than a feeling. Never before have I felt an urge to go to Germany, until I started my planning. As I researches more into the city, I found that it had one of the greatest and largest antiquities museums in the world and that its indie-art scene was on the rise. So I said, “what the hell”, convinced a friend to join, and booked my flight to Berlin.
Once I arrived in Berlin’s Schoenfeld airport, I waited in arrivals to meet up with Dean, who was taking a weekend away from where he was studying in Brighton. As soon as he came through the security doors, I gave him a huge hug and we set off to find our hostel—an adventure that took a little longer than expected. We had directions in hand, and knew that our hostel was in the middle of city, less than 1 km from our train stop (Hakesher Markt), but the directions read like a Google translation of the German original. I began asking directions from random people on the street, and after being led astray a couple of times, we finally found someone who knew exactly where to go. Once we arrived, it was well after 1 am. After a quick check in, we dropped our stuff and headed back out. Both of us were completely surprised and excited by the night life in Berlin. It was a Thursday night at 1 am, and everyone was still out—restaurants, bars, and clubs alike were packed and rockin.
We jumped into the first bar with good music, instantly ordered a beer, and sat down to enjoy the first German beer of my life… Well, funny thing is, I found out that just like American beer, I don’t like it. I can’t really complain about this though, its something that saved me money throughout our stay. So after a few sips I passed it on to Dean, who happily downed his and mine. We were rockin out to the electronic remixes the DJ was playing, having a great time, until the DJ played “rock around the clock”, and other 50’s era hits. We quickly left and went on our way to find some cheap food—mission accomplished. Just down the street a 24-hour joint was serving out “durum donor”, a Turkish kebab like wrap, aka pure deliciousness. The only reference I have for this is eating Chano’s chicken nachos after a long night on the row. It’s a wrap composed of the meat off those spits they make gyro meat from, lettuce, cabbage, tomatoes, and your choice of garlic or spicy sauce—I opted for both. Needless to say, Dean and I were shocked by how good the fast food is in Germany. We were 5 hours into our Berlin excursion, and already we were completely content.
The following morning, we decided to find a café to get breakfast and make a game plan for the next few days. I ordered a cappuccino and we shared the “large breakfast”; the cappuccino was huge (should be at 3E) with froth overflowing out of the cup, and the large breakfast was a combination of deli meats, cheeses, fresh fruit, and freshly baked bread—I love Germany. The biggest oddity of German culture I found occurred while eating at this café. It was 11 am, and people were already into their first beer of the day! Apparently beer is an all day refreshment, acceptable at breakfast, lunch, and dinner, or a replacement for any of these meals. Regardless, we began our game planning by opening up our map and trying to find all the sights we wanted to get to. Only problem is the map displays very accurate drawings of each of the monuments, but doesn’t name them. Apparently, you are supposed to know what building is what, solely based upon location and architecture. While this may have worked had I actually done a little research before coming to Berlin, we were at a loss. So instead, we decided to wander around and rely upon Dean’s impecable sense of direction and try to find whatever it was we were looking for.
And wouldn’t you know it, the first thing we stumbled into was the Altes and Pergamon Museums—the antiquity museums of Berlin. As we walked through the museum doors, I shivered with excitement. Forgot the €7 I paid to get in (about 12 American), seeing the remnants of Greek and Roman art, civilization, and trade gave me the chills. It was in these museums that I realized (if I hadn’t already 100 times over) how truly perfect a Classics education is for me. My breath was taken away by the sight of so many well made and well-preserved mosaics, and pithoi, and sculpture, and everything else in between. It was rewarding to see so many of the artifacts that I learned about in class all the way back in Southern California.
After walking through the Altes, we hurried over to the Pergamon. As soon as you walk in, you are immediately confronted with the reconstructed Altar of Pergamum, with wall panels sorrounding all four walls. I squeaked out an, “oh my god”, all while Dean continued to laugh at me (with possible annoyance at my perpetual excitement throughout the day). I took more pictures than I can count, with an accidental flash or two in there (one of these was the bust of Nefratiti, I’m surprised no one jumped me). Possibly my favorite exhibition of these two museums was upstairs within the Pergamon Museum; in a series of small rooms, joined together so that you must enter and exit one to reach the next, there was an exhibition of the Olympian gods. The first room, of course, was dedicated to Zeus and painted in a deep Blue. Statuary lined the walls and the center of the room. The next room, dedicated to Aphrodite, was painted in a dark red hue, again with statuary dominating the room. This system continued for all of the Olympian Gods, until the last room—a room devoted to the Amazonian Women. It was in this room that a massive statue of Penthiselea stood, the Queen of the Amazonians. Her stature signified a woman not to be reckoned with, yet she maintained a certain femininity that she almost used as a weapon. She appeared wild and free, a warrior in her own right.
This exhibition was the last of the museum, so we eft and began to wander around again until we stumbled once again into the great park near the Reichstag building. I must say, I am thoroughly impressed by German architecture, however totally displeased with how HUGE Berlin is. On the map, the park was no more than an inch away, yet it took us around 40 minutes to get there. We passed by Humboldt University, the huge Romanesque monument with the man with the chariot, and a few other squares. As soon as we got there, we sat underneath a tree and rested our feet (unfortunately I decided to wear extremely uncomfortable flip flops). At this point, we were 5 hours from breakfast and ready to eat again. So we sat a little while longer, and headed back towards our hostel to find a good German style meal.
We succeeded. Right by our hostel was a restaurant called Rocco’s, where we ordered plates of sausage, boiled potatoes, and sauerkraut. Let me tell you; once we sat down, ordered, and began to eat, it was glorious. So glorious, that afterwards we went straight back to our hostel and took a nap from the serious food coma that ensued.
That night, we met our five other roommates—Karina, Mark, John-o, Sara, and Rose, all Ausies about our age living in London. Instead of going to University, they picked up and left the beautiful Sunshine Coast for city life in London and to travel the world. We all got along quite well, and they invited Dean and I out with them the next day for Karina’s birthday celebration.
Saturday morning, Dean and I planned on going to the market to grab breakfast, but on our way we ran into a farmer’s market. We both got strudel and fresh squeezed orange juice. This meal continued our delicious cultural culinary experiences. After we ate, we headed for the Berlin Wall. Little did we know that it would take an 1 ½ hours to get there—I was beginning to resent our boycott of public transportation. The foot pain was however worth it, despite the underwhelming nature of the wall itself, because of the public art showcase Berlin had initiated on the wall. For every 10 meters of the wall, a different artist painted a depiction of their experience or idea of what the Berlin wall meant then and means now for them. Some took more negative approaches, painting dark figures that looked like Death Eaters (thank you, JK Rowling), while others took positive approaches, painting a hole in the wall with a picture of the Earth through the hole.
On our walk back, we stopped for Icekaffes—espresso with milk, a scoop of vanilla ice cream, and whipped cream on top. **At this point, I am realizing that my entire blog is about food! Woops!** Anyways, we saw the Berlin Wall, and it was great, we got Icekaffes, and we stopped through a flea market where I got a Berlin Olympics pin circa whenever the Olympics where in Berlin (yes I know the history behind it, that’s partially why I got it). We also got pretzels along the way from a street vendor and headed back to the hostel to eat them with some beer and rest before going out.

That night, dinner was at an Italian place near by, where we all ordered pizzas. The eight of us (Karina’s boyfriend flew in that day) discussed Australia, London, Manchester (Where K’s boyfriend grew up), and Southern California. Culturally, all are very different, though we discussed how the mindset from each can be so similar. For example, London is just like any other big city, except the people have an English accent and eat bangers and mash. It was really interesting to see the similarities and differences of all these places separated by so many miles. Despite our serious conversations, dinner ended on a lighter note—after our plates were cleaned up, three waiters came out carrying a huge platter with firework candles, a tower of champagne, and tiramisu. The surprise was really sweet; it showed just how great of friends they all are. It was a great way to spend my last night in Berlin.

Sunday morning rolled around much too quickly. Dean and I decided to spend this day wandering around the neighborhoods we liked most; Dean was leaving at three for his flight, and I needed to recheck into another room. As a last meal, Dean and I went back to Rocco’s for lunch, where he ordered another glorious plate of sausage and sauerkraut, and I ordered a delicious Icekaffe. This one was even sweeter than the first, making our farewell to Berlin that much more bitter.

After Dean left, I was to begin my journey through Europe alone. My feelings on solo travel are mixed—it will be a great way to strike out on my own, separating myself from all the influences (good ones, of course) and thus making all of my own decisions, and maybe really learning more about myself. On the other hand, I have always felt that the best experiences are those that you share with the people you love. I’ll keep you updated on which one wins out. Taken altogether though, I would much travel alone than not travel at all.

Everything Thus Far

July 21st, 2009 – Lyssa in Roma entry

What can I say… Tuscany is gorgeous, the excavation members (Scavi as we call them) are fantastic, and I am having the time of my life. We sit in trenches all day with our pick axes, trowels, hammers, and buckets, digging up ancient artifacts that haven’t been touched in over 2000 years. You could say I’m livin the dream. I’m going to start from the beginning though with clippings of what I’ve written over the past week I’ve been in Vescovado.

July 10, 2009 – Los Angeles

Well… I’m in the airport, sitting at terminal 48B, and waiting for my connecting flight into Chicago. I just said goodbye to Mom and Liz, and it was really hard to watch Mom cry as I was entering the security checkpoint. It makes me think about how long six months really is—at 20, I have lived through 40 six-month periods. In any case, I will probably be back home before anyone knows I’m even gone. By the time I get back, I will have traveled to Germany, France, Greece, Spain, and of course, Italy. This isn’t including any spontaneous trips I might go on; who knows, I might even throw out my day planner (obviously this isn’t going to happen, I have to plan to be spontaneous!). I have only a few goals on this trip of a lifetime I am about to embark on, 1. Find myself an Italian boyfriend and get dual citizenship, 2. Eat as much pizza, pasta, and gelato as possible, 3. Experience Roman culture as a Roman does (When in Rome…), and 4. Go on as many adventures as possible. My goals are simple, unlike my everyday goals, so this should be easy!

July 10, 2009 - FLASH FORWARD - Chicago

I burst through the airplane doors and found myself in beautiful Chicago. I love this city, and I’ve only been to the airport. As we began our descent, I peeked over the few people to my right, and saw the most beautiful deep green I have ever seen. The city is lined with parks, masses of trees reaching out from each other, cloaking the city in green. I think the Southwestern Style McDonalds salad I ate in this airport is possibly the most delicious salad I have ever eaten. I am still sitting in this glorious airport, as the plane is delayed, sitting and listening to the six or so French kids to my left, and the Italian couple on my right. I can’t understand a word they are saying, but both languages are so beautiful, I wish that I could be staying in France longer, and I can’t wait to get to Italy.

July 11th, 2009 – Train to Chiusi (connecting to Siena)

Traveling alone is lonely… getting in arguments with stupid Italian men is angering… but meeting sweet Italian nuns who serve you Fanta and homemade candied almonds, after you enter their convent sweaty and smelly, makes all of that so much better. I took a detour from Fiumicino airport to the convent next door to my Fall study abroad home before I took another train to Termini to get on this train. I made it to the Via Venti Quattro train station, and started walking the four blocks to the Centro. About a mile into it, I realized that I was walking the wrong way. So, I turned around and walked the mile back to the train station (uphill), and about another mile (uphill) to the convent. By the time I reached the street, I was dripping sweat, my shoulders burned like Hades, and my legs felt like collapsing. I really should have worked out more while I was at home. As I approached the door, I saw a nun sweeping the front step, so in my best broken (and non-existant) Italian, I introduced myself and tried to describe why I was there. This nun introduced herself as Suor Jessica, and brought me inside to meet Suor Pietrina, the nun whom Franco had talked to about me dropping off my luggage. I was quickly introduced and instructed to put down all my gear, and I gladly did, and then was politely directed to living room of sorts. Suor Pietrina doesn’t speak a lot of English, so Suor Jessica translated as I answered her questions, first attempting in Italian and eventually defaulting to English. The sisters’ hospitality was above and beyond kind—they even offered a bedroom for me to sleep in tonight in case I wanted to travel the following morning. I politely declined, though they still wanted to show me around, as their building and the Centro are connected and share a garden. They pointed to the windows of our bedrooms, and pointed out the kitchen and the gardens where most of the students study. All I can say is that the Centro and the connected convent are both gorgeous—I cannot wait to be living in this historic building that looks and feels and is in the very distinctive Italian style. I had to leave, so that I could make at least the last train to Siena tonight, so I thanked them and asked if I could come visit them when I return in the fall. Their answers were so sweet; I wish I could write the Italian. I’m on the train now, though, and we are about to start moving, so PEACE!

July 11th, 2009 – 11:00 pm almost ready for sleeping

Well I’m alive, and I made it… though none of you would know that because I don’t have cell service (apparently I turned the international plan on, but Sprint did not), and there’s no Internet here. Looks like its just me and my Microsoft word.

I just met some of the scavi diggers, and everyone seems pretty chill. It’s a very tight knit group, I’m pretty sure most of these people come back year after year. They say that there’s not a whole lot to do in Vescovado, or even in Murlo for that matter, so mostly at night people hang out at the bar across the street or on the steps on the Scavi residence, which is beautiful by the way. This year they rented out a small hotel, and it is really nice. It feels like an Italian style dorm room with your own bathroom and plenty of room. I’m not in the exact room I’ll be staying in; the people I’m supposed to take the place of haven’t left yet.
During the workweek, we all wake up around 5:30, so that we can get dressed and head out to the dig site by 7 (we walk about a mile away to get there), where we stay working until 3:30.

I’m exhausted, I cant even finish this… more later.


July 12, 2009 – 9:23 pm

After I left my room this morning, I was immediately invited to go on a nature hike into La Befa, a town just 6 kilometers from Vescovado, wth Ben and Nina. As the taxi driver had told them, in La Befa there is a small Osteria where you can get the best pasta you can find in the area. The only directions we had to get there were to follow the road along the creek, and then take the trail along the creek. We crossed over onto the first trail and began walking… it is absolutely gorgeous. I still cannot believe that I live here! We veered from the trail a few times to dip our hands into the creek and sit in the shade, I took several pictures and I don’t think I took one bad shot… that’s how beautiful the Tuscany is in every frame. We followed the path into a field of wildflowers and tall grass, we followed it across the creek a few times, all the way to a dead end. The great part was, none of us were at all disappointed when we realized we took the wrong path, we had beautiful scenery, good conversation, and good company. As we began walking back, we hit another trail, so what the hell, we decided to follow it. About a ½ km down the road, we hit the right trail! We followed this one across two bridges, one made of steel with steel netting at the bottom so that you could have an unimpeded view of the creek (scary), and the second a wood and cement bridge with the original Roman foundations.
As we walked on and on we finally hit the city of La Befa—it is a city made up of about 13 buildings, all residential except one Osteria; the exact one we were looking for. The legendary owner is Stella, a large black woman who speaks Italian and English with an islander accent. She made us our tagliatelle with meat tomato sauce and tortellini with tomato sauce. The tortellini was, to say the least, the best I have ever had. It is made with fresh local ingredients, and just downright delicious. The six km there, plus however many we walked in our nature walk, was well worth it, all for this one delicious meal.
On our way back, we had extremely intense conversations about Vergil, the Aeneid, the gods and how they do not feel grief like mortals do, how Achilles tries to reject his mortality by depriving himself of food after Patroclus dies. We also talked about the gates of ivory and the gates of horn. We talked about epic heroes, and Dante, and how he would fit into the modern ideal of a hero. This is a part of why I love being here—I can have the most intense conversations, and learn so much about the subject I love, all while walking through the Tuscan hills. This is where I belong.

July 14th, 2009

On to the Dig part though… Today, me and the other “newbies” (as we are called) woke up early for Mag duty (5:20 am), and helped put together breakfast and make the coffee—it really isn’t an ideal meal, nor is it very good coffee, but it really isn’t as bad as everyone says it is. After breakfast, all us new girls got a ride up to the Mag (Magazino—Italian for store room) and got an introductory lecture from Tony, the in charge professor, and Theresa, a grad student who has worked in Murlo for 6 years. The Mag is underground, down a driveway below Murlo (it’s a fortified castle city), with four store rooms on each side of the walk until you hit a dead end where there are two rooms facing you, one for conservation and the other for cataloguing. Inside, they described to us the importance of the dig site, and what was there (or what we think was there), and the general things you’ll find at the dig site. Theresa showed us a lot of the special finds, how they organize it, how they figure out what is ‘special’ and what is ‘bulk’ (that would be expatriated back to the site). After Theresa’s introduction, Tony drove us to the entrance of the forest where we have to walk ever morning to get up to Poggio Civitate. I found out the site is in a forest, actually, which makes it harder to dig around, but more beautiful to be around.
After an introduction to almost all of the trenches, I jumped into Kate’s, the Dig Director, with Angie, Mike, Irena, and of course, Kate. She told me short hand what they were doing, and threw me into the trench for a pick pass. Basically, I used a pickaxe to loosen up the dirt, or rather, demolish the earth, below me. Immediately thereafter Mike said “what?! Why’d you pick there!!”, thus freaking me out, so I yelled back a frantic, “WHAT?!?!?!”. Mike and Angie quickly told me that I had ruined the stratigraphy, basically screwing up the whole trench. Obviously I was freaking out, but soon caught on that they were messing with me, and that really, I should get used to it. It definitely goes along with being called the ‘new girl’. The rest of digging was fun, we also had lunch up on the hill, and then we headed back down with Chris, a trench master who’s been coming back to Murlo for six consecutive years. He brought us back down to the Mag, where we met up with Steve the conservator. He taught us the different ways to clean the fragments of special finds and regular bulk terra cotta; we used toothbrushes for dry cleaning and paintbrushes and toothpicks with self-made cotton balls for wet cleaning. He gave each of us a special find, I started working on what looked like a black vase with incisions around the lip. I was so scared to mess it up, or break it, or just do anything wrong, that at first I was extremely hesitant. After I got over my little bout of self-consciousness, I started cleaning it and actually had a lot of fun. In truth, the work is fairly tedious, and I’d rather work in the field, but it was definitely interesting to see all the sides of archaeological work, seeing how they all fit together in the grand scheme of eventually displaying the item.
Following our conservation lesson, we had our twice a week lecture which was held this time by Joe the RISD guy. He gave us an architectural design lecture, which I have all my notes for, and was about to fall asleep through. It was interesting for sure, but I was so tired by the end of the day. We got our first assignment, which I should start working on this week, but for now… I’m just ready for dinner.


Tuesday, July 14th, 2009 – Garden at Scavi house

HAPPY BIRTHDAY EMILY!!!

Well today was another eventful day in beautiful Murlo, I began my day bright and early with a nature hike up the (not so) treacherous Poggio Civitate hill. I was really excited to start, and I really enjoyed the hike.—I hope this feeling lasts. As I was working today, I started to think “wow, I paid for this?? Wow.” But then you start realizing how cool it is that YOU are the first person to be digging up and touching the tiled roofing terra cotta, or bronze, or any of the finds in almost 3,000 years. Kinda crazy, huh? I found three special finds today—a tiny piece of bronze, a plaster mold of a wall feature, and the remains of a broken up pithoi all in one spot. It was really exciting, and very rewarding. I’m exciting to go back out tomorrow, but I’m also very tired… It’ll be another early night.


July 21st, 2009 – Magazino at lunch

This past weekend was our one long weekend to go anywhere for three days. I had to choose between Cinque Terre and Perugia with Jordana and Lizzie, or Rome with Paul, Rebecca, and Brooke. Rome ended up being more affordable, so that’s where I headed off to. We had a great time walking all around the city; we hit almost every one of the biggest monuments in Rome, leaving our hostel at 8 am, and coming back between midnight and 2 am. Having already gone to Rome, Rebecca and I became co-navigators (though I am for sure giving Rebecca more credit for this one), while Paul was along for whatever, and Brooke inserting her opinions here and there. It was a great group; we all worked really well traveling together.
Both nights in Rome, we walked into the Jewish Ghetto for dinner, and ate at a restaurant called Il Giggeto; it was definitely a lot nicer than what I would typically go for (being budget minded and all), but the food was great and we all got dressed up to go. The first night, we shared these fried rice balls with some sort of cheese in the center, and all got our own individual pastas. I ordered a Sphagetti Carbonara and shared some of everyone elses dishes. The next night I ordered the Tagalerelle, which was basically a carbonara with peas and onions. We shared the house wine, which is miles better than what we drink for table wine at the scavi house.
All in all, it was really nice to go back to Roma. Having already been there, and learning so much about the monuments since then, I felt more equipped to really see the monuments for what they were. I also felt like I could enjoy the city more just being there, instead of being totally rushed to see everything. I have realized that my favorite part of being in any new city is just being there and trying to see the city as a local does. The best part of Roma this time around was sitting at dinner, drinking wine and talking to good friends, or hanging out at the Spanish Steps, again just talking and hanging out. Ahhh how I love Italy.

August 7th, 2009 – The Dig in a Nutshell… from a hostel in Berlin

Well my time in Vescovado has come to an end, and my writing I feel has just begun. The first leg of my European adventure could not have prepared me better for what was to come next. I met some amazing people, who I hope to remain friends with, I have learned a lot about myself, and I have also learned a lot about what I want to accomplish academically.
After Roma, we continued digging for the next week, and then headed off to Firenze for a guided tour through the Etruscan Museum there by our Dig Director, Tony Tuck. It is interesting to walk through museums now, being fully able to appreciate how much time and effort goes into the end product of displaying a single item; from the digging and finding process to conservation to cataloguing to displaying and everything in between. Our tour was quick, and gave us the rest of the day to walk around the city. Britt had lived in Florence for a semester, and Theresa in Padova for a summer, so they became our guides through Florence. Britt took us to the restaurant that she frequented the past year—the owners remembered her, and so they sent over sandwiches for us all to try, on the house. We all split up after this, Theresa, Britt, and I all ventured off to find the particular hair salon Britt had gone to, again while studying abroad. As soon as we got there, we were introduced to our hair stylists—mine was Fabio, a gorgeous and charming Italian man, probably one of the most attractive men I have ever seen. He began by telling me all about my hair in broken English; “too dry!” and “keep long, not too much”. I felt confident in his hands, he complimented my curly hair, and kept laughing when he would pull a curl and it would bounce right back up. After about 15 minutes, he said, “I’m Done. No more”. And that was it. I had a great haircut. Thank you Fabio, this is the best cut I’ve ever gotten.
The next weekend, Paul, Frederick, Maggie, and I headed of to Siena for the night. We had an impromptu lecture on Friday, as it was the last day of real archaeological work, so we had to run down the hill to make the bus in time. Upon arrival, we walked around to get to our hotel, dropped our stuff and cleaned up, and then headed off to diner. We ate at a place called Ristorante Mugolone, as their “drunken rabbit” had come highly recommended by other Scavi-ers. I ordered the Tagliatelle Alla Sienese, and the Antipasti Fantasia to share with Paul. I had no clue what either of these items would be like, unaware of what the traditional sauce of Siena was, and the Fantasia being a ‘sopresa’ anyways. The Fantasia came out as a series of bruschetta, crostini, and a selection of meats. The Tagliatelle was mixed in with a cream and truffle sauce. Everything was great, and we all really enjoyed our meals. After, we got gelato (nocciola and tiramisu) and drank a bottle of wine out on the campo. It was a mellow night, and we were all really tired, so we headed back to our room fairly early to get a good start on the next day of walking around. The following day, we all met up and walked around Siena; Maggie and Frederick left early to get back to the Scavi house, while Paul and I stayed back and ended up running into Britt, Theresa, Rebecca, Brooke, Rachel, Julia, Ashley, D, and Karen. We shopped around the streets of Siena, I found an electric blue t-shirt with caricatures of the main tourist attractions in Siena and quickly snatched it up, and also shopped around the Chinese store (legendary for Scavi-ers, it is basically the santy alley of back home all in one store). This weekend trip reminded me of the travel lesson I learned in Roma, that with good company you can have fun anywhere—the destination, although important, does not mean as much without good company.
With the close of this weekend, came also the close of Scavi. On Monday, all we had left to do on the hill was backfill. We all started out dreading the process; after all, backfilling is just piling dirt over tarped trenches so that they reach ground level. It consists of carrying dirt back and forth from dirt hill to trenches. As the day progressed however, thunder approached—and soon after, rain. At this point we had nearly finished about 80% of the backfill, however we needed to finish that day. Once the rain hit, we all began running around, speeding up the process, filling buckets and wheelbarrows as quickly as possible. I became the runner between the bucket fillers at the bottom of the dirt hill and the bucket carriers at the top of the hill. Because of the rain and mud, it became progressively harder and harder to run up the hill without slipping and losing a step here and there, however, this day was my favorite day on the hill. The intensity of everyone running to get the job done, pushing through fatigue, and soon after finishing the process, was exhilarating and fun. It reminded me of a CIF basketball game from back in high school, when the opposing team is up, though the underdog pulls through for the win in the end.
On Monday, the first wave of Scavi was leaving for Roma, which included one of the closest friends I had made in Vescovado. On the following morning, nearly the rest of my good friends were leaving for Roma as well. So after we saw that first wave off, all of us girls planned a slumber party in my room, with Rebecca, D, and Rachel. At the slumber party, I threw out a crazy idea… what if I went to Roma with them the next day, for only a day, to be a “sopresa!” to my friend that had left that same day. So, in an ultimate act of spontaneity, I packed a day bag, woke up the next morning, and headed off to Roma for the second time this trip. It turned out to be a great idea, our friend really enjoyed the surprise, and we were all able to hang out for the last time, walking through the streets of Roma. We decided just to wander around, talk, and stop every once in a while when we hit a place we liked. It was hard to see everyone off, everyone that I had become so close to in so short an amount of time. I hope to see these people again, and am looking forward to planning my cross-country road trip to see them all.
And now, finally, I am in Berlin. I have found several pieces of terra cotta roofing, an in situ pot, a fragment of a loom weight, a full profile piece of pottery, and a few other fun finds. I have also worked in conservation with some of the same items, and in cataloguing as well. At this point, I am able to look back at the dig from an outsider’s perspective, and am able to see that although I had a great time, archaeology may not be my true calling. I have learned a lot about this area of study, and I find working in the field an unmatched experience to learning the same subject in a classroom. Additionally, I really enjoyed that the dig brings together such a great amount of people each year of the same or similar interests. It was also interesting to find pottery or bone or terra cotta fragments and realize that you were the first person to see and touch this item in over 2000 years. I think, however, that I would rather work in the later steps of archaeology—perhaps museum work, or teaching Classical art history. Grad school, like before, will come next. I hope to find one in which I can study in both the Classics department and Art History, so that I can study everything I enjoy—Classical Art History, Latin, and Greek.

Goodbye Beautiful Vescovado, I hope to see you again.