Friday, October 16, 2015 11:00 PM
The entire LSA group got this past week off (how great is
that?) Dartmouth should really make this a regular term thing because it was
such a stress reliever after midterms. I ended up taking a train with a friend
to Tuscany (two days in Pisa and three days in Siena). My week in Tuscany was
beautiful but this blog entry is not about my time there, it is about the
feelings I have experienced afterwards. All I will say about my trip is, you
only need to spend a max of 5 hours in Pisa, buy your bus tickets and skip the
40 euro fine in Siena, it rains a helluvalot in Tuscany during autumn, medieval
Italians were tiny, laying down on piazza floors the night after a rainy day is
amazing, and the Michelangelo sculptures in the Siena church are smaller than
they appear in the Wikipedia page.
Now on to the good stuff,
I didn’t realize how much I would miss Rome and how much
this loud, crazy city has come to mean to me. As I boarded my usual crowded 70
bus to head home from the train station in Rome I felt a wave of tranquility
settle over me. I was home.
I never thought I would be able to truly feel at home and
not just like an overly zealous tourist in Rome, but I have. After over a month
of traveling up and down the streets of Rome I have finally settled in to my
fourth home (Mexico, Texas, and Hanover being the first three.) I had to leave
for a couple of days to be able to appreciate my time and experiences in Rome.
I arrived to Rome during golden hour; the sun was beginning
to set and was laying a blanket of gold over the entire city. As we drove
towards Piazza Venezia I could feel my little heart jiggle with happiness
because it was home.
A Colosseum gladiator boarded the bus after a long day of
scamming innocent tourists into taking 20 euro pictures with him. He looked so
out of place; his plastic abs, red cape, and hairy legs contrasted against the
Mercedes bus and his earphones made for a hilarious combination. I stared at
him and let out a small giggle. This is Rome, you’ll never know what you’ll
find on the bus.
Next, a pair of siblings around the age of 8 boarded the bus
and sat directly in front of me. I sneakily turned the volume of my music all
the way down in order to listen to their conversation that was bound to be
entertaining. It was. I am always amazed at how amazingly fast and proper
Italian children speak. Can I just speak like an eight year old Italian boy
already?
After I arrived home and had one of nonna’s amazing meals I
remembered why I didn’t want to leave in the first place. No one cooks like
nonna. The grandchildren came over so of course we had a very interesting and
loud dinner with Princess Elisa and Martina the Sassy Tween. We had a karaoke,
dance party directly after dinner and I didn’t have the heart to tell the
children to leave so we continued this party for about three hours until my
laptop died and could no longer play their Italian rap videos.
I’m so glad to be home. Home cooked Italian meals, clean
sheets, regular sized toothpaste, and my beautiful little Italian family.
This is my life.
Un baccio da me a voi e ci vediamo tra poco!
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