-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Okay, so maybe I'm three months late on this (scratch that, over three months late), but anyone who knows me knows my relationship with self-designed deadlines. WHOOPS
If you may recall, or quickly refer to, the Barcelona-Porto "bag weight incident," rather than attempting the previous method of "foldsmallerit'llworkwhyareyoustaringthesearetearsofeventualvictory," I used the one kind attendant on that flight's advice about RyanAir's lack of power over how many clothing items are on my person. That said, here's how I approached our return flight home.
Yes, those are three gigantic winter-weight scarves (two purchased in Barcelona) tied into a triple-loop. The knot made for a great pillow, too. The rest of Sunday was spent unpacking, cleaning, and homeworking.
That following Monday, we got the Castle Cabaret ball rolling with a 8-ish hour meeting, complete with a surprise pile of pizzas from Bonnie's visiting (magical) dad, American Night antics as usual - I forgot what theme it was! Agh. Researching still - and prepping for the weekend in Rome with Erin, Bryan, Katie, and (when meeting times worked) Dad. Step one after checking into our hostel: handmade pizza at the restaurant on the corner. This? This with my water? €2.90. Viva Italia!
 |
| Nom. |
I also met a very nice Canadian man while in line for my pizza; it's amazing how being in a foreign country can make "you speak English!" a perfectly appropriate ice-breaker.
PS, just "Older Post"ed my way to the March 14th American Night theme - Swag.
Jeez, we do that every dang day... and from the looks of things, so does the extremely Italian tour guide we had show us around the Vatican City:
She gave us a minute to take pictures while we waited for the 40-odd stragglers to show up.
 | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Obligatory tourist shot! |
to the gift shop.
Of course.
Finally we actually got into the Vatican, after a nearly airport-level security checkpoint. We followed the guide through the museum and into the actual Sistine Chapel (of course, no photos allowed) until she showed us a small door we could sneak through to re-enter the museum. Doing so would drop our tour, so with a bit of deliberation (' "A bit," she chuckled quietly to herself at the desk'), the four of us quietly slipped down the staircase to "the bathroom."
In our defense, there was actually a sign for the bathroom on the door. No, I can't provide proof; pictures were prohibited, remember?
And then something funny occurred. My group had gotten split up after our chucklefest with the Sistine Chapel security, and I wound up at St Peter's Basilica all by my lonesome until we reconvened. As I entered the building, two Japanese boys, maybe high school aged, walked in behind me. Through my peripherals, I noticed that we all simultaneously craned our necks up to look at the amazing view above us, also simultaneously thinking "sugoi." They actually said it, which makes sense considering how 'sugoi' is, in fact, a Japanese word, but for whatever inexplicable linguistic reason, my mind shot to that term before French, Italian, or even English.
Language is a strange thing.
The four of us did eventually meet up, leaving the city and stumbling onto "sexy gelato" (gelato served in either male or female hips-and-below-shaped cones, properly fig-leafed of course), and proceeding on to a steadily inclining 2.5 mile (ish) walk to our next location. No, I did not know where this location was; yes, we were on a weirdly deserted back road; yes, the weather was getting warmer; and no, I was not taking it entirely delicately.
Praise be, we found shelter! Actually, we found a raised park complete with statues, marble busts of famous people, and a burger shack in the middle of a common green reserve.
Avoiding the angel statues, we wandered around various gigantic structures wrought centuries ago with much coin and labor that now are kind of sinking to the wayside behind street vendors and merchants hollering about sunglasses. Sad. Speaking of Western influences, we even stumbled onto the Roman HQ of Warner Bros. Entertainment later that night! We cleaned up at the Yellow Hostel (ech) before meeting my dad for dinner at a restaurant he took my family to some thirteen years ago. He also somehow convinced my friends to be honest with their appetites, with each of us eventually having completely different and all amazing three-course meals. Once a Hoover Hohenboken, always a Hoover Hohenboken. It's contagious, too.
The Next Day:
A stop by a cute cafe for my morning cappuccino and pastry, a huge line, and finally: the Coliseum! This is us mourning/judging/celebrating our respective imaginary battle turnouts in the middle of modern society.
After grabbing surprisingly tasty truck sandwiches, we spent a good 45 minutes just people-watching from the top of a wall by the Coliseum. For some strange reason, there were kilted men everywhere. We adventured around from there, hitting just about every main Roman location there was: The Roman Forum, the Trevi fountain (twice!), the Pantheon (I took a photo here that made it into the Kasteel magazine! Updates later...), marketplaces, back street paper stores blasting Abba hits, shopping malls, Piazza Navona (complete with a bicycle marathon, of course), the Spanish Steps, the list goes on and on...
We met up with Dad again that day, again being treated to a magnificent dinner, a deeper education of wine, and being introduced to the bizarre experience of limoncello. Think lemon drop dissolved in nail polish remover. To those who love it, power to you and you have my life's share all for yourselves. You're welcome!
The Last Day:
Start the day right: cappuccino and a inexplicably folded pastry. For lack of a better term, we poked around those few tourist locations we'd missed and parked in a flowery park for a leisurely mid-day nap, then returned to the cafe of the day before for dinner. Thankfully, the incredibly Amurrcan group from the neighboring table left within 15 minutes of our arrival, allowing a full appreciation for our meals in a surprisingly secluded location.
The trek home was (also thankfully) pretty uneventful, and while I love Italy, there's just something about Rome that hasn't quite nestled its way into my heart yet. Maybe it's the vendors, maybe it's how most of the other visitors seem to view the city as a big to-do list, maybe it's the way we have to really grit our teeth and steamroller through to find the original flavor of the city, but I think there's still hope. So far, Roma and I will still be friends, even if nothing more serious ever happens.
Next post (albeit a year late...): Budapest, and updates on my new adventures for this year. Yup, she's back in the saddle and off to a new land yet again! This time, Kazakhstan. Yup, you read me. Central Asia, here I come!
 | |||||
| Sigma just keeps on popping up. <3! |
In our defense, there was actually a sign for the bathroom on the door. No, I can't provide proof; pictures were prohibited, remember?
 |
| Athena |
 |
| Strega Nona, always and forever |
 |
| Inexplicable eyeballs! |
 |
| And suddenly, Egypt. |
 |
| St Peter's Basilica |
Language is a strange thing.
The four of us did eventually meet up, leaving the city and stumbling onto "sexy gelato" (gelato served in either male or female hips-and-below-shaped cones, properly fig-leafed of course), and proceeding on to a steadily inclining 2.5 mile (ish) walk to our next location. No, I did not know where this location was; yes, we were on a weirdly deserted back road; yes, the weather was getting warmer; and no, I was not taking it entirely delicately.
Praise be, we found shelter! Actually, we found a raised park complete with statues, marble busts of famous people, and a burger shack in the middle of a common green reserve.
 |
| Resting in the lovely spring air of Italia |
The Next Day:
A stop by a cute cafe for my morning cappuccino and pastry, a huge line, and finally: the Coliseum! This is us mourning/judging/celebrating our respective imaginary battle turnouts in the middle of modern society.
We met up with Dad again that day, again being treated to a magnificent dinner, a deeper education of wine, and being introduced to the bizarre experience of limoncello. Think lemon drop dissolved in nail polish remover. To those who love it, power to you and you have my life's share all for yourselves. You're welcome!
The Last Day:
Start the day right: cappuccino and a inexplicably folded pastry. For lack of a better term, we poked around those few tourist locations we'd missed and parked in a flowery park for a leisurely mid-day nap, then returned to the cafe of the day before for dinner. Thankfully, the incredibly Amurrcan group from the neighboring table left within 15 minutes of our arrival, allowing a full appreciation for our meals in a surprisingly secluded location.
The trek home was (also thankfully) pretty uneventful, and while I love Italy, there's just something about Rome that hasn't quite nestled its way into my heart yet. Maybe it's the vendors, maybe it's how most of the other visitors seem to view the city as a big to-do list, maybe it's the way we have to really grit our teeth and steamroller through to find the original flavor of the city, but I think there's still hope. So far, Roma and I will still be friends, even if nothing more serious ever happens.
Next post (albeit a year late...): Budapest, and updates on my new adventures for this year. Yup, she's back in the saddle and off to a new land yet again! This time, Kazakhstan. Yup, you read me. Central Asia, here I come!
