God Winks, or Really More like Flying Tackle Hugs

I'll never cease to be amazed by the gifts and blessings Florence continues to bestow on me each day that I'm here.  It really is simply astonishing.

I've been having a rough few days here.  Not bad, just rough.  I'm a Senior.  With that profound revelation, I've come to realize that this is a really big chapter in my life.  And as every proper chapter has, there is paperwork.  I've been trying to submit my application for graduation and I have yet to succeed in this endeavor.  Between my battles with fax machines and pure dread, it's been a process.  Maybe its a sign that I'm not supposed to graduate yet, but I really don't believe that's it.  Along with this stress and irritation, I've come to realize that I'm standing in the middle of a threshold.  Thresholds are usually a one-way thing.  There's no going back.  With that being said, it makes me sick sometimes to realize what I'm missing back home.  My brother Daniel's freshman year in college (the only year we'll share), my brother Patrick's senior year in high school, my sister Anna's freshmen year in high school, the move, talking with my Mom, joking with my Dad, Homecoming, Philanthropy Week, the Hopkins, my CLCs, late night burger king runs, swapping music, homework parties that of course are never really productive, being a part of the Rockhurst family.  I wouldn't call this homesickness, but there are definitely certain elements of home that I miss.

Today, however, I decided I was going to pull myself out of this minor slump.  There's just one little hitch to that- sometimes things are just completely out of your control.  But that's not always a bad thing.

I successfully navigated my way through classes, which really is no credit to me and strategized that as soon as class was over, I was going to find a nice quiet place and give myself some me time and read Eat, Pray, Love, which is one of my favorite books ever.  As class was released, I realized that I would feel much better about myself if I just got the stupid application out of my way.  Amended plan: find a copy store and take care of the application and celebrate with me time.  And send a quick e-mail confirming a service training.  Sending the e-mail and locating the copy store went fairly smoothly until I got there.  It was closed. After a little bit of huffing and stomping down the street, I decided that I could still salvage this episode and made the decision to find an American bakery one of my teachers simply gushed about.  Nothing sounded better than a cookie, maybe two, and my book.  So off I went.

The wind was being ruthless on my trek and was insistent that I relive the classic Marilyn Monroe pose. (Yes!  I was actually wearing a skirt!) At first, I was a little peeved about it, but I couldn't help but start to laugh and love it.  I mean, it's kinda fun to get to compare yourself to Marilyn Monroe.  I had a nice walk to simply take in Florence and enjoy some truly wonderful Fall weather.  Again, nothing I can take credit for.

My navigation has proved to be quite commendable here, which is a first really, and I found the supposed location of the bakery with no issues.  But it wasn't there.  Or at least it wasn't open.  Apparently it had already been closed for an hour.  At that point, I felt like a little kid who had just had her balloon popped.  A part of me really did deflate.  I couldn't win!  All I wanted was a stupid cookie!  Was there something wrong with that?!   And more than that, I actually do want to graduate!  Could technology cooperate just this once?!!?  And then comes the mental Gibb's slap.  (C.S.I. reference for those of you who missed it.)  Samantha, what are you doing to yourself?  Yeah, you want to share one of the best experiences of your life with the people you love most, but that's not the hand you've been dealt, so let's remember that you can find happiness, and sure, your current plan for happiness didn't fly, but there is always something else.  Now go freaking get it!

With the mental pep talk out of the way, I headed home and decided that I could still treat myself to a nice dinner, a.k.a., eating a LOT of bread.  And this is where I lose control again.  But I needed to.  I can't credit my happiness to myself alone and it's blessing to have people who make my life the beautiful and joyful thing it is and to partake in the love of a God who is so generous in His love and true in His plans.  What's next was simply a God Wink.  A "Hey, I'm still here, too." from the ultimate loved one.

As I headed home, I noticed a church was open for visitors.  Actually, I wouldn't have noticed it at all if someone else hadn't been looking in.  In a "Why not?" moment, I went inside.

I've seen a lot of pretty churches, don't get me wrong, but this one was built just for me.  It was quiet and dark and almost empty.  Art covered every inch of the interior and votive candles were everywhere.  Straight ahead of me when I walked in was a side altar with a kneeler right in front of it.  After a little bit of time taking in the art, I was simply drawn to this side altar.  On this altar, there was the image of a tree.  A tree.  Something strong and enduring.  Something that started small and was made great.  Something with powerful and sturdy roots.  Something that with all it's might and being reaches for the sun.  Something I needed right in that moment.  So on that kneeler, I reconnected with a loved one.  There, I made an official home.  I now know Florence is home because I know that my loved ones are always with me because their love is always with me. I know I'm home because it wasn't really a God Wink after all.  It was a Flying Tackle Hug.

Add the new Mumford and Sons album playing as I walked into the apartment and an apartment outing for gelato and the world is a friendly place again.  Not to mention that my adviser JUST e-mailed me about receiving my application.  I guess control is overrated sometimes.  Flying Tackle Hugs are much better.

Praying that you are blessed with many Flying Tackle Hugs and anxious to give you one myself,
Sam

How are CLASSES?! You know, the reason you went to Italy, learning from books, yada yada yada . . .

The above is a quote from my mother- after several e-mails of me ignoring her ever constant question- how are classes?
I've honestly been putting off answering this question for you all because how interesting of a post can this be?  Yeah, I sat a desk for a few hours and got talked at and then left.  But I think it's time to answer the question because it is the reason I came to Florence after all and luckily my classes aren't quite as boring as just depicted.  In fact, they're really not boring at all.  They're quite glorious really.
Let me tell you about my schedule first.  I only have two classes each day.  Pretty sweet deal.  What makes it sweeter is that my school week is only three days- Tuesday through Thursday.  Can you say living the dream?!!?  It is every college senior's perfect set-up.  Life is grand.
Tuesday I have Anthropology from 9:30 to 11:30 and Italian from 3 to 4:15.  Wednesday is Intro to Journalism at 9 to 11 and Intercultural Communication from 3 to 5:30.  Thursdays I have my Food, Culture and Society class (essentially a cooking class) from noon to 2:30 and Italian again from 3 to 4:15.  Never has it been so good to be a student.
So let's start with Anthropology.  I have no background in this subject, whatsoever.  It has always sounded super interesting to me and when I needed an extra class, it felt like a good choice.  I has thus far greatly enjoyed it, but this teacher has an interesting quirk.  She'll offer a question that is a little challenging, but doable.  One of us will be brave enough to answer it and we'll come up with intelligent and fairly accurate answers.  Immediately she'll spout of, "Why?"  This goes on for several rounds until we simply give up.  She will have this Cheshire grin on her face and basically tell us what we have been telling her for the past 10 minutes, but in more concise terms.  It's one of those "duoh.." moments.  A fun fact about this class is that there are only five students in it.  And Rockhurst just likes to think it has bragging rights about small class sizes..
My Multicultural Communication class goes along really well with Anthropology.  Both obviously revolve around interacting with other cultures and a lot of the material double dips.  I like this class because the professor integrates a lot of application.  She uses a lot of examples and frequently asks us to step back reflect on our experience and the impact the information being provided could have on our lives.  She is engaging and uses activities in class which is nice when you have to sit through a two and a half hour class.  Because I only have each class (except Italian) once a week, the class periods are much longer.  We are given coffee breaks at some point in the middle of the class to break it up.  How much the Italians love their coffee will never cease to make me smile.
Italian is slowly growing on me.  I went into the class thinking I would absolutely love it and I would pick it up rather quickly given my background in Spanish.  Wrong.  The thing about Italian is that it operates in a different phonetic structure.  So I'm pronouncing everything as you would in Spanish and I'm pronouncing everything wrong.  The class has yet to really exhibit much structure and it drives me a little crazy to come home after class and listen to my apartmentmates practice all the Italian they have learned when I still don't even know numbers.  Luckily things have started to pick up this week, but I still feel really behind.
I've fallen in love with my Intro to Journalism class.  Of course, the thing with me, if the class has a knowledgeable and engaging professor, there is high probability that it will become a contender for my new favorite class.  My professor is still fairly young and an American who has moved here.  She loves getting to know us on a personal level and really loves her subject.  She has a way of making it interesting and making us still do serious work.  She one of those teachers that if you don't personally give your best, you feel as though you have let them down, and that's the effect she has on me.  Between the class and this bog, I've come to realize that I really enjoy writing when I have something that I really want to talk about and now my imagination is trying to create some job that involves helping people (I do still want to stick with counseling) but I want to write too!  Houston, we have a problem.  This is not healthy talk for a Senior in college.
Finally, the best for last- Food, Culture and Society.  God himself must have created this class.  I get to, for two and a half hours, sit around and talk about food, then make the food we talked about, then eat the food that we just made and shoot the breeze with our chef.  Hee.  How fun is that to say?  I have a chef.  ; )  He is also young and pretty quirky.  He likes to just talk and keep us engaged.  And the food- good Lord, the food.  My taste buds don't know what to think after the class.  There's disbelief (wait, YOU made this food??), shock (food tastes THIS good?!), and pure joy (and I get to eat as much as is available because Chef Walter said I could!!)  My mouth pretty much starts automatically watering as soon as I walk into the class or really whenever I think about the class.  Woops, just got a spot on the keyboard..
The school I'm attending is called Palazzi.  It is a school made up of several different schools around the city. I technically go to school at Apicius International School Hospitality, sQuola, Center for Contemporary Italian Studies, and FUA, Florence University of the Arts.  There other schools with other emphases, but these are the three that I am a part of.  This makes getting to class very interesting.  It's not every day you have to battle a mob of tourists to make it to class on time and you want to be in class on time.  Attendance is not something they take lightly here.  Two tardies equals an absence and if you have three absences, you automatically fail the class.  This has required some extra responsibility on my part.  Gone are the days that I can wake up fifteen minutes before class and call it good.  It takes thirty minutes to get to one of my classes and you are also expected to look semi-presentable.  T-shirts are almost non-existent here and that has been an interesting learning curve for me.
You also know you're out of your league when one of the professors offhandedly mentions that this palace, blah, blah, blah, but naturally, all you got from the sentence was 'this palace.'  Excuse me, but what do you mean by "THIS palace"???  That's right, folks.  FUA is a converted palace in which a member of the nobility used to live.  It's not everyday that you get to say something like that.

Life Happens

I've often been told that we learn from our mistakes.  While I have battled with myself from time to time about whether I believe this to be true or not, I decided this weekend, that I do indeed believe it to be true.  Considering a good many mistakes were made on my part this weekend, I have decided to impart some tips with the hope you can learn from my mistakes and avoid the hassle yourself.
This weekend, ISA (International Studies Abroad- my program) offered a weekend excursion to Cinque Terre (that means 'five lands' in Italian) which consists of five different villages right on the coast that are connected by a trail running along the coast.  They are small and quiet and stunningly beautiful.  As much as I love Florence, I've come to realize that I miss seeing green in my day-to-day life, so needless to say, I was greatly looking forward to taking advantage of the hiking trail.  My expectations were high and I couldn't wait to get going on this great adventure.  However, it seems that Saturday morning I forgot how to properly start adventures.
Mistake #1- Not setting your alarm.
My apartmentmates were kind enough to arouse me that morning with 10 minutes to spare before we were supposed to leave for the train station.  I had thought I had set my alarm the night before for a full hour before we were due to leave so I could shower and pack, but its not a real day in the life of Sam Gormley if a little dysfunction is not present.  For anyone who has lived with me, you can imagine the scene that is taking place right now- shooting straight up out of bed, spitting out very colorful words about as fast as I'm moving, which is a blur, a cloud of clothes, hygiene products and other traveling necessities filling the air around me as I pack at lightning speed.  15 minutes later, I'm out the door, looking semi-presentable, though a little disgruntled and on my way to the train station.
Tip #1- Remember to ACTUALLY set your alarm.
The journey there was uneventful and I arrived in significantly better spirits.  We were dropped off in Levanto and made our way to the hostel, getting an opportunity to take in the town as we went.  Seeing the beach and the cliffs had us all practically giddy, and we couldn't wait to venture off in the town.  We powered through settling in the hostel and lunch, then took off as soon as we could.  I couldn't even tell you where we ended up, but we found an obscure road that led to a wall, which made a great post to climb up and get some great pictures.

Well, I think they're great pictures..
After a little bit of wandering, we met up with the rest of the group and headed for the train station to go to the first town of the Cinque Terre, Riomaggiore.  That's where we would begin our time on the trail.  The first section is called Lover's Lane and it is the easiest part of the trail, but this isn't a very good predictor of what the actual trail is like considering this was simply a sidewalk on a cliff.  Very cool, absolutely stunning, impossible to forget.  I guess you could say this is where my little roller coaster ride of a weekend starts.  I was with a group of four girls and the staff members only had a limited number of maps and train schedules.  One of the other girls was given the map and train schedule, so I knew I needed to stick with her.  We got separated almost first thing on the trail, but I just assumed that I would meet back up with her at the next town.
Mistake #2- Assuming that people are going to do exactly what you think they will.
This isn't life.  Let's be real.  When we got to the end of that section, the staff members wanted to show us the town and I got a little distracted from my condition.
Tip #2- Good communication, or, at least for the love of all things holy and good, have their phone numbers.
In Manarola, the second town, we were shown a popular place for swimming.  Instead of a beach, it's simply a road that goes down into the sea.  It's surrounded by cliffs and in the middle of the cove was a giant rock people were doing high dives off of.  It was wonderful and I couldn't help going down to get a closer look.  The water was so clear you could see a school of fish swimming around the rock I was on.  A friend and I poked around for a little bit and I just couldn't help but try to wade into the water a little.  Well, attempt to wade anyway, what occurred next happened so quickly I'm not even sure how it happened.
Mistake #3- Do not assume that your favorite pair of shoes, no matter how reliable, are going to save you from looking like the biggest idiot ever.
I was successful for about two steps and as my friend was in the middle of asking me if it was slippery, I'm in the water.  Why yes, yes it is slippery, funny you should ask.  I landed on my knees somehow instead of my butt and wiped out again trying to stand back up.  Thankfully, I was rescued by a nice Italian man who didn't speak a word of English.  As if my pride wasn't smarting enough, he pointed down to my leg and then walked away.  Looking at my leg, I guess I was lucky that these weren't shark infested waters.  And fun fact about me: I can handle blood- so long as it isn't my own.
Tip #3- If the locals aren't wading in, then maybe its a good idea that you don't either.  That, or come prepared with a lot of band-aids.
To recover from my fall and smarting pride, Brittney and I grabbed some gelato and rested for a moment.  Then we started to notice that no one else from our group was around.  I called one of my apartmentmates and I was informed, in a very urgent manner, that everyone else was at the train station to go to the next town and the train was leaving in 10 minutes.
Mistake #4- Not paying attention to instructions given or what others are doing.
The funny thing about paying attention to directions is that it might save you a power walk through a crowded  town with a knee and leg bleeding freely.  And it will save you all the awkward questions you're going to get about you the parts of your body that are bleeding.
Tip #4- Know what's going on.  Knowledge is a good thing.
We made it to the train successfully and went to the next town.  We found out that it really didn't matter where we were right now because we had free time for the rest of the day.  While the rest of the group went on to find some dinner, Brittney and I decided we weren't ready for dinner yet and that we would start hiking the rest of the trail.  Compared to what I was now experiencing, Lover's Lane was a joke.  These trails go straight up, then straight down.
Mistake #5- Thinking you're perfectly OK to hike a little over 4 miles with a cold, fresh injuries, and a half-empty water bottle.
I'm pretty sure I put the huffing and puffing of the Big Bad Wolf to shame.  I made it, but there certainly were times that it wasn't pretty.  The views, however, compensated for that.  There just really aren't enough words in the English language, so I just have to keep using the word beautiful.  You could sit in place for hours and just watch the day pass by and be the most content you've ever been in your life.  You're winding through grape and fig orchards and watching the waves crash on the coast is mesmerizing.  By this point in the day, the sun is beginning to set and everything is bathed in the most wonderful light.  You can see the towns you've come from and the ones you're walking toward perched on the cliffs and you just want to find a way to spend your whole life there.  After the way my day had played out to that point, I wasn't the happiest of campers, but that turned everything around.

Brittany and I finally made it to the second to last town on the trail, Vernazza, and we had a decision to make.  Race the sun and try to make it to the next village before dark, or give in and take the train back home.  Determined not to have to give in and use our one day train pass that day, we opted to take the chance and push forward.
Mistake #6- Thinking you can hike faster than the sun sets.  It's like daring Mother Nature and she doesn't take crap from anyone.
Little did we know that we had also just embarked on the hardest part of the trail.  I thought we would never stop climbing up.  It just went on and on.  We would pass by people coming from the last town and they looked at us like we were nuts, starting as late as we were.  Turns out we were a little nuts.  We made it to right about half-way when we finally had to pull out our cell phones and a small flashlight I just happened to have and make our way back with only that light to guide.  You want to talk about a trust walk- try hiking at night.  The path was incredibly narrow and extremely steep.  Brittney and I both took spills at one point or another, but were lucky not to get hurt.  We certainly put our guardian angels to the test, but made it alive to the last town, Monterosso.
Tip #6- Remember that you are not a character from your favorite superhero movie.  You cannot out race the sun.  Not yet anyway.
When we arrived, we immediately hunted down some dinner, and as we were finishing, there was a procession of the cross through the town for the Festa di Santa Croce.  I think its a sign.  When your day has such ups and downs, you just have to give it back to God and thank Him for bestowing it to you in the first place, even if He might have been laughing at you a little, or in my case, the whole time.  We also encountered some dancing in the square and watched as the people of the town, mainly older couples, came out to dance.  We were completely enamored by the charm of the town and were content with what we had accomplished that day.  But the night wasn't finished quite yet.
Mistake #7- Not remembering which town you're staying in.
We also had a moment of confusion in which we thought that Monterosso was where we were supposed to be staying, but really, we were staying in Levanto.  After a fruitless search, we were found by other ISA students and brought up to speed.  Apparently we had spent just a little too much time in the woods..
Tip #7- Make a cheat sheet, pack a tent, PRAY that your luck never runs out.  When you hit that low, and speaking as someone who has been there, I don't even know how to correct this little issue.  Maybe start discerning whether you're really meant for the traveling life.  Or just go to sleep
Which is what I did.  We finally figured it out and were led to the train station.  As soon as I was in the correct town, I went straight to the hostel and straight to my bed.
After my adventure the previous day, I decided to play it safe and just stuck to the beach on Sunday, which is something I'm completely OK with.  But as I sat on the beach, I thought over the list of tips and "mistakes" I had made and I realized that even though I was a hot mess spanning six different towns, I had a great time!  I saw some wonderful things and I definitely saw God work in my life for the better.  All those "mistakes" are nothing compared to what could have gone wrong.  And isn't that the point of even coming here in the first place?  To leave everything I know behind, to get out of my comfort zone and try something new?  To get lost have have nothing but my skills and talents to find the way?
Mistake #8- Thinking that my time, while enjoyable, had been dominated by mistakes.
Sure, there are parts of my body right now that look like they would be more at home in a butcher shop rather than on a human person and yeah, I could have been a lot more prepared, but that's not really me, is it?  And would I have these great stories to tell if all this hadn't happened?  I love my experience and that's all I could ask for.
Tip #8- Ignore all previous tips.  Let life happen, because as Dr. Seuss says, when life starts happening, then you'll start happening too.
Hoping that you remember to make your own rules today,
Sam

That Spark

Here's a crucial piece of information about understanding the mind (and heart) of Samantha Marie Gormley.  I tend to create families and so far in my 21 years of life, I've created a handful.  I have my biological family, which, yeah, I didn't create, but I did accept them. : P Same goes for my extended family.  Then there's my church and childhood family, my SJS family, my camp family, my BHS family, and my Rockhurst family.  When I create these families, I take everything about them, the good and the bad, embrace it, and proceed to love it to pieces.  Sometimes I show it in a pretty funny way, but I do.  I'm the only person who can say anything bad about my families and should you dare to even think ill thoughts about my families, you and I are going to have a rough moment in which I proceed to tell you all the ways you're wrong and why you're never going to do that again.  I don't always like my families, but I always love them, and I know the feeling is mutual, even, and sometimes especially, the dislike part.  I've lost count of all my sisters and cannot begin to measure the love they bestow on me, all my moms would do almost anything for me and I could go to them with anything, each of my dads will give me equal amounts of grief about everything (in a loving and teasing manner, of course), and my brothers never fail to simultaneously drive me crazy and make me smile.  We are, in almost all ways but living arrangements and the matter of DNA, just like real families.  With this being said, I don't go into things expecting to create these families- they just happen.  We slowly discover who the other is and then there's a moment- it's a spark that lights up your heart and soul and you realize that right now, this very moment, you have all you ever need and this is what real happiness looks like.  I've only had these moments with the people I care most about in the world.  I'm blessed to care about and for each member of my families.  

I guess I bring this up because it was something that was really on my mind before coming to Florence.  What was I going to do without my families?  I didn't know any of these people and I only had four months with them.  Where was four months going to get me and what was that going to do to me and my families?  I knew I was going to meet amazing people, but who were they going to be in the grand scheme of my life?  I didn't give them much benefit, to be honest with you.  But I'm beginning to reevaluate..  

The other night I was simply sitting at the table minding my own business while I ate my dinner.  One of my apartmentmates joins me and we just let the other girl be.  Then something somewhere in the house starts banging.  Apparently this has happened before and no one has yet to find the source of the banging.  As they start explaining this to me and all the hypotheses they have formed, I figure it out- its a ghost.  This stems an entire half-hour conversation about the supernatural which leads to what we want to do for Halloween to travel plans to holiday traditions, to God knows what else.  Do you ever have those conversation that are completely random, jump around but flow seamlessly, are just really enjoyable, and you really begin to see who the person you are talking to really is?  This is what is happening.  Somehow, I bring up the story, The Cajun Night Before Christmas, which really is a gem, especially if you try to read it in a Cajun accent.  None of the apartmentmates have heard of it and you just can't pass an opportunity like this up.  So there we are, the four of us sitting around the kitchen table having been drawn into the conversation, munching on bread and olive oil, trying not to laugh too hard to allow the reader a better chance of getting the accent right, and it happens.  That spark.  It's ridiculous, but I'm so happy and completely at ease and loving these girls and this is all I really wanted for my time here- to be happy.  I'm notorious for random quirky things like this, but I never would have imagined myself in Florence, Italy, reading The Cajun Night Before Christmas with three girls whom I had considered casual friends until a second before.  At that moment, you just have to sit back and say a prayer for the study abroad/ Florence family as it takes its first steps.  

And the best part of this is that it's just the beginning which was confirmed almost immediately.  The following night I went out with Brittany for dinner and to see Piazza Michelangelo at night (which is really lovely!) and 

we decided that we should try to stay up and find a secret bakery.  We were informed that there is one literally on my street!  So we head back to my apartment to kill time and brace ourselves for the glory that is to come.  My apartmentmates were home and upon hearing about our pending adventure were eager to join.  So at 1am, out we march to find this great treasure.  Found it we did, but we found something so much more- companionship, harmony, laughter, joy.  Our treats were sweet, but I'm pretty sure most of their sweetness came from that moment.  

Meet the new family!  United by the thrill of secret bakeries.  L to R: Brittany, Abby, Anne and Alison

Brittany lives on the other side of the city and was ready to go home after our late night snack, so we decided to walk her back as a group.  The weather has suddenly turned cool here and the chilly night had driven everyone off the streets.  Too bad for them, because they missed a great time.  The streets were ours and we could not have been happier.  Just laughing and running around and taking pictures and weird dance moves and strange stunts.  It was like we had known each other for years.  

So after all this wonderfulness, you can't let the fun end there.  This morning we headed to the Boboli gardens for a picnic and of course managed to have a wonderful time doing relatively nothing.  The gardens are beautiful and we all couldn't stop talking about how we wanted to go more frequently.  

While the gardens are great, the company is better.  Arm us with a camera and we could be entertained for hours.  Well, we were entertained for hours.  Simply roaming and talking and dreaming up crazy poses is all this little family needs and this little family is all I need.  

To all my families, thanks.  Thanks for loving me enough to give me this chance and supporting me, no matter what craziness I'm causing or experiencing.  Know that I am thinking of you all always and my love for you is constant.  You all make my jump for joy!  Praise the LORD for YOU!!  : )

Hoping that you all aren't secretly glad to be rid of me for a little while,

Sam

How I Almost Got to be Rapunzel and Almost Met a Tragic End

Well, not really, but I had to get you interested in this post somehow, didn't I?
Let me explain how I came about to almost make those claims.
One of my roommates, Anne, is a genius on all things Florence.  When it comes to knowing what's going on, how to pronounce any Italian word, and basic history of the city or any famous structure, I go to Anne.  She just knows.  So when Anne mentions something, really anything, about Florence, I tend to listen.
A few days ago she mentions a festival called Rificolona and she has my attention almost immediately.  With a little further investigation, I learn that this is a festival in honor of the birthday of the Virgin Mary.  A pilgrimage is made from a church on one side of the river to the Church of the Annunciation.  Once there, a speech is given by city officials and a cardinal and the crowd can enjoy goodies that vendors offer at the Piazza.  But here's the fun part- what makes the pilgrimage so cool are all the lanterns.  People carry lanterns throughout the procession and you feel like you've been sucked into the movie, Tangled.  Upon discovering the use of lanterns during the procession, Anne and I are beside ourselves with glee and know, without a doubt, that we will be present for this event.
Let me provide a little bit of background about the traditions of the pilgrimage.  Mary's birthday is celebrated every year on the 8th of September.  Because the basilica here is dedicated to her, these celebrations are a pretty big deal.  Pilgrims and farmers from the surrounding community would make the journey into the city for the celebrations.  Given the distance though, they had to begin their journeys very early in the morning and carried lanterns with them to guide their way.  While the long journey has all but vanished, the lanterns have not.
So, Friday afternoon, after exploring with Brittany and looking for some gardens that I've failed to find multiple times now, we made our way to the church of Santa Felicita to begin the procession, and in all ways, Italian, they weren't ready to begin.  We met up with Anne and enjoyed 30 minutes of music provided by a local philharmonic group and watched as more lanterns filled the Piazza.  We purchased a few for ourselves but guarded them from the second tradition of the festival.  It is the younger children who are typically given the lanterns to hold and the older children get something altogether different.  The older children are given blowguns.  Yep, blowguns.  I kid you not.  Here's the history for this little gem of a tradition.  As the farmers and pilgrims made their way into the city, they took special care to look extra nice for the occasion.  The city dwellers, however, thought this was a little too much and essentially made fun of them for it.  The children would make their own lanterns with brighter colors and finer paper and some would blow spit wads at the pilgrims' and farmers' lanterns in hopes of knocking the candle inside over and lighting them on fire.  Luckily, the use of spit wads has died away, but wax balls have taken their place and the blowguns are still very much a part of the festival.  You are almost guaranteed to take a few to the back of the head before the night is over.

We were finally joined by more pilgrims who had begun their pilgrimage at the Piazza Michelangelo.  With them was the cardinal who would lead us through the city.  A few songs that I wish I could understand from the pilgrims and then we began!  It's the most I've felt at home in Florence since I've been here.  I loved the feel of community and honoring Mama Mary.  The sights of the city and the lanterns at night are something that I will always remember.  I loved learning about the traditions and being with Brittany and Anne.  Just a solid night across the board.

And now I'm sure you're begging to hear how I almost met my tragic end, but not really.
Saturday, FUA (Florence University of the Arts), the university I'm studying at here, offered an opportunity to go to the Viareggio beach for the afternoon and I thought nothing sounded better than relaxing on the Mediterranean.  So my roommate Abby and I pulled ourselves out of bed nice and early and met up with the FUA group at the train station.  We were shuttled onto a train and had an hour and a half to dream of the seaside.  Once there, we were told that we were going to a private beach.  It's not often that you get to experience life on a private beach, so we made the trek and got settled.  We established camp at the many umbrellas provided for us and enjoyed a relatively uncrowded atmosphere.

Our little private beach was the definition of mountains, sea, and sky.  The mountains lined the coast, the water was clear that faded to the sea foam green you only read about in books and then a brilliant blue that finds it's way onto every child's coloring sheet and the sky didn't host a single cloud.  The water was a little bit chiller than expected and the day a little bit cooler than one would like, but we finally sucked it up and ventured in.  We had only been in the water a few minutes when the two advisers on the trip with us caught our attention.  They had found a jellyfish.  We swam over to look and this guy was quite a bit bigger than you would like to see while swimming in murky water, but he was still beautiful.  There really is something quite mesmerizing about jellyfish.  I thought that this was going to be something rare in my life, much less in the day, so I took it in and went about my swimming.

I was finally getting comfortable in the water and started to head out deeper to enjoy the waves.  The water was surprisingly calm and I just started making my merry way out to sea.  And that's when it happened.  The moment I almost died.  Abby was behind me, not so eager to swim out that far and she yelled, "Sam!  Jellyfish!"  I didn't even know what to do at that point.  I shrieked, spun on the spot, and tried to see my would-be assailant.  Apparently I had swam right over the little bugger and lived to tell about it.  The jellyfish had miraculously disappeared and we didn't waste any time getting back to shore.  Needless to say, we spent and hour or so out and away from the water.  Ironically enough, I was more in danger from the sun than I was the jellyfish, and of the two, the sun definitely inflicted more harm.  We finally recovered and explored the beach and found many more jellyfish that had washed up to shore.  I was even brave enough to touch one though I probably looked like a five year old in the process.  Lots of reaching out and then quickly jerking back before I actually touched and when I finally did touch it, a squeal was present, followed by a quick jump away.  Jellyfish are much more solid than they look, surprisingly enough.
Once we had conquered our fears of the jellyfish, we headed back in and enjoyed our afternoon at the beach.  Sure, we had to battle a few more jellyfish attacks, but we were old pros by that point.  It's just simply not a day at the beach until you look death in the face and laugh.  Ok, ok, so it's not that dramatic, but let me have my fun!  I'm Italy after all, and anything can happen.  : )

Me and Abby, my jellyfish busting partner in crime.
Wishing you a sunny day, a cool breeze, and immeasurable blessings,
Sam

Well, That's One Way to Do it..

When I left off, I had just described the thrilling move in process.  (It's amazing to me that you've hung in here with me for this long!  Thanks!)  After that ordeal, I'm pretty sure the ISA staff knew that we were exhausted and gave us a day to recuperate and get a feel for the city ourselves.  The following day, however, they offered a hike for us to join in to the Piazza Michelangelo.  The Piazza Michelangelo is every tourist's dream come true.  It is located toward the outskirts of the city on a hill, offering a breathtaking view of the skyline.  I'm pretty sure there's not a brochure about Florence in existence that does not offer a picture from this Piazza.  

So, we'd been offered this hike opportunity from the ISA staff and I'm trying to figure out what they mean exactly by a "hike".  There's not exactly a whole lot of wilderness in these parts, but I wasn't going to just blow off the use of the word 'hike'.  So, readied with my handy dandy chacos and a water bottle (which I've refused to be parted with since Rome.  That's rookie mistake story for a later post.), I geared up for my newest adventure. 

The weather since arriving in Florence has been absolute divine- there's no other way of stating it.  We had cool weather and a gray sky.  I know most people favor blue skies and sunny days, but there's something about gray skies that just makes me feel like the world is on my side.  I was pumped and ready to go for this hike.  

We started out and, folks, make sure you're wearing comfortable shoes.  This is not a walk that should be taken lightly.  We stopped half-way up for a breather and I was questioning my survival and choice of study abroad destination.  The walk is essentially a glorified running trail, but at quite a steep incline and the length of the trail shouldn't be underestimated.  It's worth it, but come prepared.  I wasn't entirely, but still enjoyed the experience.  

We made it to the Piazza, but the staff said that they wanted to show us the church behind the piazza first, then come back down.  So, some huffing and puffing and a set of nasty stairs later and I was introduced to my favorite thing about this whole experience thus far.  

The Basilica di San Miniato al Monte.  It's simply wonderful.  I made a little home for myself up there for the afternoon.  If you think I'm kidding, read on.  When we got to the top, we received three surprises- first, the view from here was even better than the Piazza Michelangelo; second, there significantly fewer tourists in comparison to the rest of Florence which is a sweet relief and; third, there was a wedding going on!  

A significant portion of the girls in our group we're getting their candid camera on for that one, including your's truly.  Once we had all had our fill of creeping on the bride, we were able take in what was around us.  Whenever school starts to become too much, or when the leaves start to change colors, or when all the stars just seem to be correctly aligned, I can assure you that this is where you will find me.  It's peaceful.  It's beautiful.  It's just what you need to feel perfectly welcomed into your new city.  It's a safe haven.  

See what I mean?  A girl from my program, Brittany, and I decided to go explore around the basilica and we discovered the cemetery, which as weird as this may sound to say, was very much worth walking through.  It adds to the character of the church and I'm quite fond of it.  It's hard to say what's so appealing about my little discovery that day, but then again, I guess death should be appealing.  I mean, eternity with your heavenly Father has got to count for something!  Maybe all the serenity of the moment just went to my head, but if that's it, I hope it happens more often!  We took our time poking around the cemetery, hoping to wait out the wedding.  We didn't, but decided to poke our heads in, just to see.  We liked what we saw so much that we walked in a little farther and stood along the wall to look around without being a distraction.  And we ended up staying for the rest of the wedding.  And that's how I crashed an Italian wedding.  

It was a Catholic Mass, which Brittany had never had the pleasure of experiencing before (though everyone will tell you its the reception you have to look forward to ( : ) and I talked her through it.  I noticed a few differences between the Catholic wedding Masses I had experienced, but for the most part it was the same.  However, the crucial "You may now kiss the bride," was missing.  Bummer.  

Right after the ceremony, however, the gray skies turned to rain, and lacking umbrellas and jackets and facing a now wet walk entirely downhill, Brittany and I voted to stay where we were until the weather calmed down.  But it didn't.  Not for a while anyway.  So we were given the extended opportunity to explore every bit of the basilica, though it didn't fill the duration of the storm.  While it was great to wander this truly beautiful structure, I enjoyed the bonding experience more.  Brittany and I still didn't know each other very well and considering the setting and our differed faith backgrounds, it opened the floor for a solid faith discussion which I was immensely grateful for.  When you leave your comfort zone, you leave behind all the people you talk to about the things you most treasure.  You can't just throw those topics around with anybody!!  I am blessed to finally have found a somebody that I can really share and laugh with.  Especially because somehow I started singing "I Feel Good," at some point in the conversation- and that was O.K!

When the rain finally cleared, we headed down the hill and found nice spot for lunch and met a girl who had studied abroad before and gave us a cheat sheet about the places to hit up while we are here.  From there, we simply wandered and explored Florence.  Our highlight was probably the Ponte Vecchio.  

It's a bridge entirely lined with jewelry shops and at the half-way point is a gate around the bust of the guy who I believe is a founder of Florence.  Don't quote me on it.  The significance behind this is that people come here with their significant other and put locks on this gate with their name and lover's name on this gate.  Should you do this, according to local legend, you will be together forever.  I find it to be an endearing custom though I can't quite appreciate it fully.  Maybe someday, but for now, I'm good where I am.  I'm where I'm supposed to be and that brings me the happiness and fulfillment I need.  

Maybe some other time, little locks..

So, I guess to wrap up these musings, I'll say this- If you think that a little weather might get in the way of your plans, venture out anyway.  You never know where an afternoon caught in the rain will lead you.  

Here's wishing you're on your way to where you want and need to be!  

Love, Prayers, and Best Wishes from Florence!!

Sam

Getting There is All the Fun!

Honestly, I didn't think that moving to Florence from Rome would be anything worth noting, especially in regard to making you poor readers subject to it, but as it turns out, I was wrong.  Nothing new there.  Never doubt the significance of any journey, no matter how small.

Let's start with the impressions of what I thought this journey was going to be like.  I was going to leave my lovely little hotel on the second shuttle for a two hour bus ride to Florence.  Once in Florence, my roommates and I, along with maybe another apartment group, were going to be dropped off relatively close to the apartment and guided to the apartment.  Hoh boy!  Was I in for a rude awakening..

The information given to us about the second departure group was not incorrect and we were all loaded onto the bus in a semi-organized fashion with relatively little hassle.  Once on the bus, we were informed that instead of a two hour ride, it would be four hours.  Ok, I can handle that.  I found out later that its two hours by train.  Ah.  It's easy to see where those two get confused.  I was rather anti-social and simply put my earphones in and enjoyed the scenery.

And the scenery is certainly something to be enjoyed!  I learned upon coming here that Tuscany is essentially a county of Italy, not a specific town or place as I had believed.  Florence is nicely settled at the top of the Tuscany region, so we had four hours to take in one of the world's most celebrated countrysides.  Despite what a dry summer the country has experienced, there is no taking away the beauty of this place.  I tried to capture it and the pictures are so dull in comparison.  So dull.  There are mountains, and quarries, and villages perched on top of cliffs, and big wonderful blue skies, and sunflowers, and so much more to take it!  I want to explore it all!  I don't even know the names of these places and I love them.  Maybe I'm just ridiculous.  It's probable.  

But then again, who can resist?  : )  

Finally we arrived to Florence and if you think that traffic in general is scary in Europe, try a bus.  I don't know how this guy did it.  You couldn't help but to be impressed as soon as you got over the fact that you just made a mess in your seat.  Our driver then dropped us off close to the bus station here in the city and if I had had a Florence map with that me at that point, I would have known I was in trouble.  We piled out, eager to be in the city that is going to be our home for the next four months.  The driver was kind enough to get our luggage out for us, creating was small pyramid of suitcases in the middle of the street, adding the additional car dodging to the excitement.  It was chaos and his creative means to remove our stuff hindered some of the progress we hoped to make.  One of my roommates couldn't find one of her suitcases, only to later discover that her last piece of luggage was being used as a ramp to get other suitcases out.  

We then found our designated leader to guide us to our respective apartments, and the impression they gave to us that we were dropped off close to our apartments was dead wrong.  We began our trek through the city on what would later be dubbed as the "luggage walk of shame."  

It's hard to appreciate your first impressions of your new home when you're carrying lugging that weighs close to a hundred pounds, if not over.  I know that my primary suitcase weighed almost 50 lbs. and then there was my duffle, backpack, and purse all crammed to the bursting at the seams.  The Lizzie McGuire Movie does not prepare you for this part of the Italian experience.  It hits you like, well, like 100 lbs of luggage on a warm summer day.  You think the wheels on your suitcase are going to save you, but I bet these wheels never met 500 year old cobblestone.  Nothing saves you on cobblestones.  Because you nothing saves you on cobblestones and you finally tell yourself to put your big girls pants on and realize that this is a terrible way to remember your first moments in an opportunity of a lifetime, you begin to find little jewels to make the moment a little more bearable.  

First, you mentally abuse the girl who lost her luggage during her flight for having nothing to carry.  Then you realize that you should be lucky to have luggage to haul around and that gives you a little extra 'umph' for an additional five steps.  You start laughing at the picture you're painting in the middle of a truly beautiful city- standers-by stopping what they're doing to watch an out-of-shape foreigner hauling an excessive amount of crap, sweat flowing out of every pour, red in face, blatantly panting and being left behind by the walking powerhouse of your oblivious leader.  You can't help, but laugh a little, even in the middle of the ridiculousness.  I'm sure some of the standers-by were.  You start day dreaming about all the ways you're going to treat yourself as soon as this is over- basking in the A.C. you will splurge on (A.C. isn't common here), a nice shower, the largest cup of gelato your hands and wallet can hold.  You also day dream about how lovely the apartment is going to be- realistically though.  You do want to make all this worth it.  All are effective ways to make it a little more bearable.  You also start hating Lizzie McGuire for not adequately preparing you for this (all the knowledge and expectations I gained about Italy before coming here I learned from Lizzie McGuire, so expect to see me as an international superstar soon!).  A scapegoat relieves the temporary stress of the moment.  But then you realize that, unlike Lizzie, you're gaining character from all this (and you thought your parents saying, "It builds character!" all these years would never pay off!).  At least, that's part of what you tell yourself.  You attempt to take in what's around you between gasps for air and realize that there is so much to see and explore!  You just have to get to your destination, throw your bags in, and take your sweet freedom and imagination for a ride.  You tell yourself that you're getting a great work-out right before four months of carb-filled heaven, that this is a story for the grandkids, a bonding moment with your housemates, whatever that will keep your feet moving forward.  Finally, you stop at a door, your door.  Not much, but its yours.  

You proceed to let your roommates go over first to hide that fact that your lungs have forgotten the notion of breathing.  Next comes hauling your luggage up the stairs, which are a piece of work.  Using your backpack and body as a counter-weight system works fairly well pulling your big bags up the stairs. One. By. One.  

And at the top, waits for you something that really was worth it.  Even my day dreaming didn't prepare me for this.  Waiting at the top, at the top of your metaphorical mountain, is home.  

It even has a balcony.  I guess even those troublesome journeys we're forced to take produce fruit.  And I'm pretty sure that my room is even better than Lizzie McGuire's, so ha!  : P

(For the complete set of apartment pictures, feel free to visit my facebook.  They are in the Florence Beginnings album.)

“One’s destination is never a place, but a new way of seeing things.”

I had this grand thought that I would be able to update everyone on my adventures in Rome with one post, but then I realized that trying to do so would do no justice to my time and experience there, especially Vatican City.  This cannot be overlooked, although the tour guide that led us through must have missed that memo..
The Vatican.  What can you say?  Even if you have no religious affiliation or put your faith in something outside of traditional deity figures, this place is breathtaking.  There's no other way to put it.  Anyone with an ounce of respect for history and art can find a place in their heart for the Vatican.  There's just so much- I don't even know where to begin.  I guess I'll start at the beginning.

Getting to the Vatican is definitely part of the experience.  First, you load onto your ridiculous tour bus and weave your way around the city that has suddenly evolved into an obstacle course.  There are times those buses get INCHES away from walls and people.  Inches.  Let's not mention the game of chicken the bus engages in with every pedestrian it encounters.  As soon as the bus drops you off, you get a taste of the August Roman sun, who is all too friendly, even at 11 in the morning.  Shade becomes your new best friend.  Your walk to museums makes the experience in the non-air conditioned museums worth the wait.  You're finally admitted and you soon come to realize that the tour guide that has been assigned to your group is on a mission to break the world record for the fastest power walk through the Vatican.  It's a crime to think that such a thing exists, but also a small blessing.  If you consider how much there is to see and learn about and photograph and read in the Vatican, had I been left to my own devices, I would still be there.  There's so much and we saw a lot and the only way we saw as much as we did was thanks to the mini death march through the museums.  And when I say death march, I'm only half joking.  We were given a clear warning that if you fell behind, you were screwed.  Only worded a little more gently.
The first significant pieces we were shown (two of the few we actually stopped for) were located in a courtyard in the beginning of the museum (let's count how many times I have to say 'museum' in this post..).  One was a statue of Apollo and the other was of Laocoon and his sons, a Trojan priest who predicted that the acceptance of the wooden horse would be Troy's downfall.  To be honest, I had never heard of this pieces before and was a little disappointed that this is what the guide chose to stop and talk about, of all things.  But I found a piece of art that made up for it, not that they weren't impressive, but I found this just to be a little bit more endearing.

Our guide then led us through a tricky little dance among the crowd.  Hercules was a dance partner for a brief moment, among others, many mythological, though I couldn't tell you who they were we blew by so quickly.  My attempts of capturing the event were focused on the ceilings.  They were astounding and they were easy to focus on with a camera while moving.  The tapestry room was interesting in the fact they we were immersed into an entirely different medium of art.  And they are simply HUGE.  How someone was able to sit down and plan something so intricate and monstrous and then successfully carry it out is quite the feat.  And this is working with cloth and thread in who knows what time period with who knows what technology.  Human innovation is such a treasure.  If only it was always used for art.
The Marian Room was intriguing to me simply for the history it contains.  This room contains the documents declaring the Immaculate Conceptions of Mary.  These documents are in every major language and were presented to the current Pope at the time as a gift.  It's a major teaching of the Church and its rather touching to see real doctrine in front of you.

From there, we saw a room dedicated to Constantine, the first Christian emperor.  This room stands out to me simply because of the little jewel I stumble upon and has become my favorite of that day.  It was on the ceiling (of course).  It's simply a gold crucifix in an empty room with a scattered statue of a pagan god at its base.  It's simple.  It's powerful.  I love the meaning and the significance it portrays.

From there, I met another cool piece of art.  This is had seen before and no clue that its residence was in Vatican City!  It's so cool to say that I've seen this in person.  It's quite the phenomena to look back and say, "I was there!  I've been to that painting!"

Next was some contemporary art which was actually pretty cool.  I guess the Pope keeps around some people with pretty good taste and then, the moment we've all been waiting for- the Sistine Chapel.  We had had the art in the Sistine Chapel explained to us before the tour because "no talking is allowed in the chapel." Then again, neither is photography.  The Sistine Chapel is an experience within itself.  You expect quite and reverence.  It's a mad house.  You expect respect for the rules.  The first thing you see as you walk in is a sea of cameras, all pointed at the ceiling.  And I confess, I was guilty.  You can't let everyone else have all the fun..  The chapel is also a lot smaller than I expected, but stunning nonetheless.  Moses and Jesus tell their stories on opposite walls and the Last Judgment is right behind the altar.  It's the ceiling (in knew my love for the ceilings would pay off!) that gets all the glory.  You'll always remember the day you saw the Sistine Chapel.  Talk about a God wink kind of day.

Last but not least is the Basilica.  I was in love.  Despite the crowds, this does have a little more serenity to it.  The size of it is overwhelming and you feel like you're walking on clouds.  Stunning.  Every inch of it is simply beautiful.  I've met a friend in my study abroad group who isn't Catholic and had never heard of the Basilica and what she had to say pretty much sums it up- "This is amazing!  Oh my gosh!"  It's all you can do but to keep saying it over and over again.  This. Is. Amazing.

Well, despite the rush in which I saw the Vatican, I still have to count it as a success.  A day in which your soul grows a little more and your heart is a little brighter cannot be seen as a day wasted.  All I can say at the end of it all is that I can't wait to go back.

"Traveling is a brutality.  It forces you to trust strangers and to lose sight of all that familiar comfort of home and friends.  You are constantly off balance.  Nothing is yours except the essential things- air, sleep, dreams, the sea, the sky- all things tending toward the eternal or what we imagine of it." -Cesare Pavese

Rome is Home

So.  Rome.  When it comes to sitting down and attempting to describe this experience, I've come to realize that words, and even pictures, will never be sufficient.  Rome is a dream, a state of mind, a way of life.  It's simply wonderful.
We all heard about my almost tragic plane experience, but it all turned out well in the end.  A power nap on the plane does wonders.  My first view of Rome was rather anti-climatic.  A dry summer had produced less than desired scenery and the airport isn't much to brag about.  I will say that this was the best customs experience I've ever had.  It involves simply picking up your bags and walking out the door.  There are two guards standing by the door and if they see whatever nuclear substance you smuggled in your carry on, they'll pull you aside and go from there.  There are perks to Italians not really caring about anything.  Grabbing a taxi was a painless experience and the ride gave me flashbacks of the crazed driving in El Salvador.  Just with seat belts this time.
Once at the hotel, I learned some interesting fun facts about hotels in Italy.  First, they ask that you not take your hotel key out of the hotel with you, but leave it at the front desk, seeing as its a real key and there is only one.  This make for an interesting experience when living with two other girls and all three of you are suffering from jet lag and have three different agendas for your time in Rome.  Second, they don't tell you to pack light for nothing.  They tell you to pack light in hopes that you might actually fit in the elevator, which I almost didn't.
Orientation and dinner aren't worth much noting because by this point in the day, jet-lag wins.  It just does.  I couldn't tell you how I got to dinner or what I ate (though it was delicious) and an early bedtime was all I had in me that night.
Tuesday morning was a general walking tour of the city which started at the Colosseum.  It's simply amazing to stand in front of it and think that it was all built by hand and only took 10 years.  This structure is about 150 ft. tall and over 600 ft. long.  There's nothing to do but stand and stare.  And secretly sing the song from the Lizzie McGuire movie in your head.

This is where you can catch my next performance, ladies and gents.
It absurd how much history is just everywhere and how the history has history.  From the Colosseum, we walked along a main road and came across some ruins.  Our guide explained that this was once an early Christian church for a certain village, then met some untimely end, but before that, it was a pagan temple and was transformed into the church after its untimely end.  Everything is recycled and in the odd recycling, it's preserved.  Our guide also shared that some of the stones of the Colosseum that had fallen away had been used to build St. Peter's Basilica.  From gladiator fights to papal succession, everything is interconnected.
From the ruins next to the Colosseum, we came to another area of ruins that have been excavated by the city.  Our guide went on to that this was the Roman forum and the remaining brick walls were what was left of the Senate.  So what you're telling me is that right off the side of road, a few feet from where I'm standing, is the first seat of democracy in the Eastern Hemisphere?  Actually, correction- the first seat of democracy in the world????  I can't handle my life right now.  And there are people flying by just a few feet behind me.  This is Rome.  There is so much and it's so a part of life here and it all just becomes background.  It's a wonderful and terrible thing.

What's left of the Roman Forum and Senate.
Then we had Capitoline Hill which is where all the power was at one point in history or another, but the tour gets a little fuzzy sometimes.  It currently houses a lot of cool museums that I can't wait to go back to.
We continued our walk past the monument to the first king and several other cool sights, but our next stop was the Largo di Torre Argentina.  The world knows this place as the assassination site of Julius Caesar at the Theater of Pompey, but to us nifty study abroad students, we will always remember it as the Plaza of Cats.  Stray cats live among the ruins and are cared for by cat ladies supported by the city.  Move over, Julius, your place in history has been taken over... by cats.  Literally.
Our roamings continued to the Pantheon, which I'm completely obsessed with.  I love the history and significance of it, not to mention its a key setting in one of my favorite books and its overall just a really impressive building.  I have a goal to go to Mass there before I leave.  The most impressive thing about it is the space.  There's so much and I just love it.  It's hard to explain, but there's a connection.  You just feel that your soul has so much room to grow and to hold, and what a place to experience this feeling!  I wish I could articulate it.
Finally, the tour ended at the Piazza Navona.  This is also a setting in fore mentioned favorite book.  It's simply a beautiful place.  Artists come to paint and there's so much to see.  

From there, we split for lunch.  I found a a girl I was getting to know and we joined a group for lunch, at which I came to learn that pizza marinara is pizza without the cheese, and spent the rest of the afternoon exploring.   We set our sights on the Trevi fountain and couldn't get enough.  It's packed, but the pictures are so worth it.  Make sure to throw a coin (right hand over the left shoulder) to ensure your return to Rome.  Two coins will bring you romance and a third brings marriage, but I didn't feel like pushing my luck too much, and besides, I was in Rome!  What more did I need?!   

We wrapped up with a visit to the Spanish steps.  They essentially commemorate a connection between a major church and the piazza below.  When in Rome, go big or go home.  And are they big..  It's quite the hike to get there, but the view is worth.  So is burning all the calories from the ridiculous amounts of gelato that you've been eating.  (I'm seriously averaging about twice a day..)  It's a nice insight as to why the Italians don't, and don't have to exercise.  You want a wonderful way to end your day?  Try this.  There's nothing that says blessed than watching the afternoon sun begin to set over the skyline of one of the worlds' most beautiful cities.  And I am blessed indeed.