I'm in ISRAEL!

Hello everyone, I'm in Israel, as the title of this post indicates. It's been a long ride so far, including 1 1/2 in New York and a 12 hour flight from JFK to Tel Aviv. Wow. Today is our first full day and we have so much stuff on our schedule. It turns out that--yes!--we will be floating in the dead sea. Sweet!

Israel, from the little I have seen, is amazing. When we left the airport at 5:30 it was hot and BRIGHT. I mean, searing bright. But, by the time the sun set it was almost cool and really comfortable. Our hotel is about a 2 minute walk from the Meditteranean (by the way, any spelling mistakes don't count in this blog, because spell check is in Hebrew!). We went for a walk on the beach last night at 10:30 or 11 and saw all of these people out, stilling have dinner with their family, going to any of the many clubs along the beach. It was very cool.

We also ate at this fantastic restaurant. Baba ghanoush (sp?) galore! It was great. And I think I had fresh halwa, but I'm not sure. Oh, also met with the ex Media advisor to a Prime Minister, you know, all in a day...

Well, there are people waiting to use this, so I'm going to sign-off. Will blog again when I can. Yay!

Okay, another day, another adventure. That's my moto, you know...So, after I wrote my freak out post last night, things started to look up a bit, though not enough for me to rescind any of my original comments.

So, there was a very nice Argentinian girl in the room with me last night--definitely absent from the same room was the older guy I mentioned in the blog. I'm still not sure if he lives here, but he doesn't appear to sleep here, at least during the week, because he has a night job. Anyway, I'm soldiering through. Ha ha ha--anyone who knows me knows that I don't like soldiering through anything.

Okay, so back to something that's actually interesting: the Cinque Terre. So, I loved Corniglia. It is the smallest and least touristy of the five towns, and it is right in the middle of the five towns. On Saturday, the day I arrived, I met this nice girl from New York and we ended up spending most of the afternoon and the morning together. Then on Sunday I went into La Spezzia and caught a bus to Portovenere (the Port of the Poets). La Spezzia, at least the part I saw, was less than impressive. Frankly, it smelled bad and had very few interesting buildings. However, it is right on the sea and in-between two hills.

Portovenere, on the other hand, was almost painfully beautiful. It's so obvious to see why it was so inspiring for some many writers (including Byron and D. H. Lawrence). It's a really small little hillside town on the Gulf of La Spezzia. The town stretches down from the hills into a little stretch of land that just seems to rise from the sea amongst all of these beautiful rocks.

So, there are three main sites in Portovenere: the churches of San Pietro and San Lorenzo, and then a medieval castle. San Lorenzo wasn't that impressive, although it is on a nice plateau/piazza that allows you a nice view of the sea. What's an even better view? Uh, the view from the medieval castle, duh! I mean, freaking incredible. God. Here's a really cheesy picture of me at the top: I promise I didn't mean to look so thoughtful when I took it, it just happened).













Then, after looking at the castle and kind of chilling out at the top of the town, I walked down many many steps to San Pietro and saw Byron's Grotto:














So, I saw Byron's grotto, which is supposed to have inspired one of his major poems (can't remember which one). I just kind of chilled out there for a while, you know, soaking up inspiration. Then I got back on the bus and headed back to the Cinque Terre. As seen int he background of this picture (where I look, like, so happy).

Back at Corniglia I got lunch (super late in the afternoon) and started walking around. I ended up walking to the next town because I was trying to find a place where I could get down to the sea. So, that walk wasn't what I expected...I was in a dress, a really pretty blue dress, and I had my purse, not my sack. And it was essentially a low intensity hike--that took about 1 1/2 hours. And then, interestingly enough, I had trouble getting down to the water (again, in a dress). Then, when I got down to the water there was this guy (kind of old) in a very tiny black speedo. And he kept watching me and then moving around on his rock. It was weird. I didn't stay there too long, but it was nice, minus the gentleman in his speedo.

Anyway, I then walked through the town (Manarola) and caught the train back to Corniglia. All in all, it was a very good day.

UPDATE: Couldn't post this last night because (surprise) the wireless is down at the hostel. I found a connection this morning that I'm using right now. So, to add to the list of things I don't like about the hostel-->

I went to take a shower (before anyone else got there and made it more gross) and I was actually in the shower for about 3 minutes, because I knew that the hot water was going to give out any second. Well, the shower, like most hostel showers here, is a little standing one in the corner of the bathroom with two doors that are on rollers. Well, one of the doors is clearly broken--not really a problem. The real problem? The other door broke when I was in the shower, so for like 5 minutes I stood there and tried to move it, and then just had to wedge myself through a not-Marianne-sized gap. Not fun (although admittedly HILARIOUS).

Okay, so I left the Cinque Terre today and now I'm in Rome and I'm at a really sketchy hostel, the circumstances of which have almost induced two panic attacks. I mean, this place is beyond. It's dirty. The bathrooms smell like pee. The kitchen is a Dickensian hovel. Worst of all, the older gentlemen who works at the front desk lives in the hostel and sleeps in the room that I'm in. Ahhhhhhh...They didn't put that on hostelworld.com. I can't handle this. I can't handle this at all. The place is called Rome Student House, not Rome Hostel for the Displaced and Quasi-Homeless. Oh my god. And you all know how much I like cleanliness and dislike urine smells and hovels in general.

I woke up today in paradise and am going to bed in hell. Where in the name of goodness is Dante when you need him? Or better yet, can someone please send me Virgil to lead my ass out of here? I'm sorry you are all witnessing this melt-down. This too shall pass. Breath, Marianne, breath.

Okay, tomorrow there will be pictures of the Cinque Terre and hopefully a much better report of a sunnier side of Rome. I promise to use the words happy, kitten, and beautiful for every time that I used the word urine, bad, or hell. Deal?

Okay, I'm going to go to sleep now and look forward to a better day tomorrow. Good night.

Corniglia and the Cinque Terre

So, I left Florence mid-morning and made the four-ish hour train journey to the Riviera, specifically Corniglia, which is the third and smallest of the Cinque Terre towns. The journey was a mixed bag, as always. When I got on the train in Florence I started talking to this girl from Norman, Oklahoma. She was also traveling alone, and we ended up talking the whole way to Pisa (which ended up taking almost 1 1/2. It was nice to talk with someone familiar with Texas. At least she didn't ask if I owned a horse--seriously, Americans ask that.

Anyway, so that was good. The only downside is that my luggage was so heavy, I couldn't even lift it into the overhead bin, so it ended up getting its own seat. I'm not sure that the Trenitalia people were so happy about this, but they didn't offer to help me lift it, so that's what they get. I'm definitely unloading some of my crud before I move on to Rome. I don't know if my back will ever be the same.

Two train rides later, I was really ready to get to the Cinque Terre. The 2nd class trains are unairconditioned (sp?) and on a day like today, that means they are hot and stuffy. But the scenery was truly beautiful. The paths on either side of the train tracks are sprinkled with red poppies and some variety of purple flower that almost looks like heather. Very scenic.

I must say that I became giddy at the first site of the ocean. It was absolutely breathtaking. The train tracks are RIGHT along the coast. And, I guess because it's just so beautiful, they've carved out arched windows in the tunnels, so you get a view of the ocean. It really just can't be described.

What can be described is what it's like getting off the train at Corniglia and trucking it up 365 steps to the town above. I could have taken a bus, but waiting for buses makes me ancy in a way that waiting for trains does not, so I started off up the steps. It was a little strenuous, covering the steps at mid-day with both of my bags and very little water. I can't impress upon you how seriously I considered what would happen if I were to collapse. My heart was thrumming. But, obviously, I made it to the top of the steps without any kind of collapse. The hostel was very easy to find, which was nice.

So the hostel: it's the only one in Corniglia and the surrounding area, so I didn't have a lot of choice. However, the dorm room is nice and I've met some great people. However, the bathroom is a little weird. First of all, there are two showers--but both of them have clear glass doors...Also, the washing machine is in the women's bathroom, which means that men come in periodically to use the washing machine. Did I mention the glass doors to the showers? At least the actual rooms with toilets have real doors with locks. Call me an uptight American, but I'm not crazy about the bathroom situation.

However, I took a shower anyway, and then went out to explore the town and find food. Well, I got food at the only grocery store and then found my way onto one of the trails, which turned out to be the most strenuous trail in the area. Ha. Needless to say, I soon turned back and ended up at the hostel with a bottle of water.

This evening after dinner (which I had with a girl staying in my room), we walked to this look-out point to watch the sun set. Though it cannot really be described, words that hint at description are: amazing, beautiful, moving, breath-taking, and freaking AH-MAZ-ING. But really, it was magical. Like in Venice, the light had a misty quality that made it difficult to differentiate where the water ended and the sky began. Add to that the sound of the waves and cries of the sea-gulls, and it's kind of heavenly. It also smelled good, because there were trailing vines of flowers over the wall. You know, your average...

I think that it's maybe one of the most beautiful nature scene I've ever encountered. Now, you are probably expecting pictures, but the thing is: to try and capture that sunset with a second-rate Nikon camera feels like sacrilege right now, so I'm gonna sleep on it, and you can expect pictures tomorrow. Buona Notte (or Boa Noits, as my Portuguese room-mate from last night taught me to say).

Venice

So, as mentioned, I decided on Wednesday to go to Venice and on Thursday I actually went to Venice! I was actually only there for about five hours, but it was amazing. Venice, though not my favorite city, is perhaps the most beautiful city I have ever been in. The light in Venice is really magical, just like a Turner painting. Actually, one of the things that convinced me to go to Venice is I was reading about Turner (because of the whole 19th century British connection) and found out that Venice was a major inspiration for his style. Well, Turner is my favorite painter from that period, so I just decided I had to go.

Then, on the train I ended up sitting across from this delightful artist from Ohio, and we had the best art history conversation. I haven't really met many people who actually care whether they are seeing a Raphael or a Michelangelo, so it was nice to get all of my reactions and observations off my chest. She said the same.

So, I got to Venice around 2 and had to leave close to 7, which didn't leave me much time. Also, Venice is incredibly easy to get lost in. But, it's much quieter than other Italian cities because there aren't any cars.

So, the guidebook recommended going directly to San Marco, which is on the opposite side of town from the train station, where I set out from. Due to stops and general gawking at buildings, canals, etc. it actually took me about two hours to get from the station to S. Marco. But, boy was it work. I just don't think that words can describe it. First of all, the light in Venice really is magical. It was soft because there was rain in the distance (and we ended up getting some sprinkles) and the whole place just feels light and magical. This is no exaggeration. The piazza is huge, and leads right to the edge of the water, where you can look across the lagoon and see other amazing buildings.

I went into the Basilica, the ceiling of which is painted in GOLD. The mosaics are amazing. I mean, amazing. I wish that I could have taken photos, but it's not allowed. Although, I will say that a lot of people totally ignore this rule and it's really annoying. I mean, if a church asks that you not take pictures, don't take pictures people. I'm getting to the point where I'm pretty irritable about some fellow travelers. Also, talking when there are signs that say Please Be Quiet in five different languages is also quiet annoying.

Anyway, back to the Basilica. The floor is essentially one huge mosaic, and it is just amazing how very intricate it is. There are also mosaics on the ceiling, with a huge one above the main altar.

Let's see...what else about Venice? Oh, yes. I went into this Church Santo Polo, where Titian and Canova are both buried. Well, it was a huge church and had some very interesting art, unlike that I'd seen other places. What was most interesting was the sculpture work around the main entrance, as seen from the inside. It was this structure of, sculpted into the stone of columns. On the top were all of these Renaissance-looking people. On bottom, African's were holding up the structure at each column. They were depicted in black marble, with white marble showing their clothing, which was torn. Until then I hadn't seen anything similar in sculpture or paintings while in Italy. It was very interesting.

Also interesting, I ended my streak of bad luck with the Brownings, kind of. I actually found the house where Robert Browning lived in Venice, Ca'Rezzonico. However, I didn't have time to go in, so I just sat in the garden. Here's a picture:

And here are some pictures of Venice. Ahhh

So Much To Say!!!

So, much has happened since my post about the Argentinians and the neighborhood my hostel is in. Let's start with Wednesday. Honestly, not the best of days. Basically, I was exhausted and to add to that, the stuff I was reading at the library was so dry and obscure--literally the mental equivalent of chewing on cardboard, as I previously reported on facebook. Also, there was a lecture at the British Institute on one of the important figures in the Keats' circle, John Severn. He was with Keats during the last months of his life in Rome and was forever after famous as one of Keats' best friends (although he wasn't, really). Anway, I didn't want to make the 45 minute walk back to my hostel, so I just stayed at the library ALL DAY LONG.

The talk was interesting, though it was also kind of humorous watching the stuffy British people. The guy who made the introduction was so incredibly, stereotypically correct and awkward. Anyway, the lecture, as I said, was interesting, but I was happy to get home and go to sleep afterwards.

However, by the time I went to bed that night, I'd made a decision to go rogue. That's right, I went on a day trip to Venice! I just couldn't stand the thought of another day in the library, particularly with an ever slushier idea of what I really want to focus on.

Another frustration on Wednesday is that for the second time I tried to find a historical site related to the Brownings and couldn't. It's a good thing I'm not focusing on them in my research, because I'm cursed. I can't remember if I mentioned this in a previous post, but On Tuesday I tried to go and see Elizabeth Barrett Browning's grave in the British cemetery. Well, I found out, after a super long walk into the middle of nowhere Florence that the cemetery was cloooooosed. Huh. So, I just kind of walked around and then left.

Well, on Wednesday I tried to find Casa Guidi, the house they lived in near the Pitti Palace. Yeah, that didn't work out so well either. I found the street, but it's all a bunch of shops and the museum must only be on the second floor, so I totally couldn't find it. That was less than cool. But like I said, at least the Brownings are not the focus of my research.

However, in-between those two days, I took some walks and have some pretty pictures to share:

MY HOSTEL IS IN THE RED LIGHT DISTRICT!!!

Ahhh...I knew it was kind of shady, but last night I was out (admittedly late--don't worry, with nice people) and TOTALLY saw at least 3 prostitutes a block from my hostel. Also, walking earlier that day I saw a discarded...well, you figure out it! Oh, and two of the prostitutes were in drag. I mean, I saw some men in drag the day I arrived, but I just thought, well, that's Florence for you. NO--THAT'S NOT FLORENCE--that's the shady-ass neighborhood I'm staying in. Ahhhh!!!

Okay, I just had to get that off my chest. It's strange, because during the day the area, while kind of weird, seems pretty okay. There's a blockbuster video around the corner. Of course, there's also an abandoned building...Oh well.

So, last night I actually saw people, real people in my hostel. There were four people from Argentina, and three American girls. We all ended up having dinner together and then going down to the Duomo much later than I ever expected to be at the Duomo. Let's just say, Argentinians really know how to party. Let's also say that their partying generally ends with the singing of the National Anthem, very loudly, in the middle of the street, in the wee hours of the morning.

It was funny though, we met these two French guys who are in Florence for a few days and after we'd been talking to them for like two minutes, they stopped and bought some roses and had them sent over to these two girls they liked. It was just sooooo French. Then, they went over and chatted them up. Again, so French. I informed them how French it was, and they were surprised. One guy said (this should be read in a French accent, by the way): So, in Texas men are not romantic? Is this kind of thing not, how do you say, happening a lot? At which point I just LAUGHED OUT LOUD.

I realize that some people reading this, ahemmm--that's you mom--will be concerned about the prostitute thing, but really, during the day the area is pretty good. However, I will say this: If staying in a hostel in Florence, perhaps you shouldn't stay at Ciao Hostel. I mean, the kitchens are wonderful, but the prostitutes on the street corner do detract in some ways from the overall ambiance.

Okay, so it's been two very full days (I think) since I posted anything. Wow, there is just so much to say! First of all, let's talk about this hostel I'm staying in. So, I was supposed to be in a three bed women's dorm; however, when I checked in, the guy told me that they had overbooked the dorms, so he was putting me in a two bed private room with another lady for two days, and then I would have it to myself for five. Whatever.

Not whatever. Just say no, should this happen to you. There is strength in numbers, people. Staying in a room with one stranger is weird, especially if your roommate is already weird, which this girl definitely was. We started off on the wrong foot, because she was expecting me to be all: Wow, you climbed to the top of St. Peter's Basilica? When instead I was like, you should really climb to the top of the Duomo in Florence, because it's freaking amazing. She responded with some ignorant comment about how all cities are pretty much like another, so why would she want to climb another dome...really, it was awkward. No matter what she says, or what anyone in the future may tell you: MY dome beats hers!

So, aside from like two people who walked by the kitchen to go have a cigarette on the balcony, I didn't see anyone for two days in the hostel. It was me, the kitchen (pretty nice) and the Tuscan hills. Then last night all that changed (I'll explain in a future post).

Sunday morning I woke up early and went to Pisa, which was actually pretty amazing. Honestly, my reaction to the leaning tower was pretty anticlimactic, because I actually just stumbled upon it. I mean, I was trying to find it, and stopped at this intersection that had a sign that said: Leads in All Directions, which I thought was kind of vague and unhelpful. So, I stopped, took my map out, turned my head to check the street I was on, and there was the Leaning Tower.


Pisa is nice because all of the attractions are in the same spot, so I bought a ticket for five sites that were all really close to each other, plus I got to see the Leaning Tower (but didn't go in, because I can't just throw around 15 Euro). So, I saw the Basilica, the Baptistry (unusual, because it's round and that are usually octagonal (that's a word, right?). But, my favorite was the Campo Santo, which is an old burial ground tomb place thing. Basically, all the big, important Pisans from way-back-when have tombs there.

The place is pretty large, and originally the walls were covered in frescoes that told stories, like there were quite a few panels devoted to the story of Job. Anyway, I read last week that prints of these frescoes were the original inspiration for John Keats' poem The Eve of St. Agnes.

I took a ton of photos of the frescoes, which were really quite beautiful, though much of the place was destroyed from improper care. I was going to upload some of those photos, but the internet is being weird, just like the rest of the hostel...

Though the area around the Leaning Tower is packed with tourists, the rest of Pisa, at least on a Sunday, was really pleasant and quiet. I mean, there were very few people in the streets, so I just wandered around for a while. I very much enjoyed the day trip and highly recommend Pisa, should you find yourself in Tuscany sometime with half a day to kill.

Arrivederci Roma, Ciao Firenze!

This morning I waited in the longest ticket line of my life and got a ticket to Florence. The scenery was amazing on the train. It was a quick trip, lasting only about and 1 1/2. The station in Florence is more run-down than in Rome. Also, the area around the station is a little shady. But, the thing about Florence is, it's so small that shady areas soon morph into antiq/interesting. M

My hostel is really nice, though very peaceful. I've been sitting in the room off the kitchen chilling out for about two hours and haven't seen a soul. However, it's really beautiful, so I'm going to embrace the peace and quiet. What do I mean by beautiful? Well, hostel backs up to a courtyard and appartments. In the center is a garden. Over the roof of a nearby appartment, I can see green hills dotted with terracotta colored houses. It's picturesque to say the least. Also, there is a church nearby and I can hear the bells every hour. Wow.

Florence feels so different from Rome. People are more likely to stop and actually talk to you. In Rome, everyone is rushing somewhere all the time. In Florence people are more likely to stop and make a comment about something, or just smile. It's nice. It's also weird. I've definitely seen more mohawks, tatoos, and piercings that in all my days in Rome. But, I'm used to weird, so it almost makes me feel more at home.

The kitchen at this hostel is really nice, so I'm excited to do some cooking. In case I haven't mentioned it, the ingredients are just soooo good. Going to the grocery store is one of the most exciting things. That being said, I did go out to eat for lunch today and ended up having the best gnocchi of my life. Correct that, gnocchi has not existed for me before today.


So, I assume everyone knows, but in case not, gnocchi is a potato pasta dumpling thing. It's really good, but is often not done correctly and so comes out gummy. More importantly, it is so processed and starchy that it doesn't even taste like potato. This gnocchi was light and had authentic potato taste. It was awesome. It came in the sheeps-milk cheese sauce, tossed with fried eggplant cubes. This picture may not be entirely appetizing, but oh my gosh was this meal good. Anyway, back to the cheese sauce: I was a little afraid that it would be super salty or tangy, like most of the sheeps milk cheese we get in the states. But I'm telling you, I hardly knew it wasn't from a cow, it was so unbelievably creamy and mild. Ugh, wonderful.

I also had some gelato today, just saying. Oh, but the entire reason I had the gnocchi or gelato was because I was waiting for my laundry to wash and dry at this small mom and pop run laundromat. Since I had about an hour to kill (turned into 2) I started walking around, shortly I came upon a super famous piazza (whose name I can't remember, but I definitely visited before). Well, what should I hear but James Taylor playing. It turns out that there was this small American folk music concert going on. So, I sat down on the grass and listened to more James Taylor, Simon and Garfunkel, etc. It was really random and very much appreciated. I kept thinking, this would never happen in Rome! Rome has art--film, theatre, what have you--but a mid-afternoon concert with people milling about and sitting on the grass, not so much. I don't know how Romans feel about grass...

Okay, that's it for me for tonight. I'm gonna go cook something and then go to bed, so I can get up and go roaming in my favorite city!

So, I'm going to post a few catch-up blogs, because the last two days have been hectic (more on that later) and I just can't keep up.

On Thursday instead of going to the British School Library, I went to the Keats-Shelley House. This is a museum and library right next to the Spanish steps where many English people stayed in the 17th and 18th century, and most importantly, where John Keats died in 1821 (I think).

This is a pic of me psyching myself up to go study some Romantics on the Spanish Steps. The sun was in my eyes and I took the photo of myself, but aside from that...


So, I got there at 10, as planned and got my books from a very nice Australian guy (can't remember his name at the moment) and one of the Asst. Curators, Josephine. So, they put me in the Keats room (yes, that means the room where John Keats, one of my all time favorite poets spent the last three months of his life). Wow. I mean, wow.









So, I was kind of in heaven. As it turns out, the books I'd gone to look at were both kind of rubbish and I learned very little, except that when I write academic stuff in the future, I want it to actually be of interest. The way I see it is, I really like the British Romantics. I've gone to great lengths to learn about the British Romantics. Therefore, when I read an entire book on the British Romantics and my ultimate opinion is: yawn--that means there is something wrong!

Anyway, after leaving the Keats-Shelley house around 1, I wandered over to the Villa Borghese and picnic'd under a tree. I think that the park around the villa must be a really popular lunch-time destination because there were people everywhere. It was nice, though.

The, I made my way over to the Protestant cemetery and saw some famous graves, including those of Keats and Shelley. It was a very nice spot. It's interesting, it's in the shadow of this big pyramid. Apparently there was some important Roman guy, a Christian, I think, so he was after Constantine, named Caius Cesteus (can't remember exact spelling). Anyway, when he died, they built a pyramid as his tomb. Then, in the 1730s the Catholic church said that non-Catholics, who couldn't be buried anywhere else in Rome (nor could they be buried during the day...) could be buried in the area around the Pyramid. A little less than a hundred years later Keats was buried there.


After seeing the cemetery, I decided to go the Baths of Caracalla, where Shelley began his poem "Prometheus Unbound." My sense of direction in Rome is imperfect to say the least. It turns out that the ruins I thought were the baths of Caracalla, were actually the Forum Romani and the Palatine Museum. Woops. So, i just decided to go to the Palatine Museum and grounds. Quite nice, actually. After that I returned to the hostel and took a nap. The End.

Duh, the Library

So, I realized that I haven't actually provided any information yet about the actual reason I'm in Italy: the libraries. Well, I'm about to correct that oversight!

So, Monday was my first day at the British School at Rome's Library and Archives. I got totally lost on my way there and had to stop and ask directions twice (using my Italian!). But, I finally got there, about 1 and 1/2 hours later. No biggie.

They were really nice. They took my letter (from my professor Brother George) and my passport photo. Then, they gave me my card and assigned me a desk. And then I walked around and got my bearings and started pulling books from the shelves and it was just wonderful. I mean, I was in heaven. In case anyone needed confirmation: It's official, I'm a nerd!

So, this particular library, aside from collections on Italian architecture, archeology, Italian history, and a few other subjects, specializes in travel writing about Italy. This is perfect for me, because I'm studying the works of British writers who traveled extensively in Italy!

I must say, I had a few moments that first day (and since) where I just felt so grown up studying next to all of these crusty academics. I mean, my first day there were at least five men over the age of 70 in really ugly sweaters with crazy Einstein hair. These are my people!

Speaking of sweaters, I only brought one functional sweater to Italy with me, and the weather has been colder than I expected. As a result, I wear that same sweater every single day. Yesterday, while sitting at the library, I started to think: I wonder if everyone around me thinks it's weird that I always wear the same generic black sweater? 15 minutes later, I was zoning out and wondering why the guy sitting next to me always wore rugby shirts. That's when I realized, yes, they are totally wondering why I keep wearing the same sweater, but it's okay, because I question their clothing choices too! I really felt like I belonged...

More about the library: It's grand. I mean, impressive. Here's a picture (the library part is only on the left side):




They keep some of the windows open if it's not raining, so natural light and birdsong filters in. That's right, I'm sitting in an old, awesome library, listening to birds singing. It's just unreal. Oh, and did I mention that there is a rose garden? That's right, though there are zip restaurants around, I am free to go into the rose garden and picnic.

But, it's not all fun and games. I definitely sat at my desk reading and taking notes for about five hours yesterday. But, it's all super interesting. I've read travel diaries from all different times and learned about the very first British travelers to Rome. One thing I will say, the concept of objectivity must be fairly recent. Here's why I bring this up: Usually, if one author is writing about another in what is supposed to be an informational way, they are pretty careful about not being too nasty. Not so in the 1700's. I mean, those people just went after each other. I was reading one travel book which ripped to shreds another author's work. They said how useless his information was, bladdy bladdy blah. It was hilariously straight forward and brutal.

Anyway, in the course of reading all of this travel writing, I realized that through this blog, I have actually become a travel writer. Not that this blog (or the writer of the blog :] ) is awesome enough for someone to want to research and dissect it in 50 years, but if they did, what would they think? Would my blog be an example of awful travel writing? Ahhhh...

Il Colosseo

Buona Sera! So, I've been to the Coliseum twice in the last four days. I know, it sounds like a lot, but when in Rome...

The first time I was in route to a flee market (more on that later) and just happened to walk by the Coliseum. That was on Sunday. Interesting fact, they have Susan G. Komen races in Europe. So, a fellow traveller (who I bonded with after the night with the snoring and the baby) and I joined in for a little bit on our way to said flee market. Here is a picture:














Today I left the library a bit earlier than planned (more on that later) and decided to play tourist for an hour or two. So, I went back to the hostel and decided to walk to the Coliseum, which is the only site that is really within comfortable walking distance from my hostel.

I set out around 3:30 and strolled to the Coliseum, which was PACKED with tourists. But, because it's so freaking big, I actually felt less crowded than I have in days. I mean, I'm always bumping into people, etc. At the Coliseum, I had at least a 10ft X 10ft square all to myself. It was nice. Here's a picture I took while enjoying my spacial freedom:


I walked around a bit, watched some tourists, you know...My fellow tourists were actually pretty interesting. There was this huge group from Japan and they appeared to have a photographer just following them around, snapping pictures, documenting the experience. My first thought was, crap that must be expensive. My second thought, what a weird thing, to pay someone to capture "candid" photos of your travel experience.

This brings me to an interesting point: Japanese tourists must have a lot of money. The reason I say this is, they are always dressed really nicely. They have awesome electronics. Finally, on more than one occasion, I have seen long lines of really really nice cars. My first reaction is, oh, these must be foreign dignitaries. Or, huh, there's a movie star touring Rome. No--no dignitaries, no movie stars--Japanese tourists. Just to clarify, all of the Japanese tourists I've met are really nice, they just seem to have a very distinctive traveling style.

There were many other kinds of tourists at the Coliseum. Lots of tour groups in all different languages. Oh, and people posing with the "Gladiators." What kind of job must that be? Can you imagine walking around the Coliseum all day in a metal skirt/kilt thing? I mean, there you are, at the seat of western civilization and you are getting paid 5Euro a pop to stand in a costume and take a photo. I think it was must kind of strange. But, when I think about it, not a bad gig. My next thought is: what kind of costume/picture/tourist gig could a woman get at the Coliseum? It's all about equal opportunity, people!

Update From Rome

Well, let's see...I've told you about the baby in the hostel room, the Spanish steps, and uhhh...oh yes, let's discuss food for just a moment.

So, it turns out that there is a supermarket, Emme, just a block away from my current hostel. I must say, it's amazing. I mean, the cheese section alone is enough to make we want to stay there forever, despite the unflattering florescent lighting and the crowds. Last night, because I haven't really been going out at night, I decided I would cook dinner at the hostel. So, I made my way to the supermarket and bought some mozzarella cheese, which is packaged not only in a container with water, but also in a thick paper bag thing within the whey. It's very interesting. The cheese was great, though, so something is working.

Though the cheese was definitely the most exciting thing on the list, I also got some tomatoes (eh), and some strawberries (which actually tasted like strawberries), and a few other necessities (pest, you know...). Then, I went back and made supper.

The kitchen is really small and the Polish (maybe) girls who are in the room with me were already cooking. I've gotta say, the first night they were none to friendly. I walked into the room, gave them a smile and said, "Hi, I'm Marianne." They just looked at each other and continued talking.

Now, following that exchange, I wasn't quite sure what to think. I've sense decided, based upon little smiles here and there, that in fact they were not meaning to be rude. They were surprised? Anyway, they made a place for me and we kind of cooked together. I'm not gonna say that we bonded, but we definitely came to some sort of an understanding.

Anyway, I'm sold on the grocery store, especially since looking around the neighborhood where my library is today. There was NOTHING. Niente. Nada. Okay, there was something, but it was a total disappointment. And, for some reason, though in general I get over disappointments quite easily, food disappointments are really terrible. I think I'm going to stick to the grocery store for now.

Piazza di Spagna!

Here are some pictures from the Spanish steps. Actually this is the view of Rome from the Spanish steps, plus a few (as usual, absurd, pics of yours truly).











More from the top. It was really rainy that day, but we got about 10 minutes at the top where we could take photos without getting cameras wet. About five minutes late it started pouring, so we stepped into a church at the top of the steps. It was really pretty and I never would have gone in otherwise.







This is a "candid" photo. Nice view of Rome, and a good example of what my face looks like when I feel ridiculous...













This is the phoniest photo I have ever seen in my life. However, the gray stuff behind my hand is a caffe at the top of the Spanish steps. I wonder how expensive that place is...?











And I finally crack-up.

The first photos

Yay, I finally got some photos to load. So, on Saturday I was at the Vatican. The line to get into the Vatican Museums was epic, so we (two friends from Austin who happened to be in Rome for the day) decided to see St. Peter's and move on to a different area of Rome. Well, before we left, I was looking around at all the statues that sit atop the walls surrounding the square. I decided it would be funny to pose as some of the best statues. It seemed like a really funny idea at the time. Now, I'm not so sure, but I want this blog to be an honest account of my experiences in Italy, dumb ideas and all.

I don't know if I was able to copy the look of intensity. I was just trying really hard not to burst out laughing. I also had to improvise, using my purse as the stone tablet. You win some, you lose some.

My Thoughts on the Youth Hostel Concept

This is a catch-up post...

I am a big fan of youth hostels. I have enjoyed my experiences at both hostels I have been at so far, although I will say that the Polish girls I roomed with last night were a little cold. But, that is beside the point. What makes youth hostels so nice is the fact that they are full of youth who are all slumming their way through Europe. One is surrounded by young/youngish people who are either studying, taking time "off", or just starting their careers.

Imagine my suprise, then, to find after arriving back to my dormitory room late one night that the term "youth" is sometimes stretched to the breaking point. Here's the story:

So, as I said, I arrived back around 10:45 pm and crawled into bed after a day full of site seeing. Just about midnight (according to my trusty ipod), I heard one of the most ghastly sounds I've ever encountered coming from human. I mean, I was torn between reaching for my earplugs and calling an ambulence. It was just a terrifying series of snuffles and snorts and other "snoring" sounds. Really bad. Anyway, I put in my earplugs, focused on the rain sounds, and mercifully drifted to sleep.

The next thing I know, it's 6 in the morning and I can hear a baby crying from the other side of the wall. Well, I thought the baby was crying on the other side of the wall, then I took my earplugs out--the baby was IN THE ROOM.

Why in the freaking world would you bring a baby to a hostel?!? I mean, why would you inflict your crying baby (and, as it turns out, your snoring mother) on perfectly innocent strangers? I'm sorry, I just don't understand. I will say, this: after over-hearing the trio's breakfast conversation, which involved plans to go camp out on a beach in Norway to greet the summer solstice, I was a bit less confused about the kind of person who stays with a baby in a youth hostel...

Did you know it rains in Rome?

I was under the impression, for some reason, that it never rains in Rome. Well, it does. It can actually rain all day long. Like yesterday, for example. I left the hostel after a great nights sleep (forgive the grammar, I am still figuring out the Italian keyboard--ha! just found the apostrophe key). The three other women in my dorm room were super nice. The hostel was super nice. Carmen, who runs the hostel--super nice, too. Anyway, so Saturday morning I set out to meet up with two friends (Yael and Ross) who just happened to be in Rome.

I was supposed to meet them outside of Termini station at 10 by Via Giovanni Giolitti and Via Mamiani. Well, it took me quite some time to find that little spot. I was just walking back and forth on Via Giolitti, starting to draw attention to myself, which is not good in such a sketch part of town. Finally, this really nice Italian guy walks up to me and says: "Bella, how can I help?" He told me exactly where to go. It was nice.

So, finally met up with Ross and Yael, and we went ALL OVER ROME. In case you didn't get the emphasis--we went ALL OVER ROME. We saw the Vatican, the Villa Borghese, the Spanish Steps, and what I think are the only two vegan restaurants in Italy. I will post pictures later. I'm working on a series of me posing as statues. Eh...

I'm onto my second hostel now. I'll be at the CIAK for six nights. It seems nice. The front desk guy was very genial. There is a kitchen. Both things give me hope. The room is also clean and has a bathroom connected--molto importante.

Will write more later!

Well, I'm finally in Rome. It sure took long enough. Each of my flights was delayed at least a little, and leaving London we just sat on the runway in a dinky Alitalia plane for what felt like an age! Ugh. Anyway, I've decided that Italian men come in two varieties: the enthusiastic or brooding. This occurred to me as I watched the interactions of our entirely male flight attendant staff on the plane. They were either happy puppies or not happy puppies.

The happy puppy attendants would bounce up and say: Madam, what would you like to drink?!? And they would smile and gesture and their eyes sparkled. However, if you got saddled with one of the brooders, the drink ordering experience was quite different. It went something like this:

Brooding attendant saunters up and says, "You want water, yes?" in a voice that tells you that water is on the menu, whether you want it or not! It was very interesting. The broody ones also had crazy hair--I'm talking Einstein. It was very interesting.

So, then I actually got to Rome, picked up my luggage (yes! no lost luggage) and then attempted to reach the hostel. Huh. So, bear in mind that I haven't really slept in 24 hours at this point. I get to the train ticket counter and just stare at the guy behind the glass--I need to say Termini, but Trevi is all that comes to mind. Thankfully, he was obviously used to disoriented travelers and just threw the right ticket at me.

Then, I get on the train and wait, and we pass stops, and I recognize some, but not others. Then, I break down and ask this random woman where Termini is and she tells me in rapid Italian and makes motions with her fingers--something about walking. So, I get out and wander around and find my way to the right station and then take the wrong train. Then I get on the right train and I get to my final destination (Roma di Re Piazza) and it's raining--but I brought an umbrella.

So, I start walking down what I think is the right street and pass all of these people who are looking at me because I look like I've packed more than Paris Hilton on a month-long trip to Monte Carlo. Anway, I walk past a building that looks hostel-ish, and then I turn and walk by it again, and then I decide--yes this is the hostel! Oh, and then I climb FIVE flights of very old stairs. FIVE!!!

To be continued...

Hello Everyone! So, as you know if you're on the blog, I'm gonna be in Italy for three weeks. I figured, if I don't blog now, when will I? I'm gonna try and put stuff up everyday (and there will be pictures). Hopefully there won't be anything too interesting to report, but then again, I am the person who ran around the Singapore Airport with a watch as a hair tie (simultaneously wondering where the h*ll my watch was). So, it could happen that some interesting travel stories could pop up in the next three weeks. Thanks for reading!