Step, Step, Breathe

Some people believe that without history, our lives amount to nothing. At some point we all have to choose: do we fall back on what we know, or do we step forward to something new? It's hard not to be haunted by our past. Our history is what shapes us... what guides us. Our history resurfaces time after time after time. So we have to remember sometimes the most important history is the history we’re making today. 

     I woke up to my roommate bursting into my room singing “rise and shine and give God the glory, glory! It's beach time!” I untangled myself from the covers and pushed myself into an upright position. Holy hangover from hell. It wasn't even my 21st the night before and I was still feeling it something fierce. “How's the hangover?” my roommate asked. “Like a brick wall,” I responded, beginning to become more aware of this awkward feeling. Knowing it would be a long day, I drank ½ a liter of orange juice and found my swim suit and packed up for the day's adventures.

     We made the plan to head out at 10am in order the hit prime beach
time. The six of us planned to take the bus to Termini station so we knew where we would be going for the day trip to Assisi the following day. We got our bus tickets and fought our way for a spot on the bus. The thing about plans is that they never go as expected. Some of us are better at dealing with it than other people and are able to improvise; But some just have to move on to plan B and make the best of it. I would like to mention that I am the master of unexpected [mostly bad] things.

Caves at Porto d'Anzio

     With everyone packed like sardines in a can, reaching the little yellow ticket validator was going to be a virtually impossible task. The bus lurched and I felt that nauseating sensation rush through me. For 10 minutes, my sole purpose in life was keeping myself from expelling the contents of my stomach all over the bus. Once a seat opened up and I sat down, we realized the bus was headed in the wrong direction and we were going to have to ride it around the complete cycle. I sat with my head in between my legs and tried to keep focused on my mission. The next stop came and passed. Only two more to go until our desired destination. Apparently, I was so focused that I didn't notice the police ticket-checker-men getting on the bus. They randomly get on the buses to check to see if everyone had stamped their tickets and fine the stowaways who don't.

     Just then, I realized that I had completely forgotten to validate mine once I had sat down. I thought back to our pre-departure seminars and how they were 'very strict and don't care if you play dumb or are a foreigner and unfamilar with the system.' I attempted to play dumb anyways (which received multiple congratulations for being done so well), but I still got yelled at in rapid, pissed off Italian. I kept saying “No capisco, parlo un poco Italiano (or something like that),” and he just kept flailing his arms and yelling. The priest sitting to us chuckled and muttered, “a 50 euro fine... ooooh that's bad.” He then proceeded to tell us how they've been asking for our passports. This guy knew what they were saying and just decided to watch us and laugh. And of course, in my hast of packing I didn't grab my copy of my passport this morning.

Largest dandelion, EVER

     Apparently, lack of documentation and failure to produce the appropriate fine on the spot gives them the full right to arrest you and cart you off to jail. I dug through my bag to find money and came up with 30 euro. 20 short of the full fine. With no passport and no money he kept trying to grab my arm and said 'stazione' multiple times. Ashley threw a 20 in my direction and I shoved the money into the screaming man's fist. He piped up on the spot and began writing me my 'receipt.' I decided that I'm going to save it for my mixed media scrapbook I have to make next month.

     So, after all the stress, my stomach was still feeling topsy turvy and we had finally reached the train station. After almost being dragged off to an Italian prison for not having 50 euros and the necessary documentation, I am now a much smarter lady.

     That whole mess was really a bummer and made the beach a little less

Little boy playing hide-and-seek

enjoyable than it could have been. But, in all honesty, it's no one's fault other than my own. So, I just forgot about it and went exploring in the little caves at the beach and climbed up some rocks and saw multiple stunning views before deciding to head back to Rome.

Alleyway in Assisi

     Through the train window I watched as the sun began to sink lower into the sky. A rusted, white jeep was driving on the gravel road alongside the tran, barely keeping pace. The wind swept the man's hair over his face and instantly I wished I was back in Iowa. Riding along the windows down-just driving. Doesn't matter to where or with whom, I just miss that feeling of freedom that I don't get here. It makes me restless being crammed in between so many strangers not only on public transport, but the streets as well.

     I've felt like I've fallen into a kind of funk recently. I need to step out and get a look at the bigger picture of what is really going on with my life. I'm in an astounding place having an experience that most people won't ever get. Studying here is so different than what traveling would be. I'm living my life as an Italian. I go to the market in the morning, hold Italian conversations (however broken my Italian may be, I still try), and still get ticketed like an Italian. I feel taken advantage of by the people around me and I'm almost positive it's because I'm too nice. I'm not going to dwell on that now though, I have other stuff to write about. In particular, about our trip to Assisi the next day.

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Outside the Basilica de San Francesco

     People pushed themselves onto the already packed train. The seats were filling up and I hurried and claimed one next to my classmates for fear of being enclosed by random strangers. The doors buzzed as they slid shut, signaling the beginning of our two and a half hour journey. The early morning sun filtered between the trees and splashed a golden hue across the side of the train. 7:45am came rather early from the few hours of sleep I had received the previous night. Darting in and out of tunnels, the pressure in the cabin kept changing causing everyone's ears to pop. The experience was way worse than that on the plane ride over to Europe. Multiple times I felt the pressure rising in my head making me feel like a balloon.

     Arriving in Assisi, my chin dropped as we got off the train. Unfolded before us, were a series of rolling hills with one large peak in the middle that the main churches sat upon. Ascending the hill, I gawked at the view below. After an hour of sketching in Basilica de San Francesco we visited other churches and ultimately one of the castles on the hill.

The depth of the hills was phenomenal

     This castle rested upon the very peak of this hill and could only be visited by walking up a 70% grade hill. After 10 minutes of choppy alternates of jogging and walking, I fell into a rhythm. Step, step, breathe. Step, step, breathe. As we reached the peak, we could see rain off in the distance. Squinting, I could see the cloud cover moving as the rain swept across the town below us. Slowly, but surely, the rain was going to reach us. We began to book it down the hill, hoping we would beat the rain, but about halfway down, I began to feel water droplets on my arms. I stuffed my camera into my bag but not after finding the largest dandelion I've ever seen.

     Foom. Rain poured on us making the cobblestone slippery. My shoes already have poor traction and I concentrated on staying upright. Making it back in one piece, without any spills, I successfully haggled a bracelet down from 4 euro to 2 euro before heading back. I slept through the ear popping train ride back and popped in a few episodes of Glee before passing out for the night.

The Rain Storm

    This morning, I woke up to check my email but didn't get as far as even signing into gmail before my computer died. As I plugged it in my finger must have touched the outlet when it sparked because a huge jolt when up into my arm and through my body and grounded itself on the floor. I screamed and dropped my charger and just stared at the little white rectangle on the wall that just zapped the crap out of me. Fortunately, I've been shocked worse so this was barely even comparable. In Houston, I ran into the electric fence in the tiger yard measured a billion-some-odd volts. That literally burned a line into my arm so this was nothing close to matching that. Still, being half asleep it scared me awake and my hand was red for awhile but it's all wonderful now.

Perfectly Wonderful

     I made myself feel better with the logic that, 'I just electrocuted myself, I deserve to go to London.' So, I bought a plane ticket to London for July 8-13. Going back to London is going to be exhilarating. There's so much I didn't know was there that I learned while I was here and going back is going to be a phenomenal trip. Plus, I'm going with one of my best friends from here and get to show off my wonderful Londonian friends to her.

     With all this excitement from the last few days, it's been nice to spend a day relaxing in Rome. I'm currently having wine and chocolate as a snack before grilled cheese for supper. First art history quiz of the semester tomorrow so I need to finish up my readings.

     Oh. I need to get a tripod as well. My digital photography class is coming up. As well as my 21st birthday in 8 days. Send money.