Interlochen February, Day 5: Let it Snow...and Snow...and Snow...

DAY 5
February 6
Prompt: "SNOW. SNOW, SNOW, SNOW."

Everyone who reads this blog knows that I adore snow. I was always a snow-lover--I was the kind of child who thought it wasn't Christmas if it didn't snow. But I must say, after two years in Northern Michigan, I developed an entirely new appreciation for snow.

Snow at Interlochen is no laughing matter. You are buried alive. I'm not kidding. You are legit buried alive. I'm not even joking. We had eight, nine, ten-foot snow piles. We actually had bets and contests debating which pile would be the first or last to melt. It started in December and didn't end until March...sometimes, it even went on into April. And during this time, if you went outside wearing Converse, you'd fall on your ass (directly into a pile of snow, too) faster than you could say "Big mistake." And don't even think about trying to wear a leather jacket on a snowy day. You'd freeze!

So imagine four months of this every year, okay? In southern Michigan it's bad enough, but up by the lake, we'd get PILES of snow. So every year, we were extremely relieved when it stopped, and the weather got warmer (even though warm weather usually brought tentworms and bewildering humidity that not even the most blustery fan could tame). But...one year...

The weather had a relapse.


I'm not kidding.

April 20, 2011:
We are nervous when we hear of an impending snowstorm, but also confident that our Interlochen would never, ever do such an evil thing to us when we were so close to graduation and only had one month left to enjoy the beautiful campus with our friends. But guess what? It snowed. Like, a lot. I mean, it was at least a foot. It was like December all over again. It was INSANE. I spent the night tucked away inside the DeRoy commons...but I know people who actually went sledding. I'm not kidding...it was a proper mindfuck, as Mishka would've said. (Or, as a clever staff member of the Blue Collar so cleverly put it, the Gods of Northern Michigan decided to take a large, white dump on us.)

This was not the only snow adventure I had...I mean, with four months a year of eight-foot snowdrifts, how could it be?...but this was the one that I remember the most because it was just so UNEXPECTED. I mean, really. Where else could you expect snow in April, besides the Midwest? (Well, okay, probably in other northern parts of the world. Shush, Realism, I'm trying to be special here.)

I don't have the time right now to recount every single detail of that night...but I can tell you that it involved dancercise tapes, watercolors, straight-girl bashing from my lovely gay friend, freaking out Isaac (always a favorite pastime of ours, it seems), and a secondhand tale of snow-running, stolen elks, and Zumba dancing.

At Interlochen, we understand snow. We embrace snow. We have to, or we go crazy. Most importantly, we understand what snow can do to a person, and what snow is really, truly good for.

WHAT SNOW IS GOOD FOR:

• Making snow-slushies with lemonade or a drink of your choice
• Making snow-forts and snow-caves and snowmen
• Going for walks and talking with your spirit twin (miss you Thomas! <3)
• Diving into piles of it when you just need a break
• Having epic snow-fights with your Dead Poet best friends
• Eating up like cheesecake when you're so thirsty you can't possibly wait to get to Stone (make sure it's clean though)
• Sneaking up on you when you least expect it...for instance, in the middle of April
• Driving you into a state of stir-craziness that induces all sorts of behavior in which you would not ordinarily participate: fort-building, Zumba dancing, elk-stealing, crush-revealing, screaming like an insane person, dancing like you're in a music video (when, uh, you are definitely not), playing Loup-Garou at an odd hour, skipping (yes, sadly, I did do this), and of course freaking out your best guy friend. (Sorry, Isaac.)
• Sliding! Or, if you're me, marveling at the fact that others can slide on large, flat patches of packed-down snow without falling and breaking several major bones and rupturing several vital organs
• Most important: Cursing at when you JUST WANT TO SEE SOME SUNSHINE ALREADY!

Enjoy your snow, Interlocheners! ;)

Interlochen February, Day 4: Art Suppression Day

DAY 4
February 5
Prompt: "Art Suppression Day (ick)."

Oh good lord. This was probably the dumbest thing that Interlochen ever did, bar none. If only I'd been in the room when they came up with this one...

President Kimpton: Okay, y'all, we need a great way to kick off the New Year. The kids just got back from break and we want to welcome them home--what do we do?
Board Member #1: Ooh, ooh, I have an idea! Let's show them what the world is like WITHOUT ART!
Board Member #2: Oh, great idea! They probably have NO IDEA what that's like!
Board Member #1: I know, right? I'm sure none of them have EVER faced censorship or lack of instruction or lack of equipment before...we need to show them what that feels like or they might graduate without knowing how it is in the real world!
Less-Clueless Board Member: Uhh...guys? Maybe they already know what the world is like without art? Seeing as, you know, most of them have transferred from public schools, where more art funding is getting cut every semester and nine times out of ten, the art students are outnumbered twenty to one by jocks?
Other Board Members: ...
President Kimpton: Great idea, Board Members #1&2! Let's do it! Let's show those spoiled kids what it's like to LIVE WITHOUT ART! I'll make some speeches, #1 can cover all the art displays with trash bags, and #2 can tell all the teachers to suppress the kids all day!
Less-Clueless Board Member: But they do that already...
President Kimpton: SILENCE FOOL!

I mean, really. That's exactly what they did: Got us out of bed for an 8 AM community meeting (and SOME OF US didn't have class until 10:30 on normal days!), forced us to watch a presentation on WHAT THE WORLD IS LIKE WITHOUT ART OMG BECAUSE NONE OF US KNEW WHAT THAT FELT LIKE, and then made us listen to Kimpton, Farraday, and Wade's speeches. And THEN, we were forced to live in a pseudo-suppressed environment for the rest of the day. We were informed that "Uniform would be strictly enforced" (but for anyone who had Kullenberg or Nadji, uniform was enforced ANYWAY), "iPods would be checked for inappropriate music," "you would not see art you'd normally see," and, my personal favorite, "You would not be allowed to practice or make art the way you normally would."

Oh, really.

OH REALLY.

Is that a fact, Mr. Fancy Pants School Administrator? Well, let's see here. Normally I get my scripts figuratively torn to pieces by every teacher and student in my workshop. Then I have to listen to my AD tell me that something isn't going to work on-set, then I have to listen to my DP tell me that something isn't going to work on-set, then I have to listen to my thesis advisor tell me why I can't have the actors I want, and then I have to listen in while freshmen and first-years are given priority for crew roles that I should get first crack at--so, you tell me, Kimpton, Farraday, and Wade, how exactly am I "allowed" to practice my art usually? Filmmaking is not like drawing or creative writing or music--you can't just sit down and do it by yourself. It's a collaborative process, and in film school, when every last thing you do is graded, that goes double. So, really, you can't possibly "suppress" us any more than they usually do.

Added to which, most of the other majors at Interlochen felt the same way. I've heard the visual arts majors complaining because nude portraits are not allowed. I've heard theatre majors complaining that the same few people get the main roles every year. Film was not the only major with issues. Not to mention the fact that, as I mentioned, a lot of us were crossovers from public schools, where most art programs play second string--if they even exist--to the football team or baseball team or whatever sports team happens to be in-season. So chew on that for awhile...and then "show us what it feels like to be suppressed." Because, clearly, we have no idea. Because, clearly, that wasn't the whole reason we came to Interlochen in the first place--to escape that suppression.

But, being the artists that we are, we still rebelled--because it was just too stupid to not have SOME sort of reaction to this tomfoolery. Apparently (and oh, how I wish how I'd been there to witness this) a group of percussion majors paraded up the concourse and ripped down all the plastic trash bags covering the displays. People wrote all kinds of witty things on the paper tablecloths we were supposed to "write our opinions" on at Stone. (As Mishka so aptly informed the administration via those cloths, "You will get used to seeing the word 'bullshit'...you will fool yourself into thinking that this was a success.")

But my favorite thing that we did was make a huge banner that read "ART MOVED" and hang it over the sign at the entrance.

Here is what I love so much about that day: It did not tell us anything we didn't already know about "art suppression." It did not make us appreciate art more. But what we did--putting up the ART MOVED banner--was such a perfect, innocent, cheeky way of standing up for ourselves. It was a nice, subtle, jokey-but-no-really-we're-serious-here way of saying, "We are not going to put up with this." What with everything that's currently going on at Interlochen, I think this is something that all current students--and rebels--need to keep in mind: Don't try to steamroller the administration--but do make sure that they get your point.

Interlochen February, Day 3: Open Room Madness

DAY 3
February 4
Prompt: "Open rooms."

Few Interlochen traditions are as mystifying as the open room. Okay, so you've got boys, most of whom are gay, and you've got girls, most of whom are single, and yet the administration thinks that if you have any less than four people of mixed genders in a room together, for a period longer than one or two hours, at any other time than 5-9 PM on weekdays and 7-10 PM on weekends, sex will be the main festivity. I still can't work that one out.

But open rooms are magical in their own way: you can gather in a friend's room and do absolutely nothing of any importance, and still have the time of your life. I've met some amazing people in open rooms. I've seen some amazing things in open rooms. I haven't even participated in that many open rooms--but the few that I have been involved with, I've never forgotten.

But there is one open room that will forever stand out in my memory...

Rewind the clock back to the first semester of my junior year of high school. I'm minding my own business, just hanging out in my dorm room, when I get a call from the ever-lovely Gustavo, who invites me to come and hang out in his room. What he doesn't mention is that there are about half a dozen people there, one of whom I don't even know. Now, I can't remember what time of year this is, but I really want to say either October or November, because I don't remember there being snow on the ground, and we had snow the second we got back from break that year--but it was definitely cold, and it definitely wasn't September.

So I get there, and I see the usual suspects--Gustavo, Mishka, Erica, Ahmed, and I think Sam was there, but I don't remember--and there's another girl there, who I don't know, but seems to be incredibly nice. I don't think we even properly introduced ourselves, but I do remember that I didn't catch her name at first and was too shy to ask her to repeat it. I remember thinking that she looked like she'd be very nice to hug, but of course I didn't want to just walk up to her and hug her; that's generally gotten me in trouble in the past.

I spent most of that open room laughing at the antics of Mishka and Erica--and unless you've met Erica, you can't possibly understand why. Erica is quite possibly the funniest pianist that Interlochen has ever been lucky enough to educate. With her unwitting humor, adorable accent, and hysterical butchering of every rule of political correctness in the book, she was one of the most valuable assets to our rebellion--no one could help but love her.

That night, the topic was, if I recall correctly, Kurt Cobain and his glamour (or lack thereof, depending on who you asked). I remember that at some point, Gus turned on a disco ball. I remember Mishka lecturing Erica about the difference between celebrity-based romanticism and actual depression. And I remember, because I wrote it down, a quintessential Mishka quote:

"Did I just make 'smartassity' a word?"
(Yes, Mishka. Yes, you did, and we are forever grateful to you for doing so.)

I don't think I even really said much. I just sat back and watched the delightful entertainment that was the Mishka and Erica Show.

So afterwards, we're all walking back to our dorms to sign in. I'm talking to Ellie (I later learned that was her name) and discover that we're technically neighbors (she lived right across the street from me). And the rest, as they say, would be history. Imagine a little montage of us over the next two years--lots and lots of hugs, going jogging in the woods, arguing about yoga and whether or not she should go to MORP, more open rooms with our friends, talking about classmates (and former classmates) at Stone, having adventures in the Writing House, and chilling in MB. And if I hadn't gone to that open room, just think--I might not've met one of the sweetest, coolest people at Interlochen.

This is the magic of open rooms: You go into one because you're bored. You come out of it with memories, inside jokes, and--if you're incredibly lucky--friendships that last forever.



Update: It is finally snowing at McDaniel...now THAT'S more like it!

Interlochen February, Day 2: Only at Interlochen

DAY 2
February 3
Prompt: "It could ONLY happen at Interlochen."

This is the kind of Saturday night that could only happen at Interlochen:

So, in my senior year, there was a small group of us, led by Mishka and I and some of our best friends, that would play games in the Writing House whenever we got bored, hide-and-seek or "fight games" being our preference. So one night in mid-February, a bunch of us got bored (this is the beginning of a LOT of Interlochen stories: "some of us got bored") and decided to play a game of "Evil Scientist," where one person was the mad scientist, one team was her assistants, and the other was the police. The object of the game was to capture the mad scientist and "kill" her before she could destroy the world. Niki, the mad scientist, had Mishka and Emily H-C (a.k.a. the best fighters) on her team. Thomas and I were the police/government agents trying to capture Niki and her followers. Does this sound like a game that normal teenagers would play on a Saturday night? I doubt it.

A little context: Emily H-C and I had just finished a death-defying Physics assignment, and I had just had upwards of two dozen S'mores. I was sugar-high, and Emily and I were both post-homework high, and Mishka and Thomas were just bored (if I recall correctly). And Niki? She was always ready to engage in Dead Poet festivities. And one more little piece of information: You know those two dozen S'mores? Well, the reason I could get them in the first place was because that night just happened to be S'mores Night...which was almost always held at the Writing House. So, in addition to us, there were a couple of counselors and a few dozen spectators.

So, the games begin. I'll spare the gory details--all you need to know is that one of my MPA rivals witnessed me getting tackled by a fifteen-year-old girl one-third of my size, we almost got killed in an elevator, those of us wearing glasses got our specs knocked off multiple times, and it ended with Emily getting "epic rug burn," me getting a swollen lip, and Niki getting a bruised foot. (Lucky Mishka and Thomas, however, managed to escape injury.)

The fight in itself was epic--I swear, nothing is more cathartic than eating a bunch of chocolate and then burning the calories by getting your ass kicked--but afterwards, we played Loup-Garou (and if you don't know what that is, I suggest you Google it), and for the first time ever, I got to narrate (a.k.a. lead the game). Even with just five of us there--the game generally is more fun with more people--it led to quite a bit of laughter. Just to give a light background: Loup-Garou is French for "werewolf," and the objective of the game is for the werewolves to take over a village. There. That's my explanation. ;)

So THEN, it was time for us to sign in...but the fun didn't end there. Oh, no. I get back to DeRoy, my dorm, and discover that there is a fort-building contest in the making. Well, I couldn't miss out on that, could I? So I gathered as many sheets and heavy books from my room as I could, and assisted the rest of the girls on my floor in making a fort that was a true throwback to childhood: furniture for walls, sheets for curtains, cushions on the floor so we had something to sit on--and of course, the TV was totally visible and accessible, because what can you DO in a fort besides watch movies? This was girl bonding to the ultimate extreme. Even this late in the year, I didn't know half the girls on my floor very well, or even by name...but after that night, you can bet I did.

In the end, the boys won the fort-building contest, thanks to Aaron Tyson and his gaff tape, but we still had a damn good time. And of course, I couldn't let the night end without one more act of rebellion, so I jacked a handful of chocolate bars from the leftover s'mores supplies and took them upstairs to my girls...a perfect end to a perfect night. ;)

This all happened in one night. Can you believe that? Because I sure can't. And guess what? This was a totally normal occurrence at Interlochen. If this is a typical Saturday night for your high school...well, either you go to Interlochen, or this is not a typical Saturday night at your high school. That's really all there is to it.


STOLEN DIALOGUE (because I actually have some today! Wheeee!)

"This is tough, it's dry, it's overcooked, it's hard to cut...it's everything you want in a bad piece of meat."

"On another note, I like pie."

"If you examine it with any level of detail, Star Wars has more plot holes than Swiss cheese."

"If your gods are begging the Buddha to stick around, maybe you should take the Buddha seriously!"

"This is what the future looks like...no bras."

"The poke must go on!"

[In class, the computer keeps freezing while watching a DVD, at one point it freezes on a card that reads, "Let the dead rest in peace."
Student: Let this computer rest in peace!

"There's just something about me that says 'Badass' to the repressed Christian types."

Person one: Whatever she says, it's a lie.
Person two: We were talking about gay marriage.
Person one: ...

"I swear, he's afraid of vaginas! He cringes every time we talk about Vagina Monologues! I'm afraid of dead bodies, but I walked into the Catacombs...I'd like to see him walk into a cave full of vaginas!"

"I already hugged you, what do you want from me?!"

"It's like the double jeopardy of mistranslation."

"So I'm trying to decide, do I listen to the ultimate cessation argument, or do I listen to the Barbie Girl song?"

"That is a LOT of vagina on your shirt..."

"You could do a real feminist number on the story of Buddha."

Interlochen February: Inaugural post and prompt #1

A brief introduction:

In honor of the terrifying February that we used to endure at Interlochen (my fellow alumni will know what I'm talking about), I've decided that this month will be INTERLOCHEN FEBRUARY. (I may do this next year, too. I don't know. We'll see.)

The concept? Simple: Every day in February, I will recall one memory from Interlochen, each one a prompt of some kind--a word, a day of the week, an incident, a holiday, anything of that sort. For instance, Mishka might tell me, "Write about snow," and I will have to choose a memory associated with snow and write about it. Sounds easy enough, right?

So I meant to start this yesterday, but it got knocked out of place by the Italy Diaries. (Sorry about that, Inty people.) But yes, for those who are wondering, I WILL do this every day. Yes, even tomorrow, on Vagina Monologues opening night (and if you live in Westminster, you should really come and see it, it's going to be amazing), when I'm going to be crazy-busy. So enjoy this, fellow Inty alumni and Inty-lovers--this is going to be one giant month of "Never Forget."

DAY 1

February 2

Prompt: "Something that made me laugh."

Oh, Lord, there are too many to choose from...but I think I'll go with one that happened my junior year. The first day of my junior thesis shoot was a total riot...but our last shot was without question the funniest. Andrew Way, the actor playing Gavin, was supposed to say, "Ronnie, don't go, I like you," and Alex Diehl (Ronnie) was supposed to reply with "I'm straight" and walk away. After he walked out, Andrew was supposed to curl up on the bed, crushed, but since we were filming a frontal angle of both boys, when Andrew laid on the bed after the rejection it was an extremely awkward view of his plaid pajama-covered backside. I told him, "Okay, this time we won't go all the way to the end of that take, because we already have coverage of you on the bed." Andrew decided to take advantage of this, and after Alex "rejected" him, he stared at Alex's retreating form and emphatically said, "Fuck!" The entire crew collapsed in laughter as I managed to screech, "CUT!" and proceeded to nearly pass out laughing. I swear, that moment alone was worth the hellish pre-production process.

Got a sense of how this works now? If you have an idea/prompt, feel free to let me know. :)

Also, if anyone wants to see "Possession" (I can't believe I'm doing this!) you can watch it here:

"Possession" on Facebook

(The above outtake, however, will sadly not be included. :( Maybe someday in the future...)

The Italy Diaries, Part I

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).

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!

~~~

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!

~~~

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.

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.

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.
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.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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!

A brief PSA

Hey, all. I was planning on sharing my adventures in Italy with you for my first post of the new year (the reason I haven't been posting is because I was on a school trip to southern Italy and Sicily, and the internet was...unpredictable, to say the least), but I have something a little more important to discuss today.

Internet censorship.

The Stop Online Piracy Act, to be precise.

I don't know what you know about it (I only just found out the details myself), but basically, the internet as we know it will cease to exist. Does that sound melodramatic? Perhaps, but it's true.

Why, you ask? Here's why: Under this act, any and all copyright violation, even the most minor infraction, will result in your internet being cut, fines, and possibly even jail time. And when I say minor infraction, I mean it. The examples I've heard so far: 1) Uploading a video of yourself dancing drunkenly at a party, with copyrighted music playing in the background, 2) Quoting a news article in an e-mail to a friend, and 3) Taking a video of your baby's first steps, with the TV playing a copyrighted show in the background, and putting it on your Facebook. In other words, doing things we do every day without thinking about it. If SOPA passes, you'd face severe consequences for doing any of that.

Now, I don't know about you guys, but, well, I DON'T WANT THAT TO HAPPEN.

Here's the scoop: The war has begun. On January 18th, several major sites, including Wikipedia and DeviantArt, staged a blackout in protest of SOPA. The next day, British site Megaupload was taken down by the FBI...but the fighting didn't end there. Anonymous hacked into the FBI database and caused a bit of trouble (but no permanent damage was done). As of now, SOPA has been shelved until March, when it will be taken out and examined (and voted on) again.

March. Wow. That's NOT a lot of time.

My friends and I are already working on spreading awareness on our campus. You'd be surprised how much apathy there is about this--and I'm not sure why. If there's any generation that uses the internet for creative/artistic purposes, it's ours. And I know the reasoning behind SOPA may have pure intentions...but you know what they say about the road to hell, right? And I don't think any real good can come of this.

So educate yourself. Go online and look up SOPA and PIPA. Tell your friends. Get involved. I'll definitely keep you updated on what's going on at my college--we're going to start a movement against this, and it's not going to just be a Facebook page. We mean business. We think SOPA is going too far. We don't like censorship. We want to make a difference.

This has been a PSA (of sorts) from Beatnik Belle, who has once again gotten herself involved in a cause when she does not know if she's going to have the time to commit to it (what else is new?).

Next time: The Italy Diaries, Part I.