So, as I briefly hinted at in my last post...
I WENT TO ITALY ON A SCHOOL PHOTO TOUR FOR TWELVE DAYS.
This actually happened.
I have no idea how I got to be so lucky.
But I did.
In the words of Adrien Monk, here's what happened: I went on this trip, where we basically did nothing but walk/drive/boat across southern Italy and take pictures, and kept a journal of the whole thing. So now I'm going to post my journal entries, which range in length and depth from I-just-wrote-this-quickly-for-the-sake-of-writing-something to I-think-I'll-just-write-a-small-novel-here, because I COULD go back and describe the whole thing from memory...but this'll just be so much more fun.
So, to begin with, the itinerary: We left on January 6th at 6 PM and arrived in London on the seventh at 9 AM, and ended up in Rome sometime around 2 PM, which meant a one-hour layover (which nearly killed me). Then, we spent one day in Rome, one day in Vatican City, and one day in Naples and Pompeii. Then, we went to the Amalfi coast and toured Sorrento and Ravello, and THEN we spent the night on the ferry so we could transfer to Sicily, where we spent six days exploring the island. Finally, we got up at an ungodly hour and flew back to
London, had a five-hour layover (which was much, MUCH less stressful than the one-hour layover) and got back to the States at six in the evening (which, thanks to the time difference, felt like midnight to our poor, confused bodies...don't know about my fellow Italygoers, but I passed out pretty damn quick that night).
London, had a five-hour layover (which was much, MUCH less stressful than the one-hour layover) and got back to the States at six in the evening (which, thanks to the time difference, felt like midnight to our poor, confused bodies...don't know about my fellow Italygoers, but I passed out pretty damn quick that night).
That's the basic outline. Now, get ready for...
THE ITALY DIARIES: PART 1
January 4, 2012
So, I just want to say, right now, that I don't hate America. I really don't. But I'm so ready to get off this continent! I've heard so many stories from my family about going overseas--gotten postcards from Iceland and Paris--seen the pictures on Facebook--even seen videos from my high-school classmates' trip to London. I'm jealous--I can't help it. Even my dad has been to Australia, where I DESPERATELY want to go--but the only foreign country I've ever visited was Canada, and I've never even stayed overnight, just seen the same tiny town and park and beach. (Not that I don't like it, mind you--I'd move there, given the chance--but that's another story.)
My point is, I want to get out of the country. I've seen the pictures, heard the stories. To hell with that--I want to experience it!
All anyone cares about, when I mention I'm going to Italy, is the food. They'll say, "Oh, you'll eat so well there! The pizza is so amazing!" Okay, great. But what about everything else?! There is soooo much more to Italy than pizza and pasta. Even worse, I get a lot of "Ohhh, Italy, eh?--wink wink, nudge nudge--" followed by, "I hope you're single!" Oh, for the love of all that's holy! Yes, I am single, and it's going to stay like that for awhile, Italy or no Italy. I don't want to live out The Lizzie McGuire Movie! That is not my reason for doing this!
Here's why I'm going to Italy: I have read about amazing places all my life, and I finally have a chance to go to one of them--and that has nothing to do with "cute boys" or "pizza." I want to go because I've seen Italy through a computer screen--now it's time to see it for real!
So, I just want to say, right now, that I don't hate America. I really don't. But I'm so ready to get off this continent! I've heard so many stories from my family about going overseas--gotten postcards from Iceland and Paris--seen the pictures on Facebook--even seen videos from my high-school classmates' trip to London. I'm jealous--I can't help it. Even my dad has been to Australia, where I DESPERATELY want to go--but the only foreign country I've ever visited was Canada, and I've never even stayed overnight, just seen the same tiny town and park and beach. (Not that I don't like it, mind you--I'd move there, given the chance--but that's another story.)
My point is, I want to get out of the country. I've seen the pictures, heard the stories. To hell with that--I want to experience it!
All anyone cares about, when I mention I'm going to Italy, is the food. They'll say, "Oh, you'll eat so well there! The pizza is so amazing!" Okay, great. But what about everything else?! There is soooo much more to Italy than pizza and pasta. Even worse, I get a lot of "Ohhh, Italy, eh?--wink wink, nudge nudge--" followed by, "I hope you're single!" Oh, for the love of all that's holy! Yes, I am single, and it's going to stay like that for awhile, Italy or no Italy. I don't want to live out The Lizzie McGuire Movie! That is not my reason for doing this!
Here's why I'm going to Italy: I have read about amazing places all my life, and I finally have a chance to go to one of them--and that has nothing to do with "cute boys" or "pizza." I want to go because I've seen Italy through a computer screen--now it's time to see it for real!
~~~
January 7, 2012
First impressions of Italy:
Wow.
Wow, wow, wow. This is not--repeat, NOT--like America. Not in the least. You can just sense it when you get off the plane. Going through customs and passport checking was nothing like going from the U.S. to Canada. In the U.S., you're pretty much interrogated--who are you, where are you going, what's your business? Here, the man just looked at my passport, stamped it, and that was that.
I discovered something about myself today, too: I am a horrible international traveler. I really am. So far, I've forgotten three essential items (hair ties, brush, and umbrella), been unable to sleep on the plane, nearly burned myself in the shower, worn the wrong shoes, almost lost my iPod, accidentally tripped a flight attendant, and almost killed myself during the layover. I've always thought of myself as someone who liked to travel, but by the time we got to the hotel, I was seriously considering revising that statement. I know it's my first plane ride (well, sort of), but really, I should've done better than I did today.
I couldn't sleep on the plane at all. Not for lack of trying, I assure you--I was exhausted. But every time I fell asleep, we'd hit turbulence, or my seatmate would move, or a flight attendant would wake me up, or someone would knock into me on the way to the bathroom. It was ridiculous!
And don't get me started on the layover. I mean, really--a saint would've had a hard time dealing with that, especially after no sleep! I really tried hard to stay positive, though. I did manage to sleep for a bit on the second flight, so by the time we landed in Italy, I was in a much better mood.
The bathroom in my room is so crazy! There seems to be two toilets, and there's no door on the shower--just a little plexiglass panel that comes about halfway down the bathtub. And the towel rack is heated--actually heated! You'd never see that in a standard American hotel room!
Our room is about ten million degrees Celsius. Not kidding. And I'm not sure if the window opens (and I'm not about to test it; my roommate's trying to sleep and I'm not sure figuring it out will be a quiet affair).
Dinner was amazing. I've never had real Italian pizza before, but now I know what everyone meant when they told me that no pizza would be good enough after real Italian pizza. I've also made a new rule for myself, for while I'm here: If I haven't tried something before, and someone offers or recommends it, I have to try it. If I'm picky here, I'll miss out on too much.
I'd write more, but I'm so tired I can barely hold the pen straight. Tomorrow I finally get to see the Trevi Fountain--I CAN'T WAIT!
First impressions of Italy:
Wow.
Wow, wow, wow. This is not--repeat, NOT--like America. Not in the least. You can just sense it when you get off the plane. Going through customs and passport checking was nothing like going from the U.S. to Canada. In the U.S., you're pretty much interrogated--who are you, where are you going, what's your business? Here, the man just looked at my passport, stamped it, and that was that.
I discovered something about myself today, too: I am a horrible international traveler. I really am. So far, I've forgotten three essential items (hair ties, brush, and umbrella), been unable to sleep on the plane, nearly burned myself in the shower, worn the wrong shoes, almost lost my iPod, accidentally tripped a flight attendant, and almost killed myself during the layover. I've always thought of myself as someone who liked to travel, but by the time we got to the hotel, I was seriously considering revising that statement. I know it's my first plane ride (well, sort of), but really, I should've done better than I did today.
I couldn't sleep on the plane at all. Not for lack of trying, I assure you--I was exhausted. But every time I fell asleep, we'd hit turbulence, or my seatmate would move, or a flight attendant would wake me up, or someone would knock into me on the way to the bathroom. It was ridiculous!
And don't get me started on the layover. I mean, really--a saint would've had a hard time dealing with that, especially after no sleep! I really tried hard to stay positive, though. I did manage to sleep for a bit on the second flight, so by the time we landed in Italy, I was in a much better mood.
The bathroom in my room is so crazy! There seems to be two toilets, and there's no door on the shower--just a little plexiglass panel that comes about halfway down the bathtub. And the towel rack is heated--actually heated! You'd never see that in a standard American hotel room!
Our room is about ten million degrees Celsius. Not kidding. And I'm not sure if the window opens (and I'm not about to test it; my roommate's trying to sleep and I'm not sure figuring it out will be a quiet affair).
Dinner was amazing. I've never had real Italian pizza before, but now I know what everyone meant when they told me that no pizza would be good enough after real Italian pizza. I've also made a new rule for myself, for while I'm here: If I haven't tried something before, and someone offers or recommends it, I have to try it. If I'm picky here, I'll miss out on too much.
I'd write more, but I'm so tired I can barely hold the pen straight. Tomorrow I finally get to see the Trevi Fountain--I CAN'T WAIT!
~~~
January 8, 2012
7:11 AM:
I don't seem to be jet lagged at all, which is definitely good. I'll admit I'm a little nervous about the tours today today--not because I think I'm going to screw up, but because I've only just realized how far from home I really am. Last night, I was too tired to really get it--I mean I got that I was in a foreign country, but it felt like I could just jump in the car and be home in a few hours. Now I realize I am NOT home, in any sense of the word. I can't just go back to my dorm when I get tired. If, God forbid, I lose my money, passport, or memory cards, I can't just call my parents and ask for help. It scares me a little, because there are just so many things that can go wrong, and I don't know if I'll be able to handle that if/when it happens.
7:11 AM:
I don't seem to be jet lagged at all, which is definitely good. I'll admit I'm a little nervous about the tours today today--not because I think I'm going to screw up, but because I've only just realized how far from home I really am. Last night, I was too tired to really get it--I mean I got that I was in a foreign country, but it felt like I could just jump in the car and be home in a few hours. Now I realize I am NOT home, in any sense of the word. I can't just go back to my dorm when I get tired. If, God forbid, I lose my money, passport, or memory cards, I can't just call my parents and ask for help. It scares me a little, because there are just so many things that can go wrong, and I don't know if I'll be able to handle that if/when it happens.
10:24 PM:
Rome is AMAZING. I've never seen anything like it. Yes, there are tourist traps, just like in every other major city--but that's such a small part of it. I think what I love most about Rome is that there's so much history--and it's all right out in the open for everyone to see. In America, most of our real history is broken into artifacts, or re-created or made into models, and tucked away in a museum where only those who know where to look can find it. In America, old is bad, and buildings are torn down or renovated at the slightest sign of disrepair, and replaced the moment they're even slightly obsolete--but here, it's all out in the open, almost exactly the way it was thousands of years ago.
Just walking down the street was a special experience. Even with my eyes shut (which, trust me, I did NOT do for very long), I could tell I was in a different country, just from the sounds. There were street musicians every few feet, and I could hear about a dozen different languages in the conversations around me. Every now and then, I'd hear the sound of a horse's hooves and carriage wheels rolling over the stone roads. You wouldn't hear any of this in America--not all at once in the same place, at least.
Vendors kept pushing their wares at us, usually touristy things like "I <3 Roma" t-shirts and keychains shaped like the Colosseum. Now don't get me wrong, I want souvenirs, but I want things I'll actually wear or use for a long time--and I know I'll only wear an "I <3 Roma" t-shirt once or twice, if that. I bought myself a cloche instead. Yes, I could have gotten that in America--but it was cute, it was on sale, and I know I'll wear it, and think of the Piazza Navona, with its carnival-like atmosphere and beautiful fountains, every time I do. And at any rate, I'd rather have a pretty, classy hat than an "I <3 Roma" t-shirt that any normal human will scorn me for wearing.
Oh, and all those disasters I envisioned? None happened. I did have a few camera battery issues, but It all worked out, and I know how to prevent a repeat performance. So, it looks like I've learned two important lessons: 1) NO EXCESSIVE WORRYING, and 2) ALWAYS charge your battery while you're in the hotel room!
Being in a city like this is so strange--but in a good way. Like I said, at home--even in D.C.--the historical stuff is mostly hidden. And almost none of it is older than a few hundred years. So to walk down the street, and suddenly BOOM, there's a 2000-year-old ruin, is a little overwhelming. Even more so when you add in the tourist stands, and street musicians, and all the different languages--wow.
Rome is AMAZING. I've never seen anything like it. Yes, there are tourist traps, just like in every other major city--but that's such a small part of it. I think what I love most about Rome is that there's so much history--and it's all right out in the open for everyone to see. In America, most of our real history is broken into artifacts, or re-created or made into models, and tucked away in a museum where only those who know where to look can find it. In America, old is bad, and buildings are torn down or renovated at the slightest sign of disrepair, and replaced the moment they're even slightly obsolete--but here, it's all out in the open, almost exactly the way it was thousands of years ago.
Just walking down the street was a special experience. Even with my eyes shut (which, trust me, I did NOT do for very long), I could tell I was in a different country, just from the sounds. There were street musicians every few feet, and I could hear about a dozen different languages in the conversations around me. Every now and then, I'd hear the sound of a horse's hooves and carriage wheels rolling over the stone roads. You wouldn't hear any of this in America--not all at once in the same place, at least.
Vendors kept pushing their wares at us, usually touristy things like "I <3 Roma" t-shirts and keychains shaped like the Colosseum. Now don't get me wrong, I want souvenirs, but I want things I'll actually wear or use for a long time--and I know I'll only wear an "I <3 Roma" t-shirt once or twice, if that. I bought myself a cloche instead. Yes, I could have gotten that in America--but it was cute, it was on sale, and I know I'll wear it, and think of the Piazza Navona, with its carnival-like atmosphere and beautiful fountains, every time I do. And at any rate, I'd rather have a pretty, classy hat than an "I <3 Roma" t-shirt that any normal human will scorn me for wearing.
Oh, and all those disasters I envisioned? None happened. I did have a few camera battery issues, but It all worked out, and I know how to prevent a repeat performance. So, it looks like I've learned two important lessons: 1) NO EXCESSIVE WORRYING, and 2) ALWAYS charge your battery while you're in the hotel room!
Being in a city like this is so strange--but in a good way. Like I said, at home--even in D.C.--the historical stuff is mostly hidden. And almost none of it is older than a few hundred years. So to walk down the street, and suddenly BOOM, there's a 2000-year-old ruin, is a little overwhelming. Even more so when you add in the tourist stands, and street musicians, and all the different languages--wow.
Tomorrow, we're going to the Vatican. I'm psyched--I've wanted to see the Sistine Chapel since I was a kid. I'm definitely curious about the Scavi tour, but I'm a little bit nervous about it, too. Going underground has never been my favorite thing to do, especially where dead bodies, or death in general, will be concerned. But I'm not sure what will actually be under the Basilica, and if what goes down tomorrow is anything like what went down today, I've got nothing to worry about.
~~~
January 9, 2012
I'm EXHAUSTED. But I am also RIDICULOUSLY proud of myself. Today, I spent about 60% of my day with sore feet (I hadn't quite recovered from yesterday), and had I been with my parents I probably would've whined like a baby. Being with the tour group forced me to act my age, and yes, I am capable of doing that without an audience, but today I realized just how immature I can be with my parents--and then I wonder why they treat me like a child! Well, they won't after they hear what I did today...
I finally got to see Vatican City and the breathtaking Sistine Chapel, which I'll cover in a moment, but like I said before, it was hard to enjoy some of the trip because my feet hurt worse than they've ever hurt before (and between theater running crew and film sets, that's saying something). Even worse, we didn't get any kind of break until after we toured St. Peter's Basilica--so I wasn't exactly in the best of moods by that point. But then Rita showed us how to get into the city so we could get something to eat while we waited for the Scavi tour...and that was when the real adventure began.Now, to some people, the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a new result each time. But my definition has changed after today: Walking through Vatican City on your own, during your first-ever trip to Italy. When I realized that I was on my own, I froze for a minute. Then I decided to be either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid, and went off to get some semblance of lunch before I met my group...in half an hour.
Vatican City is lovely...as long as you're inside the museum or Basilica. Downtown, it looks exactly like any other Italian town: Loud, crowded, and full of reckless drivers. I almost got run over by a motorcyclist--in a crosswalk! No one watches where they're going, I swear they don't. And there was practically no decent-looking place in the immediate vicinity to get food, and I didn't want to go too far, because I didn't want to be late for my tour group. I ended up getting a tiny gelato at a sandwich shop the size of my closet (about ten minutes after making it into town and across the street, for reference), ate it as fast as humanly possible...and then got myself lost. Well, as lost as one can be less than 50 feet from their intended destination, that is. I could see the Basilica from where I was standing...it was GETTING to the Basilica that was the problem. I was at a busy street corner across from the Basilica, which freaked me out because I knew I hadn't crossed there to get into the downtown area.
My usual reaction would've been to cry. But this time I stopped myself and said, "Okay, crying will just make things worse. First, try to find out what time it is. Ask that priest over there, he might speak English. Okay, now look around--what side of the street were you on when you got here?" I knew I was on the other side of the street (not on the side of the Basilica, but the side leading up to the Basilica), so I crossed over, walked back a few feet towards a pizzeria that I was using as a landmark, and then I found the correct path back to St. Peter's. Easy as that. Didn't panic, didn't ask for directions. Just calmly, logically got myself where I needed to be. That felt really good.
So then it was off to the Scavi tour, and right off the bat, the guide warned us that space would be tight under the Basilica--uh-oh. Then he started talking about moving dead bodies from one grave to another--double uh-oh. So now I was standing in a dimly-lit hallway, looking at a tiny doorway that I was 100% sure held a narrow tunnel. Was I terrified? Do you have to ask? And let me tell you, I was not looking forward to seeing crypts, mausoleums, bones, or whatever else could've been down there--at that point, I really didn't want to know. The tour guide had told us at the beginning of the tour that if we had to leave, we could, and believe me, at that point I was ready to do just that.
But I didn't. I sucked it up and went in, sore feet, claustrophobia, nerves and all. And I won't lie--for the first ten minutes or so, I was scared out of my mind. But once we got into the more open areas, and I really got involved in what the tour was about, I started to enjoy it a lot more. True, I would've enjoyed it more if my feet hadn't hurt so much, but it was so worth it.
I think the moment that hit me the hardest was when we finally saw the jawbone of St. Peter. Until that moment, I'd thought we might get to see a box labeled "St Peter's bones" or something like that. But we did get to see his bones--and I can't even describe how amazing that was. I actually shivered a bit when I saw it. The fact that I was less than ten feet from the bones of a man who personally knew Jesus Christ still blows my mind. In a world where people constantly demand proof--"If God is real, PROVE to me that He exists"--it was so amazing to hear the story of how the bones were found. For a long time, no one knew the bones were there. They just believed the bones were there--and guess what? Their faith was not misplaced. That place shouldn't just be a holy spot for Catholics. Every Christian should hear that story--if you need a faith boost, I don't think I've heard a Christianity-related story as inspiring as the story of St. Peter and his grave under the Basilica.
But it's far from the only beautiful thing in Vatican City. There's the legendary Sistine Chapel of course, which I'd wanted to see forever--and let me tell you, it was NOT disappointing. Not in the least. I didn't know where to look first! The place is HUGE. I can only imagine how hard it must have been to paint the whole ceiling, with such intricate detail...did it really only take him four years? It took me four MONTHS to do four watercolors for a school project--how could it not take someone at least a decade to do a building the size of that chapel?
Overall, I'd say this was a good day. I confronted my fears and learned a lot of cool stuff--exactly why I came to Italy in the first place. The longer I stay here, the less I want to leave. This is, so far, exactly how I hoped this trip would be.
~~~
January 10, 2012
POMPEII.
It's real. It's amazing. And it's HUGE. This is not just a tiny bit of a city that we're talking about here--this is an actual town that actual people actually lived in, thousands of years ago. Walking through the ruins was surreal--I could almost picture a busy Roman town 2,000 years ago, but at the same time, it almost felt unreal, like a legend come to life. It was weird. But it was awesome--and so worth the sore feet. (Cobblestones do not like modern feet. Walking was nearly impossible. Add in lack of coordination and...ouch.)
To begin with, the drive from Rome was breathtaking. I love, love, LOVE a waterfront view of any kind, in any place--this probably comes from growing up in Michigan, not even a full mile from a lake--so as you can probably imagine, I was in heaven when we drove through Naples. It's so beautiful, in every city we've visited. In America, you don't see this kind of beauty in every town--you see it in a few rare, picturesque places. But here, every single place we've seen is straight out of a movie. I'm a filmmaker; you can imagine how happy that makes me. In fact, part of the reason that I came here was to find inspiration for my films--and so far, I've found it in buckets.But I didn't. I sucked it up and went in, sore feet, claustrophobia, nerves and all. And I won't lie--for the first ten minutes or so, I was scared out of my mind. But once we got into the more open areas, and I really got involved in what the tour was about, I started to enjoy it a lot more. True, I would've enjoyed it more if my feet hadn't hurt so much, but it was so worth it.
I think the moment that hit me the hardest was when we finally saw the jawbone of St. Peter. Until that moment, I'd thought we might get to see a box labeled "St Peter's bones" or something like that. But we did get to see his bones--and I can't even describe how amazing that was. I actually shivered a bit when I saw it. The fact that I was less than ten feet from the bones of a man who personally knew Jesus Christ still blows my mind. In a world where people constantly demand proof--"If God is real, PROVE to me that He exists"--it was so amazing to hear the story of how the bones were found. For a long time, no one knew the bones were there. They just believed the bones were there--and guess what? Their faith was not misplaced. That place shouldn't just be a holy spot for Catholics. Every Christian should hear that story--if you need a faith boost, I don't think I've heard a Christianity-related story as inspiring as the story of St. Peter and his grave under the Basilica.
But it's far from the only beautiful thing in Vatican City. There's the legendary Sistine Chapel of course, which I'd wanted to see forever--and let me tell you, it was NOT disappointing. Not in the least. I didn't know where to look first! The place is HUGE. I can only imagine how hard it must have been to paint the whole ceiling, with such intricate detail...did it really only take him four years? It took me four MONTHS to do four watercolors for a school project--how could it not take someone at least a decade to do a building the size of that chapel?
Overall, I'd say this was a good day. I confronted my fears and learned a lot of cool stuff--exactly why I came to Italy in the first place. The longer I stay here, the less I want to leave. This is, so far, exactly how I hoped this trip would be.
~~~
January 10, 2012
POMPEII.
It's real. It's amazing. And it's HUGE. This is not just a tiny bit of a city that we're talking about here--this is an actual town that actual people actually lived in, thousands of years ago. Walking through the ruins was surreal--I could almost picture a busy Roman town 2,000 years ago, but at the same time, it almost felt unreal, like a legend come to life. It was weird. But it was awesome--and so worth the sore feet. (Cobblestones do not like modern feet. Walking was nearly impossible. Add in lack of coordination and...ouch.)
And that brings us to reason #2 that I came to Italy, which nicely ties into today: Pompeii. When I was in the 6th grade, I read a book called The Pirates of Pompeii, about the aftermath of the eruption of Mt. Vesuvius. After that, I knew I had to see Pompeii someday. Of course, back then I didn't realize that the city was in ruins, or that the eruption actually wiped out the entire population. I just wanted to see the place where this amazing book was set. So when I saw Pompeii on the trip itinerary, way back in September, my first thought was "Sign me up."
And I wasn't disappointed, I'll tell you that right now. Every last moment in Pompeii was amazing, from the lunch we had before we saw the ruins to the sunset on the way to the new hotel. And the photo opportunities were endless. There is one particularly, er, interesting picture of me trying to pose in the remains of a 2,000-year-old brothel (just for you, Mishka!)...but that wasn't really what I meant when I said "photo opportunities." I meant that we had so many moments where the framing and lighting just set themselves up, and we didn't have to do anything but press the button.
And then there were those pictures that took SO MUCH WORK, but were completely worth it in the end...like my picture of the sunset on the way to the hotel. Dear God, that sunset. I wish I'd been sitting on the right side of the bus when I saw that sunset. As it was, I did manage to get a miraculous photo of it...and I did it by standing in the aisle. (The miracle was that I didn't fall over and break my neck--or worse, my camera--in the process.) I'd submit it to the daily photo contest if I had internet. But yeah...that one's definitely going in my top ten. I just hope I don't run out of memory cards!
~~~
January 12, 2012
UGH.
And with that eloquent statement, I sum up the last 24 hours.
The Amalfi coast was absolutely beautiful. So much better than it looked on the websites. And thank God I was sitting on the right side of the bus this time, so I got some pretty good pictures. I hung out with Maria and Shelby when we actually stopped in Amalfi, which was pretty cool because Maria got this gigantic gelato, and that provided endless photo opportunities, including one or two that I'm fairly certain will have to go in my top ten.
But the good part of the day ended as soon as we started heading back towards Naples. My acid reflux flared up (ew!) mid-bus ride, so that was "fun"...and then, when we were boarding the ferry, I completely humiliated myself on the escalator (I HATE ESCALATORS WITH A BURNING PASSION), and as if THAT'S not enough, I couldn't sleep on the boat, so when they woke us up (at six AM, mind you), I was NOT ready to get up. So being sleep-deprived as I was, I made an ass of myself on the escalators AGAIN...Lauren's dad had to help me so I wouldn't hurt myself or someone else...and let me tell you, it was NOT a good way to start the day.
So after a nice, mild church stop (more top-ten possibilities--yay!), we got to the Catacombs...and let me remind you, me + dead things = disaster, so I knew I was going to have a hard time. But I thought, well I was afraid of the Scavi tour, and I ended up having a good time there...so I gave it a shot.
Biggest.
Mistake.
EVER.
Maybe some people enjoyed it. I guess I could see why--it was pretty interesting to see how the fashions changed over the ages. (In the Catacombs, dead people from centuries ago are embalmed, dressed, and displayed on the walls. And there are 8,000 of them--at least. Can you just imagine how freaked out I was?) All I know is, we got inside and I lost it. I was crying before our entire group was even inside--though to be fair, that was mostly out of shock, and because I had an up-close-and-personal encounter with a particularly iffy-looking skull when I first came inside. It was like being inside a giant, really realistic Halloween store. I wanted out the minute I set foot in there.
But I kept going. I did the whole tour. I managed to calm down, and stop crying, after a few minutes. But this time there was no sense of pride when it was over. No, "You go girl--you're so brave!" like after the Scavi tour. I was just relieved to be out of there. But it stayed with me. I couldn't enjoy the next chapel or the square, because I kept seeing the Catacombs in my mind. So far, out of all the places and things we've seen in Italy, the Catacombs has been the only place that I've truly hated. But it's over now, and I never have to go back.
Let me just say, for the record, that I know we went into the Catacombs because it's an education and unique (to say the least!) experience, not because Professor Bloom wanted to scare the hell out of us. And I did learn a bit today, and I'm not just referring to the new knowledge of exactly how weak my stomach actually is. I just wish I'd been brave enough to say no, instead of going in just to prove I wasn't scared (and we all know how well THAT worked out.)
But it wasn't the only thing we did today, and it's far from the most memorable thing we've done in Italy. Tonight we went out to dinner, in this little home-style restaurant a short walk from our hotel, and I had a great time. I sat with Mike, Maria, Meg, and my roommate Shelby. I wasn't expecting to say this, but here goes: They're my new friends. Friends. Not "people who put up with me just for the short time while we're on this trip" but actual friends--and if you'd asked me before the trip what I thought was more likely, me making friends with the upperclassmen or every one of the corpses in the Catacombs coming to life and performing "Thriller" for us, I'd have told you it was the latter. (And come to think of it, that might've actually been cool, because then I wouldn't have been the only one freaking out.) I only knew Maria, and not very well, before I came on the trip, and I didn't know my roommate at all. But I'd forgotten how quickly people bond when they have to, and bond we did. I didn't expect any more than to just get along with the people on this trip, because they all knew each other before...or so I thought...and I didn't really know anyone. But I've actually made friends here--and that's well worth a trip to the Creepy Catacombs.
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More to come soon--though I'm not sure when; I have to turn in my trip diary today, and I don't know when the professor will give it back. In the meantime, stay tuned for more Italy stories, and some good old-fashioned college adventures!
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