italy

It is time for one of those gargantuan posts I feared.. =P Please grab a glass of water (or perhaps even your next meal), put on your reading spectacles, and settle yourself comfortably into your chair, because you will be reading for a while.
Here we go!!!

On July 4, after a long day of travel, we arrived in Rome. It seemed weird to be here for the fourth, with no fireworks and no parade, but really, when you think more about it, it is kind of fitting. Rome has been one of the most signigicant influences on American culture, and I appreciated this influence on the birthday of my nation.

As we flew in, I began to realize how many normal, twenty-first century people live in Rome. I suppose I had always thought of it as a classical city, devoid of modernization, but as I thought about it, I immediately realized how utterly irrational that would be. Moreover, any lingering notions of a classical city faded during our drive from the airport to our hotel. The traffic was CRAZY!! It was worse than LA traffic, and the constant horn-blowing was absolutely ridiculous. Speaking of transportation...


...I have never in my life seen so many smart cars or mopeds! I bet there are as many smart cars, mopeds, and motorcycles as there are normal cars in the city of Rome. It is pretty cool, but I would not want to be driving a teeny little smart car in that fast, loud, crazy traffic!

We got to our hotel that evening and I wanted nothing more than a little galumphing around the nearby streets. We found lots of really cool buildings, none of which were authentic Roman remnants, but were still pretty old and amazing.


I'll probably say it again, but this city makes me really want to go into architecture.

The next day, July 5, we did quite a bit of walking. I'm not sure exactly how far we went, because our silly map didn't tell us stuff like that, though it did get us around fine. We walked to the Colosseum and the Palatine hill (the one the emperors/kings lived on) and the Circus Maximus. And we stopped at Trajan's Column along the way:




It was awesome, is all I can say. I knew enough about these places and the stories surrounding them (thanks to my wonderful teachers) that seeing them really meant a lot to me. We walked around the Circus Maximus in the sweltering heat (there were even some local crazies jogging around it).

As we walked, I looked up to the arches of the decaying imperial palace and could almost see figures in togas leaning out to watch the race, and cheering along with the immense crowd (the crowd part was easy to imagine because a group of costumed school children was shouting and waving and cheering off in one corner of the track).

As we toured the enormous colosseum, I marveled that it took only 8 years to build this giant wonder of the world (which I learned once used to be even larger).


We walked around inside the Colosseum, and once again I imagined it full of Romans, cheering like we would at a football game. There was the pope's box on the 50-yard line, and there were the gladiators, saluting the caesar. The people running around beneath the floor of the arena were excited too, though I didn't realize it at first. Actually, I don't know the roles of the people beneath the floor at all. Maybe they weren't excited about their wild beast companions and the dark hallways under the earth.

Did you know that the Colosseum could contain up to 50,000 people, all of which could exit the building in 10 minutes, in case of emergency? Now how many of our modern buildings are that efficient?



Some random Romans chatting on the sidewalk:



Finally we walked around the Palatine Hill, which was probably my favorite of the day. All the emperors and kings have built or expanded their home on this hill (even Benito Mussolini).


I learned once that of the 84 rulers of Rome, only 12 died a natural death, and now I begin to understand why. Being emperor of the capital of the world is sort of a big deal. The imperial palaces were really something else. One emperor's palace, I don't remember which one, was so big that it took up a 1/4 of the area of Rome. That is one big house! Of course their whole family lived there, which is like 80 people, and they had between 300 and 450 servants. But even with room for all these people, there was still enough space for lots of luxury. One emperor built a room for his friends to be entertained in. It was an enormous room with a temple at the front, and a miniature race course in the rest of it. It was too small for regular chariots, so he had slave children race around in miniature chariots pulled by goats or ponies. The emperor and his friends watched from balcony seats. And Caesar Augustus' living room was twice the size of my house. As I looked at all this, I was reminded of Tim Blixseth's house of excess. People really don't change much, do they?. Even back then, wealth too often led to sickening luxury and indulgence.

The day was so oppressively hot that we had to sit in the shade for a while and just observe the world and contemplate life. Otherwise I might have keeled over in the middle of an emperor's throne room. Not the best protocol, you know. But we were chatting later with a tour guide, and he said that the last week had been so hot that one or two women passed out on every tour! Thankfully it cooled down some for our time in Rome.

After our rest in the shade, we meandered through the ruins.



This brick wall was once covered in marble, so that there was no brick showing at all. And of course there was a magnificent statue in this niche, perhaps an emperor walked past it every day as he moved about in his house. But now there is nothing left but bricks and vines. All of man's tributes to himself and his honor will pass away in the end...

We finished our day off with a late dinner. Actually, I recall that most Italians eat late anyway, so 9:30 wasn't weird at all. Nevermind. Anyway, I had a delicious spaghetti in oil and garlic and hot pepper sauce. It was kind of like what your dad made for us, Richard, except half as spicy =) The food was fantastic, especially since we skipped lunch and had been walking all day. My feet were really sore and I was a little sunburned, but it was a wonderful day.

The next day, July 6, was my day to pick a place in Italy that I wanted to see, to which we would travel by train. I had heard that Cinque Terre would be a wonderful choice, so we headed up there. Cinque Terre is a beautiful strip of coastline in Northern Italy containing five little towns. For a long time, the only way to travel to or between these towns was on foot, and we--well, I--chose to walk this path through mountain, vineyard, and town.

As we got off our train, we were crossly informed that there was going to be a train strike, and there was no possible way for us to get back to Rome anytime soon. Ugh. Once more, we were stranded with nothing more than the clothes on our backs and some miscellaneous belongings that came with us for the day. =P Well, quite honestly, there was nothing we could do about the train strike, so I coaxed my disgruntled aunt to the beautiful coast and we set off on the six-mile long trail. A little long, and the trail really kept us on our toes, and it was very hot, but we were rewarded by breathtaking views of the Mediterranean sea.






About half of the first four miles of the hike was essentially rough stairs cut into the steep hillsides. We went up, then we went down, then we went up even more, then we went down again. Overall, there was an elevation gain of nearly 3000 feet (see that little sand peninsula in the middle of the last picture? That's where we started, and that picture was taken very near the beginning of the hike =P ). The scenery was great, but the stairs were troublesome. "Fun," puffed my aunt as she toiled up the steps, "is not exactly the word that comes to mind." The hike in the sweltering heat necessitated a swim after a couple miles, so we cooled off in the water, filled our water bottles at a fountain (they were all over Italy) and set off once more. I must say that this hike was excellent preparation for volleyball and basketball in the fall! =)

Before we got close to the end of the trail, I began to get really hungry. Because we left Rome on such an early train, we had little breakfast, and we had also managed to miss lunch. This, and the vigorous activity in the hot sun, left me famished. I don't know how my aunt made it to the end--I am convinced she eats hardly enough to keep a mongoose alive. At any rate, I began to ravenously scan the underbrush along the trail. I had been eyeing some berries all day long, and finally grew brave (or desperate) enough to try some. They were okay, rather seedy and they tasted like twigs, but they were not poisonous (always a plus) and they provided me with some desperately needed calories. Next, I found a plum tree. At first I thought it was a tree of yellow cherries (that's how ripe the plums were) but one timid taste told me that they were indeed plums. As soon as my face unpuckered, I finished the plum and kept scanning. At long last, I found some blackberries, the first of the season. I got a little scratched up by the brambles, but it was worth it. They were so good! Whether it was the distraction of scavenging or the sustenance of berries and bugs, I made it to the end of the trail alive and even smiling. We hunted around for a place to keep our stranded selves for the night, ate a pizza, then fell into bed very late.

The next morning, July 7, we tumbled out of bed and down the stairs just in time to miss one of two trains leaving our town that day. Apparently it wasn't a total strike, or something. But in the square there was an older man singing as he watered his flowers. It was the most memorable thing of the whole Italy trip. It was very early, the sun was just rising over the water, and there he was in the sloping cobblestone square singing to himself as he cared for his beautiful flowers. I will remember that striking moment for as long as I live.

As we waited for the second train, I rustled my half-asleep aunt down to the water. While she sat mildly on a bench waking up, I scampered down some steep steps and around in the rocks. The tidepools were rather boring compared to the Pacific, but I scared up some camoflauged crabs, and was able to see them everywhere once I knew what they looked like. I even caught one doing his morning excercises. =) I sat on a half-submerged rock and watched the water and crabs and fishermen and boats until it was time to catch the last train of the day. Then we waited for a few hours at the big, silent train station for the only train to Rome that day. The scenery on the train ride was amazing.

We had pizza again for dinner, but I should explain how it is different from American pizzas. The crust is very, very thin. It is crispy around the edges, and soggy in the middle--kind of like a pie. Now the reason it is soggy in the middle is because there is so much oil on the pizza. It isn't the Bob's Pizza grease that you sop off with your napkin and try to ignore, but the smooth Italian olive oil that fixes squeaky joints and tastes so good that you don't think about how bad it is for all but squeaky joints.

And a funny story: while we were at dinner, one of the waiters burst out talking to me while he was cleaning the table next to us. I gave him one of those blank looks that said, "you are speaking very quickly in Italian and I have no idea what you just said to me." He repeated himself, then said some Italian equivalent of, 'nevermind.' As I thought about the words he said (I can pick up most Italian because I know Latin), I realized that he was asking me for my phone number! Unfortunately I understood too late, and so my dreams of an Italian romance were stifled.

Just joking Mom, you can start breathing again =)

And I finally tasted Italian ice cream. It was delicious, though I can't really tell if it was better than Hungarian ice cream. They were both wonderful. Both had some rather unique flavors, such as pineapple, but the Italian flavors were a little more unusal.



This time I tried kiwi, to be adventurous. It didn't taste much like kiwi, but the whole bowl was interspersed with kiwi seeds, which is one of the best parts of the fruit anyway. Kiwis are just an awesome fruit.

The next day, July 8, was a really packed, but great day. We took a 1 1/2 hour train trip to Florence and spent the day doing touristy things.


We gaped at and photographed the amazing architecture and sculptures in the town. It was awesome to see the sculptures, as they too breathed life into my classical training. I saw a replica of Michelangelo's David, as well as sculptures of the Sabine women,



...their rape,






...Achilles holding Patroclos' body,


...and Hercules fighting the centaur.





We hit up a sandwich shop for lunch while walking, which was delish.

While I am talking about Florence, I just want to make a pictoral note of its predominant mode of transportation:




And then this vehicle, which really just cracked me up:



Finally, we took a deep breath and headed for the streets lined with merchant's carts, prepared to get our souveneir-gift shopping mostly out of the way. In less than 10 minutes, three people looked at me and said, "you play basketball, I'm sure of it." I had, until that moment, been impressed by how few people here rudely gawked at me and asked bothersome questions. It was very nice. But I suppose I'll stand out in a crowd no matter where I am, and I should get used to it.

One woman in New York asked me if I was in the NBA. That was a first for me, but it made me wonder what questions I'll get asked 20 or 30 years down the road. It probably won't be basketball anymore... Maybe (cross your fingers) people will just stop asking. Anyway, we finished up in Florence and rode the train back to Rome. On that trip, I am certain that I saw a lion loping through a meadow next to the tracks. I was surprised because lions belong in Africa in my mind, but I suppose it is a possibility. If I were a lion, I'd rather live in Italy than in the middle of a desert. And plus, if Hannibal got a few elephants up to Italy, why not lions too? =)

And that brings me to my last day in Italy, at last. July 9, 2008. A shout out to my friend, Richard Dustin Morris, who joined the army today. How exciting and a little sad and scary.

Alright, today we visited the Vatican...



and the Pantheon.


Both were so astounding and amazing that I could never capture the sense of awe you feel when you step inside. I didn't take any pictures at the Vatican, just absorbed everything totally, so you have either my aunt's pictures or your imagination for this section. =) In the Vatican, there were 36 elegantly arched halls which were absolutely filled to bursting with statues and sculptures and busts.


We only made it through one of these halls, but apparently they are almost identical and all the statues run together after a while anyway.

A different hall was easily one of my two favorite parts of the Vatican. The walls were frescoed with enormous portions of a map of Italy. The maps were splendid, all green and gold and blue and labeled in a fancy Latin script. They were painted in the 1500's, and are completely geographically accurate. Even before they had airplanes and could get an aerial view of their country, the Italians had mapped out the exact shape of Italy. Pretty amazing. But the ceiling was even more impressive than the maps. It was covered in dazzling frescoes. There was gold color everywhere, and the closest things to it that I have ever seen are the ceilings of the halls in the great mansions of Pride and Prejudice, or Wives and Daughters.

And then we came to the Sistine Chapel, which is my other favorite place in the Vatican (of course). Wow. At first I just looked at the floor. It was arranged in an elegantly colored stone pattern. Then I looked up a little and saw... people. Packed into that chapel like sardines. Literally. So I looked up a little further and saw the walls. They too were frescoed, and showed people dressed in rich colors. And most of those people were dressed, which was a nice change from the rest of the statues and paintings in the Vatican, or from the rest of the real people in Rome, as a matter of fact. But on the giant back wall was Michelangelo's depiction of the judgement day. I had seen small copies of this 45' by 39' painting before, but in reality it was very enormous and imposing, even from where I stood at the far end of the room. I could have gazed at this painting for an hour, but my curious eyes longed to look up at the ceiling. And there it was, waiting for me: the ceiling of the Sistine chapel, in all its beauty.


I looked and looked until my neck got sore, but I kept on looking and taking it all in. I can see why this project took Michelangelo so many years. I cannot even imagine covering so much surface area with artwork, especially with frescoes, and even more especially while lying on your back. Awe-inspiring is all I can say.

Overall, I was struck by the opulent luxury in which the pope lived, and with which the chapels were decorated. I just can't fathom living or worshiping in such places. It would be so hard to focus on the services when you could look over your shoulder and see things like this:



I for one would be so often distracted by the beautiful architecture and sculptures around me! What I would give to build such grand places!

At long last, after lots of walking and admiring, we finally made it back to our part of Rome, finished our souveneir shopping (by which time I was quite tired of that ridiculous custom), ate dinner, and packed up for our trip back to Hungary the next day. But not after I had a dish of ice cream for Kayla. Strawberry this time, and twice as delicious as before. And thus concludes my trip to Rome. It was great.

And now, thank you so much for your attention to this monstrosity of a post! Go get a haircut, because it is probably about time for one after all the time you spent reading. Ah yes, and if your hair wasn't grey when you started reading, check quickly to make sure you haven't yet gone completely white. Or bald!! Oh my.


And one more quick jab before I go... This is a picture of a street in Rome, and it was one of the better streets:


...and Dad, you thought my tiling job was bad!