“Close your eyes! Close your eyes!” –Babak, Roma

Italia!!!!

Roma!!!

So I was decently good at planning this one out. Our first class accommodations on our 6 hour train ride from Bern to Roma included snacks and drinks. Always appreciated, on a tight budget or not. I even google imaged Roma Termini, the train station we’d be coming into, and gave Babak “specific location” to meet us at so as to expedite the whole walking around looking for each other or having to call him thing.

“ROMA TERMINI”

The pictures of one of the entrances showed this to be a HUGE sign over the doorway. Quick. Easy. Obvious. Right?

We got off the train and head out to find this esteemed entrance. Haha. There are TWO! The doorways at each end of the stazione have that beautamis sign. Awesome. We started out by walking back and forth from one end to the other—round and round the merry go round the monkey chased the weasel (yes, I sang that in my head while I typed it)—but we were also a little early and for the life of me I couldn’t remember if Persian’s are typically prompt, early, or fashionably late (feel free to post your opinions for people’s enjoyment on that point). Everything else they do is fashionable so maybe that one’s more likely. It would certainly apply to mom and aunt fifi, but they are in their own little category, probably along with kimi and I.

I quickly became aware of how uncomfortable Janise was feeling walking around with all these Gypsies and seemingly homeless men walking around, walking around us, following us, and occasionally approaching us, not to mention all the guys trying to get us to take their taxi, go to their hotel, travel around with them, or buy whatever other service they were offering, or just straight up give them money, no service necessary. So, I promised her that if I hadn’t found him by 915pm (it was 9pm) I would call him. That didn’t really seem to calm her nerves at all. She continued to clarify with me whether or not he had responded to my facebook messages about when and where to pick us up and if I was really certain he had actually “confirmed” that he could be there at that time. And “what does he look like again?” We had facebook stalked him a couple of times by that point, but to be perfectly honest, we had decided that he looks totally different in a number of his pictures so… “But what if we just keep walking in circles….oh! Is that him? (and she’d point at a man that in my eyes looked nowhere near a little Persian man around OUR age)…and if we keeping walking in circles and he walks too we could just miss each other all night and…” Oh Janise. I think she was tired too, so I suggested she sit down with all the stuff and I would continue to walk in circles from end to end until I found the allusive “Babak”—little brother of my mother.

The next time I approached one of the ends he was coming in and after a brief squinty eye, tilted glare, leaning, slightly cocked head, “is that you” written on our faces, slow approach, I just said, “Babak jun?” And instantly paces were mutually sped up, big brown eyes retained their normal big brightness, smiles emerged, and unspoken nervousness fluttered away like birds on a spring morning…though please don’t mistake this description as anything similar to those birds at the Hogle Zoo in Salt Lake City, Ut that kamikaze their way through the innocent crowd that naively expects those feathered friends to, I don’t know, actually obey their trainers as claimed and promoted…yes, personal experience with some friends, cousins, and my aunt. And though for some, it may be a wet-your-pants comical story, I’ll spare you all…particularly the “wet-your-pants” types…you know, you should really take care of that. I’m sure there’s like a pill you all can take to help tighten you up or something….speaking of tired…sorry for that one…and back to Italia…

We weren’t tired (or at least willing to admit it for the sake of an early night’s rest), so he took us to where we’d be staying with some girl friends of his to drop off our stuff and then back out for a night on the town. As we arrived at our exit from the metro and headed up the stairs into the brisk night’s fresh-ish air, Babak, who was by this point carrying basically ALL our stuff upon his demand, grabs us each by the arm and kinda forcefully orders, “Close your eyes! Close your eyes!” Umm, ok…He lead us up the stairs and out a little bit and then…”Ok, Open them!!!”

Oh don’t worry, we’re standing right in front of the Colosseum. No big deal. We walked a couple blocks and across the street and that’s where we were staying. Like are you kidding me right now? Do you know how much people pay for views and convenience like this? Gol-ly!

So that became the game. We dropped off our stuff and headed back for our part Persian, part Italian, part English tour of Roma!

For the record, I’ve been to Roma before. I was here for like a week during my study abroad…oh shoot, I can’t remember if I told you guys about that or not?? Hmm…well, reader’s digest version is I did the Religious Art History Tour of Europe with my best friend in Winter semester 2005 as a visiting student through BYU-Idaho….yes, I attended BYU-I for like 3 weeks…we did all the studying there before we headed off on the adventure of a lifetime. It was incredible and I actually plan on back blogging my journals from it sometime this spring. We started in Roma and literally saw everything and more that I think you can see. I just remember non-stop raving about Roma for months and probably years after that. Actually, later the first night in Roma, we skyped my parents and Seany and they were telling me that I sound exactly like I did 6 years ago when talking about Roma and how I seem to love it as much now as I did then and then of course my mom suggests that I should just move here…not gonna lie…I’ve been thoroughly thinking it through since I attended church on Sunday…but that’s a story to come.

We started out with the most cliché for Janise’s spectating eyes and everywhere we went..."Close you eyes!!"...

· Colosseum

· Trevi Fountain

· Spanish Steps

· Pantheon

· The Roman Forum

While sitting at the foot of one of the many architectural wonders of the old world, Babak and I took the time to sit and discuss our wonder over the significance of this building that my great grandmother would most likely, if she hasn’t already, describe as a useless pile of rocks that the stupid Italians should just teardown along with it’s stupid cobble stone roads and build something useful to actually help improve their ridiculous country and its economy…blah blah blah…”if they really cared about tourism in their country, they’d get smart and actually pave those roads so people can walk without killing themselves…ya da ya da ya da…no offense intended here, and yes I’m being serious in my description of my great gma’s opinions. I have a couple of friends that have served missions in different parts of Italy and they and my sister kimi can attest, from experience, to my dear and favorite great gma’s hysterical opinions and descriptions of her experience in and of the romantic country which some of us hold so dearly and deeply in our hearts. Italy. You just have to know her to understand and if ever presented the opportunity you should absolutely take it. She is one of the most remarkable, intelligent, interesting, and self-educated people I have ever known. And she’s certainly one of the funniest with her blunt descriptions, declarations, and freely shared opinions. If you ever want to fall on the ground laughing you should talk to her about “The David”.

For me, the Pantheon, and all of Italy actually, is just worth my reverence. I can’t help but pensively gaze at these structures and not think about all the people that used to live there. What did they do there? What were they thinking when they sat or stood where I am right now? What way did they walk to get to work? Where did they work? I bet someone fell in love running through those paths in the Roman Forum, around that corner, or sitting on that wall. Like with the Pantheon is…hmmm…another little known fact is that I used to be healthily obsessed with Greek and Roman mythology. That’s actually kind of a lie. I was kinda biased against Roman mythology, but I’m pretty sure it was just because I liked some of the names that the Greeks used better than the Romans…no offense. Like I used to be much more of a reader as well and there was a time when you couldn’t find me checking out ANY book from the library that didn’t have pages and pages and pages about Greek mythology. I knew all the gods, goddess, major and minor, and everything in between. All their stories, strengths, and weakness. Like I said, obsessed. And sitting in front of such an astounding building that night I had such a deep understanding of how real those stories and the theology was to so many people. So many lives molded, lead, and died in those beliefs. Beliefs that lead to actions. Lead to strength. Lead to weakness. Lead to conquer and failure. Whole communities found and lost. It’s remarkable. Much of my conversations with Babak have rooted in the concept that naturally, all people, human beings from now, then, and tomorrow have a need to believe in what we have labeled as “a superior power” to find value and direction in this life. The same was true for these people and look at the miraculous history such beliefs have left us. Ah! I just, I can’t begin to keep up with my thoughts even in this moment to fully welcome you into my mind through the typed word.

Some people might walk around and see a pile of rocks, others might see some pretty sweet ruins, others yet might see architectural wonders, and many many other options. I don’t remember, without referring to my journal, what I saw the last time I was here, but this time, all I can think about is the individuals and what they were doing in these places and what beliefs lead them to where they were and what they did—good, bad, and everything in between.

Our tummies lead us to search out some real good food for dinner and real good we did find. Babak took us somewhere specific and I’ll have to get the name because OMGoodness! It was mmm, mmm, good! To this point actually, I have yet to find a more scrumptious bruschetta. Meraviglioso!!! Buonissimo!! I have made and eaten pretty decent bruschetta myself but this, mmm, incomparable. The flavor was so strong and the mixture of oil, salt, and tomato…I should just go back right now. Forget the southern coast, I like need some.

Beyond full we walked back, I think there was probably a bus ride in there somewhere to, enjoying the historical wonders all the way. When we got back a pretty cool thing happened. You see, Babak, like mentioned above, is my mom’s littlest brother, step or half, I forget the difference. They have different moms and actually he’s my age so he was far from born before my mom left Iran. They’ve never met. In fact, she’s never met any of his siblings. So, this was kind of a momentous occasion. They’ve never really had any contact whatsoever because of whatever reasons and the fact that this whole addition to her family came after she was gone and she and her sister really just have no connection to them. So yeah, he’s my uncle, a fact that I readily like to remind him of, particularly since he’s only like half a year older than me. But so when we skyped them, my parents, that night, that was the first real contact my mom and he have ever had. It was kinda cool. Apparently he looks just like my gpa. He actually had to take some time and sit and ponder the experience for a while afterward because it was kinda emotional for him. He explained it like this,

“You know when you have a dream and it’s like so big and you have it all your life and it so big you never think it’s like impossible and then it actually happens. Then it’s like not a dream anymore. It’s real.”

Pretty cool and yeah, I totally get that and have experienced it.