China

When I came to China, I had no idea that blogspot was blocked. Silly me, I know.  I hope that it makes up for it that I found a way to get around the great firewall.  More to come.

Update coming soon!

When the Moon Hits Your Eye..

The next weekend, we went to Naples, Sorrento, and Capri.  From the beginning, we knew it was going to be an... interesting... trip.  We barely made it to the train.. again, and once we did, it was packed full.  This is an awful allegory, but it reminded me of the literature I've read on the Holocaust, about poor people being packed onto trains and shipped to their deaths.  That's how crowded it was.  We were crammed in between doors and on top of luggage.  Yet, you know, as horrible as it seemed at the time, looking back, that is real European travel, and we're really a part of it now.  We made some adorable Swedish friends on the train also, so it wasn't all bad at all.  When we finally got to Napoli, we were so relieved.  We walked down to catch the bus to our hostel.  When we got to the station, it was deserted, except for obviously American tourists looking worried or lost.  Our broken Italian merited us information that there was a public transportation strike - that there were no trains, buses, or metros running as of now - and they didn't know when they would be running again.  We decided to take a cab.

Naples is so much more crowded than Rome.  The streets were packed from one side to the other with cars, people, and animals going every which way with no system of order whatsoever.  It was so real, so dirty, so down to the core of what an Italian metropolis is.  The lack of tourists made it so intrinsic, so irrefutable. For once, we could feel the real essence of Italy.

Our Hostel in Naples

We finally got to our hostel, which was located, of course, in the most sketch alley possible.  The hostel actually turned out to be wonderful though. It was at the top of 94 painfully tall steps, but it was owned by an Australian woman who had made it into a sort of hippie haven.  A few stray dogs and cats adopted by the Australian lady wandered freely through the hostel, rubbing against everyone they could, so hungry for love denied to them for so long before they came here.  The windows and doors always remained open to the outside world, weather aside.  It made the place so airy and relaxing.  The brightly painted walls, when met with mesh, white mosquito net curtains and clean white bedsheets in the bedrooms made the place sort of etherial - like a kind of heaven.

Once we got settled, we decided to spend the day walking around Naples. We started at a pizza place across the road, which we later found out is the number one pizza place in Italy, and since the best pizza comes from Italy, we had the best pizza in the world.  Afterwards, we shopped as we walked towards the water.  As always with us, a coffee break was necessary.  Every place I go seems to have better cappuccino than the last, and this was no exception.  The coffeeshop sat in the middle of one of the busiest parts of Naples, and I could just feel the rush of life blow past me, like I was stuck in some kind of overcast time lapse.

Ceiling at the Galleria

We continued walking, halfway lost, but too carefree to  be bothered by it.  Suddenly, there in the middle of Naples, we stumbled upon a huge glass building called the Galleria Mall.  It was absolutely gorgeous. On the bottom level are stores, coffeeshops (where we indulged yet again), and a beautiful parlor floor.  On the second, third, fourth, however many levels more there were, were offices and apartments, encased by gilded walls and marble Acanthus reliefs.  Above that sits a giant glass ceiling, composed of several barrel vaults that come together in the most magnificent dome I have ever seen.  It's such a magical, mind-twisting place.  Again, completely whimsical Italy.

Then, finally, we saw the water, complete with Mount Vesuvius in the background.  The Mediterranean Sea takes my breath away.  I am so incapably drawn to it.  I don't know what it is, but the sea just calls to me, calms me, keeps me for hours - it could keep me for my whole life if no one dragged me away I think.  I could stare at it, captivated, forever.  As we walked along the water, a castle came into view.  This place, this country - every time you think it could possibly be normal, it pulls out a huge volcano, a beautiful ocean, or a castle to prove you wrong.  I feel like these are the things that don't exist anymore.  These are the things you hear about in story books with knights and maidens and dragons and trolls.  Yet here it is, all of it, real as it can be.  It truly is like living a dream.  The castle is called Castelle d'uovo, or Castle of the Eggs.  I don't know why, but I figure, it's the Italians' castle, they can name it whatever they want.  Regardless, it was beautiful.

By the time we watched the sunset behind the castle and it started getting dark, we began to get hungry.  We decided it'd be best to eat somewhere along the way back to our hostel.  We wanted to go back a different way than we'd come though, to see a little bit more of Naples than we already had.  We ended up walking through the very expensive, designer part of the shopping district.  I saw my first John Galliano store, which was of course across from Gucci and Prada.  Interspersed with all of the most famous names were a lot of stores that specialize in wedding dresses.  These dresses, like everything else in Italy, were beautiful.  I feel like I overuse that word terribly, but it fits everything here so well.  If I could think of a definition for beautiful, it would be so many different things - but all things that I've seen  - all meshed together into one single abstract notion that transcends anything that we as human beings can create or imagine.

While we were walking, jaws at our feet while we window shopped, it started pouring.  Even the rain was special here though. It seemed to make the lights glow brighter or something.  I remember beautiful faces, all masking hearts of gold, a rush of people inspired by the rain instead of put off by it.  They embraced it - to them, it only made their night more romantic.  We enjoyed it too for a while, but our stomachs were growling.  When we were thoroughly soaked through, we decided it'd be a good idea to find somewhere to sit and eat for a while until the storm passed.  There were plenty of restaurants around until we decided to look for one.  It started really raining then, and we could not find a place to eat.  Finally, in a back alley, we found this little hole in the wall pizzeria.  I ordered gnocchi, and it was sooo good.

The next day, I had one goal - to make it to Pizzeria Da Michele.  I hold Elizabeth Gilber's Eat, Pray, Love in almost as high esteem as the bible, and in fact, it serves as a kind of guidebook for me.  Liz Gilbert and I think a lot alike, and we're almost on the same sort of journey.  In the book, she eats at Da Michele, and she swears that this pizza is the best in the world.  It was sort of a soul-fulfilling exercise for me to eat there.  I couldn't leave Naples without it.  Megan is as big a fan as I, and we agreed that it was worth alot.  We had both heard that the lines at Da Michele get ridiculous, and you could be waiting hours to get in.  We would have waited all day.  We decided that it was absolutely necessary for us to be at the pizzeria no later than 9 in the morning to beat the crowds, or to at least get a good spot in line, not too terribly far from the front.  We got everyone up at six and got going on the long walk to our destination.  The light was beautiful that morning.  The sky was so blue and refreshing and crisp - the way it is at sunrise in the mountains.

Yet another cappuccino - while waiting for pizza!

We got to Da Michele at 9, just like we had planned.  There was no line and the doors were closed.  There was a cook standing outside, and when the six of us walked up excitedly, he seemed so confused. He asked us where we were going, and we said we were here for pizza.  He looked at us, looked at his watch, then up at Da Michele and back at us like we were crazy.  He told us that they didn't open 'til eleven.  Of course they don't open to eleven - this is Italy - what were we thinking?  Luckily, there was a coffeeshop not far from there, and we went and sat and talked until eleven. I ran back and forth between the two, thinking that a line would begin to form.  It didn't.

Finally, eleven o'clock came and we walked back to the pizzeria.  There was still no line and we were the first customers.  We each ordered a coke and a margarita pizza (which they're famous for).  While we waited, we took all of the pictures we could of the little, tiny restaurant.  Then the pizzas came.  They were huge and steamy and melty and delicious looking.  We all figured we could eat a whole one because Liz Gilbert ate two, no problem.  Now I was not so sure.

We sat there for a long time.  We sat there for close to two hours.  A long line formed outside, just like we said it would, and the restaurant got crowded.  The owners were getting antsy that we had been taking up the same six seats for so long, and we began getting dirty looks from all of them.  An Italian couple sat down next to us, and within ten minutes of getting their pizzas, they were finished.  We asked them, "Why do you eat it so fast?" and they told us that you have to eat it quickly or it cools off and then it tastes bad.  I wouldn't say it tasted bad cold, (after all, we are American, and we do eat cold pizza for breakfast by choice), but I can see their point.  We also learned that the way the Italians eat it is this:  They fold the entire pizza in half and pick it up with their hands and eat it.  It makes the eating process go a lot more quickly, and the crust is thin enough that you're not eating just dough.  It is amazing also that, for the lack of ingredients, the pizza has so much flavor.  All that it is is dough, red sauce, mozzarella, (fresh of course), and basil (also fresh).  Cheers to that.

We finally all finished and walked out thinking we wouldn't be hungry again for days.  I'm glad I ate there though - I feel like it was something I had to do - a Pilgrimage of sorts.  A way to find my way back to who I am and come to terms with all that's happened in the past year, and the fact that things are better now.  After all, isn't that the most important thing? Knowing yourself?
After we left Pizzeria Da Michele, we decided to go to Sorrento, which is on the north side of the Amalfi Coast, on the opposite bank of the Mediterranean as Naples.  The train ride would only take an hour. Along the way, we walked through a traditional Italian market.  I picked up a pair of new sunglasses - knockoff Raybans.  I know, I know, knockoffs?  It's the Italian way!
We made it to the train station, bought our tickets, and got on the train.  It was truly the smoothest we have been able to complete that process since we've been in Italy.

When we got to Sorrento, it's like we had pulled up in a different world.  It was so clean and beautiful and sunny and there were flowers everywhere.  It seemed like some sort of town you would read about in a book like The Giver, except, not creepy.  Since we're so good at shopping, we decided to do a little in Sorrento.  I bought myself a new watch so I would finally know what time it is.  It was a really great investment, considering I always make it to class on time now.  While we were walking around, we found out that Sorrento is where Limoncello was created.  There are lemons everywhere.  Every store you walk into has something lemon themed, and some stores are completely lemon themed.  Some stores give out shot sized samples of limoncello.  Some sell lemon soap, lemon dishes, or the biggest lemons I have ever seen in my life.  The whole town smells like lemons - and lemons clear your senses like you would not believe.

After we were done shopping, we decided to take a walk out towards the water.  We ended up really lost, but we were in a beautiful neighborhood with huge mansions and flower lined cobblestone roads. And then suddenly, the whole world opened up in front of us and we could see the work of God before our eyes.  The Mediterranean stretched out before us - big and clear and blue and wonderful.  All of the waterfront homes climbed up the mountain with their white roofs.  They looked like they might all tumble down into the water at any second.  They were suspended between the sky and the sea - what more wonderful place is there than that?
We stayed there for a long time.  We just couldn't pull ourselves away until we absolutely had to, and then, we made our way back to the train, and back to Naples.

The next day, we decided to go to Capri.  I don't think there are words to describe how I feel about Capri - only that I could move there right now and be happy for the rest of my life.  I felt like I was almost one with it - it beat with my heart, it breathed when I breathed.  We left the hostel at six in the morning, and walked all the way around in the town, in the most roundabout way possible, to the ferry.  By the time we got there, the earlier, cheaper ferry was already full.  We ran down to the next dock and paid a little more for a faster boat.  I tried hard to stay awake until we got there, but I just couldn't.  When I woke up, I saw the island out the window.  It took my breath away.  It literally left me unable to breathe... The first glimpse of Capri was almost too much to bear in the most beautiful way possible.

Our beautiful breakfast in beautiful Capri

After we got off the boat, we decided to slow down for a second and stop for a cappuccino and cornetto.  We found a cute little seaside cafe and ordered our breakfast.  We watched the water and the people all around us.  We saw the open air taxis try to negotiate their way through the mobs of people with red earphones that had just gotten off of the Disney cruise ship.  We let the sea breeze blow our hair any way that it preferred.  There, at that exact moment in time, we simply were.  We were not am imposition on the environment around us - we simply existed in space and time.

After we got off the boat, we decided to slow down for a second and stop for a cappuccino and cornetto.  We found a cute little seaside cafe and ordered our breakfast.  We watched the water and the people all around us.  We saw the open air taxis try to negotiate their way through the mobs of people with red earphones that had just gotten off of the Disney cruise ship.  We let the sea breeze blow our hair any way that it preferred.  There, at that exact moment in time, we simply were.  We were not am imposition on the environment around us - we simply existed in space and time.

After we ate, we decided to do it up in true Capri style and take the tram up to the top of the island. Downtown Capri is located at the very top of the island, and it has the most spectacular views.  Waiting for the tram was an experience though.  There was a huge mob - and i mean mob in the most literal sense I can.  We could not move and had to hold onto each other to keep from getting separated.  The tram can only take seventy people at once, and as soon as those gates open, the whole crowd pushes forward like the tide coming in.  They push and shove, but that is the Italian way.  I had an old Italian woman grab me by the shoulder and pull me back behind her.  There was a woman from the Disney cruises standing close to us, and we couldn't help but laugh.  You could tell she was from America - from somewhere in the deep south.  She was yelling at the top of her lungs, "can't you see I'm in line here?? We're all in line! WAIT YOUR TURN!"  But everyone who understands that there are no lines in Italy pushed their way past her, and after a while, she gave up on trying to change everyone's minds.  We we finally got onto the tram, it was worth the wait.  The views grew more spectacular as we climbed closer to the top.

Then we reached the top.  Nothing can prepare a person to see that kind of view.  You feel like the whole world is within your palm.  You are literally on top of the world.  It was at that moment that I lost my soul to Capri - to the Mediterranean.   I will crave the sea for the rest of my life on Earth.  Cliffs sprung up from the water and white homes crawled up from the beach like ants carrying away the cake from a picnic.  The air was so fresh and clean - we were invincible and young and happy.

These are the places you see in calendars or tourbooks you pick up and never do anything with.  And yet there we were, at the top of the island of Capri - pronounced CApri, with the emphasis on the first syllable.  They'll all know you're a tourist if you say it the other way.

Again, we shopped, as this is what we do as often and in as many places as we can. The stores here were so beautifully laid out, so airy and light and pretty - they were meant to be in Capri and nowhere else.  It was at this point that I decided, if I did ever move to Capri, I would make a living selling flowers.  They grow so colorfully and naturally here, and every place needs a florist.  I've wanted to do that for my whole life, and what a perfect place to do it in.  I found a flower shop that looked out over the water.  The entire thing was filled to the brim with the most colorful blooms you can imagine.  There was barely room to walk - but there was plenty of room to wonder.

Down the Rabbit Hole

The island of Capri is truly a series of white tunnels that compose a maze up and down the mountainside.  The roads are so narrow that barely one person can fit through them.  The arches are so clean, and there are so many nooks and crannies - it's truly the island form (and the more sinful seaside version) of Assisi.  It would be so terribly easy to completely lose yourself to this island.  You could wander down an alley, find something completely beautiful and be gone forever.  Everything was so simply filled with light - it's something I have never seen before.  The Mediterranean sun touches every surface on the island of Capri - even the food.  Capri is the birthplace of caprese - and there is no better food to eat while you're there than that.  The whole place makes you feel as light as a feather - like the rest of the world doesn't exist - and even if it did, it wouldn't matter.

While we walked through the shops and restaurants that boasted celebrity regulars, we came upon the oldest store established in Capri that is still standing.  The lady who worked there was the third generation owner - the property had belonged to her grandmother and her mother before she took over. She was such a character - full of stories and Italian songs.  The store contained the most ornate and lovely dishes.  I asked her, "fare posso una foto?"  to which she replied, "si." That's the deepest Italian I know, but it garnered me a photographic memory of the dishes that I hope will be in my kitchen someday - a kitchen that overlooks the sea from the mountainside of Capri.

Once again, shopping led us seaward.  The busy, tourist infested piazzas gave way to tiny brick alleys with huge mansions rising above them.  Flowers lined the cobblestone streets and celebrity wealth met Mediterranean beauty in white couches perched atop cliffs and iron gates guarding homes with names like 'Fendi' on the intercom system.

There are no words to describe the landscape of the island.  Just off the coast, two large rocks jolt upward out of the water - I think they're called the Mermaid Rocks.  They're so surreal, as if they're not even from this world.  They worship the sun too, as it reflects off of them back into the sky.  Boats cruise down under and through them all the time.  Someday I'll go back and take a ride.  I have to. We ended up climbing up the side of a mountain, which turned out to be more of a hike than we had intended.  My good ol' black flats did the job though, and the view was worth the sweat.

Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end.  I will make it back to Capri someday, but for now, my last memory of it is how it shrank into the distance as I stood on the ferry and watched it go.  Everyone else fell asleep on the ride back, but I just couldn't.  I was so drawn to the sea, so undeniably attracted to the island that I was glued to the outdoor back deck of the boat for the duration of the trip.  As the island fell into the distance, so did a little piece of my heart, and it still rests there. 

Becoming a Roman

Since we got back from San Marino, life has not slowed down.  During the following week, the school took us to the Colosseum and Roman Forum, both of which were totally unreal.  I feel like I devoted so many years of my life to studying these things, and the fact that I finally get to see them in real life blows my mind a little bit.

There was  a constant recognition of the fact that we were standing on ground with history older than anything in America.  So many people and animals fought to their death in this amphitheater.  It acted as a political tool too when it was used to keep the people from rioting.  The concept of bread and circuses managed to keep everyone under control. The amphitheater itself was built as a piece of political propaganda.  Nero's golden house and the giant colossus statue used to stand here.  Nero set Rome on fire at the end of his days, and as you may guess, he was no longer a favorite of the Roman people.  The next emperor decided to close the golden house, tear down the colossus, and open the door to a new political age, in which the Roman people wouldn't have to fear a totalitarian regime (at least that's what he wanted them to think). They used to fill it with water sometimes, to reenact popular naval battles - it was in vogue to be historically and politically educated.  The ancient Roman morning would begin with animal vs. animal fights.  Around lunch, unlucky men, with or without criminal histories, would face the animals that had survived the morning's battles.  Then, in the afternoon, came what everyone waited for - the superbowl of Colosseum events - the gladiatorial fights.  And they fought right there, before our eyes ages ago.  We walked where the Romans walked, we stood where they stood, sat in the same bleachers where they lived and died in the moments of their most prized sporting events.  How amazing is that?

From the Colosseum, you can see the Arch of Constantine, which is one of my most favorite pieces in art history. It's this beautiful big square of marble with three arches cut into it, and amazing sculptural reliefs.  Back in the day in ancient Rome, when a leader led a successful conquest and conquered an enemy, they weren't immediately allowed to come back into the city.  They camped just outside the city walls until the Senate decided they could have a triumphal procession.  They would march down the Via Sacra, the main road in the Roman Forum, with all of their spoils of war, whether that be treasure, slaves, or a number of other things, and finally pass through a triumphal arch, which depicted scenes from the battle and the procession.  The parade would end there, but an inscription below the attic story of the arch ensured that the leader or general would be immortalized in stone forever.

The Roman Forum.  The Basilica is the arched building on the right.

When you pass by this arch, you see the first buildings of the forum.  These first glimpses don't do justice to how big the forum really is, or how much is still being recovered.  The ground level of Rome has risen dramatically since ancient times, and buildings were built on top of the old Rome.   There's still so much digging going on - so much that people don't know yet, or haven't seen in thousands of years.  Isn't that wonderful?  There's even ruins underneath modern buildings.  There is so much in the Forum to talk about, and it's completely overwhelming to see.   I think it's something you have to see for yourself.  The building that struck me the very most in the forum was the basilica.  A basilica, in those times, was not a religious building.  The one in the forum functioned as a space for a market and legal proceedings.  I stood in the middle of it... and it was completely huge.  The size of the thing is ridiculous - I've never been in a space that large (and enclosed, in ancient times). There's not a whole lot left of it.  Only about one third.  The third gives you quite the idea of how it looked way back when though.

Arches are a product of the Roman architectural revolution.  The ancient Romans developed concrete, and thus were able to perfect the concept of the arch and the dome to create large enclosed interior spaces.  Like in the top of the Pantheon, the ceiling of the basilica makes use of coiffers, or sunken shapes, to redistribute the weight of the building over the open space.  They are practical, but also usually beautiful.

After we left the forum, we walked around on the Palatine Hill.  There were gorgeous views and lots of ruins, including those from the house of Augustus Caesar.  By the time we got to the bottom, Sarah and I were exhausted, hungry, and thirsty, and decided to stop by a cafe.  After all, how many times in my life will I be able to say that I ate next to the Colosseum?  The cafe was wonderful.  We each had a Margherita pizza, and I had a rossini ( which is a strawberry mimosa).  Then we followed up with Tiramisu.

 It was all completely surreal.  Modern Roman life colliding with ancient Roman ruins still blows my mind.

I am a horrible blogger.
Actually, I'm a great blogger, I'm just a horrible updater.  I always have been.  I've started about twenty journals from the time I was in middle school, and I never keep any of them longer than a few months.  I feel like this needs to change:  My life has taken a turn that I never would have guessed in middle school, and what I'm doing now is more important than anything I've done in the past.  I feel like it needs to be documented.  Therefore, I apologize for the extended period of time that I have been awol since Santa Fe.
I have to start, but where?  I suppose the most logical place is at the beginning... I've never had a whole lot of faith in beginnings though, only because beginnings surely lead to ends.  Maybe my life will be cyclical - a constant journey.  I have always felt that I am constantly in transit... and I plan to continue to attraversiamo - or cross the road, which brings me to my next point.
I have been living in Rome, Italy since for three weeks now.

For a week before I came to Italy, I went back to Chicago to say hello and goodbye, and to feel what I always feel in that city again, so it's fresh in my mind, in the hope that I won't forget that feeling even though I am in Italy until December.  Chicago was an adventure in itself.  I went wild, and wild details don't belong on the internet.  I assure you, it's not as crazy as you'd think, but we're young, we're invincible, and we make our own rules these days.  Miss Ashley McSwain, one of my closest friends from home came with me, to spend a few more days with me before our year apart.   Days were over so fast, but nights seemed to last forever.  I guess that's how it is when sleep isn't a priority.

On the plane on the way to Roma!

On the 25th of August, 172 students from Loyola University, including myself and several of my close friends boarded an Alitalia airline bound for Rome.  You would think that nine hours would fly by, but when you're suspended 30,000 feet in the air above the ocean, can't sleep, and have no other choice but to watch an Italian film about a small boy that sees ghosts of his grandparents, the minutes seem like ages on their own.  It was a strange sensation.  When we took off, every nerve in me was alive with some sort of mix between dread and thrill (a very fine line).   That feeling slowly dulled, and exhaustion took over. Yet, as soon as I saw the Alps, there it was again.
When we landed in Rome, I realized how different it would be.  There are no words for how foreign a place can feel when you don't know anything about it.
When we first got here, there was so much paperwork - we have to jump through a bunch of hoops to stay in the country, which I understand - it's just a pain sometimes.  Since then, we've seen so many amazing things; I'd do anything to stay here in Italy.
 The first weekend we were here in Italy, the school had an orientation trip. We went to Assisi, Ravenna, and a small country called San Marino.  We got on the bus really early the first morning, and it was freezing the whole way.  Each bus full of students had one or two teachers or SLA's on the bus to help explain all of the history and rules and things.  On our bus, we had Mike Beazely and Alexander Evers (AKA the Dutch wonder).  Needless to say, it was the best bus.  I haven't laughed so much in a long time.

Santa Maria degli Angeli

After a few hours of traveling, we could finally see Assisi gleaming on the side of the mountain.  We stopped at the bottom, at a church called Santa Maria degli Angeli (Santa Maria of the Angels).  St. Francis built a small, very humble chapel there when he was alive.  Now, his tiny stone church is preserved and engulfed by a huge basilica.  The contrast is amazing, but not what he would have wanted I think.   He built the chapel in the place where he first heard the voice of God that led him to begin the Franciscan movement, which stresses poverty and humility above all things. There, in that place, there are roses - but these roses only grow here.  This is the only place on earth that they have ever and will ever be.  The myth states that when he decided to renounce his previous way of life, Saint Francis (or San Francesco as the Italians call him) rolled in the brambles in the garden.  Where his blood fell, dog roses grew, and have grown ever since.
We had a quick sack lunch in front of the church, and then got back on the bus, which took us up the mountain to Assisi.

Assisi.  Oh my goodness.  What a wonderful place!  It's literally built into the mountain, with roads going every which way, and alleys and niches everywhere you look.  Not creepy alleys like in America, but alleys that lead out to terraces with amazing views out over Perugia.  The air was so clean and so cool and pure. It was beautiful. The city is based around two main churches - the Basilica of Saint Francis of Assisi and Santa Chiara (Saint Clare).  The basilica was the first place we visited.  It is built in two styles - the bottom level is very romanesque, while the upper church is gothic.  Underneath the romanesque level is the tomb of St. Francis.  That was the first time I had seen the remains of a saint.  It didn't feel much different -  think there was a disconnect with it.  He is buried in a gilded coffin, elaborately decorated with gold detail.  It's hard to imagine the remains of someone so pious and humble in such a splendid place.

The romanesque part of the church overwhelmed me.  It was so beautiful.  The ceilings were completely painted, and there were mosaics everywhere.  Compared to the stark outside of the basilica, the interior is an explosion of color and wonder - the ceiling in the entrance beneath the lower rose window is decorated with a repeating pattern of stars in the heavens.  I feel that if churches looked this way in America, more people would be drawn to them.    This level is also completely silent.  At one point, there was too much noise from people shuffling their feet and one of the guards came on the loudspeaker, yelling, in stern and traditional Italian, "Silenzio!"

The upper level of the church, done in gothic style, didn't seem as magnificent to me, but that's only my opinion.   The ceilings were painted here too, but in a different way, a harder way to describe - less whimsical and more alpha-Catholicism style.  If I had to pick one word to describe the church, I think I'd pick 'tall.'  Something about it just rubbed me in a way that wasn't quite right.  The colors, or the paint, or all of the gold - I don't know, it just all seemed too gaudy.  The view from this church, however, was amazing.

After the tour, we were free to explore on our own.  Assisi is so... whimsical.  Everyone is in a frenzy in the maze of streets.  Everywhere you look, there's something to see, whether its a view, or a shop, or a restaurant.
The town was so quaint.  I can't imagine anything bad ever happening there.  I think crime is nonexistent.   I've never felt so safe before in my life in a place that I had never been.  I"m trying to find the words to describe it.  Everything is simply beautiful.

At the very top of the town of Assisi is the Church of Santa Chiara.  The church used to be richly decorated, as it is the final resting place of St. Clare.  However, during the black plague, the building was used as a hospital.  When it was over, the walls were washed clean to get rid of the sickness.  Now, the church is a stark, white ghost of what it used to be, but as tragedy has its own beauty, so does simplicity.

I think nature also goes hand in hand with simplicity, and the views from the front of this church are the best in Assisi.  I hope my pictures begin to capture the whole atmosphere.  I've been taking alot of mental pictures of the places we've been because they're not just beautiful aesthetically.  Each place has an energy that is unique and intoxicating.  Each has its own characteristics.  I always tell people I have a problem.  I fall in love with places.  I can love places so easily because they aren't afraid to be exactly what they are.  They know they're beautiful even though they're not like any other place.  They don't feel pressure to be like any other place.  They live and breathe their entire self.  Some of them seem to even have souls that give them life.

On the way back down the mountain to our bus, Sarah and I made several stops.  We shopped for postcards, looked in the shops for trinkets and at beautiful pottery, and, of course, found ourselves at a cafe.  It was called Gran Cafe, and the pastries, like everything else in the town, were absolutely beautiful.  We split one, but left quickly because the lady who owned it seemed to be annoyed by the fact that we're American.  Better to not split hairs in a place as peaceful as Assisi.
We left Assisi in the freezing bus with the Dutch wonder and drove through the beautiful Italian countryside for five hours.  It really does look just like a calendar, or a picture from a magazine.  My soul feels so full these days.  There's so much beauty, so much to wonder at, so much culture, so much history.  It feels like a gap inside me is filled... a gap that I used to fill with other things that weren't so good for me.  I can't explain what it feels like to have a full soul.  It's like... I finally don't have to go inside myself anymore - It's no longer a scary place because there's finally enough to look at when you get there.  Maybe it's because I feel like I have questions again; like there's still mystery in the world that I thought was gone.  There's still things buried under our feet that no one has seen for a long time.
We got into Ravenna late that night.  I was disappointed.  We were staying at the Holiday Inn outside of town.  I had such high expectations for Ravenna, and the area we were staying in... wasn't anything like the pictures I had seen in my art history book.  I had memorized so many sights there.  I couldn't wait to see the mosaics.  Here I was, nervous in the pit of my stomach like I was about to go into surgery, all because I thought we wouldn't see any art in Ravenna.

I did see art in Ravenna, starting the next morning.  Sarah and I got off the bus and made it to the first church with our group.  San Appolinare Nuovo is quite simple from the outside, but elaborate on the inside (which seems to be a theme so far).  Because I would, I was so busy taking pictures of the mosaics that I was completely distracted. We turned around, and our group was gone.  They weren't just gone. They were gone gone.  We went and looked both ways down the street and walked several minutes in each direction.  I thought, "Cool.  We're lost in Ravenna, in the middle of Italy.  I don't speak Italian.  All I have is my camera." And then I thought, "This is perfect.  It's exactly what I wanted."

Coins in the Font in the Baptistry

The Mosaics at the Basilica of San Vitale

Unfortunately, we figured the most responsible thing to do, seeing as our parents generously paid for this trip, would be to join the next tour group when they came around, which happened to be conveniently soon.  After we latched on, we visited Dante's grave. Then, it was time for what I had been waiting for for over a year: the Basilica of San Vitale.  I fell in love with this church through pictures.  I read books.  I googled it.  I took in everything I could.  And now, here I was, walking towards it.  Are you ever afraid to see something you've wanted to see for a long time?  Do you ever think, "what if I don't like it after all this time?"  What if I liked it better from the pictures than I would in real life?  I decided that was near impossible.  After a brief stop at a beautiful baptistry, we made it.  San Vitale exceeded my expectations in every way, shape, and form that it possibly could.

The Clerestory at San Vitale

This was probably the first time in my life that the aesthetics of a church have struck me to my knees.   This kind of thing makes all the power we felt as children in mass seem real.   I found myself suddenly humbled, a small child, afraid of the power of God.  When you can feel divinity ring through your mind, fall through your heart, and spiral downward to your fingertips because of the art...

Galla Placidia from the Doors of San Vitale

A short way from the basilica is the tomb of Galla Placidia.  This was also in my art history book.  The tomb is beautiful, but very dark, very hot, and very quiet.  Americans don't understand reverence for the dead like the Italians do.  I've been thinking alot, because we're visiting so many churches, about faith.  I decided that I definitely believe in God.  Why else would i feel the fear and the passion that I feel in mass?  But I also think I'm spiritual and not religious.  I don't think belief should be regulated.  All of these rules floating around in the Church don't make any sense.  Is it really what God wants?
We spent one more night in Ravenna - a very strange night as it were.  In fact, I don't want to remember that night in as much detail as I do.  I was so ill, in a sense that I have never been ill before.

The next day we set out for the small country of San Marino.  I loved San Marino.  It is the third smallest country in Europe, behind the Vatican City and Monaco.  It reminded me a little of Genovia from the Princess Diaries book series, only because it's so perfectly clean, safe, and storybook-like.  The main part of the country sits atop a hill, and the main city still has its ancient walls in place.  At the top of the mountain is a castle that looks out over the Adriatic Sea.  Everything inside the walls looks just the same as it did when it was built, but now the windows are filled with designer watches and sunglasses.  We spent the morning in this small country, and ate lunch at an amazing little place called Miramonte.  Course followed course - there were appetizers, red wine, pasta, fish, dessert, espresso... Oh I could live this life.

The bus drivers scratching their heads.

After spending the morning and part of the afternoon there, we got on our way.  We hadn't even made it out of San Marino when one of the buses broke down.  That's what Europe is though - it's everything going wrong and still being completely okay.  We waited around for two hours, and then got on our way again.  Our bus began having trouble too.  We finally made it back to the John Felice Rome Center around midnight.   It was the perfect beginning to a perfectly imperfect European experience.