Roma

Hola!

I have just returned from a weekend in Rome. (Disclaimer: for as obnoxious as it may have felt to read that sentence, I promise that it felt even more obnoxious to write it.) Like the other millions of enthralling blog posts composed by over-caffeinated, over-privileged college students, I shall start my tale at a place where many such tales commence: the beginning.

On my program, there are certain designated Fridays that are ensured to be "classless," i.e., classes aren't scheduled during these days in order to allow us time to travel (rough life, huh?). As such, come September 16, on a (very) early Friday morning, my fellow Praguer and Grinnellian Amanda and I dragged ourselves out of bed and began our journey to the Prague International Airport to catch our flight to Roma.

Many trams, planes, trains, metros and buses later, we arrived in Rome on Friday, around 2:30pm. Amanda and I met up with our other Grinnell friend Alexa (who’s studying abroad in Vienna, but had the week off to travel) before walking to our hotel. Similar to the start of any sort of trip I participate in, we became hopelessly lost and henceforth walked around the city for about three hours before finding our hotel. (Side note #1: Amanda and I use native people as maps. Alexa does not believe in interacting with natives for fear of being branded “tourist.” Side note #2: As three white girls with huge backpacks strapped onto our backs stumbling over ourselves, someone surmising that we were tourists would have been about as surprising as something that is not surprising at all, but is in fact very obvious.)

Anyways, after a nice, long walk (oh wait, it is also important to note that it was, on average, about 90 degrees the entire time we were in Rome, and incredibly sunny), we finally made it to the hotel where we discovered, to our delight (not), that the “hotel” consisted of three rooms and was owned and run by a family who spoke approximately zero English.

Somehow, we communicated that we had booked a room and were led to a hostel-feeling, but perfectly nice, room with two beds, a bathroom (and shower!) and a television. We then proceeded to sweat profusely and watch MTV Rome for about an hour and a half. After that, we (managed) to get it together, wipe off some of the sweat, and head back out into the streets of Italia to find something to eat for dinner. We decided on this place about a half mile away from the Trevi Fountain, where vines adorned outside seating and a man was playing accordion (not joking) to restaurant patrons. There was no outdoor seating, but we were led inside to a huge, open space with a winding staircase and murals of cherubs and Jesus spattered across the walls. Pretty beautiful. We started off our meal with a bottle of red wine and warm bread and shared plates of spaghetti in tomato sauce, meat sauce and squid-ink sauce (very salty, but really good!). I mean, I guess I don’t really need to go into it, but I will say this: The food. Was. Spectacular.

After that, we sat for about a half hour to digest and then meandered over to the Trevi Fountain. Holy cow. Maybe it’s because I was still starry-eyed about the fact that I was in Italy (Italy!), maybe it’s because I was a little drunk off the food and the wine, maybe it’s because it was nighttime and warm and breezy and perfect, but the Fountain was gorgeous and everything was wonderful. Alexa, Amanda and I all sort of sat in a stupor for a little bit before deciding to walk around a little more. We made our way to the Italian Parliament and some other really beautiful statues and buildings. (I just have to say here that, for the most part, I don’t really have any idea what I saw and did not see. But to be sure, I can pretty much guarantee that if you walk for more than ten minutes anywhere in Rome, you will find a building, church or statue that has been around for literally tens of hundreds of years. And they will all be some of the beautiful pieces of art you will ever see.) Somewhere in between the walking, we got gelato and it was great because it was gelato in Italy and how couldn’t that be great?

By around 12:30pm, we were all pretty tired so we walked back to the hotel and fell fast asleep. The next day we woke up at around 9am and made our way over to the Vatican (yes, that old thing). We started a tour at around 11:30am and didn’t leave until 4pm. The Vatican – for the moment putting aside any religious implications it may have – is one of the most beautiful museums I have ever seen and probably that exists in the entire world. There was artwork from everyone from Michelangelo to Chagall. The walls and ceilings were painted in the richest colors, with the most intricate details; there were murals of maps made in ancient centuries; marble statues of men and women and angels and animals; religious depictions of the same event created over the span of thousands of years; even the floors were filled with cracked mosaics.

Because I have to talk about it, the Sistine Chapel was stunning, except (this is a true story), when I walked in, the first thing I said was, “This isn’t what I thought the Sistine Chapel looked like!” (It wasn’t! Seriously!). We also went to St. Peter’s Basilica, which was equally stunning and about a gabillion times more ostentatious than any sort of building (secular and non-secular) I have ever seen or heard about. Of course there was a religious aspect (duh), but I was mostly struck by how unbelievably powerful the whole thing looked/felt, and really could only view it either as some sort of incredible historical tribute to art and history or simply as an ode to the sort of political power held by the Catholic Church. Either way, it was incredible.

After the Vatican, we walked back to our hotel (I am not exaggerating when I say our clothes were soaked in sweat – cuties!) and stopped at this gelato place called Blue Ice. It was AMAZING. Literally the best ice cream I have ever had in my entire life (and, as a Yacknin, I have tried aplenty an ice cream). Back to Blue Ice: you automatically get three flavors (I chose Nutella, Dark Chocolate and Dulce de Leche) and it came in a cone and they topped it off with some homemade whipped cream and another mini-cone.

It was just the best ice cream I’ve ever had in my entire life. I can’t even tell you. Alexa got Espresso and Strawberry (gross combination but the Espresso was life-changing) and Amanda got the same thing as me. Anyways, go to Rome and then go to Blue Ice. Then repeat.

All right, so Vatican, gelato, walking back to the hotel. We arrived at our humble abode, changed and watched some more MTV Rome (oh, we also played Set – I’ve been playing a lot of Set in Prague). We proceeded to relax and be content and finally wandered back into the square near the Trevi Fountain. We wandered off the beaten path for a little longer before finding this small restaurant where no one spoke English. We decided that was a good sign and ordered some more red wine, bread and pasta. Yum.

After dinner, we walked back to the Trevi Fountain and were sitting around again when we heard a collective gasp from the crowd. Some drunk guy had jumped up onto the rocks and was tentatively climbing towards the center of the Trevi Fountain. The police’s reaction was particularly peculiar, in that they started blowing their whistles really loudly and shouting exaggeratedly, but didn’t actually move from their cars, which were parked about half a block down the street. The crowd started laughing and clapping and whistling. It was really funny and produced a surprising spurt of camaraderie between the tourists and Italians, but then the man tripped a little bit and everyone realized how drunk he was and that he could probably die if he fell so everyone started freaking out. (By everyone, I mean everyone except the police, who continued to just chill by the Fountain, I guess waiting for him to either climb down or die.)

Anyways, after about five minutes of him stumbling and taking off his shirt and almost-dying, he finally fell off of the top rock into the water and emerged unharmed, much to the crowd’s simultaneous relief and delight. The guy staggered out of the water and was promptly arrested. But it was awesome! And hilarious, when we found out he didn’t die.

After that, we got more gelato and walked around and went to bed.

Finally, on Sunday, we woke up early again and walked to the Coliseum and the Pantheon. (Sorry I’m getting really tired because I’m writing a lot and it’s late, but) they were both really cool and historical and mind-boggling in that they’ve been around for literally thousands of years.

We ate lunch in between our visits to the Coliseum and the Pantheon at some place that was HORRIBLE and it was so sad – the pasta was cold and the sauce tasted worse than Chef Boyardee’s. So depressing. But our last dinner was pretty good and then we all took a train to the airport and said bye-bye, Rome. I got back (back home?) at around 2am and now it’s Monday and I’m in rainy, cold Prague trying to put off doing homework and just finished eating cold cereal for dinner (I know, I’m sure you all feel really bad for me). It is weird, how Prague is starting to feel more like home in some ways, but still feels very strange and unsettling in others.

Okay, but just to get everything out, some general thoughts about Rome: I think the part I was most struck by was simply how exquisite even the rattiest looking alley really was. Truly, walk ANYWHERE and you will find some priceless, beautiful piece of architecture and artwork. It was amazing and I’ve never been anywhere like it. Rome also reminded me the most of New York City than any place I’ve ever been (except for New York City), in that city felt alive, the subways were crowded and hot, everything was crackling and bustling, and everyone everywhere was beautiful and exceptionally well dressed. Admittedly, there were some idiosyncrasies of Rome that made me feel, at best, uncomfortable. The amount of begging was on par with places like DC and LA, except it was the type of people begging that was, at least to me, most upsetting. Beggars were mostly children and very, very old women. If they didn’t adhere to one of those criterion (and sometimes, even if they did), beggars usually had some sort of severe disfigurement: amputees, twisted limbs, stooped spines, missing eyes, etc.  I’m not sure exactly what to take away from this, other than it was a very resonating observation. Another thing was the somewhat polar interactions I had with Italians, neither of which was particularly engaging. On one hand, a lot of Italians tried to talk to us because we were three, very clearly American, girls. This was fun for obvious reasons, and funny (though not always haha funny) in that it was obviously an act and fueled solely by the fact that we were American. The other sort of “act” most often presented to us was Italians keen on egregiously ripping us off in one way or another, whether it was on cab fares, t-shirts or meals. Obviously, this is their sole income and a lot of people rely on tourists to make a living, but it was outrageous, and sometimes seemed almost cruel, the ways people attempted to exploit and rip-off tourists. I don’t know. I, at least, was offended, if only for the fact that so many people thought I was actually stupid enough to believe that a 20-euro hot dog (albeit with genuine Italian meat!) was a fantastic deal. I mean, really?

That being said, I absolutely loved Rome and can’t believe I saw everything I saw. There was this one moment in St. Peter’s Basilica, where there was this Michelangelo statue of Lady Madonna and Jesus that I had learned about in my art history class last semester and I walked past it once before doing a double take and elbowing past the crowds to get a closer look. This was something I had learned about, read about, talked about, wrote about, and here it was, right in front of me. The whole thing was pretty incredible.

I just can’t believe I have all these opportunities, you know? I love travelling!

I also, however, love sleeping, which is something I have to do to ensure both my consciousness in class tomorrow and general sanity in life. So with that, I shall wrap up what is surely the longest of my posts thus far and hit the snooze button in my brain for at least a few hours. I love you guys very much and thanks for reading this (or thank you for not reading this, is what I should probably write.)

Again, I can’t really tell if it sounds disingenuous, but I really, really miss you. Things are getting way more familiar here, but it’s not anything I’m very comfortable with yet, and it gets a little scary and feels a little weird sometimes. But for the most part, everything’s really great.

Okay! Love you guys, miss you lots, talk to you soon.

Na Shledanou,

Leah

P.S. Something I was thinking that may be interesting to read (not that everything I write isn’t brilliant/exceptionally interesting/etc.) is more of an update of my day-to-day life in Prague. I realize my last two entries have just chronicled different trips and, although exciting, are not exactly accurate depictions of my routine life in Prague (which is also pretty cool, for different reasons). I will try to do that next time. I’m not travelling again for another month (when the Central European Studies and Jewish Studies kids embark on a ten-day journey to Austria, Hungary and Poland), so there will be plenty of time to record my adventures and mishaps v Praha (in Prague), though I can’t guarantee anything as riveting as drunk people fall/diving into the Trevi Fountain.

Cesky Krumlov

A not long time ago (September 11-12), my program went on a weekend trip to Cesky Krumlov, a very small, quiet town about three hours from Prague. We left early Sunday morning and stayed until late Monday afternoon. The town was beautiful. It’s definitely a touristy location (a big hotspot for honeymoons) but they’ve done a good job maintaining a sense of originality and authenticity – there’s no chain-stores allowed (no Starbucks, shopping malls, etc.) and most of the food is local. It sort of reminded me of a small New England beach town in that it was very quaint and very charming, though there were some exceptions; namely, a castle, moat and bear guards (no seriously, there were literally brown bears guarding the castle).

Once we arrived, we checked into our hotel (it was really nice – each room was unique, and the one I stayed in was filled only with wooden furniture [except for a huge, plasma TV that didn’t work?] and had really high ceilings [my favorite thing in the world] with wooden beams and paneling) and unpacked. We explored the town a little bit and ate lunch at this vegetarian, pseudo-Indian restaurant. There were tables outdoors that were placed right along the river and it was really pretty and idealistic and sort of felt like you were looking out onto the set of a movie because nothing in real life is as pretty or perfect. Oh, also the food was good.

After we finished our meals, we took an extended tour of the castle (they said it was a “special” tour, but I’m pretty sure they say that to everyone). My group’s tour guide was some dude from Florida who had visited Cesky Krumlov thirty years ago, loved it, moved there, and has never looked back. The castle was really cool. It’s the most historically accurate castle in all of the Czech Republic (maybe Europe?) and about 86% of the stuff in it is original; it looks the exact same as it did a million years ago, blah, blah, blah (no but it was really cool!).

In the middle of one room was this enormous, gleaming chariot thing that was completely covered with roughly five pounds of 14-karat gold. I think the guide may have made a note about how the royal people forced their servants to carry them into rooms on the carriage, but I also could have just imagined him saying that, as I was absolutely not thinking about what I myself would have done as an 18^th century Czech royal who owned a 14-karat gold carriage. Absolutely not thinking about it. At all.

Oh yeah, there were also TONS of bearskins in every room. Apparently when the guard bears die, they just skin them (sorry, this is gross) and then decorate the castle some more, which is really all I have to say about that.

Another cool room was the ballroom, which was this huge hall that kind of reminded me of a temple sanctuary. It had a lot of open space with lots of mini-balconies where people could go during the ball to rest and watch other people and gossip and make out (I made that last one up). The walls were decorated with these really detailed, beautiful murals of people dancing and jesters jesting and stuff. Most impressively, though, were the different placements of mirrors – all of varying shapes and sizes – that were meant to be “enchanting” and “bewitching,” but really probably just functioned as a huge source of confusion to those in attendance.

Anyways, the reason why it’s worth mentioning the decorations is because of the motivation behind the decision to feature the mirrors as a ballroom focal point: THEY WERE SHOWING OFF BECAUSE IN REAL LIFE, MIRRORS WEREN’T EVER USED BACK THEN. Like, no one knew about them! They weren’t even invented until the Enlightenment! Essentially, Czech people in the 18^th century put so many mirrors in the ballroom to show off how hip they were. And thus concludes my explanation for Mirrors in the Ballroom (doesn’t that sound like the name of some horrible romance novel?). But okay, moving on. 

That night, I walked up to a landing at the top of a hill and saw a view of the entire city of Cesky Krumlov. It was, in a word, stunning. 
The castle, the rooftops of the ancient houses and buildings, the moon was glowing, and – I swear – the sky is a different color in the Czech Republic than it is in the United States. It has a kind of velvety texture, that isn’t navy, but sort of looks like a deep black that’s been painted over with some hue of royal blue. Breathtaking.

Well, that same night my entire program went out to dinner together because the directors had rented out this restaurant and hired a “gypsy band.” The food was good – whenever food is paid for, I basically try to order whatever dish has the most amount of meat in it, since I can’t afford it in real life and thus am probably severely protein-deficient (or at least I think I am, which, in terms of how much the whole “lack of meat” thing affects my life and health, is arguably the same thing).

The “gypsy band” was really just a group of Romas playing music at us and smoking a lot and yelling while our directors kept telling us to give them money. It was fine.

One thing that I haven’t really fully processed yet is the weird paradigm between Czechs and Romas (lovingly and politically correctly referred to as “gypsies,” in a similar syntax as one might say “I just ate some maggots.”). For the most part, I think racism is discussed pretty openly, and I would posit that many Czechs feel passionately that racism is bad or wrong.

However, the notion of “racism” or “prejudice” doesn’t seem to blanket the Roma minority. It’s mostly covert discrimination, in that it’s not super blatant, although there is a LOT of legislation, especially in regard to housing and work-related issues, that oppress and marginalize the Roma people. Most of the explanation I’ve been presented with when I’ve challenged/heard people challenge this sort of Czech ethos is that it’s not as if Czechs want Romas to be dirty people who steal things and are stupid and can’t do honest work and have a million babies that all turn into thieves and mongrels – believe them, if the Romas could be as educated and good as Czechs, they’d totally be down to treat them equally – but it’s just that that’s the way things are, so why not accept it and move on?

I don’t know. As I said, I haven’t fully processed either the situation or my experiences yet, and I don’t think I necessarily know enough, or am well-versed enough, to wax poetic about the social injustices of the Czech Republic from only a month’s experience (though to be fair, hello, have you met my parents?) It’s something worth exploring, at least, and I’m excited to learn more about the historical and political contexts of the Roma people.

But back to Cesky Krumlov. The next day (Monday) was a free day, so we ate at that vegetarian restaurant again (yum) and went to the Schiele Museum. Scheile was some German (actually maybe Austrian? yeah, he was definitely Viennese) painter who visited Cesky Krumlov and mega fell in love with it. He moved there, but his art was really controversial (a.k.a. he liked painting naked little girls [but not only naked girls, he painted some really beautiful things, as well]) and too avante-gardeish so he got kicked out. But then everyone was like no just kidding, you’re going to be really rich and famous, come back. So that was cool. And then we played in the river a little bit and left!

It was a really nice trip and now we only have three days of school before I embark to Rome, otherwise known as my vacation from vacation! Yahoo.

Okey dokey, well, I’ll update again soon (maybe). Probably if you’re reading this, I love you and miss you a LOT.

Mom & Ima, perhaps I’ll call you out in a more public forum in order to bring you the inevitable eternal shame that attaches itself to those who experience an egregious bout of disenchantment with their firstborn, but seriously, can you guys please visit me?

That’s all for now! I love you.

(Also, e-mails about your lives and what’s going on in the United States – has the crazy that is Michelle Bachmann subsided yet? – are very much appreciated, if you have the time or inclination.)