In which time is linear

Yes, I still haven't made a Prague post. I haven't gotten a chance to upload my photos yet. I'll make it very soon.

But today I was looking at my calender and (this happens a lot) started freaking out because it already feels like I have no time left in Rome!

I've basically got two weeks, then Spring break, then April, then May barely counts because I've got exams, then I leave in the 2nd week of May!

Ahhhh. It's coming up so fast!

Observations upon returning to Rome

I'll post pictures about Prague and everything later, but some initial thoughts as I wait to get off the plane.

1. I'm freaking exhausted

2. I love traveling but also I hate it. New cities and experiences= fun. The actual act of traveling= less fun.

3. We met a girl who's done this for the past three weekends. How is she not dead?

4. I'm seeing four countries while I'm here. Italy, the Czech Republic, France, and Germany. After being so drained coming back from Prague, I feel like four is a good number of countries to see.

The thing is when I came here, I really wanted to see Britain and Spain. Ireland and Greece too, but Spain was the top of my list. Unfortunately, due to time constraints and lack of traveling partners (it is really hard to find blanks on everyone's schedules, or people who want to go, and the two overlapping is rare) it looks like I won't be able to. And that's really disappointing for me. I've studied Spanish for four years, I really wanted to go to Spain.

But, you know, c'est la vie. It's a bummer, but what can I do about it? I'm not about to go traveling alone. 

It makes me sad, but I guess them's the breaks. I'm taking a few weekends to go to different places in Italy, and I have a few free weekends just for Rome. Which is think is really important, you know? The girl I talked to earlier- she's barely explored Rome, and we've been here for over a month. I think it's important that I get to know Italy deeply- there's a reason I'm living here. So Spain didn't work out this time. It does hurt, but I'll get over it. Maybe I can go with my sister for my college graduation or something.

Anyway, I guess what's I'm concluding as I wrap this up is that when we arrived back in Rome, the Italian felt so comforting after being away for a weekend. Rome, you may be a dirty, loud city that smells like garlic, but you're my dirty loud city that smells like garlic. (Subsequently, I've developed quite a taste for garlic since we've been here)

Czech me out

(I'm writing this on mobile, since I didn't bring my laptop with me, and I don't know how this will work, so the pictures might end up sideways and at the end. You're smart people, I'm sure you'll figure them out)

Today I went to Prague, in the Czech Republic! But before I go into that, I have other news. I officially booked my tickets for spring break! I have a friend who lives in France, and when she learned I was studying abroad in Europe, we decided that I should come visit. So for spring break I'm going to stay with her for a week, and I'm really super excited about it.

Anyway, awhile ago, three of my roommates and I booked tickets to Prague. I honestly wasn't thinking about it when I first came here, but I decided travel, why not? I'm so glad I did! This place is so beautiful.

The flight was two hours, and the view was spectacular.

However, once we got to our hostel, things started to go wrong. They told us there was something wrong with our room, and they'd found a new place for us, and the guy for it would be there in ten minutes. We were really upset because we'd specially picked the hostel for location, and we were worried they were gonna send us far away.

Then this guy showed up WAY more than ten minutes later, and said he was gonna take us to the new place. But he kept calling it "my place" and "my apartment" and we were like "...is this guy gonna kidnap us?"

Then we came up to this door that was half covered by plywood and I thought "yeah, we're gonna end up in this guy's basement"

But it turned out to be a legit hostel. And by legit hostel, I mean "it's a room with beds", which is really all we need.

After all this, we were starving, so we went to this place around the corner. It had a section of the menu devoted to traditional Czech foods, so I decided to order off that. I saw goulash, and I thought hey! My grandma makes goulash! I love it. It's a delightful marriage of noodles, ground beef, and sauce. I am in!

 

Well, it wasn't quite that. It was actually chunks of beef in a sea of sauce, with onions, yeasty bread, and something I think are dumplings? But my travel policy is "eat it anyway". (Which has served me well. In America, I can't stand olives, but in Italy?) And the combination of MEAT AND BREAD that the Czech seems to favor was very filling. I even got some Czech beer. And it's true- beer here is just as cheap, if not cheaper, than water. And it is good.

Afterward we just walked around Prague. It's so weird to be out of Italy. And the language... when you don't know Italian, you don't know what's happening, but you can pick some things out. In Prague, the language is not based in Latin and everything is long and has a million "k"s and "y"s in it.

After a long time of walking around, we got haggen-daas (apparently the Czech Republic is not as big on desserts as italy, where you can't go ten feet without tripping over a bakery or a gelateria) and then we stopped at a pub for a beer.

Now it's nearly eleven, we've got a full day planned, and I'm bloody exhausted. I'm going to go to bed. Tomorrow I'll try to take some pictures of the hostel.

In which I'm actually an adult. Jk not really.

On Friday night, the group decided to head out to Dar Poeta. It's supposed to be the best pizza place in the area, if not in Rome! It's in a bunch of travel books. They're super good but they don't take reservations at all, and some people will wait hours for a table.

We went out right when they opened, at 7 pm. Most Italians don't eat until about nine, so we missed the bulk of the crowd. We only had to wait a few minutes before we were seated. All of the tables were packed close together and the wait staff was pretty brisk- you got in, you ordered, we're done here.

The pizza was FOR SURE WORTH IT. It's easily the best pizza I've had in Rome (and it wasn't that expensive either). I can't remember the name of what I got, but it was supposed to have tomato sauce, mozzarella cheese, hot salami and hot peppers. (Tip for americans: tomato sauce and mozzarella cheese aren't givens for pizza here- they're just other toppings. So if you, say, order a pizza with mushrooms and olives- you might just get a piece of pizza bread with mushrooms and olives.) I couldn't taste the hot peppers, but it was so good I didn't even mind.

This feeds one person. Me. We also split a jug of wine. It wasn't great wine, but eh, it was wine. The thing here is that water can often be the same price or even cost more than wine! 

The people waiting outside as we left. It wasn't even peak Italian dinner time yet.

Saturday we decided to check out a supermarket not too far away. It's called "Eataly" and had been described as "Italian whole foods". We walked through some kinda weird neighborhoods and finally came upon it.

Ok, this place was insane. It was four floors, first of all, packed with different kinds of food. Each floor had at least two restaurants, bars, cafes, or gelaterias. We spent an hour roaming around and didn't even begin to see everything there was. I also made it my mission to snag some samples.

Italians are actually super into craft beer. I'm not really a beer drinker, but my roommate is, and she got a few bottles to try.

I didn't buy anything, though I wanted to, since most everything I needed I can get at the tiny grocery store near our apartment for cheaper. I was so tempted to buy a blend of spices, but they were all whole, and I'd have to buy a grinder, and I looked at the ingredients and saw the blend was only red pepper, garlic, and parsley. I can do that.

On Sunday we were going to take a trip to a smaller historic town in Italy, Orvieto, but when we got to the train station, the trains either left too late or the ticket prices fluctuated and were too high. So we decided to cut our losses and went to the market.

I don't even know how to describe the market. It's this giant sprawling thing that spreads at least 15 blocks, full of vendors selling everything from shoes to sweaters to kitchenware to jewelry. And everything is either mass produced or of...shady origins. But either way, it's cheap. My first week here, when our apartment was freezing, I got a sweater for two euros. It's huge and ugly but it's warm.

This time I got a microbead pillow (I used to sleep with one every night at home, and I've been missing it) and a pair of tennis shoes, since my mom can't ship mine up. I know they aren't the best quality, since, super cheap, but I only need them to last for three more months.

You also see these guys selling stuff on blankets at the market. They're illegal vendors, selling without a license. Every now and again you'll hear calls of "polizia!" and they'll grab their blankets and run like crazy. Good times.

Monday is my grocery shopping day. I did indeed pick up some garlic and parsley, since I already had red pepper. (They were like two euros a bottle, but that's not bad for how long they'll last and actually eating seasoned food.) I meant to make some chicken, veggies, and rice for dinner, but I forgot to get vegetables at the store. Whoops. Still, chicken and rice is a classic dinner and I'm sure I'm not the first broke person to eat it. Plus I actually seasoned my rice and it was super delicious. I'm like an adult and everything.

In which I fall in love (with Terni and chocolate. Mostly chocolate)

Yesterday AUR led a trip to Terni for the annual chocolate festival, Cioccolentino. It was about an hour's train ride, which I didn't really mind, since I got the e-book version of a few of my textbooks, so I just spent the time doing my reading for the next week. I'm getting super into this mafia book. I'm almost disappointed we're finishing with the history-heavy unit. However, we're moving onto the "mafia in film" section, so we're gonna start by watching The Godfather III. The book I'm reading right now is called Cosa Nostra: A History of the Sicilian Mafia by John Dickie. I'd really recommend it, especially for any history buffs. It's history, but it reads like a novel, not a textbook.

Also I gave my presentation! I think I did okay. My teacher seemed to like it alright. Plus it's slowly becoming painfully obvious that only about three people in the class are actually reading the book so I think I'm a favorite student by default. She was really mad about it last class. I have a suspicion she's going to start giving pop quizzes over our reading. Or maybe she'll just come down really hard on the test.

So anyway, yesterday we go to Terni. The chocolate festival was amazing. Not as many stalls as I had expected, but that turned out to be good, since the dozen-or-so stalls there were plenty for the likes of me.

The first thing I got actually wasn't chocolate- it was a cannoli! The first cannoli I've had since I got here.

This was one of the best things I've ever eaten, I kid you not. I've had a cannoli before, in America, but it was only a shoddy sad piece of fried dough that paled in comparison next to this magnificence. I am not worthy.

Next was a cup of hot chocolate. Which, uh, was not what I was expecting.

I thought it would be, like, a beverage. But it wasn't. It was literally just melted chocolate. Like the fondue kind. You ate it with a spoon. It was super delicious, but I could only eat about a third of it before I had to throw it out. There was just too much chocolate. But man was it good.

Most of the day was filled with wandering through the stalls, nibbling at various things, and generally embracing the spirit of "Treat Yo Self"

(Devin, look at all the chocolate tools)

Eventually we decided to venture out a bit into Terni. San Valentino (otherwise known as St. Valentine) is buried in Terni, but we learned his grave was about an hour away, so we decided against it and roamed for a little while.

Terni is...wow. It's absolutely beautiful. It's what I initially thought about when going to Italy. Don't get me wrong, I love Rome, but it's just so busy, all the time. It's like New York. That was one of the reasons I came here. I've always wanted to live in a city, and this was sort of a test run to see if I liked it enough to go for it.

Terni is lovely. It was so peaceful and quiet compared to Rome. Small buildings pushed up next to each other on cobblestone streets, soft Mediterranean breeze running through the clothes on the lines, just...it's amazing. I think I fell in love a little. I wouldn't mind living here someday, I think.

It's really hard to put into words but I did fall in love with this town. It's so lovely. 

At the end of the day, we caught a little bit of a magician's act. Terni's Carnivale was starting and all these little kids were dressed up for it. The best was seeing these little girls with pretty gowns on, and seeing their coat sleeves sticking out. It reminded me of when mom would make me wear my coat under my halloween costume.

My final chocolate haul. I got a few pieces of chocolate-covered fruit (I am all about that chocolate fruit combo) and a piece of chocolate bark. The woman kept adding things as I was paying, saying "you test this, yes? And this?" So I got a few free bits in there. That lady's alright.

In which I tell you about murder

I have my presentation at two, which is three hours from now. I'm a little nervous, since it's such a big part of my grade, but I think I'll do okay.

My topic is the vendetta against Giuseppa di Sano in 1896. She was this shop keeper in Sicily, and her husband worked as a handyman in a nearby warehouse. Well, it turns out the mafia was using that warehouse to produce counterfeit money. The police found out somehow, burst in, and arrested some of the mafiosi. One of the cousins of an arrested mafioso decided that she had told the police, and had broken omertà, the unwritten rule of silence. This was an offense punishable by death, and probably still is today.

All this strange stuff started happening. The women in the town would gossip about Giuseppa and her family behind her back. Sometimes she was accused of affiliating with mafiosi, sometimes she was accused of being a police spy. Either way, people wanted nothing to do with her. This is a mafia technique used to make sure that the people who get killed aren't missed by anyone. Then she noticed a hole in the wall across from her store- directly across. And finally, a strange man came in and made some very thinly veiled comments about death.

And this whole thing was all very public. Betrayal by someone outside the mafia is an external affair, and needs to be dealt with publicly, to send a message to others. Not to mention that at the time, the relationship between two local mafia families was very strained, and if order was not kept, then one of them might try to take the territory of the other, and things could get bloody pretty quick.

Finally, two weeks after her presumed offense, Guiseppa was shot in the arm as she stood in her store. Her 18 year old daughter, Emanuela, rushed to help her, and was shot in the head. Emanuela died, but Giuseppa did not. She would later become the key witness in a report against the mafia.

Meanwhile, there was all this drama in the mafia. This one mafioso, Buscemi, got arrested, and pointed the finger at the shooter, Vincenzo D'Alba. Everyone was super shocked because that's not cool bro. D'Alba's cousin, Antonio D'Alba, brought Buscemi up to the family as breaking the code of honor. Buscemi claimed that he was going to change his story later, to confuse the police and divert attention away from the family. Weirdly, the family said "alright, yeah, sounds good."

But Buscemi's godfather, Tommaso D'Aleo, thought that Antonio D'Alba was trying to cut into his protection racket, so he had him brought up to the family for accusing Buscemi. This time the family decided, in private, that D'Alba had to go.

So they killed D'Alba and stuffed him into a pit with three other bodies, which were later found and blown up into a huge inquiry.

But that's as far as my presentation is going to go. Yeah. Look at all that. It was a mess, by the way. The other families were not impressed by the shooting of Giuseppa- I mean, did she even do anything? And they didn't even kill her! These tensions would later lead to a bloody territory war.

And now some updates about my life, now that I've got your attention with murder.

I found out that I did actually buy hot chocolate powder! It's just that in Europe, they don't always add in the sugar to the mix. You're supposed to do it yourself. "Do you buy everything pre-made in America?" my German friend asked. Well, yeah, kinda.

I'm going to go to a chocolate festival this weekend. I mean, I may not have a Valentine, but I'm eating chocolate in Europe, so who's really winning here? We also may take a day trip out to a smaller town in the countryside, since Rome is sort of a metropolis.

Last weekend I was so drained that I just didn't go out at all. But I'm feeling a lot more rejuvenated this weekend. I've already decided that if we don't go out tonight, I'm going to spend the night doing a deep clean of my face and fixing up my nails. Both desperately need it.

In which I am definitely sick, and some Italian history

So I woke up this morning and yep, I was right. I am indeed sick. It's nothing bad, just a cold. I suppose it had to happen eventually. I mean, when you've got six people sharing one tiny kitchen and one person gets sick, you're bound to have a few causalities.

Last night was another quiet night. I think all the running around is finally hitting us all. We all went to bed early. At home, I normally stay up until two or three, but here eleven rolls around and I am out.

I'm at this very classy little cafe this morning. I don't have class until two, so it's a nice place to come work and sip at a cappuccino. It's really nice, cozy and warm and homey. My friend Dan discovered this a few weeks ago and dubbed it a good spot, and I agree. I'm going to come back here more often. (Side note: a difference between Italy and the US- here, you can just order a caffè corretto, which is something that you can't get in Starbucks. It's coffee with a shot of liquor in it. I have not ordered it, since it's 11 am and my life isn't that out of control quite yet.) The only downside is that it's down the hill, which means I do the stairs twice in one day. But that's good, I tell myself as I face down the stairs. This is a good thing.

The other night I went grocery shopping (I like to do it on Mondays) and picked out what I thought was chocolate milk powder. I mean, it was Nestle brand, and it had a picture of hot cocoa on the container. Great, right? Well, I'm not entirely sure it's meant to be hot cocoa. I don't know if it's meant to be baking cocoa, either. I don't know what this is. It dissolves well in milk, but the drink is just more bitter than what I'm used to. But not as bitter as baking cocoa. I don't know what exactly I bought. Maybe this is just how they take cocoa here. Either way, I mixed in a spoonful of sugar (which I also bought by accident) and it tasted just fine.

I've been learning some Italian history in my mafia class and my Italian culture class, and it's really crazy when you actually hear it. I've always thought of Italy as such an old country, while the US is so new. But Italy as Italy is actually younger than the US. Italy the land, and the culture, is of course far, far older than America, but it was colonized that entire time. By the time it was unified, it was in 1861- almost 100 years after our constitution was signed. And even then, people weren't so happy about being one country. The North and South of Italy are drastically different and even now they consider themselves different. And Sicily actively opposed joining Italy. It hated the idea. It had spent so long being colonized that it saw no difference between being owned by Spain and being owned by Italy.

Then as Italy was trying to learn how to be a country together, 80 years later, World War II came, and with it, Mussolini. Or, well, the other way around. By the time Italy sided with the allied forces, the King went to the south for his own protection, while Germany, unhappy with Italy leaving, sent troops to occupy the North. So here's the South, chilling with the King, while the North is involved with these German troops and having to organize its own forces.

The North wanted a republic. The South wanted a monarchy. Sicily still wanted to be left alone.

That isn't to say that Italians today are squabbling. They seem pretty united. But there is still a divide- are you a north Italian, or are you from the south?

Meanwhile, the mafia was in Sicily, taking advantage of the unstable government to put in action its own kind of justice and honor. But that's a whole other story.

On routine things

On sunday, we went to the Roman forum, which was amazing. I'm going to make a separate post about that, since my phone is charging in the other room and it has all my pictures on it. But the forum was absolutely breathtaking. It also gave me a minor existential crisis, but that's a post for another day.

Since then I've been plugging away pretty steadily at my schoolwork. Nothing too glamorous. Lots of reading. Today I decided I wanted to go to the café next door to try some Italian hot chocolate (supposedly it's divine) but when I went there before class, it was super packed and I had really hoped for a quiet place to read. So I decided to do that another day and just took a nice leisurely walk to class.

On the way, I stopped by a Tabacchi. They're these little shops and you can find one on almost every block. Technically they're tobacco shops, but they almost function as gas station-type shops. They sell phone cards, lotto tickets, bus passes, stamps, pens, lighters, candy, and other things like that. I needed some stamps so I finally got to pick those up.

Letter writing is an expensive hobby here. Stamps are the same price as a cheap bottle of wine. So I probably won't be writing too many letters while I'm here, unfortunately.

However, cinema club has its first meeting tomorrow and I'm excited about that. I tried yoga club and it just wasn't for me so it'll be nice to have something else. Also they have a literary journal here, which I'm thinking about writing for.

Speaking of writing, my writer's block seems to have vanished entirely since I arrived here. Motivation is a cruel and fickle mistress when it comes to writing. So, naturally, when I was home with time on my hands, I couldn't write a word. But now once I'm here and busy with no time for writing, my muse returns. It's funny like that.

My nose has been really stuffy all day, however, and I wonder if it's my turn to be sick. One of my roommates was sick last week and I suppose it had to happen eventually.

A tale of two restaurants

I know it's been a few days since I posted, but I've either been busy or exhausted, in alternating states. But, I return, to talk about a dinner two nights ago, and a lunch just now.

Since my last update, things have been pretty routine. I booked my ticket for Prague, and locked in spring break in Paris, so I'm very excited about that!

So on Thursday night, my roommate Caitlin said she'd heard of this restaurant that we just had to try. We were a little skeptical, as it was 15 euros a person, and we're all broke college kids. But we eventually went, because food. It was called Tony's.

It was the best thing ever. For our fifteen euros, we got endless water, endless wine, bread, foccaccia, fried asparagus, bruschetta, fresh mozzarella and tomatoes, and calamari. And that was only the appetizers.

Then the plates kept coming. Oh god, the plates kept coming. The waiters were hovering, barking at us to make room. We had no more room. We were eating bread at a magnificent rate and there still was no more room. We had to stack things precariously to make it all fit on the table. I've never had calamari before, and was pleasantly surprised enough to eat several pieces. 

Then there was the main courses. Penne in vodka creme and gnocchi in pesto sauce, followed by three plates of chicken parmesan. All washed down by more wine. It was the best and worst thing to ever happen to me.

And, as if that wasn't enough, the meal was finished with tiramisu.

And, being a gentleman, Tony (or rather, the waiter) gave us a bottle of wine from the restaurant to take home. Between the food and the wine, we had become rather fond of Tony, and gave him a round of applause. There was a little toasting, followed by shouts of "to Tony!"

Afterward we waddled home in a muddled but happy state, all declaring that we'd never eat again. I washed my face, flopped on my bed, and fell asleep in a comfortable food coma.

Friday was sort of calm, mixed up with wine night- this time featuring Dan's eggplant parmesan. He's going to spoil us and we're going to let him.

Today we got up early to see the Colosseum. You buy two-day tickets for both the Colosseum and the roman forum. We got a hint that the ticket line was shorter at the forum, so we went there and got tickets, then walked back to the Colosseum. And we did miss a pretty huge line! So, yeah, protip there.

The Colosseum was indescribable. It's so insane, being inside that huge structure, and thinking about the ancient Romans building it. You could look across the bottom and imagine seeing gladiators fighting lions, or imagine it filled with thousands of Roman citizens.

And take a few selfies.

After that, the group decided to walk down to a new piazza. Halfway there we got hungry, and I had the first bad meal since I've been to Rome.

The restaurant was just straight-up bizarre. We were sat down in the basement, which my friend described as a "classy subway terminal". There were black sequined curtains draped over random surfaces, a wall that was only mirrors, and it was weirdly silent down there, considering we were on such a busy street. The service wasn't good either- we asked for tap water, which they don't usually charge for, and the guy tried to tell us the tap water "wasn't good to drink" in Rome. Which is strange, considering we've been drinking it in our apartment since we got here. So we had to pay way too much for bottled water.

I got a dish that I'd gotten and loved in another place, and it was not nearly as good. Then at the end of the meal, Dan's chair broke. The back legs just popped off the rest. We made it stand up and then threw our money on the table and took off.

Afterward, the rest of the group went to the plaza, while I headed back. Our group stays out for hours, and I have a big presentation on Thursday that I need to prepare for. It's a big part of our grade, and everyone presents one day throughout the semester. I picked this week because I figured that once I start traveling, my motivation is gonna be sporadic at best.

On the way back I decided to stop at a street we passed. For those of you who know me, you know I'm a huge Lush Cosmetics junkie. Since I've been here, I haven't been able to use all my stuff, and my skin is not thanking me for it. Stress + new diet + no usual skincare stuff? It's a problem. I heard the shop was somewhere near the bookstore. So I poked around, and lo and behold, about five minutes later, I found it! Rejoyce!

The shop lady was very nice and let me try all of the fancy lotions on my poor dry hands. I didn't buy anything, because they were out of small pots and I was feeling broke after getting ripped off at the subpar restaurant, but the woman sent me off with some free samples of a face mask and face toner. Plus she slipped in the catalogue. "You can't read it, because it's in Italian," she said, "but you can look at the pictures!"

She gets me.

A few of my roommates are going out tonight, but I think I'm gonna stay in. I'm just feeling more of a quiet night tonight. I wish I'd bought some chocolate milk powder at the store, because I'd die for some hot cocoa right now.

In which I have a rough day

So yesterday didn't go as swimmingly as the other days did. For some reason I thought my morning class started a half hour later than it did, and once I realized that, I had to run out of the apartment with no breakfast, lunch packed, and with my hair barely brushed.

I made it just fine (a sweaty wreck, but fine) and thought I'd grab some food during my morning break. Well, no, because I ended up having to do some reading that took me my entire break and before I knew it, it was nearly time to go to my next class. My saving grace was that some students brought in leftover pizza to the student lounge from a presentation. It was kind of cold and soggy, but I was starving and even bad pizza isn't bad.

So I get done with my classes and go home, and all I want to do is sleep. But I signed up for a cooking class in someone's apartment, and I figured that I needed to go. I looked at the public transportation site to figure out how to get there, but either I read it wrong or the site was wrong because I got hopelessly lost. (I might be biased, but I'm blaming the site)

Anyway, it's cold, dark, pouring rain, and this creepy Italian guy starts harassing me. He seemed to speak English just fine but when I said "no, stop touching me", suddenly the language eluded him. (He kept trying to get me to take a taxi with him- yeah, that sounds like a great idea, strange man who is already ignoring my discomfort. Maybe you can meet my dad, Liam Neeson.) I passed by this group of girls about my age, said "oh, there's my friends", and walked with them for a block until he left me alone. The girls were confused, but when I explained, they were happy to help. Girl code is international.

(Most likely he was a pickpocket with how he kept pawing at me, but I held my purse tight and I don't keep anything in my pockets, so I'm fine)

I finally found an open place with working wifi, and google maps helpfully informed me that by the time I got to where I needed to go, the cooking class would basically be over. I decided to cut my losses, got a falafel wrap, and headed home.

The guy at the falafel place was almost nice enough to make up for the earlier creepy guy. He spoke very little English, and I spoke very little Italian, and he kept using smaller and smaller words in Italian in an effort to have a conversation with me. Then I accidentally gave him a 50 cent coin instead of a euro coin, and he had to politely explain that 50 cents was not a euro. I get the impression he thinks I'm kind of vapid, but nice enough.

So I finally go home, eat my falafel, take a shower, and go to bed. Ugh. Today I'm going to take it easy, I think. I bought all the stuff for French toast and I'm excited to make it. At least the sun is finally out.

In which there are stairs

A few times, while I've been talking to people at home about how much good food there is in Rome, I keep getting the same question. "How are Italians not all fat?" Well. I mean, it's a valid question. Italians aren't big on low-fat or "lite" food- food is meant to be enjoyed the way it is. Dabbing grease off a pizza is an offense. I've even started drinking two percent milk, as opposed to the skim I've been drinking my whole life, just because skim isn't really done here. (It is, but it's a little of an eccentricity. Also two percent tastes way better, and I'm beginning to feel that I've been lied to my whole life.)

So, with big meals, gelato, pizza, normal, regular-fat cheese, how is it that America is known for obesity?

Stairs.

These are the stairs I have to go up every day to get to school. They may not look like much, but there's six flights there. And the rest of the walk is a mile, half of it uphill, and then another four flights of stairs to my classroom. And that's all before I walk home, get groceries, go out with friends, go sightseeing, or just do what needs to get done.

Italians can eat all they want, because they walk it off just as fast as it goes on. In these past weekends, I've walked up to nine miles a day with friends, or for around six hours while we're just milling around, seeing things. My metabolism doesn't know what to do. I'm hungry all the time.

These stairs are gonna kill me. My roommates are all runners, while I've avoiding running with everything I've got. (I have a good reason. I hate it. So much.) So while even they're winded at the top, I'm slowly dying inside. If I die here, it will be these stairs. There's a bus you can take that skips them and most of the uphill climb, but I'm really stubborn, and by the time I leave, either I will have defeated these stairs or they will have defeated me.

I'm coming for you, stairs.

And it becomes really obvious that we're Americans there. There are classy businesswomen effortlessly climbing them while I wheeze my way up. There are small children climbing these stairs. I have seen hunched Italian grandmothers climbing these stairs, while I'm trying to play "Eye of the Tiger" in my head.

(Speaking of Italian grandmothers, there's this really old lady in our building that we've passed a few times. We exchange friendly "ciao"s and go about our way. But we've seen her on the stairs. Why would you do that, ancient Italian woman? There's an elevator! That woman is probably tougher than I'll ever be)

So, in summary, when I come home, I'm gonna be the stair master. I will be so good at stairs. You just wait. Either that or I'll never want to go on stairs again. But I'm optimistic.