Post by Lydia!!!!

Hey y’all, it’s Lydia here! Kirsten coerced me into writing a post... “If you’re bad at math you have to be good at writing”. We shall see. 😂 I write this sitting on the bus, out of breath, thanking God we could literally flag our bus down and not have to be deserted in San Gimagno. But more on that later, let me start with Siena. After arriving in Siena around 1 pm, we flagged down a taxi to give our aching legs a break. (See blog post about standing on train for hours!!) As our taxi driver told us he was from Albania, our eyes went wide with fear. We have seen “Taken”!! When he questioned if we were traveling alone, we quickly replied that our father was arriving in one hour!(#NOTtaken) Siena is a charming, beautiful city with many hills and narrow streets. Grace would shriek with terror at Kirsten and I to get out of the road as the cars would speed by. We narrowly evaded death many times... 😂 With my (lack of) sense of direction and our inability to read google maps, we miraculously found our way to the Duomo, a beautiful church dedicated to Saint Catherine of Siena. The church was magnificent and after we viewed it, Anna said she was in “need” of a gelato break... (different city same need. 😂) We then went into a different church and saw the head of Catherine of Siena; Kirsten remains unconvinced it is the true head of the great Saint! Kirsten introduced us to apertivo time and then we enjoyed a lovely dinner of pizza margherita. (Splitting it, as we were all full from said apertivo time. 😂) The next morning we took a bus to San Gimagno, a tiny town outside of Siena with a stunning view. As we walked the cobble stone streets, Kirsten laughed and told the story of how my mom, Rebekah and her had sprinted through the streets to catch their bus just a year before as they had unknowingly gone to the wrong bus station. Little did we know the same fate bestowed us. Our phone batteries and our will to walk in the bitter cold were dying so we ducked into a cafe to recharge our phones and spirits. Poor Anna laid on a chair and slept as Kirsten ran to the near pharmacy to get her cold medicine. The time was nearing 2:30, our bus was about to depart and Kirsten still was not back. At 2:27 I saw her walking down the streets and we motioned for her to RUN. We sprinted towards the bus stop just to see our bus drive away. Kirsten then said the bus arrived at 2:40 and I had gotten the time wrong. We waited and waited for the bus that would never arrive. We decided to run to the other bus stop across town. As we walked, we saw a bus coming towards us... OUR bus!!! We stood in the road and waved our hands and hallelujah, the driver stopped! He could not leave the bambinos in the street!! We made it back to Siena safe and sound! Getting to Assisi is a different story I am too tired to write at the moment. Now, I am sitting in our hotel in Rome reflecting on our trip and feeling thankful for my parents who gave me the opportunity to go on such an incredible holiday with my sisters!!

Ciao,

Lydia 💗🌟

Florence!

Florence began with me falling into the arms of a mountaineer with a 3 feet long grey beard. No, literally. It turns out that I weigh less than my 187 pound suitcase even after eating pizza after pizza so when I got off the train the suitcase flung me forward and next thing I know I’m flying through the Florence train station into the arms of Mountaineer Man. Anna later admitted that she gave me “a little push” to make sure I got off the train in time. We then scurried away from the train station, where I noticed a heavier presence of armed soldiers than I ever had before in Florence. I know they’re here to keep us safe but they are terrifying with their machine guns! Our apartment was in a lovely part of the city on the same street as Valentino and Gucci and Burberry (“these are my people” exclaimed Anna staring into the shop windows) so we felt safe. The apartment was modern with a marble shower and a large living room which was perfect for tea time! Mom did well!! This trip was a bit last minute so apparently it was one of the only apartments left in the city (probably because of the cost!) but no complaints here!!! We all fell asleep quickly, even Anna and Grace (this alone was worth the cost of the apartment so that Anna could be comforted going to sleep knowing she was by “her people” 😂😂😂). The next morning we found an adorable bar across the street with reasonable prices (I refuse to pay more than 1 euro for a croissant or cup of coffee because I know that’s how much it should cost unless it is a tourist trap) where we gobbled down croissants (but not chocolate ones) and coffee. On our walk to Santa Cruce, Anna saw chocolate croissants inside a bar. I gave her a euro and told her how to order one in Italian. She then went into the bar alone and ordered a chocolate croissant “la porta via” (to go). Anna nibbled on her second croissant in 20 minutes during our walk to the church. Inside the church, the tombs of Michelangelo, Dante and Galileo awaited us!!!  Frescos painted by Giotto adorned the walls and we eagerly followed along on the interactive i-pad tour guide. After spending a couple hours in the church we headed to a pizza place I had scouted out online, where we enjoyed our best pizza yet in Italy. I got pizza Napoli which has anchovies. Grace wanted to branch out so she wanted to try it. After seeing the fish on the pizza she no longer wanted to branch out and continued to devour her pizza margarita. 

After lunch we saw the David. I remain unconvinced that grace and Anna were old enough to appreciate it without shyly averting their eyes, but my mom thought they were so we toured the Uffizi with tickets she had generously purchased for all 4 of us. It turns out that children under 18 are free, so when I return on another trip with Ben or my niece (any bambina yet Katie???!?) I will not be scammed again and won’t purchase tickets for them. Exploring Florence was delightful but one by one we began to crash around 7pm. A nasty virus somehow found us and by 7:30 we were too tired to take another step.  We anxiously looked for somewhere to eat but each time we stopped to read a menu we saw a greedy restaurant owner (literally) rub his hands together and begin to walk toward us to convince us to dine at his barely serviceable and expensive tourist trap of a restaurant. Ultimately we found the least tourist trap of all the tourist trap restaurants and had fun eating together. The food was nothing to write home about but the atmosphere was lovely (dark with candles and small—only 4 tables in the whole place). After dinner I went to send a Snapchat and was horrified at the face looking back at me.   I asked Lydia why she hadn’t told me I had mascara drooping down my face. She said with a laugh that she thought it was just bags under my eyes, which was my cue to head us back to our apartment to get to sleep early. It wasn’t early enough because when our alarms went off at 7:30Am in order to make the 9am train I couldn’t get Lydia to get up and grace and Anna were still sleeping. I decided to let them sleep in hopes they’d sleep off their virus. Unfortunately we all woke up at 9 with inflamed throats and pounding heads. We gobbled down ibuprofen and hot tea and,  skipping the croissants,  raced to the train station to make the 10:10 train. We arrived just in time at 10:02 to find that the 10:10 train had been  CANCELLED.  MAMA MIA. I found a 10:28 train and regrouped by ushering everyone to a world renowned cafe—MCDONALDS— for a quick croissant and coffee. We hopped on the 10:28 train and hauled our luggage car after car looking for a seat. We sat for a short three stops before getting off to change trains. I was terrified that we wouldn’t get off at the right stop so I had made the Trenitalia man write it down after I heard him say “get off at the Heroine stop” Good thing I did because what he wrote was quite different than what I heard him say “Emoli.” He also told us we would wait 10 minutes for our connecting train, but in typical Italian style we waited 50 minutes. While waiting we enjoyed a second round of chocolate croissants and cafe americano! I never get tired of chocolate croissants!!! We had fun at the Emoli train station, located in the middle of nowhere really. A few locals popped in, but more or less, we were on our own to enjoy our second breakfast.  The train ended up being packed—so full that we had to ride standing up balancing our suitcases and backpacks for 1.5 hours! Anna and Grace were troopers! I have been amazed at how wonderful, kind, and even tempered  they have been on this trip. They have become noticeably aware of how small they are compared to the great, big world filled with great, big people and that’s humbling to anyone who realizes. Moreover it’s inspiring to see ones so young realize their littleness. Nothing like seeing the works and the grave of Michelangelo among others to have that effect. 

SkyWay!!!

As I write this we are walking along side a road, probably 2 miles outside courmayeur. we think. Stefania drove us to Skyway (a cable car to the top of Monte Blanc) and we were supposed to take the bus back but waiting on a bus in Italy is like “waiting for rain in a drought: useless and disappointing.” (*gag* Anna made me say this) And so we we walk. 

Our time in Courmayeur passed too quickly. Something about gelato twice a day makes the day go by fast. On our second day, Anna scouted out the best bakery in town “Mario’s” and proceeded to walk the 10 minutes there every morning to get a chocolate brioche (with Lydia and Grace, I normally stayed behind to blow dry my hair [see previous post on blow dryers in italy]). She wanted one in the afternoon too, but when the croissants are gone, they’re gone, so in the afternoon she settled for gelato. In fact one morning she didn’t get to Mario’s until 10:50AM and all the brioches were gone so she “had to get” a gelato instead. Gelato for breakfast!

For New Years friends of Stefania invited us to their house. It is always difficult, and more than a little awkward, walking into a party of strangers, but particularly when the strangers speak a foreign language. I was proud of the way Anna and Grace immediately jumped into a game of hide n seek with the other Italian children, most of whom knew ZERO English. Lydia and I also were outside our comfort zone, but by the year’s end we were sad to say goodbye to our new friends! We left right after midnight so that the little girls could go to sleep and I could, let’s just say, not get a good nights sleep. Stefania’s nephew invited me out with him and his friends and we had a great time at the Disco!!!

Earlier in the day we went to skyway. We ate lunch and toasted to the new year with a glass of Prosecco 4,000 feet up with a view over looking Courmayeur. Lydia and I had prosciutto and some-kind of cheese-sandwiches. The bread was like a focaccia and they were delicious!!! After lunch Anna and Grace skipped and danced and laughed through a few feet of snow for awhile to get used to the altitude (they both got altitude sickness at the Grand Canyon so they were worried about the height) We then took the skyline another 7,000 feet up to the top of the tallest mountain in all of Europe!!!!!! Skyline advertises that Monte Blanc is the 8th world wonder. Lydia pointed out that Monte Blanc is the 8th world wonder of 7 world wonders. World wonder or not,  the experience was spectacular. Being on top of Monte Blanc is like being on an island in the sky.  You stand eye level with the birds soaring through the sky and pray that the biting wind doesn’t blow a bird into your face 😂😂. When we got down the mountain, Anna ran to the bar to ask if they had chocolate croissants. Something got lost in translation because they served her a mediocre hot chocolate and served me a ridiculously expensive check. 

reflecting on courmayeur it’s hard to say how we filled up a day in the small, but anything but quaint, mountain village.  We ice skated and went sledding, shopped and ate. And ate. Anna will miss Mario’s very much. In the words of Annaliese, “if the trip ended with Courmayeur, I’d be happy.” 

We are now on a train leaving Florence to Siena, but Florence deserves a post of itself, and I am too tired to write one. Somehow we all got horrible sore throats and headaches so our first stop in Siena will be the Farmacia! Here’s to putting my Italian to the test with the the pharmacist 🤣🤣

Courmayeur

Our first day in Italy was a whirlwind. At least I think it was all the first day. I think we’d been awake something like 33 hours. But why didn’t you sleep on the plane you ask? Enter Annaliese. An energizer bunny bopping around  the plane every 2 seconds with many concerns. “If I take this sip of water will I have to pee on an airplane?” “If I don’t take this sip of water will I die of dehydration?”  She’s a funny one—mostly a joy to be around,  but constantly thinking and worrying 😂😂😂 Hopefully the Italian way will help her calm down and RELAX!!!! 

We were greeted into Italy with hot, strong espresso and news that Grace’s luggage had never left New York. Grace cried “why does everything bad always happen to me?” Little did she know that it would be her greatest blessing when we shopped for a brand new wardrobe for her in courmayeur, where there are only designer brands to be found. You can’t find a sweater for less than 200 euros. MAMA MIA. But grace is looking stylin’.  Rebekah would be proud @lovelybeks !!! Anna managed to sneak a fur jacket into the shopping bag and fits right in here. We even heard an Italian say to her husband “que Bella!” while passing Annaliese. 

Yesterday we had croissants, cappuccinos, pizza, gelato and la birra. Maybe that doesn’t sound like a lot but we were so excited for Italian food we bounced from the bakery to the pizzeria to the gelateria within one hour 😂😂😂

Our friends Stefania and Fabio here are simply THE BEST! We have been spoiled with traditional Italian food, including liver and tar tar (much to the bewilderment of Anna and Grace). 

Last night, Ricardo (the nephew of Stefania) cooked a dish typical of the Milan region: Rissoto with safran (? don’t trust this spelling but it is a yellow spice) for dinner. The little girls ate most of theirs and I finished what they did not. Fortunately, we ice skated for 2 hours the day before and I am counting on that to counter all I eat on this trip. We finished dinner around 11pm  (#normal. We now know why my mom serves dinner at 8pm every night. It’s the Italian in her!) last night and then Lydia was kind enough to babysit Anna and Grace while I got drinks to celebrate Alleccia’s birthday (the niece of Stefania and a good friend of mine!). 

The little girls are learning other things typical of Italy too. For example, the power goes out  when you blow dry your hair. The blow dryer stays on about 30 seconds before the power in the apartment shuts off. With 4 girls we are more often living in the dark than not 😂 Grace and Anna do very well during the days but start to miss our mom at night. At the airport shopping mall, Anna sprayed Chanel number 5 (my mom’s perfume) on her scrunchies and she falls asleep smelling this and clinging to my mom’s rosary that she lent her. We have grown much closer on this trip, and I mean that as much figuratively as I do literally. For example, I’ve assumed the  role of big spoon AND little spoon as I sleep between grace and Anna  to keep them calm at night. They also received some comforting words from my mom last night: “Knock it off! you are very lucky girls to be in Italy! If you want to be sad and cry, keep it to yourself!” They immediately dried their tears and fell right to sleep!!!! I was very thankful for her tough love!! If you know my mom, you know she is NO nonsense. This is definitely not the Italian in her. More likely the marine. 

If this post seems confusing and you can’t tell what we ate or did on each day, know that neither can I. I am on Italian time never missing an opportunity for afternoon tea or a beer with my lunch. Mostly I am grateful for this time with my sisters and that I get to show them the country I’ve come to love. Annaliese keeps track of what day it is in order to make sure we don’t forget to go to church. We will not: there’s too much to thank and praise God for!! 

Right now Annaliese, Lydia, and Grace are at the most delicious bakery in Courmayeur eating croissants. Courmayeur is charming and basically one street long so I trust that even Lydia will not get lost (Lydia shares my sense of direction—that is to say she could get lost on a straightway Street so I’ll keep you updated) I’ll join them after I blow dry my hair, which should only take 2 hours by the time I run back and forth to the circuit breaker. Then we will go for pizza. Tomorrow we head to France, just on the other side of the mountain!

A dopo!

Kir 

Italy Here We Come!!!

Welp. We’re 30,000 feet above ground as I write this which means we 1. Got out of the house on time 2. Made it through security 3. Didn’t lose anyone during the 2 hour wait for a flight (Anna’s anxiety had us leaving at like 5am for a 1pm flight leaving ample waiting time to lose someone). Security went as smoothly as anything involving the U.S. government does. I only got called “mom” once by TSA and they only confiscated one bag. It turns out bags of peanut and m&m trail mix look something like a bomb. More exciting was Anna running out of the security line to give one last tearful hug to my dad. My mom assured her she was very brave for going. Only in my family would we call it “very brave” to go on a world vacation. I got the GALs (Grace, Anna, Lydia) Wendy’s frosties in honor of our Granny Lou, who loved frosties and traveling to Italy even more. She used to be the only one to read my study abroad blog so if you’re still reading this thanks for being my new only reader!! 

In all seriousness we are all excited, grateful, joyful and ready to take on my second favorite country!!! 

Caio! 

~Kir

SALVE ROMA!!

This story I’ll tell in begins in December, 2016.  I had finished my Contracts exam (my hardest exam) and had headed home for a home cooked meal and to relax.  When I slumped into our house in Fort Mill around 8:30 P.M., I expected that the family would have eaten dinner and the bustle of our hous eold would be winding down. Instead, my mom sat at the kitchen table, eyes flickering across her I-pad screen, dinner burning in the oven. Before I could fall into her arms, exhausted after having failed my exam, my mom spoke: “do you want to go to Italy?!” For a moment I paused my post-exam issue spotting, as my mind drifted to my study abroad experience in Rome. The best experience of my life. “YES!” I shouted.

 I joined my mom at the kitchen table and listened as she explained that she had happened to find “cheap” plane tickets, and laughed as she convinced my dad how “cheap” they were (we never did learn how she “happened to find” them)

“Should we go to Cinque Terre, too?” my mom asked me.

“Should you be studying for your next exam?” my dad interjected. I answered mom first, of course with an excited, "ABSOLUTELY!" 

And so the evening of planning our trip began: my mom and I beaming about Italy, and my Dad more than occasionally interrupting to quiz me on promissory estoppel (a contracts concept).

Second semester of law school sped by. Well, there were a few 13 hour days in the library that didn’t seem to speed by, but soon the day for our departure to Rome arrived.  

We arrived in Queens, New York around 1A.M and it felt about 1 degree outside. Our shuttle driver kindly blasted the heat and we laughed since we can count on one hand the times we had to use the heat in SC in the Winter. Here, in New York, it was spring, and still we shivered (and yawned!) our shuttle ride to the hotel.

Rebekah and I fell asleep instantly, mom not at all. Themes of this trip include strong cappuccinos and mom never sleeping. As well as mom and Rebekah not unkindly suggesting I put on lipstick, and inevitably, reminding me to reapply it.

Salve Roma!

Do not worry because the description of our first day in Rome will be short as I was drunk on exhaustion and hardly remember it. We went straight to our hotel and waited, and waited, for the hotel desk lady to check us in, Italian style; meaning, slowly and inefficiently. Just when Rebekah and I considered using our suitcases for pillows, the woman motioned for us to follow her to our “luxury suite.” I think there was some poor translation going on with the word “luxury” because our room was anything but luxurious. Fortunately, we hardly found ourselves in the room at all because we busily explored Rome all day and into the night. When we were in the room, we were probably fighting over who could sit on the toilet because the toilet happened to be the only spot where we could get wifi in our “luxury suite.”

After dumping our 500 tons of luggage filled with clothes and shoes we never would wear in the hotel, we sped to the Vatican Museum in order to make our tour time. We crammed ourselves into the Vatican halls with our 5,000 closest friends, from 5,000 different countries bringing with them their smells and I-pads snapping pictures. We shuffled our way to the Sistine chapel. The halls to the Sistine chapel are lavish and awesome (now "awesome" is an overused word I hate, but I use it here because the Vatican museum is a rare occasion where the word “awesome” applies).

You cannot describe the Sistine chapel: it is a place one has to visit for themselves and experience their own spiritual journey, while studying the frescoes, which tell the story of the Bible from Creation to the Last Judgment.  The Last Judgment painting is particularly moving. A quote I loved from the audio guide  on the last judgment is: “The sin of Adam and Eve mortified the body, making it a slave to death, and it took a Christ, who has triumphed over the true limitation of man, which is evil, to redeem us.”

While the Sistine Chapel was, and is, reserved for papal use, the frescoes of Biblical scenes in the churches throughout Italy reached the mostly illiterate population.  I loved that about the art in the churches in Italy: it was intended to share the good news of the gospel with all!

We spent an hour in the chapel, letting our minds and hearts wander away from the crowd and the crowd control police shouting “no photo.” Afterwards, we went in search of food. A constant tension between grumbling stomachs and not wanting to eat at a “tourist restaurant” dominated the trip. Some of the time our growling stomachs led us to an overpriced and mediocre meal.  Most of the time though, mom and Rebekah indulged my constant “we can’t eat here, it looks touristy” so that we enjoyed more authentic Italian cuisine. Such was the case after the Vatican museum.

I led them to the left of St. Peters Basilica, onto a road I remembered fewer tourists ventured. The flashy “pizza here!” and “conditioned air” signs gave way to greyer buildings, occasionally marked by graffiti.  Ultimately the smell of freshly baked bread led us to a small shop of pastries and pizza sold by the gram. We ordered “to go” from women who knew no English and next to customers who gave us peculiar looks, not so subtly questioning what we were doing there.

We tried to get the women to heat up our pizza by repeating in English, “hot! hot!” as if repeating a word they had never heard before would make them understand what it meant. Ultimately, I think my mom spoke in Spanish and asked them to heat our pizza, but not before she gave me an admonishing looks that I knew meant, “how did you spend 5 months in Rome and not know the word for hot?” (another constant theme of this trip: my mom’s disbelief at how little Italian I know) That meal was delicious and uneventful besides for me leaving my purse on a chair, which, for those who know me well, is hardly noteworthy.

After lunch we had a Scavi tour, or a tour of the mausoleums below St. Peters, which includes the tomb of St. Peter. Only 250 people are allowed through each day – compare that to the 30,000 that visit the Vatican Museums! Accordingly, had our minds been awake enough to think, we would have considered ourselves lucky to be on such a tour. Instead, we shifted from leg to leg, in an attempt to stay awake. The guide’s broken English sounded foreign and far away. I cannot tell you one thing she said.

Afterwards, at around 5 p.m we went straight to our hotel with plans to take a quick nap and continue our exploring. We awoke at 8 A.M the next morning.

Day 2 in Rome

To be cont.

Final Thoughts.

I am sitting at St. Peter’s Square for the last time during my study abroad trip. I leave in several hours, and I am very sad. I start to cry. I will miss this place that shaped me and changed me. I stare at the detail of this plaza, of each statue, of the 5,000 year old Eygptian obelisk and at the columns that create the boundaries of the square, containing all the people in one place.  I grew and flourished within these massive, marble columns that surround the plaza. I pushed the boundaries of my comfort zone against the Roman Walls that enclose this ancient city. To these columns, to these walls protecting me, I am indebted.

 I watch the tourists go into the church and I watch them leave, eyes and hands occupied by their dying camera batteries. They come and they go, visitors in a foreign land. But I have found my home here in this foreign place, and I do not want to leave.  

My life the past 4 months has been like living in Disney World with all its glory. Except that I have witnessed the splendor of the real world with real people. The natural wonders I’ve seen have stirred my soul. The man made monuments have left me in awe. My respect for man and all his accomplishments has deepened. The people I met, the friends I made, have touched me with their kindness and authenticity.  

It will be hard to go back to a small town, where people live like Kings and Queens in a trite world that revolves around them selves. The world is so much bigger, so much older than one person’s mere existence. This trip has taught me I am weak in my perceived invincibility. I’ve grown in confidence and independence, while realizing that there is one God who controls the universe and I am not it.  I am one person among the billions and billions of people with different cultures, lifestyles and religions. I noticed that no matter where I was, or the language barrier that existed, there was a general human spirit of kindness.  People welcomed us and helped us whenever needed!

You often hear that foreigners hate Americans. Fortunately, I did not find this to be the truth. Rather, everybody wants to be American!!!!! After traveling to 12 different countries I can honestly say that I am blessed to be a citizen of what the world considers to be one incredible country. Knowing that I am returning to the best country on earth will make leaving Italy a small bit easier. I realize how fortunate I am to have been born in the United States with a pursuable American dream.  

Foreigners view America as this far off land that they can reach if they work hard enough, if they save up enough money and play their cards right (get a hard-to-come by American visa, apply for citizenship etc.)  The closest comparison to how they view the United States is how we view heaven. A place of beauty and perfect happiness, but un obtainable without hard work. How blessed we are to live in this Heaven!!!! Do you know that?? We as Americans are so blessed with such a thriving country with a unique system of government designed for the people. Sometimes it seems that America has forgotten who it is when who it is is exceptional. I hope we remember the voice our founding father’s intended, we the people have, and that we work to preserve this country so that it may continue to be a beacon of hope in the world!  

A typical conversation with an Italian or a Spaniard or a Hungarian would be:

Me: I love your country! It is so beautiful!

Foreigner: Thank you. I like your country too.

Me: Have you been to the United States?”

Foreigner: No. But I want.

Me: You should come!

Foreigner: (Sighing deeply) I would love to! But it is so hard! Very difficult to get a visa. Italy it’s beautiful land, but America it’s a beautiful country. I want to go very bad. Some day……

Italy it has these protests that clutter the streets with hundreds of people clamoring to be heard. They find something to protest bi monthly, but despite their banners and megaphones, nobody hears them. How futile their protests are! They serve only to block the streets creating chaos that hundreds of policemen seek to control The amount of police force utilized to keep peace at these frequent protests is ridiculous. I personally witnessed numerous protests and strikes, and while I didn’t know what they were chanting I knew the people were angry. So angry and fed up with Italy’s 13% un employment among many other issues plaguing the young Italian State….

I thought I’d give a list of my favorite countries from least to greatest:

I loved Spain because it captures the eye. I loved France because it entices the mind. I loved Italy because it ignites the soul.

The architect in Spain, specifically Barcelona, captivated my attention. I would walk the streets keeping my head up, constantly looking around afraid I would miss something! The artwork in the Sofia and Prado museums in Madrid enthralled my eyes. I felt like such a more well rounded individual after leaving Madrid. From Donatello’s classic Renaissance art to Picasso’s progressive modern art, I enjoyed learning about and comparing the different styles. I also loved the tapas!! (small appetizers) My favorite was simply small pieces of bread served with slabs of recently sliced meat. Delicious! Especially when served with a large glass of sangria!!

The history of Paris immensely intrigued me. I watched the history unfold in many of the art pieces of the Louvre. I sensed the city’s past triumphs and tribulations just walking the streets. The architecture by the river was neat and clean-very Parisian. The architecture on the outskirts of the city was dirty and run down-very Parisian. The waiters at one restaurant were rude offering snide comments, the waiters at the next were pleasant offering free water and bread to poor college students. Marie Antoinette’s words, “let them eat cake” still ring through the city, reminding you of the revolutions France has endured. The bells of Notre Dame ring reminding you that Paris was the birthplace of gothic architecture. The miles of vendors alongside the river selling classic books remind you of the enlightened philosophers who once studied in the city. Paris, it calls you back because it is a city that still has so much more unlearned…

Italy.

Italy isn't a country for the weak. The women are loud and fiesty. They tell you exactly what they want to tell you without regards to how it will make you feel or what you were talking about. A typical conversation with an Italian would be: 

Italian person (pretending to be interested in you) how do you like Italy so far 

Me-it's okay. I like  all the parks because I can run in them and it's so nice to get away from the chaotic city center and just relax with a run in the woods. Like some people go to museums for peace and quiet but I prefer the outdoors to see pretty things in real life

Italian person-have you been to the Capitoline museum in the city center? You must go! It's so worth the 9 euros and the art work is amazing. Oh sorry somebody's calling me I gotta take this CIAO Kirsten I'm glad you are loving Rome!!!!

While Italian people may speak at you, Italian food speaks straight to the soul. One of my favorites was pasta carbonara, an olive oil and bacon special of Rome. Italian olive oil is pungent, almost spicy. When I returned to the states and had SAMs brand olive oil here I thought it had been diluted with water. 

Of course all the churches in Italy touch the soul with their beauty and massiveness.  I realized I had gone to mass with pope Francis for 3 consecutive weeks. I saw him six times when I was in Rome! Rome offers a safe haven from the rest of the secular world,  but only to those open to changing and wanting to pursue their Christian faith. I noticed that frequently about my traveling: nothing is handed to you. Excitement,  experiences, friendships, laughter, love, confidence, cheerfulness- you must work for these things. You create the study abroad experience you want to have. 
There is a beautiful world out there, and for those who want it, it's there. 

You could easily inhabit a beautiful, enormous city like Rome and be miserable, because you haven't made the effort to discover the city in all it's layers. You have to embrace Rome and all it has to offer-from it's dirty metro cars and pestering gypsies who pester you relentlessly, to the magnificent Trevi fountain and the kind local baker who always gave me a soft smile. Even though the baker woman and I hardly ever dialogued in either of our languages, she always smiled at me, her way of extending a greeting across a wide language gap. It was waking up in the morning and purchasing my croissant from a smiling face and then deciding I wanted to do my morning run to the colosseum just because I could that helped me have an invigorating abroad experience.

Truly I have no regrets. When I wanted a conolo(singular for conoli)  I got it. And not from the place downstairs that made mediocre conoli, but at the Sicilian bakery two miles away, just because I could. When I wanted to go to St. Peter's basillica (largest and one of the oldest churches in the world) for some peaceful quiet time, I walked the 3 miles there because I could. Usually I would take the long way off the main road and I would stop for a cappuccino or a pastry or both along the way, because I could. After class on Mondays when my friend, Ryan and I had the option to go back to our apartments and stare at the same four walls, or explore the city, we chose to wander the city, ending up at a different place each week. When it was ten pm at night and I wanted to go to the Trevi fountain but nobody else did, I went alone because I could.  Usually I would also wander another 3/4 miles to the pantheon and watch the musicians playing under the ancient dome, and listen to the cello as it echoed through the square. If it got to be too late to walk back alone, I always knew that bus 62 would take me on home.

Everything I did on my trip, I did because I could. I felt incredibly blessed to have the opportunity to be in Rome and to travel Europe. I knew I had to grasp that opportunity or it would slip away, without me ever knowing what I had missed out on. I tried not to miss out on anything, I strived to claim every opportunity simply because I could. 

I think knowing I have no regrets about my experience, makes returning home a little easier. I accomplished what I was not aware could be accomplished-I didn't just see the world from the eyes of a tired tourist, but I put my weariness aside in order to experience the world with an enthusiastic heart. 

To my parents and grandparents, I am grateful. Thank you for giving me the world. 

I will always remember my time spent in Rome.  My legacy will stay on in the Eternal City with the professors who instructed me, with the bakers who fed me. My footsteps are engraved on the cobble stone streets throughout the city. My footprints are stamped on the trails I explored on my daily runs.  They remain on the familiar path to school each morning-pastthe Chinese Restaurant, past the outdoor markets, past the gypsy woman holding the door outside the church in hopes for a few coins, past Romana the best gelato in Rome, past the pizza shops, past the British Embassy, the Indian Embassy and finally arriving at Lorenzeo De Medici. My school. So though I return to the United States, a foreigner in a familiar land, a part of Rome lives on with me and I with it.