Ciao Bella!

Bongiorno! (as corrected by AP)

Very early Monday morning, bleary eyed and exhausted, I breathed a content "I'm home" sort of sigh and stumbled into bed after an amazing five day trip to Italy!

At 3:45 AM last Wednesday, 7 friends and I met in the Crofton lobby to begin our journey. It was raining buckets, and a distinct fall chill had settled into the air - not to mention how extremely early it was. Still, the promise of sunshine and an amazing vacation loomed in the near future, and we were inspired to carry on. After a long, sleepy bus ride on the N9, we arrived at the world's most confusing airport: Heathrow, and somehow managed to wind our way to our gate to anxiously awaite our 6:50 board time. By 6:52 there was still no Alitalia staff insight. Ah Europe! How I love your relaxed style. Finally, by 7:00 (take off is supposed to be at 7:30) a lady decked out in red, white and green shows up. Clearly, this is our girl, and sure enough, she begins the boarding process. She took my ticket, and I began wandering through a labyrinth of inner-airport space. I was overcome with a sneaking suspicion that this was the same sort of space where 'the-other-sock' and belly button lint reside. Finally, after wandering for an eternity and considering the possibility that I had fallen down Alice's rabbit hole, I made it to the plane and settled in.

At 11:00 the plane landed at Fiumicino airport in Rome. The sun was shining. It bounced off the grass, which rather resembled a pot of linguini, and filled the air with a warm, late summer light. Oh, sun! How I missed you. In London, the sun is cool, aloof and far away, but this sun was attentive and hospitable. She warmed me all the way to my bones - a quintessential Italian mother fussing over and comforting her children.

We dumped our luggage at the hostile and decided to take a Hop On Hop Off bus to get a lay of the land, and to knock out some of the big sights on our to-do list. Here's what we saw:  

The Colosseum

Tons of beautiful fountains. This picture doesn't do justice.

The Monumentale de Vittoriano - 

where I fell down the steps and had a bruise on my tuchus for the rest of the trip! 

The Trevi Fountain

Where I threw in a penny and made a wish...

Plenty of Vespas of course...

And many beautiful pillars, columns and monuments.

The Pantheon

Beautiful Italian homes on piazzas...

Finally, we ended our first day in Rome with a breath-taking sunset on the lovely Spanish Steps.

For our second day in Italy, we took a beach trip to Sperlonga. The next morning we met in our hostel lobby and headed to the train station - sans coffee. At the station, we discovered that the next train to Sperlonga was leaving in 15 minutes! In a flurry, all 8 of us managed to purchase tickets, but we couldn't quite decipher the platform information board. Naples, Sorento, Milan... none of these destinations were on our ticket! What platform do we go to? We were running precariously low on time, and everyone was starting to panic. After much frantic scurrying and a bit of a leap of faith, we all made a run for what we hoped was the train to Sperlonga. Huffing and panting, I was just inches from the train, and the doors began to close! I jumped from the platform over the gap onto the train where I managed to get roughly the right side of my body through the doors before they shut with a dull thud onto my torso. My left side hung precariously on the other side of the doors, but after a bit of awkward pushing of metal doors and pulling of flesh and bones, I was able to get all of me onto the train - all with no coffee! At this point I was about ready to cry from caffeine withdrawal, but as there was no cafe car to be found, I settled for a bit more sleep instead. 

An hour later we piled out of the train station and into what we hoped was a cab and not some scamming guy with a van's car. After 20 minutes of driving through twisty turvy roads and listening to what I'm sure was (confusingly) a mariachi band playing on the radio, we arrived at the most beautiful scene, got ourselves some breakfast and coffee, and lounged away the morning.

Check out that water!

Photo  courtesy of Courtney Allen

Lounging...

Sometime around late afternoon, early evening, when we were all sunburned and water logged, it was time for some pizza, and we thought it would be a good idea to look for some up in the mountains. The village of Sperlonga was nestled gently into the crevice of the mountains which lined the shore. It crept, twisting and turning around corners, and vibrant bouganvilla spilled off the sides of walls. 

Photo courtesy of Courtney Allen

Photo courtesy of Courtney Allen

When we could climb no further, the stairs stopped and the walls opened up onto a beautiful piazza where there were a couple of very local restaurants. The restaurants were so local in fact that we ate all of their mozzarella in fantastic caprese salads! 

Photo courtesy of Courtney Allen

After lunch we grabbed some gelato - the best I had all trip - and spent some time taking in the view. In one corner of the piazza a circle of elderly men sat chatting - solving the problems of the world. 

Day three we visited the Vatican and St. Paul's Basilica. I have no words (but lots of pictures)!

School of Athens

Amazing ceilings

The Thinker

When I got back to London, my Catholic friend informed me that I had committed terrible sacrilege by taking photographs in the Sistine Chapel. I guess I will just have to repent for it on Yom Kippur...

St. Peter's Basilica

On Day 4, three of us went to Florence. It was absolutely gorgeous. I got to see some of the major Florence sights: the fake David, Il Duomo, many other Michael Angelo sculptures etc, but what I really loved was the beautiful countryside. It truly looked like a Van Gogh painting - the cypress trees, the coarse yellow grasses. His brush stroke, texture filled canvas come to life. I can't wait until one day when I can explore all of those castles nestled in the hills and maybe even tour Tuscany. 

For our last night in Italy we ate the most fantastic dinner I have ever had in my life - bar none - at a family owned place near the Colosseum: La Taverna dei Fori Imperiali. If you're ever in Rome, go there! We ate fantastic Anti pastas of eggplant parmesan, calamari and bruschetta with bacon and balsamic vinaigrette and drank copious amounts of red wine. My pasta al carbonara was to die for! 

Photo courtesy of Courtney Allen

Photo courtesy of Courtney Allen

What a perfect ending to a fantastic trip!

Ciao Bella!

  

Sloppy Hems, Frizz and Babies in Plastic

Well, up until now we have been pretty lucky with the weather, but here comes the rain!

I'm now beginning to understand why people walk around with giant umbrellas even when the sky is perfectly clear and blue. You just never can tell with London weather! After living in Boston for so long where the wind blows unsuspecting umbrellas inside out at the drop of a hat or catches under the thing and pulls you down the street in real live Mary Poppins style and the rain blows in sideways and soaks you anyway, I decided that umbrellas were useless marketing ploys and a waste of petroleum products and refused to purchase one for quite sometime.

Well, it seems that the rain of London is of a different ilk. This rain is of a much more proper nature. I wouldn't expect anything less from London. It generally falls straight down, as rain is meant to do, and the wind hardly bothers to blow at all. If the wind does blow, it is a rather calm and collected sort of wind. Still, due to my current prejudice against a certain rain-shielding device, I have been wandering the streets of London sans-umbrella stepping in neatly collected puddles (though sometimes the puddles are more like small lakes) and receiving wet sloppy pant hems in return. I suppose the puddles can't be avoided and said device wouldn't help such matters, but at least it might solve my frizzy hair problem.

Even the babies in strollers have umbrellas of sorts in this city. There are these funky little plastic bags (they sort of look like the long term storage bags that you pack all of your winter clothes in before putting them in the attic and forgetting about them for eons) that Londoners put over their babies' strollers. It's quite an odd site - a baby in a plastic bag! Bubble babies?

Anyway, it seems perhaps the smart thing to do would be to purchase an umbrella.