Rome, pt II (Goodbye, Farewell, and Amen)

March 23, 2014
Plane to Philadelphia


So about yesterday.
We had breakfast at the hotel and then headed to the Basilica of St. Paul Outside the Walls (say that three times fast), something I literally knew nothing about. We walked in and I was hit with two overwhelming sensations-
a) The stench of must and mold
b) the simplicity of the structure.
Simplicity isn't the best word to use when describing a church that holds second place, size-wise, in Rome… But after seeing St. Peter's (ironically enough, Paul's competition), it fits. The number of statues, the amount of decoration, and the use of paint and gold all felt restrained and tasteful. That being said, the place was HUGE… Unlike other churches we've visited that have been packed with people, this one was almost empty. The area is completely open, giving us plenty of room to walk up and down the rows of columns. They were holding some kind of service at the front of the church while we visited, which meant organ music and some of the most haunting singing I've ever heard.

Gave me plenty of time to think. I've seen a lot of enormous churches these past two weeks, and heard a lot from others about how depressing it is to know that the majority of those churchgoers aren't living as Christ dictates. Until recently, I would probably have taken the same view; the cathedrals would have represented nothing but a dusty, disconnected religion. Now, however, I'm not so sure. After all, God doesn't look just at the crowd of people streaming in and out of Notre Dame. He sees individuals with hearts in all different places. Of course He grieves when ninety-nine people come in, take pictures, say an obligatory confession, and leave… But if one person walks in with a heart full of worship and reverence, won't He rejoice? Doesn't that make such a utilization of man's artistic and engineering talents worth it? That doesn't justify a dead church by any means, but it does provide a more 'glass half full' viewpoint. Take for example what we did after St. Paul's… Catacombs. You can't really get any 'deader' than there. Walking through those dim, narrow halls, pressed against the niches where Roman Christians, many of them martyrs, were laid to rest… It was the exact opposite (visually) of St. Paul's.
And yet, we worshipped. Huddled in a chapel deep in the earth, we sang hymns. It was both eerie and wonderful- eerie because you could almost feel the presence of the long-dead Christians, and wonderful because of their faith and testimony that lives on 2000 years later. Wonderful because we all end up in the same place- and it's not in those tombs.

After the catacombs, I couldn't help think about our visits to the churches, and how both places were so similar. We brought life into a dead place. The parallels are scary. At first glance, it's tempting to see these churches as a sign of a dead religion… I believe we should see them as opportunities to go and worship, both in the privacy of our hearts and through building relationships in order to further the Gospel.

So there's my thought for the day. Onwards.

We headed into a beautiful part of town, up a hill overlooking Rome. When I think 'Rome', this is what I think of: wide plazas, quaint streets, forgotten churches that toll their bells in mournful reminder they are still standing. We walked a lot, then split for lunch. I had caprese at a cafe, then we headed to another plaza for gelato. After lunch, we headed back to the Trevi Fountain area, which is too crowded and too touristy for my taste. But I did manage to get gifts for the last few people on my list.

We went looking for a library to buy a cookbook for Nicole, but the directions Tomasso gave us were either wrong, or we were horribly turned around (I'm betting on the latter). We stopped two ladies on the street to ask directions… Here's a tip: when looking for a library in Rome, don't ask Spainards for directions. They're as clueless as you are. Biblioteca? 

We met back at the Fountain, where Sarah convinced me to throw another coin, but from a very awkward angle- to the side of the fountain and up the wall. Because of this, I may or may not have hit a guy sitting by the water… And may or may not have seen him at our hotel later that night. Oops. Well, at least my chances of coming back are twice as good.

We went to a restaurant to make our own pizza, but I was too hungry (read: lazy), and volunteered to stay at the table to make the process go a little faster. I had plenty of time to eat it… and pay three euro for an americano. Same price as a fricking latte, which has extra crap in it. Makes no sense. Sorry, I know you guys are sick of my coffee rants… That was it, I promise.

Back to the hotel. Hang out, pack, sleep, wake up to my last morning in my little room… My last day on that cute little balcony… Last amazing breakfast. I sequestered myself in the back of the bus on the way to the airport and listened to very loud, very angry music as a coping strategy. It's not working all that well.

I am not including a section of this entry on the blog… While I was fine with writing it in a journal, throwing it up on the internet for all to see is a different matter entirely. That being said, I'd be happy to let you read it in the journal itself. 

We bid adieu to Tomasso at the airport. What a great guy. Handshakes and pictures all around.

Well, the only other events to narrate are standing in line forever waiting to get tickets, bags checked, etc., then boarding and taking off. So far, we're 2080 miles away from Philadelphia… About five hours left, followed by a five hour layover. Should be interesting.

I suppose my journal ends here. This doesn't even begin to cover all I saw, did, ate, and thought… But it has the basics. It's helped me decompress and organize my thoughts a little better. Most of it's probably just a sloppily written explosion of random thoughts and meanderings.

Thank you, all you beautiful people who helped me get here… It's been incredible. 2400 miles from Rome, and all I can think about is going back. A seed has been planted. As our plane took off this morning, I was listening to "I'll Be Seeing You" by Sinatra… It's a promise.

So goodbye, adieu, adeu, ciao ciao… But not for long.


"Go into the world and make disciples." I'm paraphrasing, but the message is clear. Go. I hope my next trip won't merely be a pleasure tour… I hope that wherever I go next, God uses me to make disciples.

I've rattled on too long. Signing off, now. I'll be seeing you.


Abigail.


And now, we have reached the end of all things. 

St. Paul's Outside the Walls

Rome

Meditating on a sunny Roman day

St. Paul's

St. Paul's

…St. Paul's…

In the top left corner, you can see the chains that (presumably) held Paul as a prisoner. Below is his tomb (according to legend).

The catacombs… Where I wasn't supposed to take pictures.

Lunch

Tomasso, our guide. This picture basically sums up our entire trip. We would have followed that hand to the gates of hell… Or, at the very least, a nasty public bathroom. (Which we did, on several occasions.)

A very grainy video of my last morning in Rome.

The Farewell Post (Last Night in Rome)

March 22nd, 2014
Rome

I'll have plenty of time to journal tomorrow… Many hours on a plane to Philly, then a five hour layover there before heading to Knoxville… So I'll just take this opportunity to pen my farewell letter to this continent.

I have seen so very little of Europe… But what I have seen will remain with me forever. Seeing Big Ben that first day, standing on top of the Eiffel Tower and looking out over the City of Lights, sipping espresso in the shadow of La Sagrada Familia, seeing Paul's tomb in Rome… I am grateful beyond words. It's such a cliche expression, but it's so true. I have no words to express my thankfulness, my experiences, my love of these cities…

Thank you to everyone who helped me get here. I owe so many debts, and this poorly scribbled collection of reflections won't even come close to paying it off. So thank you.

Sitting here in the hotel garden, listening to the crazy Roman traffic around me, it's slowly dawning on me that this is it. I'm going home. This life of sightseeing, gelato eating, and following Tomasso's hand everywhere will stop.

Goodbye, London, Paris, Barcelona, and Rome. I learned so much from your churches, your people, your food… Thank you, God, for keeping me whole throughout the trip, and opening my eyes to the people you love and cherish around the world.

Also? I'm coming back. This is not the end. I have a whole life ahead of me, one that I can fill with traveling adventures and new cultures. So I suppose this isn't really goodbye, Rome… It's until next time, an informal 'ciao ciao'. I threw a coin, after all. See next post.

Abigail

Rome, Part I

March 21st, 2014
Rome

Taking a break from my narrative to share something I've been thinking about lately. God has given me a passion for travel, culture, languages… Anything different from where I grew up. For a long time, I couldn't reconcile those desires with my love of the farm and my desire to serve at the camp. Being here, though, and hearing from the missionaries who live here has shown me that I don't have to separate these desires… I can very easily live overseas for a short period of time, whether it's simply to live or study abroad, and use that time to form relationships and be salt and light. The apathy and hypocrisy I feel in the States (especially the South) sickens me, and going into a world where people openly deny God is almost a relief. I feel like I'm talking to a real person instead of a facade built up out of tradition and moral obligation.


So… Anyways. Back to Rome.


We flew in late the next morning, and had our first experience with Roman traffic… INSANE. We stopped in at our hotel, a lovely place with a garden and a very nice man who mistakenly referred to us as 'angels' (repeatedly). And here's the introvert coming out in me… I get my own room! We have five girls in two joint rooms, and I was given the little room to the side… Private balcony and everything. Our balconies are covered in purple wisteria… I got to watch the bees floating around and buzzing in and out this morning. Yesterday, we did a walking tour of Rome; saw the Palace of St. Michael, the Trevi Fountain, and many, many monuments. Dinner was at a little place across the street from the hotel: butter penne, salad, some thinly sliced meat we found out later was veal (the ethics of eating calves-which I have had experience raising- aside, the meat was tasteless, with a texture similar to wet Styrofoam), and lemon granita. Our table of girls ate like boys- I'm so proud of us. We ordered a margherita pizza and ate the whole thing… Just the four of us.

We were sitting across from the kitchen while we ate, watching the cooks work through a glass wall. Halfway through the meal, they decided to remove their shirts and pants… In the middle of the kitchen. Why the clothes they were wearing weren't good enough, I don't know, but we got quite a kick out of it. Hairy Italian men folding their pants next to a counter top full of pizzas. I shall say no more.

Sleep, rise to another day in Rome. I eat a croissant glazed with some kind of fruit syrup and a sliver of apricot tart… Eat it on the balcony, then head downstairs and do it all again. Did I mention the long, hard walking tour the previous day? I had to keep my strength up. Fight with the coffee machine- end up with a cup of something so strong, I'm wondering if it's alcoholic. Head to the Colosseum for a few hours with Anna, a very nice, very knowledgeable local. We walked through the Roman Forum and saw the ruins of the temples of Vesta, Castor and Pollux, and various other small deities (read: nobles with enough money to buy immortality). We also saw the pyre where Caesar was cremated; Anna confessed she once stole one of the letters left on his final resting place just to see what someone would have to say to a centuries-dead dictator. It read-

"Thanks for the salad."

It was strange, walking through the ruins. My feet were crossing over the same stones Caesar and Constantine and Nero crossed. I could see the ruts between the stones where buggies rattled through. It's hard to imagine such a bustling, living place when you're surrounded by heaps of rock and mounds of grassy soil. Some of the stuff I saw predated Christ… It blows my mind.

We took a nice, leisurely lunch outside of a cafe, where I had pasta with pesto. Then, it was off to the Vatican, led again by Anna.
Wow. I confess I knew nothing about the place, but Anna quickly remedied that. The entire area is actually a separate, walled-off state, the smallest in the world. It has been the home of the Popes for centuries, and their various art collections are displayed throughout the buildings. Sculptures, tapestries, maps… But the ceilings were the most impressive. Lavish beyond description, with optical, 3D illusions and stunning colors…They distracted from the actual displays.
Michelangelo's masterpiece, the Sistine Chapel, was next. Anna gave us a history lesson beforehand, including a rather amusing tale in which the great artist took offense at one cardinal's complaints that his depictions of nudes were pornographic. In retaliation, Michelangelo painted the man in hell, with a snake biting him 'where the sun doesn't shine', as Anna put it.

We headed to St. Peter's Basilica next, the biggest church in the world. I had to give up on pictures because nothing could ever do it justice… The massive statues, the high domes, the gold and white painted on the walls… Michelangelo's statue of Mary cradling the dead Savior (Pieta) was magnificent. Christ's dead form is perfectly sculpted, depicted as just as lifeless as the marble He was carved out of. And the sculptor was only TWENTY-THREE… what?!

We had some free time to walk around after that, then dinner- more pasta- then back to the hotel. I refuse to acknowledge that tomorrow is my last day in this ancient city.


Abigail


I was too lazy to put these in any particular order… My apologies. 

RIP, Caesar

Roman Forum

The Vatican 

Pieta

St. Peter (?) 

Trevi Fountain 

Gelato

More gelato

I know you're jealous

Hmm… Wonder what this is?

Just a stroll through the Forum… no biggie

Anybody home?

…Sorry, I've been dead for over two thousand years. Please leave a message.

My sister celebrated her 13th birthday while I was away… and all she got was this stupid picture (not really, I got her a gift in Paris).

Top of the Spanish Steps

Spanish Steps (yes, still in Rome)

My balcony (NOW you're jealous)

You again?

Anna, being her usual, entertaining self

Barcelona, pt II

March 20th, 2014
Hotel in Rome
Evening


I'm busting at the seams right now to tell you all about Rome, but I haven't even finished Barcelona… Let's remedy that.

I left off at espresso outside of La Sagrada Familia. From there, we journeyed back to the hotel, which at that point was the nicest place we'd stayed at. Dinner was at the hotel… Cream of vegetable soup (we had a ten minute discussion regarding exactly which vegetables), followed by chicken and spinach rolled up, cooked, and covered in an unidentifiable red sauce… Not tomato. I'm sure there's a fancy name for it, but it wasn't crazy good. They served us chocolate mousse for dessert, then we headed for bed. I woke up early and had a long, leisurely, European-style breakfast… Their spread was heavenly. Pain au chocolat (Or, as I described them at the time, crispy, flaky, mini-croissants stuffed with chocolate. Cring-worthy, but spot-on.) Not too sweet, not too bitter, and just beautiful with an americano. And while we're on the subject of coffee, allow me to rant briefly… Brace yourselves. The size of the letters in my journal increased twofold as I wrote this. 

THESE WUSSY EUROPEANS CANNOT GRASP THE IDEA OF BLACK COFFEE. Every time I turn away sugar, they make this little, surprised sound that's half shock and half snobbery. I ordered an  americano in the Eurostar station and told the guy very specifically (he even asked to make sure he heard me right) that I didn't want milk. Two minutes later, I get a drink and a receipt that says- FULL MILK. They either can't wrap their minds around it, or they do it out of spite. Even the machines get angry… The past two hotels have had coffee machines with at least six different drink options, from cafe au lait to hot chocolate. Press any of these and you get a piping hot cupful. Americano? You get a measly half cup.

WHY.

So, that's my rant. Back to Spain.

We began our day (Michael and his group's last day of the trip) at the Poble Espanyol, a village built sometime in the 1930s for the World's Fair. It's modelled after what a traditional Spanish village looked like in the 1700-1800s. The architecture was lovely… Narrow stone streets, terraces, wrought iron, plazas… And orange trees everywhere. Tomasso amused us all when he read the required 'group rules' aloud, among which were 'do not go topless' and 'do not pick oranges and throw them'. We wandered in and out of the expensive shops there, then hopped a bus and headed up Montjuic, named after a Jewish cemetery in the vicinity. We made a brief stop at an overlook with a nice view of the port, then went down to the beach for a fifteen minute stroll. I got to dip my feet in the Mediterranean- nice and toe-numbing. Afterwards, we headed down to Las Ramblas, which is crazy packed with shops, people, and pickpockets. A few of us went off into a market off the main strip. It was an absolute maze of fruit, meat, fish, nuts, chocolate… To list a few items that I saw: brain, tripe, whole rabbit with eyes, rooster heads, fish of all types, dragon fruit, pomegranate seeds, mango, hunks of coconut, dried dates, chocolate and candy in every shape you can imagine, pistachios, paprika, marrow, prawns…
My mind did a mini mushroom cloud in excitement. People were dodging in and out of the narrow rows, yelling, scraping fish blood off of slabs of ice, and hacking up cuts of meats. I paid three euro for a delicious salami and cheese sandwich on a baguette, then 1.50 for a cup of strawberries and chunked pineapple. The fruit there was seriously dirt cheap… dried dates, one pound for a euro?! Fresh papaya, one euro?! If America had markets like this… If we weren't so disconnected from where our chickens came from, our cows, our fish… If we had such easy, cheap access to such fresh food… I believe our nation's overall physique would look a lot different.

We crouched awkwardly by a lamppost for part of the meal, then stood in an alley for the rest. Luncheon over, we headed off into the Gothic Quarter, a beautiful (if smelly) maze of streets and sketchy shops. We waked that for a while, then split into groups for free time. I joined a group headed towards the Picasso Museum… Thank God it ended up being free, that's all I can say. I feel like Picasso was a lazy dude with just enough talent to waste.

Afterwards, the others went shopping while Lizzy and I found coffee at a place that advertised its hot dogs… Go figure. Hey, it was good. Even if the guy was surprised I didn't want the four packets of sugar he handed me. We had a good talk and missed the shopping (thank goodness).
Then, it was off to a restaurant with jambon hanging from every corner of the ceiling… Very Spanish.
We had some kind of potato cake (tortilla espanola), salad, pasta with mussels and perfect prawns, and some kind of airy chocolate dessert that was a cross between mousse and sponge cake.

Back to the hotel to pack for flights… Some to the states, some to Rome. I had a very entertaining conversation with Lauren while packing; we tend to bounce off of each other's comments. Example: I mentioned Frankenstein, she referenced seeing a Shelly in Poet's Corner, I guessed it to be Percy, and she expressed relief… She didn't like Frankenstein. (This whole conversation took place over the course of thirty seconds, rapid-fire style.) How many people can I do that with? Answer: not many.

I woke up at six am the next morning to goodbye to Michael. I was sorry to see a lot of that group go… Everything is quieter. Though I will admit, that's not that bad. Anyways, after another European-style breakfast, we headed to the airport for an hour and a half flight to Rome. Which I will tell you about tomorrow… Starting with the massive amount of food I just ate, and the semi-strip show we saw at the restaurant. Once again, don't freak out, Mom.

Ciao ciao-

Abigail

Mediterranean 

Market off of Las Ramblas

Lunch

This is… I don't even remember.

Market, again

And again

… again

Rabbits, chickens, unidentifiable other dead things...

Market

See the little brain in its handy, dandy, plastic carton? Between the marrow and the ogling sheep's eye.

Dried fruit, nuts, etc.

This is Lizzy. I like her. I could always count on her to sniff out a nearby coffee shop.

Paris Pictures

Louvre 

Child strangling fowl. Seen in two different cities. Artist intended to portray…?

Ouch.

Best guess… Diana.

If you zoom in, you'll see the 'no photography' sign displayed on top of the artist's copy. Which I conveniently did not see until snapping this. Oh, well.

Crucified Christ

Wedding Feast at Cana

Too lazy to get close, so enjoy this super-zoom shot.

Love Locked Bridge 

View of Notre Dame

Love Locked Bridge

Cafe 

Lunch

A little Parisian bakery. Did I eat there, you ask? No. But I got a picture.

Pictures in Notre Dame sucked, due to poor lighting. Oh, well.

Couldn't resist sharing this gem. Happy St. Patrick's Day.