ROOOOOOMA

Roooooma Roooooma Roma! What an amazing, crazy, messy, beautiful citta! My group of 14 (we aren't conspicuous at all) arrived at the train station Thursday night, anxiously anticipating what we thought would be a comfortable and relaxing six hour over night ride. All of our tickets said we were in the same car, though we booked at different times. For some reason, this made us believe that the train must be empty save for us swarthy American travelers, and we looked forward to sprawling out over multiple seats for a pleasant nap-- waking up fresh and rested in the morning-- the city of Roma just waiting for us to take it by storm.

How naive we were.

Climbing over passengers in the hallway (thank you, giant backpack, for making me a walking road block) quickly dispelled our childish fantasies. This train was NOT empty by any means. I opened the door of our compartment to four of the most unhappy Italian faces I've ever seen. All men. Not particularly small men either. And some were in our seats. "Scusi, ma...." (Excuse me, but...) is all I could say, accompanied by some wild gesticulations from my ticket to the seats. My friend Tim and I managed to clamber into our seats only to abandon them less than an hour later, in favor of the fold down seats in the hall. Since sleeping really wasn't on the menu, we chatted about life-- no better time to get to know someone than in the hallway of a packed midnight train to Rome, I say.

Regardless of the somewhat unpleasant way this day started, it was truly amazing. After unloading all of our belongings at the Hotel Mariano (thank you, hostelbookers.com), we took to the city. In a sleep-deprived yet excited blur, we took to the city, seeing more in one day than most do in a week. Piazza Venezia, Victor Emmanuel's Monument, the Trevi fountain, the Pantheon, the Spanish steps, and more that it is truly blasphemous that I cannot remember the name of. Part of this memory loss can no doubt be attributed to the fact that I was able to meet up and travel around with one of my favorite people in the world, Kelly Morton, a friend from high school studying in Roma. One minute we're sitting in front of one of the city's many stolen obelisks, and the next this blur of neon colors and checkers flies into my mid-section like a linebacker and begins telling us about Roman cobble-stones and decaying temples. I mean, who better to show you the Trevi fountain than a guide who has swum in the fountain in the wee hours of the morning as a guard slumbered on the steps?

I must pause here and thank my high school history teacher for forcing me to complete the most laborious assignment I ever undertake-- the art notebook. There is nothing I would trade for the moment I stood in front of this beautiful facade on some random street in Rome and could say, "Hold on, guys, I know this building. We need to go inside and see the dome." After stressing over this project in the wee hours of the morning my sophomore year, it was surreal to finally see the tiny, pixilated representations in the flesh and stone. There I said it-- thank you for giving me homework.

After a full day of Kelly and Rome, we grabbed a great dinner (and yet another waiter fell in love with my roommate Lauren. I kid you not, the phrase "there is magic in your eyes" may have been thrown about), and headed to a local pub frequented by too many students studying abroad. Trust a group of Irish catholic kids to hone in on one of the only Irish establishments in the area. Around midnight, we found ourselves at the Trevi fountain, yet again, to watch BC's chorale (which just happened to be on tour in Rome to sing at the Vatican) sing in front of that great fount. For some strange reason, the police found this to be an aggressive action of sorts, and decided to break up the spontaneous singing. They could have given the BCPD a run for their money.

The next day we saw some of the most quintessentially Roman landmarks: The Roman Forum, the Colosseum, and the Vatican. I must say, I love American history but though we may have flavor we seem to lack legitimacy when placed in contrast with this amazing sites of antiquity. My camera ran out of batteries as we reached the Colosseum, so when I finally got into St. Peters, I was left with no frame through which to see this amazing church. Frustrating, yes. But to attempt to capture the awe inspiring interior of this building in a 3 x 5 box (thank you John Mayer, for saying it better than I ever could) would have been a sin. It really was a religious experience. After an all too brief time in St. Peter's, we headed to another house of worship-- the soccer arena.

Maybe not the most avid of soccer fans, I loved the soccer game nevertheless. Men singing, swearing, and sweating over a simple game (a tie game, 1-1); it certainly was a sight to be seen. I learned some of the more eloquent Italian curses from the young man sitting next to me. VAFFANCULO! STRONSO! LA BRUTTA DI MERDA! So maybe now my Italian vocabulary is that of an illiterate sailor. At least I can put someone in their place, should the occasion arise.

That night we visited the Colosseum again, lit up at night. Even exhausted and hungry, the impact of this, for lack of a more magnificent word, building was unavoidable. We couldn't help but stop, smile, snap a few pictures and say "We're in Rome".