Paris-Venice-Rome

Paris
As Paris is, for better or worse, the central hub for life in France, I always end up traveling through Paris to get wherever I am going. This time, I was fortunate enough to have an afternoon to myself in the city of lights, in the SPRINGTIME, and I spent it all in the Jardin de Tuileries, people-watching and being amazed by the fact that Paris is even MORE beautiful now than it was in the fall or in the winter. Paris, je t'aime!

Venice
Stepping off of the bus and looking out at the canals of Venice at night time was something like lucid dreaming. I have not yet been able to describe how surreal it is to see a city that moves with shoes and boats, that lacks the exhales and squeals of automobiles, that wakes up when it wants and embraces the afternoon sunshine saying, Please sit down and look around you; have a bit of gelato and rest your feet. If Venice were a friend of mine, I would hug her EVERY SINGLE DAY.

I found that in Venice there are several simple realities:
1. You will be lost frequently. Don't try and use a map because you will just be frustrated. Embrace the absence of control. Just look around and enjoy. It's not THAT big. You will find your way wherever you are going, and you may find something better, unexpectedly, along the way.
2. There are crowded parts, and there are sacred parts. Silence exists.
3. Friendship can happen in an instant. Music is the superglue of life. A guitar, and friends who can sing your song, are the greatest things a person can ever ask for. I have found true friendship on an empty quiet porch, on a broken, backless couch, in the silence of night, in the dim glow of a burning cigarette, wearing shoes with broken heels, finding shells on Venetian shores, making crazy declarations -- "You're my favorite person in Europe."

Our days in Venice were filled with sunshine and gelato, spent walking aimlessly down narrow streets and over bridges, moving slowly and stopping frequently, delighting in the promising undiscovered of every sudden turn.

We spent one day, one of my favorites, taking the water taxis to the lagoon islands of Lido, Cemetary Island and Murano. Aside from being with new friends, stepping on Venetian sand and being amazed by the transformation of molten lumps of glass into Vespa jewelry and miniscule farm animals, I was witness to the intersection of age and authority when a 90-year old woman stepped on the taxi, pushed aside the deck hands before smacking them on the butt, and stomped her way into the tight quarters of the cabin, yelling at everyone in rapid Italian, eyes sparkling like bright sunshine on the lapping water.

At nighttime we had plates of pasta and group sing-alongs led by a Floridian jukebox and a New Zealand sweetheart. Beers, bars, improvised forts and late-night lasagna made for some fantastic evening memories.

Rome
After spending the last night in Venice on the hostel balcony with a friend, some beers and a guitar, we stumbled into Rome half-awake and half-aware, anticipating check-in and, consequently, sleep. The first day was entirely wasted, having passed without our awareness, but fortifying us for the rest of our week in the ancient city.

The experience of being surrounded by ancient ruins is weird -- it's like you can intellectualize it, "This was built in 70 AD by emperor Vespasian" or "This is Augustus's house, the first emperor of Rome," but you can't quite get your head all the way around what that actually means. How long is two thousand years? I don't have any idea.

I do know that part of the Colosseum and the Roman Forum ran along the same fault line, and thus, both crumbled at the same point. Napoleon destroyed the perfectly-level road running alongside the Colosseum, then threw it back down into its current messy state. His cannon blast also supposedly caused a chunk of the ceiling from the Sistine Chapel to fall down, which is quite sad. (No wonder people don't like him.) I also know that the Palatine Hill is one of the most important places in Rome, since it is the site of where it all really begun. The marble was all stripped off and "recycled" as they say, ending up in the Vatican or in St. Peter's Basillica, and leaving behind simple brick or concrete structures. When packing for Rome, make sure to bring your imagination because the history is only half-tangible; beyond trying to conceive of the sheer amount of time that has passed, you have to close your eyes and see the images in your mind of what it would have been like in its prime, rather than examining the bits and pieces that remain.

The Sistine Chapel is incredible, and much more so when you know a little about what you are seeing. (Thank you, Canadian Art Historian, for the expensive but worthwhile guided tour). Michaelangelo's sense of humor and vengeance, and cluelessness about the female form all are made manifest in his fantastic work of art. (He thought painting was an inferior art form; yet he is arguably most famous for this particular piece... "Isn't it ironic? Don'tcha think?") The book of Heaven is small, whilst that of Hell is quite big. The figures on the ceiling get larger as you move down the line; he also learned about the impact of using negative space as he worked. It took four years to finish, and the image of the "Spark of Knowledge" is the most reproduced in the world. (If I were citing this information, it would all be attributed to the tour guide).

Everything religious in Rome is extravagant, excessive and very impressive -- I don't think it's possible to walk through St. Peter's without uttering at least a handful of "wow"s.

Other impressive Italian things include gelato and pasta, both of which we ate every day, and Italian MEN who are shamelessly flirtatious and charming. Haha we delighted in the attention and even got a few free roses out of it, one night at the Trevi fountain. Sadly, we didn't manage to get rides on Vespas -- but we didn't try very hard, either. So maybe next time.

One of the coolest random things we did while in Rome was go see Jules's friends' ex-boyfriend's Rolling Stones Cover Band (The Midnight Ramblers) play a concert in some weirdly American-like country barn/bar. The guitar player had thick purple eye-shadow caked on his eyelids that matched his lavendar scarf, and heavy stripes of eyeliner to reinforce the point, should anyone miss it. He had laugh lines and some kind of static-y hair that was introduced in the 80's and, clearly, perfected in the meantime. The lead singer was a 25 year old string bean, with matching eye make-up and the energy of an atomic bomb. He started off the show by running through the crowd and leaping onto the stage! The drummer was a middle-aged dentist with serious rhythm and the bassist was kind of a non-descript guy with some facial hair and a Harley Davidson t-shirt.

Aside from the FANTASTIC music (it was incredible -- and their English was amazing; the parts of songs that no one understands were incomprehensible, and the rest was impressively on-par) we danced like fools with their "groupies" (super nice Roman girls) and then got a personal invite to have a "cornetto" (croissant) at the local midnight hang-out with the guitarist and lead singer. Our conversation was basically hilarious, as our Italian is non-existent, we had moments where no one was actually communicating. However, we all could sing Rolling Stones songs so we got along just fine. :)

We met a bunch more people at the hostel, doing study abroads all around Europe or searching for whatever they were seeking. Probably, mostly, people who are like them.

It was a great trip. I came back tired, broke, and feeling a little like a giant canneloni. I'm happy to be in France again, even happier to have had the house to myself for a few days!

With my last few months here I plan to turn 24, take a painting class, join a tennis club, travel to Vienna and more around France, train for a 10k run, read the rest of the books I bought here, and do some research on my newest future plan -- working in Housing & Residence Life/Student Affairs.