The final countdown

I arrived in Roma almost four months ago with two suitcases and a backpack in hand, three hours of sleep, one semester of Italian behind me, and no idea of what the next four months would hold.  I stepped off the plane in complete disarray and was whisked away to my new home without a minute to gather my thoughts.  I leave Roma in about a week with the need for another suitcase, a more colorful Italian vocabulary, a heart filled by amazing people and the unique experience we have shared, and having consumed more food than I ever have in my twenty years of life.  My world has been enriched by the moments both big and small, ones that I cannot part with no matter how much time may pass.

Roma came alive this week as millions of people flocked to the eternal city to take part in Holy Week.  Though I am not Catholic, I too was eager to see what it was like to be part of such a religious experience.  Thursday night, following dinner in the Jewish Ghetto, I made my way to the Colosseum for the Stations of the Cross.  There, in a crowd of thousands of people and with the Pope standing in front of me, I turned to face the illuminated Colosseum and the Arch of Constantine and I cried.  I cried not for the religious significance of the night or for what the Pope was saying.  I cried for what it meant to the people surrounding me, because in this moment I was part of a community, because I was standing next to some of my best friends here and in front of pieces of Roma that I have been dreaming of for years.  There is no telling when I will be part of a moment like that again, but for now I have that night to stand out amongst my memories of the past few months.

Following the religious tradition of the weekend, Easter Sunday (or Pasqua in Italian) was a day where millions filled Piazza San Pietro for mass.  It was a warm, sunny day, and since most places were empty due to the crowd filling the Vatican, we did not stay long.  Instead, we made our way to Duecento Gradi for my favorite panino and to "Secret Bakery" for another sampling of the wide array of pastries.  With a stomach full of incredible food I hopped on the metro to Piazza del Popolo and wandered the streets toward the Spanish Steps.  With the city in full bloom and the smell of flowers in the air, the Steps did not escape the spread of springtime.  Pink and white potted plants lined the Spanish Steps from top to bottom, and I rested in the sunshine amongst the tourists taking pictures and the vendors selling their roses and toys.  As more people began to fill the area I set off for the Trevi Fountain, and made it just before tourists flooded it with their cameras.  No matter how many times I turn the corner to the sound of the roaring water, I always have to take a moment to catch my breath as I stand in front of the most famous fountain in Roma.  In an attempt to have it always hold its magic I have not visited often, but every time I do is just like the first night I saw it in January.

Being so far away from friends and family at home has made us forge a new family, one that consists of an exceptional group of people who are strange, crazy, hilarious, awkward, and some of the most kind-hearted, open-minded people you will come across in your lifetime.  They take you for exactly who you are, make fun of you, give you a hard time, and at the end of the day are the ones standing by your side as you navigate the ups and downs of a semester far away from the people you love at home.  With Easter generally being a holiday spent with family and marked by yearly traditions, our JFRC family set out to make this Easter one to remember –– and what better way to celebrate in true American fashion then a dinner at Hard Rock Cafe?  I have held out these past three months and not indulged in American food, but our Easter dinner was well worth the wait.  French fries and hamburgers have never tasted so good, and the endless stream of music videos both new and old helped us to feel just a little bit more at home.  

There are the people who have known you your whole life, the ones who have just made an appearance, and the ones who you hope will be there sixty years from now to reminisce about the "good old days."  Then there are the people who you meet in situations like this, who have come together from around the country and who become part of your day to day life.  They are the ones who will laugh with you late at night on the 913 bus, who will clean up parks and plant flowers in the neighborhood with you one Saturday, go out for sushi dinners in Italy, and the ones who will cry with you every single time you think of leaving. Who knows where we will all be a year from now, if we will stay in touch or slowly grow apart, if we will make visits and send care packages and have weekly Skype dates.  Maybe one day we really will get rings that glow when a Pope passes away so that we know to rush back to Roma for a reunion.  For now, what we have is one week left together to let it all soak in.  And really, that is all we need. 

Stations of the Cross

The Spanish Steps in spring

Easter dinner at Hard Rock Cafe  

Matt, Erica, Lauren and I.  Pretty much sums us up.

The Creator made Italy from designs by Michelangelo.

Today marks exactly one month before my semester ends and this chapter in my life, the one that shaped my sense of adventure and taste for new culture, comes to a gradual close.  Though it is not one month before I leave Europe, it is one month until I empty my room, pack my suitcases, drag them downstairs, and roll them over the stone pathways toward the green gates that once intimidated me.  Landing in the Roman airport in January in an entirely new city, arriving on campus and entering my room for the first time, the sense of anxiety mixed with exhaustion, have all been overcome by sheer excitement and faded into the corners of my memory.  It may seem like I arrived here yesterday, but so much of me has changed in the past three months, and there is so much more to come in the next thirty days.

I have already noted that the spring sheds a new light on the city, and spring is currently in full force.  Walking down streets bathed in sunshine and lined with blooming trees transforms them from the frigid, damp cobblestone I first fell in love with.  I have found in Italy the awakening of my sense of wonder, and have formed an attachment to the organized chaos that is the foundation of Italian life.  My relationships with the people I have met so far are equaled by the relationship that I have formed with this city.  The food, the language, the movement, the music, the history, the art –– each has made a unique impact on shaping me as an individual.  So often I have found myself walking the streets in complete awe of what I see, and I am constantly overcome with sadness when I think of how soon it will all come to a bitter-sweet close.

The past few weeks have been lazy ones defined by a glowing sun and a deeper exploration of the extraordinary culture that surrounds Roma.  I witnessed first hand the genius work of Michelangelo, from the Sistine Chapel to the Tomb of Julius II to the Pietà.  To see work that defined the art world and that I have only studied in Art History textbooks took my breath away, and standing in a room of people staring up at a ceiling for as long as their necks allowed was an experience I will always hold on to.  There is so much of Roma that is known worldwide and will permanently remain in history textbooks and tourist guidebooks.  Yet living in any location gives you a perspective on it that is deeper than the surface glance you acquire after only a whirlwind few days.  There are places you find that are considered only your own, or routines you develop that remain calming amidst the bustle of a large city.  It is the little things within any place that make the greatest impact, and while I will walk away saying that I have seen first-hand some of the most extraordinary artifacts and structures in history, what I have the most stories to tell about are the days where I read my book in St. Peter’s Square with my pastry from “Secret Bakery,” climbed the Spanish Steps at sunset with my favorite gelato flavor combination, and rented a rowboat on the lake in Villa Borghese with friends despite not knowing how to steer it at all.

While I have been incredibly fortunate to see some of the most beautiful places in Europe, a huge part of this entire study abroad experience for me is knowing as much about Roma as possible.  My favorite weekends have been the past two, where I ventured to places that I had never planned on visiting before I arrived.  I spent a Saturday at the orange groves situated at the top of Aventine Hill near the Church of Santa Sabina.  Surrounded by the orange trees and groups of people lounging in the warmth of the sun, I rested on a ledge that offered one of the most spectacular views of the city I have seen thus far.  Yet the most extraordinary find at the top of Aventine Hill is the keyhole.  No more than two inches in diameter, the keyhole rests in the center of two large doors that, had I been unaware of their existence, I would have walked past without looking twice.  As you place your eye up against the brass surrounding the hole, perfectly situated in the center is the dome of St. Peter’s flanked on either side by a row of hedges.  It is perhaps the most beautiful view of the dome that I have seen yet, aside from gazing at it illuminated at night over the water of the Tiber.  

I was told about the wonders of Italy long before I decided to set out on this trip, but part of my sense of identity with Italy has been formed by my own personal attachments.  D.H. Lawrence is quoted as stating, “For us to go to Italy and to penetrate into Italy is like a most fascinating act of self-discovery –– back, back down the old ways of time.  Strange and wonderful chords awake in us, and vibrate again after many hundreds of years of complete forgetfulness.”  So much of the charm of Roma is its strange ability to awaken the senses to an experience unlike any other.  From the taste of the food to the sights of a city essentially built upon the ruins of another city to the sounds of a new language and the endless hum of life in constant motion.  My Theology professor describes us as being on “liquid time,” where the normal constraints of a schedule seem to fade away and leave us with the absolute freedom to find ourselves as individuals on a great adventure. 

Looking through the keyhole

The view at the end of the keyhole

Boating in Villa Borghese

With Katie and Austin, the view from the orange groves