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.