When In Rome...

Cairo, Egypt

This city is dirty, hazed by smog, hard to deal with, and amazing.

Last night at 1:00 in the morning Ariel, one of her roommates, and me went to the airport to pick up her friend Liz who also came to visit. We decided to dress in the traditional Muslim hijab, or head scarf, because it is much safer to be a Muslim woman in Cairo than simply a woman. Egyptian men are very derogatory towards woman. They will hiss and say dirty things to you as you pass in the street. Roman men are the same sometimes but I know how to handle them better. We dressed in hijab because Muslim woman, while not treated anywhere even near equal to men, are more or less ignored by Egyptian men. It is difficult to say what is better, being treated as if you didn’t exist or being degraded. In this case, being so late at night, we chose ignorance. So we walked out of her flat and caught a taxi. The corruption in Egypt is everywhere. An American will get ripped off endlessly by the Egyptians and not even know it, which is why I am very glad to have Ariel with me. She is usually able to negotiate the asking prices down to a much more appropriate fare. However tonight, dressed in hijab and being thought Muslim, the taxi fare to the airport was the lowest she had ever experienced. The Egyptians will take advantage of you and demand an unreasonable price for almost everything if you are not experienced in the culture. Muslim woman are more respected in this way which is shameful. I never understood how much freedom and equality America offers until experiencing religious, gender, and ethic inequality like this.

After we woke up this morning we took a taxi to the Pyramids of Giza. The Egyptian drivers are even more ruthless and artless than Italian drivers. We take taxis everywhere though, so I have become accustomed to it. Cairo is enormous in size with a population to match. I have never imagined a city this large and even being here it is still unimaginable. We got to the Pyramids and Ariel warned of the many men and children who would approach asking for your tickets and tricking you into buying things. I have seen people like this around Rome, but the men and children here, starting at an extremely young age, are much more crafty and artful in their approach. While it is a hassle having to ignore them and say “la”, the word for no in Arabic, I was able to do so. However we didn’t ignore everyone asking us if we would like to ride on a camel, because we actually really wanted to. Ariel negotiated the price of a ride and was amazing in doing so. She refused to pay more on principle even though if you convert the price into US dollars it is not a large difference. She would say, “la, give me an Egyptian price” and start to walk away, and when she did they would start to renegotiate. We ended up finding one for 60 Egyptian pounds for Ariel and me to share a camel ride and for Liz to tag along on a horse. What an experience! I had so much fun, I even got to steer the camel. At one point we were so far ahead of Liz and the Egyptian man that we looked as if we were two American girls riding on our very own camel in the middle of the Egyptian desert. Ariel would call out in Arabic to the Egyptians saying hello and how are you. They were so intrigued, smiling and laughing at the site of the two of us. We rode around having an absolute blast for nearly an hour before the camel very abruptly sat down, almost throwing us off, and our camel adventure came to an end. We continued around the pyramids for a bit and went to the sphinx, took lots of photos, even making a composition of the sphinx and me kissing. It is really a mind blowing experience to be surrounded by these enormous, ancient structures. Roman history is so old itself, but when compared to Egypt it’s the new kid on the block. It’s fascinating standing in the presence of these structures reflecting on everything that I have learned about them. It is unimaginable how people were able to build the pyramids and create this art and take part in a complete, civil society over 4,000 years ago.

We later went to the Egyptian Museum of Antiquities which is where all the belongings of Tutankhamun’s burial place are preserved. The museum, like everything in Cairo, is rather dirty and poorly lit, but the effect of its belongings is still marvelous. I saw dozens of mummy coffins and Ancient Egyptian jewelry.

Now I am back at Ariel’s flat relaxing before we head out for a nice dinner along the Nile and then out for the evening. Every time I drive over the Nile I think to myself, wow, this is where civilization began. The thought makes me feel the same way as I felt at the Coliseum. I feel as if I am a part of history. It is so interesting how the world advances and how each civilization can contribute and leave such an impression on future generations.

Religion rules the daily life of Islamic Egyptians. How they think and act, what they wear, and their daily activities. I see men take out mats in the middle of the street at certain times of the day and kneel down to begin chanting prayers and worshiping. Since today is Friday, the holy day in the Islamic religion, I can hear Muslim prayers from outside loud and clear, they are very serene sounding. I love comparing the sounds of the cities I have been too; each is so distinct. In Rome I listen to church bells and accordions, and in Cairo I hear prayers. I am so glad I decided to make this trip and experience a culture like none I have known.. It is true the differences are vast but it is much easier to get caught up in the difference and overlook the similarities. While it is easy to stereotype Egyptians men as crude, Egyptian woman as ignorant, and a majority of Egyptians as people skilled in the craft of scamming you, I have also found it importent to remember that a lot of the people here are people just like me simply living, getting along, and in their hearts, mean good. I am also now convinced that no matter where you are, all humans truly are just want to interact and have fun, and laughter is everyone’s devotion.

Italian Politics

Its been fascinating studying politics in Rome. The system here, while constitutionally designed similar to the USA, functions very differently. I have been enjoying learning all about it in my classes and I am trying to stay updated with the local politics. Politics plays such a large role in Italian life that it is hard to ignore it, especially when I live next to the Senate and a block away from parliament. Currently, the state under Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi has a monopoly on the news outlets in Italy. Recently, an independent left winged paper, la Republica, reported on the Prime Minster sex scandals and the Prime Minster has threatened to sue the paper. This has caused a massive movement of the left demanding for greater freedom of press.

Two days ago I walked down Via della Corso, the main boulevard in Rome, to get to Villa Broghese which is a peaceful area of huge gardens in the north of Rome. I was dressed in sneakers and a tank top all ready to go for a leisurely run in the gardens. However, when I got to Piazza del Popolo at the end of Via della Corso (stick with me, don’t give up!) there were many more people than usual. I began to look around and saw that they were setting up for a rally. There were booths everywhere selling red t-shirts with the Communist hammer and sickle logo in yellow among other leftist apparel. There were men from the la Republica selling newspapers and people had started to fill the square. I continued on my way only after joking about the irony or an American in Italy being stuck in the center of a Communist rally (a thought that still makes me laugh). I ran in the gardens and around Galleria Borghese and when I was done headed back to Piazza del Popolo. I looked down on the square from the hill above and in the short time I was gone the piazza had filled edge to edge with people. Music was playing, chants were being yelled, and there were la Republicas everywhere. I fought my way though the crowed to make my way home, glad I had been able to witness Italian politics in action.

Later on I went to dinner with a few girls. Our waiter stuck up a conversation and asked us what we were studying. I answered politics and he immediately apologized for the confusion and intricate difficulties of the Italian political system. He then went on to inform me that his Prime Minister, Berlusconi, was a fascist, which by now, especially after witnessing the rally earlier today, I had come to see as a widely held belief by the Romans.

Italian politics sure is a lot to handle. I guess it can best be summed up by saying that in the past 60 years, Italy has seen more than 60 different governments. That’s a whole lot, and each one has an interesting story to tell.

Venice

I just got back from Venice and it was a trip I will always remember. The city is so unique that it is difficult to imagine its splendor and charm if you have never been. The girls and I had breakfast at Café Florian, the first place in Venice to sell coffee back in 1720, (that’s a whole lot of caffeine!) On Saturday we climbed to the top of the bell tower and the view was sensational. Afterwards we headed to the island of Murano where all the Venetian glass is created. There, I saw beautiful glass rings in a store but when I picked it up it shattered on my hand, cutting a few of my fingers, (pictures above for those who like a little gore). The lady in the shop bandaged me up and I went on my way. We went back to Venice and walked to the Rialto Bridge where we all sat down for dinner outside in a small square. After dinner the girls and I left for a nighttime gondola ride down the canal and it was as lovely as it sounds. Our gondolier was such a pleasant man and he whistled and pointed out important buildings as we rode along. It was simply beautiful. We docked and left the gondola with smiles and walked back to St. Marks Square. It was past midnight by this point but we sat in the middle of the square and laid down on the marble stone laughing and sharing stories about how amazing our night in Venice had been.

Caravaggio

Today for my Baroque Rome class we saw all of the Caravaggio paintings that are still insitu in Rome today. We went to three churches and marveled at the paintings. I was astonished by his talent. I always appreciated Caravaggio’s tenebrism but have never fully understood its magnificent affects until I was standing directly in front of his works. It amazed me. The way light was painted and the effect it had on how I interpreted the painting. Art historians are not lying when they say nothing compares to the sensation that comes with viewing a masterpiece in the setting the artist meant for it to be seen. I was truly astonished by Caravaggio’s talent and have officially added him to my list of favorite artists: Manet, Sargent, Turner, and Caravaggio.

Ischia

I just got back from the island of Ischia, which is right off the cost of Napoli, above Capri. Ischia is bigger than Capri, and less touristy, which is why I chose to make it my first trip. We left the apartment at 6:30 am for a 7:30 train to Naples. We arrived in Naples around 9:30 and decided to get something to eat. We began to look for a café when we saw a local down a side street and asked them, “Pizzeria?” with a questioning look on our faces to clear up any confusion. The lady beckoned us to follow, so we did. She led us a few blocks until she recognized a man on one of the street corners. They spoke to each other in Italian, so I could not understand, but then she gestured for us to follow him. It was something that would have never happened in America, yet is very common here. We needed help finding something to eat, and since we didn’t know the language the local Italians actually took us to the pizzeria. A few blocks later we arrived at the restaurant and the man talked to the guy inside for a bit. By this time it’s 11 o’clock and we were told to come back at noon. We thanked everyone for their help and said we would be back. So Briana, Melanie, and I went and got some frozen espressos at a café and sat for an hour before heading back to get pizza. Finished with lunch we walked in the direction of the sea to find the port we would be leaving from. The ferry ride was beautiful and I loved seeing the Italian coastline. When we arrived in Ischia we took a bus to the opposite side of the island, Forio, and walked to our hostel to drop off our bags before heading to the beach. We only had an hour of daylight left to swim but we mostly just goofed around and giggled and took photos, excited to be on the island on our first trip. We left the beach and walked around the little town of Forio, poking in some shops and grabbing a spinach sandwich from the streets. It was getting late, so we went back to the hostel to change and then back out to a pastry shop we had seen on the main shopping street hoping we could sit down and enjoy a cannoli. We ordered our desserts at the counter, which we soon realized was a mistake because we had to stand and eat instead of sitting. Either way, the cannoli I ordered was amazing. We finished and left and walked around for a while hoping to find something interesting to do. After a while of walking aimlessly we decided to head back to the pastry shop and order a few drinks. The islanders speak much less English than the Romans. It took a little while for the young bartender to understand but eventually I got the point across that I wanted a frozen espresso drink, like the one I had earlier, but this time with Bailey’s mixed in. The German woman at the counter next to us giggled, whispering to her husband, “the girls are trying to spike their coffee,” and the two of them laughed at us jokingly thinking it was very funny and cute. We got our drinks and since this was our second time at the pastry shop that day, the owners, a middle aged man and woman, were more helpful. We finished up as the shop was closing. We tried to talk to the bartender, who may have been their son, for a while, but he didn’t know any English. Either way it turned out to be a great night. We were all glad we went back to the pastry shop for the second time, I think the owners really appreciated us trying to do everything right, or the Italian way.

The next morning we woke up and were on the way to the beach around 10 o’clock. We ended up on a beach down on the side of a cliff that turned out to be where the locals go, not the tourists. It was an awesome beach. We walked along the water’s edge and looked for pieces of pottery that were smooth and washed up on the shore. At the end of the beach were some rocks we climbed on and they were so neat, dropping off into the sea, making a little cove. We played there for a while and swam and laid in the sun until we got hungry for lunch. We decided to go to a place we had walked by on our way down to the beach. It was quaint and pretty and sat on the corner of a cliff overlooking the ocean. We sat down to eat, the only ones there besides the man and woman who owned the restaurant . Tthe owner came over and asked us if we wanted lasagna for lunch. We didn’t really understand so he beckoned us to follow him to the kitchen. There were two pans of fresh, home cooked lasagnas right there that were just made. We said we would take three. He brought the food out to our table and we ate a delicious, home cooked meal while a few tables over him and his wife did the same.

We got a cappuccino and headed back to Forio to find a bus that would take us to the hot springs that were supposed to be on the island. We got on the wrong bus a few times before finally choosing the right one. We kept on having to ask people for directions but since no one spoke English it was difficult. Hand motions and charades came in handy more than once. After a long journey trying to find the hot springs on the island we got to a road that must have been 2 miles long and very, very steep. We walked all the way down, hoping this road truly was leading us in the right directions. We got to a landing finally and saw people in the ocean below lounging around like they were in hot tubs in the middle of the ocean. So excited we found them, we ran down the steps of the beautiful cliff, right before dusk, dropped our things, and sat with all the locals, lounging in the natural hot water. You could see the steam coming from the mountain’s edge. We were among the only few people there who were not locals, which was fine until a madman who the locals call “Nino” came out of his cave-like-house right next to the hot springs and began yelling with another young man in the water. We got a little nervous, not knowing what was happening, and decided to head out. We climbed back up the landing, out of breath, still with a steep, long climb ahead of us, and it was getting late. Luckily we saw a taxi down the road and asked him for a ride to the top instead. Five minutes later we were back on the bus heading back to the hostel to shower before another night out.

We sat down at a café in the square in the middle of the hubbub around the shops we had seen the night before and all ordered brochette. We finished dinner and for desert we headed back to the pastry shop for drinks and pastries. I ordered a lobster tail pastry, at least that’s what we call it in Boston. I asked the name of it in Italian but they didn’t understand my question. Then I ordered the same drink as the night before, and the shop owner and bartender laughed saying in broken English, “You must have really liked that then!”. The three of us sat down at one of the two small tables, as if we were locals, knowing exactly how this ordering and eating business worked. We could tell the owners had warmed up to us, especially since we loved their pastries and were so determined to do everything right. We chatted and joked and ate and drink and had a blast sitting in that little, family owned and run pastry shop, as if we were all best friends. After a few hours they were closing and I decided to ask if I could buy the plate my pastry came on. I thought it was pretty and it had the name of the pastry shop so I thought it would be a nice souvenir. The kid our age asked his mother, who mans the register and is the most stern of the three, and she said no. We went up to pay for our drinks and the owner gestured to his wife at the register to charge us less. I asked again if I could buy it, and this time the owner looked at me and winked, gesturing for me to take it with me, and jokingly holding one finger up to his mouth whispering “shhhh!” as not to let his wife know.

We had the most amazing day in Ischia and truly got a sense of what it feels like to be a local living on the Island. The next morning we packed up our things, but before we left, we went to a new beach for an hour and while it was lovely, it was full of tourist and not nearly as neat or as beautiful as the one the day before. After, we grabbed sandwiches and one more frozen espresso. At this café, I again really liked the small glass and dish my frozen espresso came in. So, of course, I asked the waiter how much. He took the dish from me and went inside. I really didn’t know why until he brought it out all clean and told me to take it with me.

We caught a ferry back to Naples and quickly got on the train to head back to Rome.

Ischia was an amazing experience. It taught me a lot about traveling and culture. I think the most important thing we did on the island was going back to the same pastry shop multiple times; it truly made the trip worth while, getting a sense for the people that live there. The hot springs were so unique, and the beach a beautiful cliff, but that pastry shop is where I learned the most about life on that island, as well as indulging in delicious deserts.

Its been a while.

Well as you all probably would have expected once classes started up I have had a little less time to blog. But here I am, back in action. My classes are going well. After the first week I was a little worried I wasn’t going to enjoy them the second week has gone quite will. I guess that just teaches me a well needed lesson in the Italian lifestyle: don’t worry much, things work themselves out. I just got back from my American Foreign Policy class and it is unbelievably interesting looking at American foreign policy from the vantage point of another nation. Beliefs we have as Americans that we seem to think as universal usually aren’t.

I have been especially busy the past few days because my aunt Peggy and uncle Bill are in town. We have been to the Coliseum, the Roman Forum, strolled around Trestevere, and tonight we are headed to the Spanish Steps. I have been to the Vatican twice this week, once for class and once for a tour of the gardens.

As you can see, I have been very busy bustling around the city of Rome, and still fitting in time for homework and classes. Last Friday I decided to dedicated to art. I made reservations for tickets to Galleria Borghese for me and a few of my roommates. I have been excited about this museum since I took my very first art history class and discussed the works of Birnini. The gallery is located at the far and of Villa Borgese in the north of Rome. We left our apartment around 10:30 since we had a 1:00 reservation at the museum and didn’t know exactly how to get there. We made it to the park and followed signs to the museum and got there a half hour early, which was actually right on time. First, we picked up our tickets and then checked our bags. I decided to spend 5 euro on an audio recording that tells you about all the art as you view the pieces, those were 5 euros well spent. At 1:00 the doors opened and I entered the beautiful building. The audio recording led me though the rooms, telling me about all the major works of art, though I already knew some information from my own previous research. When I walked into the room showcasing Gian Lorenzo Bernini’s Appolo e Dafne I was instantly mesmerized. The detail and sophistication shown in this sculpture was unlike any other I have ever seen. I was transported into a realm of ecstasy, so happy and excited to finally view with my own eyes a sculpture I have learned so much about. My expression much have matched the sensation I felt in that moment since a man came up to me and said, “I have been studying are for many, many years, and I have never seen anything this beautiful”. As he spoke I realized the smile that had spread across my face when I entered the room and the bewilderment in my eyes as I gazed at something so lovely. I think the man was happy to see that someone in a younger generation can be as awed and moved by a piece as he is. In that moment I felt like I gave the man both hope and certainty that art like this is everlasting and its ability to enrapture the viewer will never waver.

I still have so many unchecked boxes on my long list of works of art I want to see in Rome. For the first time since I applied to study in Rome I am beginning to think that even three and a half months of living in the heart of the city isn’t enough time to see all of Rome’s intricacies and delights. I am certainly making the most of my time here and am trying to explore as much as I possibly can. Keep looking for updates! I will write as often as I can.

Ciao,

Samantha