Seeing as exactly a year ago right now (May 18, 2014 9:30 PM) I was sitting in my friend’s family’s Starkville apartment, just having finished a game of poker with cheese-its and goldfish, now watching Star wars, waiting for the wee hours of the morning when we departed for Italy, I decided the best way to commemorate that was to finally put up a blog post about my trip to that marvelous country.
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| Cheese-it and goldfish poker |
Warning: this is going to be a long one.
Really (but there's pictures!).
I’ve
written a little here and a little there over the course of a year, so there’s
that. To finish it off tonight I will be
using my bank of over 2,800 pictures to remember the exact chain of events and
all of the great moments.
This post is mostly for me to type out all my
fond memories of the trip so I can go back and read it in the future. Plus, who
knows, you may find mild enjoyment out of reading Da Fam's adventures (Da Fam
is what my group called ourselves. The six of us went everywhere together, and
basically became a family over the course of 10 days).
Because here's the thing: I know how extremely
fortunate I am to have been to Europe, not once, but three times all before I
turned twenty. I know many people will never get the opportunity to leave this
continent once, much less be like me with three trips already under my belt. I
believe it's an amazing opportunity for people under twenty to go abroad.
People always say that those late teenage years are so essential in forming who
we are as people, and if there's one thing my trips have taught me it's this:
traveling abroad, even outside of my home region in America, helps me to become
less of a stereotypical ignorant Southern girl.
I love Mississippi. I absolutely adore it, and
I'll always call it home. What I don't love is the rep Mississippians get. You
know, the dumb-hillbilly-barefoot-overweight-alcoholic-worthless-to-society
reputation. I'll be honest, we've got a few of those people. But doesn't every
part of the world? But I'm getting off topic here and into some waters I don't
want to explore yet on here.
Back to what I was saying, traveling has given
me a greater appreciation for the world we live in. From England to New York to
France to Germany to Washington D.C to Austria to Italy, I've seen a world
outside of my own, and I've come to see how much I enjoy spending a few days in
someone else's world. I enjoy seeing the different ways people live and yet the
ways we all live the same.
I'm oh so thankful for the four wonderful groups
that have allowed me the opportunity to learn so much in three short years.
So here's some Italy memories. Here's some first
hand accounts of a Mississippi girl discovering the world and how diverse it
is, and all the while gaining a greater appreciation for the place she calls home.
I typed out this first little bit on Tuesday,
May 20, at 4:05 PM Italy time, which is 9:05 AM Central time. I was sitting on
our charter bus somewhere between Milan and Padova. After flying into Milan
that morning, we had had a tour of the local scala and then some free time to
see the duormo, exchange money, and grab a bite to eat. Then it was on the bus
and to Verona, the setting of Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet. I was enjoying a
lovely jet-lag induced nap when this loud pop woke me up. The bus came to a
stop on the side of the Italian highway where it was soon discovered we had
suffered a blow-out. We sat on the side of the road for two hours before the
tire was fixed and the bus was ready to go again. Sadly that took up the time
we were going to spend in Verona, so we had to head on to Padova. But I did get
this next little bit typed while we were stranded in the Italian countryside.
Stranded and Jet-Lagged
Our trip began Sunday when me and my two friends
loaded up at home and drove to Starkville for our final rehearsal in the
States. We then spent the remainder of the evening hanging out in our friend’s
apartment, after a Walmart run of course, where we played cards and watched
Star Wars. Except only one of us actually stayed up to finish the movie. We all
basically ended up getting about 2.5-3 hours of sleep Sunday before we were up
at 2:45 AM packing everything up so we could leave at 3:30 to head to the band
hall. It was way too early for anyone to be functioning, but there we were at
4:00 AM on a charter bus ready to head to the Atlanta Airport. Why so little sleep? We wanted to try and deprive our bodies of
sleep so that we would be ready to sleep on the long flight from New York to
Milan.
It's a good thing we left the band hall earlier than
planned, because right past the Alabama line the trailer carrying some
instruments and luggage got a flat tire. And, you know, of course the spare
tire had a flat as well. Luckily we could fit all of the things under the bus
and we were back on our merry way to the metropolis of Atlanta.
We made it there no problem, and we only ended
up with a couple of people having overweight luggage. I had myself a mini party
when I saw my suitcase only weighed 37 pounds. I'm a terrible overpacker, so I
was determined to pack as light as possible this time. Now I have so much room
to buy things!
I also made it through security quite easily.
With it being my tenth or so time to fly, I had figured out the quickest and
easiest TSA preparation techniques. I made it through with just a simple pat
down on my jeans because they had unusual zippers on the sides. Those were
actually the friendliest TSA officers I've ever encountered. Props to you,
Atlanta.
Then my adopted family for the trip (that's what
my group of friends have been calling ourselves) had a nice over-priced airport
lunch together before going to wait by our gate. And then Murphy's Law struck
again. For those of you that don't know, Murphy's Law goes as follows:
"anything that can go wrong will go wrong."
Our flight crew had just flown into Atlanta from
some Caribbean island and had to go through customs before they could get on
our plane. Of course that took approximately five years, making our flight take
off 30 minutes later than planned. That put us in New York 30 minutes later
than expected, and we only had had an hourish layover to begin with. So we
landed in the JFK airport and the airplane people said, "if you're not on
the international flight to Milan, please wait for those people to get off of
the plane first."
And, you know, of course our departure gate was
in the other terminal, and at the very end of the terminal at that. So we
hopped on the shuttle bus to the other terminal and started power walking
through the JFK airport. The first part of the group had gotten on the first
shuttle, but I was on the second. So there we were, power walking through JFK
trying to make it to gate 41. It was about 5:00, and our flight was scheduled
to leave at 5:21.
There we were scurrying through the airport,
with me calling out to my friends which direction to shift to pass people most
efficiently. "Left!" I would say, or, "head right!" I play
too much Mario Kart.
We had just made it to gate 35 when the lady
came over the intercom, "last boarding call for Delta flight 418."
"GOOOOOO!!!!!"
"We have to make it on this plane!" I
said as we struggled to make it those last six gates.
"I can't feel my calves!"
"Don't think about it! We have to keep
going!"
Luckily our head band director had already had a
chat with the Delta people, telling them that they must wait for us all to get
on that darn plane. I mean, this was mostly their fault. They should have
allowed the crew much more flexibility getting through customs...aka more time.
But we all made it on the plane, and that's what
matters. Our seats were determined alphabetically within our group, and luckily
I'm next to one of my good friends and member of Da Fam. So we had our two
seats and were set for an 8 hour flight over the pond.
That's when he told me his newest dilemma. While
on the flight to NYC, he was told that one of the trombones may or may not be
on the flight. "So my trombone is literally Shrödinger's cat," he
told me. Look up the cat if you didn't get that reference.
The flight went quite well minus some minor
turbulence. Then came the dinner. Food in general on an airplane is like a box
of chocolates. You never know what you're going to get. Go watch Forrest Gump
if you didn't get that reference.
"Pasta or beef stroganoff?" The flight
attendant asked the people a few rows in front of us. My usual system for
determining which option I choose is to peek at the food of those in front of
my and see which choice looks the most edible. Pasta was the winner. In
addition to the pasta, I also got a nice salad with vegetables of questionable
freshness, a cold roll in plastic wrap, three shrimp on a bed of lettuce of
questionable freshness and a lemon, a nice packet of crackers, a lovely thing
of cheese, and, to quote my friend, a brownie that "tasted like sadness."
The end.
And that's all I got typed that day and during
the trip actually, so the rest is me looking back on the trip months later.
The pasta wasn't terrible, the roll was
bearable, and the cheese was like the rainbow in the storm that is airplane
food. When I saw my other friend wasn't going to eat her cheese, I quickly
asked her for it, and me and my seat buddy split it. It went nicely with our
crackers. I didn't dare touch the shrimp. First, I don't even like shrimp, but
second, seafood on a plane doesn't sound like a good idea. No offense to
airplane chefs around the world, but really? Could you make a less appetizing
meal?
I made the comment about how sad it must be for
these shrimp to live their little lives and end up in the trash can of some
airplane, as other shrimp around the world ended up in the stomach of shrimp
and caviar eaters. I mean, what the least noble of shrimply ways to die.
Anyways, as I said earlier, we got to Milan,
stayed there a bit, then got the flat tire. Moving on.
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| Luggage claim selfie in Milan |
We finally arrived in Padova, a pleasant Italian
college town. It's not a large well-known city, but it's not small either. We
had the chance to settle into our rooms before heading out to dinner- genuine
Italian pizza!
Back in Mississippi, the directors had given us
itineraries for the trip, and it had the menu listed for the dinners that were
planned. They were listed in Italian, so my friend translated them on her phone
and read them to those of us in the apartment.
The first night: "to the bitter end pizza
with salad." The bitter end?
It turns out that that was a poor translation
for "endless." However, we decided "to the bitter end" was
much more fun to say.
Pizza is a wonderful thing, and whoever brought
it to America is my favorite. But let me tell you, nothing beats real Italian
pizza. Here's the thing though, I am literally the pickiest eater ever, so my
choice of pizza is always and forever cheese. But goodness, margherita (cheese)
pizza never got old.
In fact, one of my best friends is pretty much
equally as picky, and at lunch as the rest of Da Fam would be adventurous, such
as ordering various types of pasta or pizza with eight sections each with a
different topping, we would both be perfectly happy with a margherita pizza and
a coke.
I'm getting ahead of myself, but in Rome on the
last day we were having lunch, and I told the waiter, "margherita pizza
and a coke." "Lame," my fellow picky eater said to me. She had
been wanting ravioli but hadn't found any she wanted. Each time something
unusual in it would turn her away. "What's in the ravioli?" She asked
the waiter. "Cheese and spinach." "I'll have a margherita pizza
and a coke." "Lame." I said to her jokingly.
Here's the other thing: in Italian
cafés/restaurants, when you say "pizza" they literally bring you an
entire pizza. I learned to eat much more pizza than I usually do in one
sitting.
But anyways, our first experience with Italian
pizza was fantastic. And since it was endless, that meant they kept bringing
out pizzas, and it was a different kind each time. One came out with various
vegetables on it, and as fun as that looked, I was satisfied with taking artsy
pictures of it.
The next day was our trip to Venice, and that
was probably my most favorite day of the trip. Venice is so darn gorgeous and
photogenic.
We rode the train to the edge of the city, and
then we walked out of the station for our first glimpse of the city of canals.
There really isn't a single road in the city. No cars, just canals and boats.
There's little pedestrian streets, but that's it. You either travel by foot or
by boat.
We walked to where we met a boat which took us
around the city and docked near St. Marc's. We all stood there on the Venetian
sidewalk as our tour guide said, "alright. I'm about to walk you to St.
Marc's, but feel free to break off whenever you'd like. You've got the entire
day to yourself. You can meet us tonight back at the train station if you'd
like to know for sure how to get back, if not just make sure to make it back to
the station before the last train leaves."
An entire day to ourselves?! That's one of the
perks of traveling with a college group.
So Da Fam walked to St. Marc's, and we climbed
its tower, and it's actually where Galileo first showed off his telescope to
the leaders of Venice I later found out as I was going through my pictures.
We then decided that we wanted to just “get lost”
in the city. We would just start waking, no destination in mind, no map, just
walking through the city and finding what we find. That was literally the best
way to spend our day and see Venice. I had the best time. So our to-do list for
the day looked like this, in no particular order:
-shop
-eat lunch
-ride in a gondola
-meet the group back at the station
-get lost
And we did just that. We walked, and when we
found a shop we liked, we stopped and looked around. When we got hungry, we
walked until we found a restaurant. When we were ready for a gondola, we walked
until we found one that would fit all six of us (which wasn't actually all that
hard).
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| Da Fam's lunch in Venice |
For anyone concerned: never fear, we weren’t going to
literally get lost in Venice. Many
European cafés have wifi for their customers, so when we needed to pull up
directions to the train station, we had a nice snack at a Venetian café and got
directions.
We walked around Venice all day and only saw
five other people from our group of 70ish.
The day included our first experience with
Italian gelato, aka the best ice cream on the planet. Like my cheese pizza
addiction, it's always straight to chocolate for me, and this stuff didn't
disappoint. I snapped pictures of everyone as they took their first bite, and
the pictures pretty much sum up how great the stuff was. We got our gelato and
found a nice secluded area by the large canal and sat in the shade as we
enjoyed the moment.
Another one of my favorite Italy moments
happened in Venice, and unintentionally at that. We were walking through the
streets of Venice when my friend said, "hey! Pretty scenic area for
pictures!" Little did we know that our photographing the beautiful scenery
would turn into a full out photoshoot. I had my mom's nice camera, and my
friend would pose each person, and so now every member of Da Fam has great
pictures of themselves in Italy. It was great because everyone participated,
even the two guys. It was such a spontaneous moment and something none of us
had ever done before, but it was definitely memorable and I'm sure one of
everybody's favorite moments.
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| From our Venetian photoshoot |
And, oh, the gondola ride. The gondola ride. So
fantastic. The great thing about a group of six is that when split six ways,
€80 isn't too much to pay for a once in a life time opportunity (that
translates to about €13,30 a person, yes, I meant to put that comma. Europe
uses commas and periods in their money opposite of where America does, and
€13,30 translates to roughly $18.00).
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| After the gondola ride |
We believed the gondolier when he said it fit
six, but gondolas have this habit of leaning to the side and scaring tourists
into thinking the whole thing is about to flip over and leave them swimming in
the canal. The gondolier laughed each time it did it, as we would freak out,
usually with small screams of fear. We eventually got used to it, but I was all
prepared to go off on the man when my mother's nice camera got ruined. Actually, had the worst happened, no matter
what happened to me, that camera would have been above the water. But we actually had nothing to worry about.
Like many boats, gondolas lean around like that, but they're actually quite
stable. I mean, if they dumped people in the canals left and right, I feel like
less and less tourists would be all gung-ho about riding in them.
If I thought Venice from the streets was
beautiful, then Venice from the canals is utterly the best thing ever. I got so
many wonderful pictures that are pretty much like the ones I'm used to seeing
in travel magazines and decorative picture frames. I know some will undoubtedly
appear on the walls of my house in however many years. Why buy pictures of all
the famous places when you've taken some yourself?
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| You know, just a Venetian canal. No big deal. |
I'll shut up about Venice now, but goodness was
it fantastic.
That evening we met most of the group back at
the train station. We had dinner to ourselves that night, so after arriving
back in Padova, Da Fam went and found somewhere to eat. We went to this nice
open-air square. In the middle were tons of tables, and we discovered that the
restaurants bordering the square served the tables.
It turns out they were fancier than street
cafés, and the food definitely showed that. We got the menu and of course the
entire thing was in Italian. We discovered the entire square had wifi, so I sat
there trying to translate each item, but google translate left us with
questions. The waiter walked up and could obviously tell we were American. It
seems as if all Europeans have this super power to be able to look at a person
and know without a doubt that his or her home lies across the Atlantic Ocean. I
don't know what sets it off first: the laid back fashion sense, the English
which is definitely not British, or the overall air of confusion.
My friend joked that we needed something much
like Life Alert: Europe Alert, "help, I'm American, and I don't
understand." We referenced that many times throughout the trip.
Anyways, the waiter walks up and asks us, "translator?"
Yes, please, was the obvious answer to that one.
So he went and got us a waitress that spoke
English. She came up to the table, "Okay, what can I translate for
you?"
"Um, all of it."
So we soon learned that the spaghetti I had been
eyeing was actually spaghetti with caviar.
Uh, thanks, but no thanks.
Thank goodness for the translating waitress,
because that's what I had been planning on ordering. I happily picked the safe
option of pizza instead.
My picky friend got pizza with me, her sister
got some pasta something or other, two members of the "adventure
team" got salmon, but the adventurer of the night was the last member of Da
Fam.
"I'll take the spaghetti."
"You know that has fish eggs, right?"
Asked the waitress.
"Yeah. That's what I want."
His reasoning made sense.
1) it's Italy, why not
2) it's decently priced caviar, so why not try
it?
3) it would probably just be noodles, red sauce,
and caviar on top
So the food got there, and we all looked at our
food with the, "here goes nothing," face. The pizza wins the award
for the fanciest yet strangest pizza ever, but I survived. The pasta was deemed
good, and they were satisfied with their salmon.
But the caviar spaghetti. Oh the caviar
spaghetti.
He got his plate, and we all immediately noticed
the lack of red sauce. He noticed the staunch coming from the dish. I got my
camera ready to keep snapping as he took his first bite.
The pictures are great, in case you were
wondering. His face was not as he held back puke.
The two other members of the adventure team took
a bite of it, and they all three agreed it was not the best. I gladly steered
clear. I guess we just don't have that palate for caviar. I'm sure the Italians
like the stuff, and good for them.
The next day included a tour of Padova. Da Fam
and another friend had lunch at a nice cafe, and we had an over-enthusiastic
waiter. He heard our English and exclaimed, "England!"
We all laughed. "No, America!"
"BOSTON!" The man exclaimed.
We all laughed again and let the man think we
were from Boston. There was no way he even knew what Mississippi was.
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| "Boston" natives enjoying lunch |
That evening we took the short trip to Mirano,
where we were to have our first concert. We were scheduled to have two
concerts, and then the brass would play after mass in the basilica of St.
Francis in Assisi (how cool!). Mirano was quite pleasant, and we got to visit
this park thing that had fake castle ruins they had used for plays or
something. We got some beautiful pictures of and with that. Then we had a small bit of free time, and Da
Fam went to get some gelato.
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| Da Fam in front of the "castle" |
Then we had a lovely pasta dinner with free
Pepsi (always a plus) before getting ready for the concert.
It was really cool because we were a part of an
ongoing event that included lots of different groups coming to play for this
festival in Mirano. The other cool part was the crowd we had of paying
customers! Music of that sort is appreciated much more in Europe; people don't
just go to concerts like that in America.
And boy did the Italians love us. Our tour guide
had told us how we'd probably have to have an encore, and he was right. We gave
like three or four encores. We were all having a great time as we saved The
Stars and Stripes Forever for the first encore, and then played the end for
another encore, and I think a part from another piece for another one. But we
were all taken off-guard when for the final encore our director shouted,
"Hail State!" and we played perhaps the most rusty version of MSU's
fight song outside of when the freshmen play it for the first time, but the
Italians didn't know the difference and applauded and cheered all the same.
The next morning brought our bus ride from Padova to
Spoletto, a quaint little Italian town.
On the way we stopped in Florence.
It was a rainy day in Florence, and of course my rain jacket was packed
away in my suitcase under the bus. So
there we all were, walking down the rainy streets of Florence in the drizzling
rain. As we were walking, we noticed
street salesmen trying to get everyone to buy these umbrellas they had hanging
on their arm.
First we got some free time to get lunch. Afterwards we had to meet up with
everyone. So there we were, standing
once again in the drizzling rain. Da Fam
decided we needed umbrellas. On to the
street salesmen! So my friend (caviar
dude) went and haggled with the salesmen and ended up getting two umbrellas for
what some of our group paid for one. One
was red and the other was white.
Then one of us, I want to say it was me but I can’t remember,
had the idea that we should get one more umbrella, a green one, and then we
would have the Italian flag. So my
friend haggled for one more, we got it, went to open it, and found it was
broken. So the guy goes to give us
another one, “No! It has to be green!” So the guy had to pull all of these
other umbrellas off of his arm to get to the next green one. I kind of feel bad, but then again I don’t,
because we took an adorable picture.
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| #adorbs |
Then it was on to the museum where
Michelangelo’s David lives. That statue
was breath-taking. The only bad thing
was we didn’t get much time in the museum to begin with, and the tour guide
never gave us anytime to explore on our own.
But whatevs. I saw David.
Then, as we exited the museum, we
noticed this magical transformation. The
rain had gone and the sun had come out, and with it the streets salesmen had
done away with the umbrellas and were now selling watercolor (I’m guessing, I’m
not really sure) paintings of Italian things.
Before we left Florence, the buses drove
up to this high point of the city, and we got a spectacular view of
Florence. It was so great that our group
undertook the task of getting a group picture.
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| Group picture over Florence |
Then it was on to Spoletto! Spoletto is
this precious little Italian town with cobblestone streets, and if you didn’t
know better, you’d think you were walking through 18th century
Italy. We stayed in a monastery during
our time in Spoletto, and if you’re thinking what I thought at first, then
you’re not really sure what that would be like.
It was not what I expected, it was more 20th century and less
18th century than I had anticipated, which is perfectly okay. It was nuns that lived there, and they had
multiple rooms which slept multiple people.
The rooms came in all shapes and sizes.
There were three of us in my room, and we had a bedroom with three beds,
a kitchen, a bathroom, an additional bedroom that slept I think five, and even
a cellar-like thing! My friends,
however, had a bedroom that slept three and a bathroom.
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| Our bedroom in the monastery |
My bathroom was a five star amenity in
comparison to what they had. I actually
had a shower; theirs was just a shower faucet on the wall by the sink. I had luxuriously hot water; there’s was
annoyingly cold. We spent three nights
there, and eventually they were coming to my room to shower.
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| Our bathroom in the monastery |
The nuns were so nice. They made breakfast for us each morning, and
they of course had on their nun attire.
How precious.
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| Secret cellar |
That first night in Spoletto we had
dinner on our own. The issue was that it
was getting late, we had a group of 50ish people, and Spoletto isn’t that big
to begin with, much less have restaurants that want to feed people after 9
o’clock at night. Da Fam eventually
found a place that would feed us, and better yet, they had wifi! What a victory!
The next morning was free for us to
explore Spoletto. Da Fam ventured up to
the high point of Spoletto where we got yet another fantastic view of
Italy. After that we hiked up the side
of an Italian mountain. I’m not even
kidding. There was a trail already
there, so we walked it, me in moccasins and my best friend in a dress (and
chacos, so that made things a little better).
It was one of those experiences that we didn’t expect to have on our
trip to Italy. Before going, I don’t
think any of us would have thought, “I bet we’ll have some time to go along
trails on the side of a mountain.” It
was yet another great and random experience that I’ll never forget, and to this
day I haven’t found a picture to replace my Facebook profile picture that was
taken that morning.
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| From our morning hike |
After that we traveled back down the
mountain and into town to find some lunch.
We stopped at a pizza shop that sold pizza by the slice, so that was
enjoyable. Then we made a leisurely
stroll back to the monastery. We weren’t
leaving for our next concert until later that day, and we had time to continue
to enjoy Spoletto. One little shop’s
entrance intrigued us, so we stopped and went inside. There I got another great life experience: I
was the translator for the group in this shop.
The shop was run by two older Italian gentlemen, and they spoke little
to no English. Through hand motions,
broken English, and the wonderful things that are cognates, I managed to tell
these fellas that we were American musicians here on a trip (all the while keeping
in mind not to share actual personal information). I even got them to understand which
instrument each of the six of us play!
It was so cool, and I know it’s one of those things our directors were
hoping we would experience on our free time.
Communicating despite a language and cultural barrier, having to find a
way to actually do it, that’s one of those life-changing and enriching
experiences that happen when you go abroad.
Before finally heading back to the
monastery, we paused outside the restaurant from the night before to see if
their wifi reached to out in the street.
It did. So those of us that
didn’t feel guilty about it awkwardly stood outside this restaurant and used
their wifi. No shame.
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| Our wi-fi restaurant |
Then it was on to our afternoon/evening
visit to Bevagna! To pronounce Bevagna
properly, remember what sound gn makes in lasagna. My friend figured this out and verified it
with our tour guide. The gn in Italian
words is pronounced like stressed n in English.
It’s kind of like the ñ in Spanish words. So there’s your lesson in Italian for the
day. I hope you had fun.
Bevagna was larger than Spoletto, but it
still was that cobblestone-street-anything-but-the-21st-century-feel. We had a rehearsal in that evening’s concert
venue: an open-air courtyard of what I think was either a hotel or
apartments. Either way, there were two
or three stories of balconies. That
evening was the concert where we played some songs with the local band. It’s a band of varied ages. I’m not sure of the range, but there was one
clarinet player that had been playing since I started in 2006, and he was
probably three to four years younger than me.
The Italians were fun! So we
rehearsed, and then we had some free time until dinner. Fun fact: we stored our concert black and
instruments in their music building, and hanging on the wall was a banner with
the Lion’s International logo on it.
Since it was in their music building, I want to assume it was from where
the band marched in the Lion’s Parade back in 2001. For those of you that don’t know, my second
trip to Europe was with the Mississippi Lion’s All State Band, and we marched
in the parade at the International Convention in Hamburg, Germany in July of
2013 (we won and became International Champions, by the way). Five of the six members of Da Fam actually
were a part of that band, so it was cool to find that banner. After rehearsal, we had some free time until
dinner.
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| Mississippi State and Italian clarinet players |
Of course many of us in the group had to
get some gelato. Duh. I once again got chocolate, and it was once
again fantastic. I continued my habit of
getting it all over my face as I ate it.
Then we shopped, and I found a real cashmere sweater for €20, which was
around $25-30 at the time, so talk about a deal.
Then we had dinner and the concert. Once again there was a great crowd of supportive
Italians, and once again we had a few encores.
It was so great! And, once again,
it was one of those once in a lifetime experiences that I’ll cherish
forever. Our program consisted of a few
Italian songs. We played an arrangement
of Nessun Dorma, and oh goodness, did it sound beautiful in that open air
courtyard.
Then we drove back to Spoletto and spend
another night in the monastery. The next
morning we woke up and made the short drive to Assisi. We got a guided tour through the city as we
made our way to the basilica of St. Francis.
The city was larger than Bevagna, but still not terribly large. The brass had to go on ahead of the woodwinds
to get ready to play after mass. The
woodwinds went in the basilica with the rest of the public and sat in the pews
during a real Catholic Mass, all in Italian.
If you thought staying awake in church was hard, imagine staying awake
when they’re speaking a different language, plus just being generally tired
from a trip abroad. It didn’t mean for
that to sound rude or disrespectful. I’m
just saying. It was really cool
though. Afterwards the brass did a
beautiful job playing, and the acoustics in the room were so great.
Then we had some free time in Assisi
(free time is so great). We had a good
lunch, and while we were there, Da Fam had a fun experience with a co-ed
bathroom. It was two stalls and a sink
area, but there wasn’t a designated sex for the room. That was the only bathroom in the place. So of course we had to take sink selfies
together because when else are two guys and four girls going to be in a
bathroom together and it’s totally allowed?
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| Bathroom selfie! |
Afterwards we walked and shopped. I got my sister and I scarves made in the
area, so that’s cool. My friend got a
real Italian leather wallet. Oh. My.
Goodness. That store smelt
fantastic. That wallet smells fantastic. It still does, almost a year later. At school whenever I see him pull it out, if
I don’t already insist, he’ll offer to let me smell it because he knows how
much I enjoy it.
We
left Assisi to head to our evening destination, a vineyard where we were to be
shown around and fed dinner.
Unfortunately it started to rain, so they couldn’t give us the tour or
the outdoor dinner they had wanted, but plan B was equally as fun. The vineyard is owned by this sweet older
couple, and they cooked quite the dinner for us. They used their own products, things like olive
oil and seasoning, and it was really good!
In between courses, the rain cleared up,
so some of us ventured outside to look around.
There were horses and ponies nearby, so Da Fam and some others walked
down a path to go see them. When we got
down there, there was one horse up by the gate.
Another was farther off along with two ponies. Naturally we wanted to pet the horse. I got up there and said hello, and like magic
the other horse walked up to the gate.
So I said hello to that one and petted them both. Then like magic the ponies walked up to see
me at the gate. At that point I handed
my camera to my friend and had my own Disney Princess moment with these horses
and ponies. They were so happy and
sweet, and they loved me. I backed away
from the gate to let other people up, and all of a sudden one of the horses or
ponies would lose interest. But then I
walked back up to the gate, and they walked back up there. I think it eventually got where everyone else
stopped trying to pet the horses and just sat back and watched me be a Disney
Princess. One of the ponies really loved
me. As we were walking away to go back
inside, I turned around to find the little guy still standing at the gate, all
alone, watching us walk away. It made my
heart melt, so I went back to give the little guy one last goodbye. For 15ish minutes I was Snow White, and it
was one of the highlights of the trip for me, for sure.
 |
| Me with three of my new friends |
As we were leaving, the couple that
owned the vineyard let us buy some of their products they had for sale. I got a container of genuine Italian olive
oil, and I think it’s a nice addition to the pizza crusts I make from
scratch. It was definitely worth the
lost suitcase space and weight (that thing was heavy!).
That brought us to our last night in the
monastery *tear*. However, the next
morning brought our journey to none other than the great city of Rome. After a quick stop at the hotel to drop off
our luggage, we got some free time for lunch before our tour. That was the day of my friend’s adventure
pizza (you know, the one with eight slices of eight different toppings). I had a margherita pizza and a Coke. It was great!
We ate at a table outside, and at some point during lunch we looked up
and noticed we were sitting right next to a Lindt chocolate store. What are the odds? That store was pretty much heaven.
Next began our tour of the Coliseum and
some Ancient Roman ruins. Our group was
split into two tour groups, and my group got this adorable little Italian lady
for our guide. First stop: the
Coliseum. Standing in it brought one of
those surreal feelings, a feeling that left me thinking, “there’s no way I’m
standing here in the Coliseum. This
can’t be real.” Yet it was. Seeing world famous things tends to give you
that feeling. I had it looking at Big
Ben and the Eiffel Tower. It just
doesn’t seem real.
 |
| The Coliseum. Enough said. |
Then we went across the street to a
section of Roman ruins. So. Cool.
What’s neat about Rome is that they’re still discovering more ruins. The section we toured is right in the middle
of the modern hustle and bustle, it’s just blocked off and preserved. Another cool thing about Europe is that so
many things are just so old, and Rome is even older than anything else I’ve
seen. It’s neat to see how the ancient
world and the modern world coexist.
That tour, however, seemed to go on
forever. After seeing the section of
ruins, our little lady tour guide took us through the streets of Rome, talking
to us through our ear pieces the entire time.
I think that lady could have walked all over Rome and never gotten tired. Eventually my attention span and will to
continue walking were very, very low, so I was more than thankful for the end
of the tour and a small bit of free time before walking to dinner. It was during this free time that I got a
nice Italian silk tie for my little brother.
It was time for him to have a big boy tie.
The next day brought our last full day
in Italy, but it was also our first full day in Rome. It was a great day of adventures and an
excellent ending to an excellent trip.
It began with a trip to the Vatican, which, fun fact, is not actually a
part of Italy. It’s its own separate
country, so really we visited two countries on this trip. We were reunited with our little lady tour
guide from the previous day, and we went on our merry way into the Vatican and
through their airport level security *sigh*.
The Vatican was pretty unbelievable.
It was all so ornate and beautifully done, and the ceiling of the
Sistine Chapel was another one of those surreal moments. That thing is huge. It’s almost half a football field long, and
the ceiling is covered in paintings.
There’s no free space to be found.
St. Peter’s Basilica was also stunning.
 |
| So many seats! |
Since the Vatican is its own separate
country, it need its own military. That
responsibility lies with the Swiss Guard.
It’s comprised of unmarried, Catholic Swiss men between the ages of 19
and 30. I’m not totally sure on the
history of it and why they to this day must be Swiss. I’m guessing just for the tradition of it,
but I’m not sure, and I don’t mean to offend any Catholics with my ignorance of
subject. However, I am not ignorant in
appreciation for their uniforms. I don’t
know if I enjoy the uniforms of the Swiss Guard or those of the Queen’s Guard
from England more. On one hand you’re
thinking, “they look a tad ridiculous,” but on the other you’re thinking, “but
they could take me down in the blink of an eye.” It’s good stuff.
 |
| Swiss Guard |
I highly suggest a visit to the Vatican
to everyone, whether you’re Catholic or not.
One, it’s gorgeous, and two, it just really puts it into perspective of
just how deep and rich of a past the Catholic faith has. You also get to see just how big of a deal
Rosary beads are. The gift store in the
Vatican had a section of the most ornate and beautiful Rosaries, some costing
many, many euros. You could pick out a
Rosary and arrange for the Pope, or maybe it was just a Bishop or some important
Catholic person (please forgive me for not knowing exactly how the titles work
and all), bless it, and then they would send it to your hotel for you to have
when you got back. I can see how that’s
pretty great.
The remainder of the day was ours to
explore the city before meeting up for one last dinner. Da Fam, plus one adopted member for the day, headed
to find some lunch. I had my last
magherita pizza and a coke (this was the lunch where I was called “lame” for
ordering it). Then we started walking
with no real plans except seeing the Trevi Fountain and maybe shopping along
the best street of stores in Rome.
We started walking, and this antiquey
looking bookstore caught our eyes, so we went inside to look around. That place was so cool. It became affectionately known as the “Hipster
Bookstore.” It had new books, old books,
souvenirs, paintings, drawings, antiques, and even a little coffee shop/café thing.
I found an old copy of William Faulkner
works in Italian, and it was so pretty and smelled like an old book, and it was
fantastic. One of my best friends is an
English major, and William Faulkner is her favorite artist, so I knew I had
just found the perfect birthday present for her.
Then we discovered probably my favorite
part of that place: the old Italian Time magazines. First off, it was cool because they all said
Tempo instead of Time (I knew that meant time because the word is used in music
as the word for the beat/pace of the music, or the time. Boom.
Music helped me in real life outside of playing music). Second off, there were hundreds of these
magazines. Third off, they had magazines
from WWII. Like, whoa. Fourth off, THEY WERE FOR SALE. But, unfortunately, when I found one from the
heart of the war that I wanted, I asked the price to find out it was €30. I looked at the magazine I held in my arms
and thought, kind of heart broken, “that’s…that’s…a little much for a magazine…even
though it’s…a…really…cool…magazine.” So,
I sadly put the magazine back, knowing we had so much more shopping to do, and
as much as I wanted it, that was a lot to blow on something I couldn’t use
often, like a new outfit.
So we said goodbye to the Hipster
Bookstore and kept walking. We stopped
in this store, and we stopped in that store.
Side story: while in Assisi, I broke my $5 Aviator-look-alike-glasses
that I dearly enjoyed. For two days I
had been facing the bright outdoors with nothing but my bare eyes, and it was
getting old. While in Venice, I learned
that Ray Ban is an Italian company. They’re
this fancy-smancy sunglasses company if you didn’t already know. So, as we were walking down the Roman
streets, the idea of getting Ray Bans surfaced, but I was a little
hesitant. If I didn’t want to spend €30
on a magazine, how was I going to spend over €150 on a pair of
sunglasses?! But the more I thought
about it, and the more Da Fam talked to me, the more it sounded like a good
idea. I would use sunglasses a lot, like
every day a lot, and, how cool would it be to get real Italian Ray Bans? Super cool.
So we walked in the sunglasses store, and the store clerk helped me find
this really nice pair of Ray Ban Aviators, and I pretty much instantly fell in
love. Dang. I was about to drop €150 on these things. I mean, they’re literally fantastic, and even
though as I walked out of the store I had that feeling of, “what did I just do…”
they really have paid off, and my eyes really enjoy them.
Then we continued to head to the Trevi
Fountain, which was conveniently located near the good shopping street. So we went in a few stores, including THE
DISNEY STORE AHHH, and then made it to the Trevi Fountain. Have you seen the Lizzie McGuire movie? For all of you wonderful people that have,
you know what the Trevi Fountain is, and so you know the teenage-girl-freak-out-moment
we had.
 |
| Tossing a coin in the Trevi Fountain |
Next we took a gelato break and I got,
you guessed it, chocolate. We sat in
this little place, seven exhausted college students, trying to decide what to
do next. We wanted to relax and we
wanted wifi. Yes, I know “when in Rome!”
so why weren’t we wanting to seize the last little bit we had left in
Italy? Because we were stupid
tired. “We could go back to the Hipster
Bookstore.” Now there was an idea.
So we went back to the Hipster
Bookstore, and as I and two other friends oohed and ahhed over the old Time
magazines, I decided I was actually going to buy one. But, unfortunately, I decided it couldn’t be
a WWII one. It would have to be a
cheaper one. I finally found one that
was published a year after the assassination of JFK. The cover was a picture of Jackie Kennedy. What a great find! And for less than €30!
 |
| Just three history nerds enjoying the Hipster Bookstore |
My friend, though, lucked out. He found a magazine from the day before
D-Day, and it was a lot cheaper than the other WWII magazines. I’m jealous.
We continued to explore the Hipster
Bookstore until it was time to meet back up with the group. We had another great dinner, and a fabulous
end to a fantastic trip. We then went as
a group to see the Trevi Fountain at night, and then it was to the bus and the
hotel.
 |
| Da Fam with our trip long tour guide, Daniel |
We were up early the next morning and
headed to the airport to go home. It was
a pretty uneventful trip home. I mean,
besides my friend leaving her phone on the charter bus. But hey, mistakes happen.
After landing in Atlanta, we had a few
hours drive back to Starkville. We
stopped in Birmingham for dinner and to drop off the people that lived near
there. That. McDonald’s.
Was. Amazing.
We made it safely back to Starkville,
all in one piece, but all exhausted.
What a trip.
What an experience.
Let’s do it again sometime, okay?
Until next time,
Mo
