tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10606327161161608642024-03-05T02:44:28.089-08:00Oh the places I go...Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07556343837729876121noreply@blogger.comBlogger40125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1060632716116160864.post-36734498206826496062012-03-21T23:41:00.000-07:002012-03-22T00:11:17.498-07:00Planes, trains, and automobiles...<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #d5a6bd;">(I just noticed, I'm posting this exactly a year after the day it happened haha how perfect...and sad...what a year.)</span></div>
Ok, so we woke to the warmth of the sun beaming in through a large wall to wall window which filled the space behind my awesome little couch and to the scent of cigarette smoke and incense burning somewhere around the corner nearing the kitchen and bedrooms. We cleaned up our and quickly dressed enough to walk a couple miles to the market for some fresh bread and fruit for breakfast...oh and of course Nutella :)<br />
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From there Megan accompanied us to <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc66cc; font-size: medium;"><b>Stazione Battistini</b></span>. We embraced. Took some pictures. And shouted plans of future encounters over our shoulders as we set off on our last big adventure.</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #993399; font-size: large;"><b>Today's Itinerary:</b></span></div>
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #993399; font-size: large;">12 noon: </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc66cc; font-size: medium;">Train from Roma Termini to Milano Centrale</span></b></div>
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #993399; font-size: large;">4pm: </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc66cc; font-size: medium;">Catch a bus from Milano Centrale to some little puddle jumper airport</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc66cc; font-size: medium;"><b> an hour away</b></span></div>
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We got there and I was like 5 euro cents short of the bus fare and I really wanted to get rid of my change to I ran over the an exchange place and changed all my left over Hungarian coins and cash into euro and pounds and sprinted back in time to get on the last bus out. As we jumped on, literally, we found it mostly empty so we each took a row of two for ourselves. Gradually, unfortunately, it began to fill to it's limit so I offered for an older couple to have my seats and I slide across the isle and sat next to a guy around my age. Brian. He works in pharmaceutical testing and has a pretty sweet gig going for a bachelor. He pretty much get paid to travel around the world to wherever he wants under the nicest of circumstances and go to shows and play. And, it's all expenses paid and he get to rack up the points and flyer miles so then he just goes on incredible trips around the world for like a month at a time and plays with whatever friends could afford their own flight and he takes care of the rest. Insane! The guy's like 24, was waiting tables while deciding whether or not to go to law school having taken the LSAT and totally rocked it, and one of his regulars that happened to own this company took a chance on him and not he and the company are flourishing like never before. By halfway through the drive he offered me a job for when he takes over the company--which is why the old man brought him on. Who knows, we'll see where life takes me...at this point I have dreams but really no idea.</div>
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When we got to the airport we then had to go through checking. Standard, right? Ha. Thank you Ryanair on educating me on why so many people hate flying and airports. Ryanair is a total disaster waiting to happen...they charge for everything!!!! Boarding fees, seating fees, infant fees, baggage fees (all depending on size and exact weight of course, but don't worry they help you out by separating these fees one more level into sports, musical instruments, etc. fees), man! You name it they'll charge you for it!! Incredible! Don't believe me?? Check it out here: <a href="http://www.ryanair.com/en/terms-and-conditions#regulations-tableoffees"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Ryanair.com</span></a> ...amazing sales but killer red tape...but still couldn't beat the deal...</div>
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #993399; font-size: large;">6:35pm: </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc66cc; font-size: medium;">Board Ryanair (9 euro) flight to from Milano to London</span></b></div>
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Ok, please tell me at least one of you has flown Ryanair or one of it's affiliates before???...OMGoodness! This was the most interesting flight I've EVER been on in my life!!! We're talking like even down to the accent color (which was everything you looked) being an almost nauseatingly bright, blinding yellow, the seats barely fit me and my knees about hit the row in front of me (for those of you that don't know, I'm like 5'3" somewhere between 125-135 lbs...not really a person EVER described as large in stature--at least physically ;) sorry, cocky moment), oh!!! and don't worry, from the moment the flight took off the flight attendants started up and down the aisle way, mmmm drinks and a little snack, right??? Nope! It was more like we were thrown onto the set of an infomercial or worse yet, it was like we were the live audience for the entire infomercial station!!! And the products???? What the?? They were selling anything from "smokeless cigarettes," to alcohol free but alcohol looking drinks, to stuff that looked like tobacco chew, to magazines, to perfumes and "fine" jewelry, OH! and don't even get me started on the lottery tickets...what the deal!?!? Who knew there were so many different kinds!!! It was insane! And the best part was that it seriously must have been like "Spring Break Party 2011: London" because we were probably the ONLY passengers on board over age 19. So of course as the landing gear went down and we started to descend suddenly I was now in the filming of "Soul Plane" (that MGM movie with Kevin Hart, Method Man, and Snoop Dogg, etc.)...the speakers all around us were throbbing with the base of party thug music. Bahahahaha!!!! Let's just say Janise, Brian, and I couldn't have been happier to get off that thing.</div>
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But it was still totally worth the time and money savings :)</div>
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #993399; font-size: large;">8:15pm: </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc66cc; font-size: medium;">Arrive at Gatwick Airport, London, England</span></b></div>
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #993399; font-size: large;">The next 2.5ish hours:</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc66cc; font-size: medium;"> hop on a National Rail train to the Metro (the "Tube") to another National Rail train to Mill Hill Broadway</span></b>, our home sweet home away from home just northeast of London proper. This part of the trip went perfectly smoothly.</div>
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When we got to Sara and Paul's we got to meet Sara's brother. We had apparently missed a lot in the news of the world while traveling around Italy. Three weeks prior to this Sara and Paul had finally successful smuggled her brother and his wife out of Tripoli...yes, Tripoli, Libya. They described their apartment's location as like living on 5th avenue in New York and the bombings, shootings, and horrible killings are taking place in Times Square or closer. We stayed up with Sara's brother and Paul for an hour or so talking about it all. It's incredible what these people, these children, these innocent human beings are being subjected to and for no reason within their control. It's nauseating. And to think, how often things like this go on around the world and for how long before other countries realize and take a stand. He told us how they weren't just hearing all the things we were hearing about on the news they were watching...out their window. When I was out having the time of my life, living one of my life's dreams, out backpacking around Europe, my little disconnection to the world left me unaware of the travesty that was occurring in and around someone else's homes, down the streets of their neighborhoods where their children are supposed to feel carefree as they dance around barefoot in their imaginary worlds between here and there, now and later, and reality and everywhere else.</div>
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With a glazed look, that seemed to have settled in across his eyes months previous to our somber meeting, this beautiful 30 something year old man gently excused himself and slowly trudged up stairs to the loft bedroom only accessible by pull-down ladder. I will never forget his face. A face life has scared with creases of sorrow and pain far beyond that which I could ever accept as "fair"--and yet, what do I know? In this life "fair" is considered relative.<br />
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What a life. What a world. What a day.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07556343837729876121noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1060632716116160864.post-50013911211301257322011-03-20T17:26:00.000-07:002011-05-25T16:28:52.601-07:00"Just be careful because the couch separates." -Megan, RomaSo, all the time when we were toying with the idea of crashing at Megan and Ali's they kept bringing up how of course one of us could sleep on the couch but that we should be careful because it separates or it's uncomfortable because of that...something like that. And after some of the conditions we've lived and slept through throughout this trip, honestly, nothing could have phased me at this point. And I'm pretty sure, once you've been traveling this long the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">accommodations</span> become less and less important. At this point, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Janise</span> and I had been trying to swap "nicer" <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">accommodations</span> like every time, just to keep things fair. I told her she for sure gets the couch this time because Italian homes, like Taiwan and many of the other more humid countries I've had the incredible opportunity to travel through and experience, traditionally don't have carpet and I didn't want her sleeping on the cold concrete or tile floor. No, I don't know that it's really that I'm that kind or thoughtful or compassionate, but more because I actually don't mind AT ALL sleeping on the floor. Sometimes I even prefer it. No really, I'm being totally serious. I am one of those people that is blessed in an extreme way for being able to sleep pretty much anywhere and pretty much under any conditions. If you want to test me, feel free to comment on this post with places or conditions you can't sleep through, I bet I've either already tackled it or for sure could...within the reason of reality :)<br /><br />Anyway, so Megan and I get back to her place after sitting outside talking for a couple hours and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Janise</span> is on the floor dead asleep wrapped up like a taco in a few blankets and seemingly wearing a few more layers than normal. This left me the couch and a throw blanket. Totally fine. Ha! I said goodnight to Megan as she headed into her room and, after brushing my teeth, I set off to nuzzle on into my little leather couch.<br /><br />So, I think most of you would agree that I'm a little person, consequently I seem to fit practically anywhere with space to spare. And even if it were to be snug I typically sleep in a tight little ball so I only take up a cushion and some anyway. I moved some pillows around, lay down, grabbed the throw blanket, and proceeded to try and situate myself so that I would be fully covered. I have pretty poor circulation in my feet so I like to tuck them in good, even if that means the covers venture away from my chin and neck. I started to kind of slide my legs around in a manner I've learn so I don't have to sit up and actually use my hands to tuck them in...lazy, I know...well, as I'm doing this--OH! AND I didn't mention that Megan and Ali are basically renting a room from this cutie little Italian couple so we need to be really quiet because they wake easily--so, yeah I'm silently squirming around and suddenly...<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">uuhhhhaaaahhh</span>!!! and next thing I know I'm laying or sinking feet up in the air, head wedged against a cushion as pretty much the only reason my head didn't smash against the ground, and as for my rear...well, let's just say that it was planted firmly on the freezing cold ground directly where the couch is normally covering. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Hahahahahaha</span>! It was <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">soooo</span> funny! And not only could I not yelp or scream or whatever from the spontaneous fall but it took everything in me to try and hold my laughter in! I was dying inside and trying so hard to not wake up <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Janise</span> by either my held in laughter or by fall-rolling on top of her being that she was on the ground nearly right at the foot of this incredible transformers couch. I'm pretty sure I had to look something like those cartoons when they fall into a trashcan and their hands and feet are sticking out all kinda ridiculously like. Oh my goodness.<div><br /></div><div>I finally <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">maneuver</span> my way back into an upright position, get to my feet, gather up everything else that sunk into the middle of the couch with me, pushed the two ends back together and went for round 2. I was very conscientious, gentle, and slow this time. And yet, not 15 seconds passed and I found myself catching a breeze along my backside. You see, this time as I began to feel the two ends (this is a little two piece couch) starting to part with the grace of the Red Sea, and knowing that my impending doom was for the middle section of my body to go crashing down, I naturally reacted by lifting that part of my body <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">straight</span> up into the air the way we sometimes do as part of our cool down in yoga, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">pilates</span>, and my kick boxing classes. I'll pause so you can <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">envision</span> what the human bridge I had just popped into... Ha! Yes, hysterical.</div><div><br /></div><div>Again I slowly, strategically, and as silently as I could pulled myself back together and stood up to observe my arrangements and options. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">Ahah</span>! My backpack!! It's huge and brick-like. It's the perfect wedge!!! I tip-toed across the room, quietly lifted it, and wedged it against one end of my little <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">roller coaster</span> and kind of the wall and a table leg. I kind of pushed the couch around a little to see if my next try and sleeping would end up with my tush on the ground and it seemed pretty stable.</div><div><br /></div><div>Now, sometime around 2:30-3am I laid down, tucked my feet in, laughed to myself, reflected on my favorite day in Italy, and fell asleep...finally.</div><div><br /></div><div>Never underestimate friendly warnings about separating couches from friends...just <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">sayin</span>'.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07556343837729876121noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1060632716116160864.post-43441246064283349472011-03-20T14:20:00.000-07:002011-05-29T00:07:57.665-07:00"Team Cami!!!!!" -Anna Maria, BattipagliaMy day started at 4:30am...and yes, I was being serious in my last post that I went to bed at 3:30am...oops :) I got up, showered, got ready, grabbed the bag I'd prepped the night before and started walking to the metro station.<br /><br />I knew that today was the Roma Marathon--<a href="http://www.maratonadiroma.it/">MARATONA DI ROMA 18</a>. We talked about running it but my plans for today trumped. (Megan, Ali and I are actually planning on reuniting in Roma in the next couple years and running it together...stoked much? yes!); What I didn't know was that ALL of the streets were completely and totally blocked off in every direction once I got to the Colosseum. I panicked just a little, not gonna lie. Luckily a couple cops saw this girl all dolled up with a bag in tow, totally halted in her heeled boots, stuck as though the world has just paused, and in my best Italian I explained my situation and they directed me up this hill and down a ways to an alternate entrance to the Metro. Though I'd always wanted to wander up that hill, 5am and in heels were not the best match for the cobble stone pathway. I managed, found it, and got to Roma Termini only a few minutes behind schedule. I has planned in time to grab hot cocoa and a croissant for breakfast at the station and sat near a window to relax, breath, and enjoy a little people watching over my meal. It was quite delightful.<br /><br />My train arrived. My destination: Battipaglia, Italy. It's a place south of the Amalfi coast which meant I had about a 3-4 hour train ride with an exchange in Salerno (which was totally planned with time to get out and explore around a little) on the way. My purpose: To meet the Barretta Family, described as 4 sisters 25 and older with a wonderful Mamma that I'm going to love.<br /><br />Salerno is a really cute little seaside town that, though our adventures in Positano eliminated it for our itinerary for this trip, I will for sure be spending a good day there on my next trip. I love the ocean! There were some really pretty beach side views from both the train ride through and my little walk.<br /><br />I've decided that the best way to tell you all about this part of my adventure is to cut and paste the letter I wrote to my friend describing my experience. This absolutely and with no contest was the best, most important to me, most treasured part of my entire trip. I have permission from him to post this letter (though I did slightly edit it :) ):<br /><br />K so, I think by now you know how my Sunday played out. I can't even say practically perfect in every way, because it was literally perfect in every way and then some! The Barretta's are amazing!!! And hey, as far as Denise and Livians are concerned, there's no fun in meeting EVERYONE the first time, gotta leave some excitement and anticipation for the second. [I was supposed to be in Milano with a couple other friend's of his, like that was the plan since February, but it fell through the last week and I decided that I wanted to meet this family more, so there was some confusion in the States as to where I ended up that day because I hadn't emailed or skyped in a bit.]<br /><br />Gina was at the little train station when I arrived waiting for me. We knew instantly who each other was. She said she'd seen pictures but I hadn't but could just feel her love as I walked up and made eye contact from a distance.<br /><br />Oh my goodness!!!! I can't even close to figure out how to tell you how much fun I had with the Barretta family!! They are incredible!!! I love them so much! You were so right. We totally hit it off from hello and will probably be good friends and in touch for the rest of our lives. They are one of the most amazing families I've ever met and Anna Maria is a saint if I've ever met one...a quite hysterical saint actually...you should have seen/heard us, sometimes she'd just say the best English one liners and we'd all be on the ground crying we were laughing so hard. I guess you've probably experienced that though. I love her. She just...she just treated me like a daughter from the moment they picked me up from the train station...actually, after church while they were teaching me how to make the pasta we had for lunch she just came up to me, a little emotional, and was like, "Cami, you are another one of my daughters I think." Oh, She truly is an angel.<br /><br />We had a wonderful lunch, all the girls were there and the elders and Angelo [one of her four sons] (p.s. that kid! hahaha he's one of the most funny people I have ever met...and he's so good at joking in English...the whole family is actually), what a blast! The food was incredible, of course, and the company and conversation, wow, I couldn't have asked for a more perfect real, genuine, beautiful, happy, fun, loving, loud Italian family experience. From the early morning when I arrived until late that night when I left I don't think 5 minutes went by when we weren't laughing and there was always someone to the point of tears. My abs were seriously, totally not over exaggerating, sore for two days after that...like I could feel them, you know?<br /><br />Church. I don't even know how to tell you about church let alone how much I loved it. I mean, when I was in Napoli sitting with Babak in gospel principles class and listening to the elder bear one of the most beautiful and fervent testimonies I've ever felt, then, that afternoon I thought I have never been so close to my mission. It was actually kind of embarrassing because without warning tears started rolling down my cheeks and I just...I don't even know...I absolutely positively LOVED--like obsessively--loved my mission. I loved it! It was one of the best, most fun, most fulfilling times of my life and i wouldn't trade it for the world and strangely...actually as a result of Napoli...I've mulled over the idea of if I would ever consider serving again...I know I know, I'm crazy, but hey, that's just me, I love doing missionary work....anyways, tears. And as i listened I pondered about the warm drops and discovered that probably for the first time since I've been back, the first time in 3+ years, if someone would have been like, "tomorrow I want you to go serve again" I wouldn't have thought twice about it. I mean i miss the work, the people, the food, the adventure, but this was unlike anything I've ever felt before, on a very deep spiritual level I missed the work and in those moments I felt like I was right back in it.<br /><br />Battipaglia Branch threw me right back there again. I don't know. Maybe it was the tropical setting, the cutie little, totally unique building, the faithful members (regardless of their numbers), the elders translating their little hearts out over the shoulders of the other English speakers, me sitting there, once again listening to the gospel being taught and testified of in a beautiful language and perfectly content just listening with not much more translation other than being truly aware of the topic being discussed, and yet watching and listening--experiencing--to these wonderful brothers and sisters comment, question, and answer according to their heart's desire, understanding, need, and want...following the spirit and inviting Him in more strongly. Watching the elders as an investigator came in late and the light that beams with excitement as we all notice that he has his Book of Mormon in hand. And then watching the love everyone had for him as he courageously participated in the lesson and himself bore strong testimony about the Savior--despite his limited understanding.<br /><br />Church. The faith of those members. Watching as the Bishop and his wife were asked to share their testimonies about their fears and faith about their upcoming life changing adventure of moving to Mexico to pick up their new family and better yet, listening and watching as it became and more and more evident that it was not just this sweet couple that was gaining a family, but the entire branch as they ALL excitedly would try to explain to me what was going on. Anna Maria got called to be the primary president :)...the kids don't come for another 3 months and there are none currently in the Branch. I know she will start faithfully serving and preparing this week. And then listening and just feeling the willingness of the members to support and follow the guidance of the dear elder that would be the presiding Branch President until further notice. Incredible. The church is true! And I love it! I just can't get enough of it! Sometimes I hear the aunts and uncles and my daddy talk about how church used to be when they had meetings on different days and wish it could still be like that because I love gathering together like that with hearts knit together, you know? Wow.<br /><br />Anyway, after dinner we basically just spent the evening talking and laughing and getting to know each other and swapping funny stories and testimonies. They were amazing to me. And Vera, don't even get me started on Vera. What a rock. It didn't even take halfway through the day before she and I were regretting not having gotten in contact sooner so we could have spent a week together! Gina and Rita and and and I could go on forever about these girls! Rita is so sweet and really quite adorable and Gina, she was stuck to my side from beginning to end. And the oldest sister Alessandra, I really liked her, too...she's got a little sass to her and though she didn't speak as much she made me feel like I was important to her and whenever she did say something it was always really good and heartfelt. Anna Maria truly is a remarkable woman. Her life has not been easy but I admire her so much for all she has accomplished and done for her family. I mean, you know them, look at those kids. I don't care if they're active or not or whatever, they are all such special spirits. So full of love. Thank you so much for allowing me to be blessed with the opportunity of being touched by them. Thank you for sharing them with me. It's rare, being the oldest girl, that I have...well, I guess like,--while I was there was one of those cherished moments that it felt like I was blessed with the understanding of what it's like to have "big sisters" and they felt the same way. This was obviously a very special experience for me and I'm probably telling you more than you'd ever care to know. But I guess my heart is just brimming with gratitude. We talked about how at first we were both kinda like, "hmm, what's the point for us to meet?" but then within an hour of spending time together and talking we knew. And really, we feel like the Lord wanted us to meet too. So, I guess in the end thank you for being an instrument in the Lord's hands because we were all touched and changed by the testimonies and love of each other.<br /><br />anyway, have a great night...and I heard you were a little concerned about me that night...please, come on, you should know me better than that...it was only a 4 hour train ride, a 20 or so minute bus ride, and a little walk through some pretty poorly lit streets until I found my tall, blond Rupertite chica who then escorted me the rest of the way home...I was fine, confident, and never felt nervous or in danger or lost thank you. Have a little faith my friend...by this point i hope I'd be fine, I did just backpack through Europe, not speaking ANY of the key languages. :) Are you ever going to stop worrying about me?? hahaha You're funny.<br /><br />welp, night!<br /><br />me<br /><br />SIDENOTE: That last paragraph is referring to my adventure Sunday night back up to Roma. Janise and I were leaving the next morning for Milan so I decided to head back, against all our deepest desires, that night to just make things easier in the morning. My train ended up being 70 minutes late leaving Battipaglia, which was actually great because it gave Vera, Gina, and I a ton more time to talk. But once I got on it was pretty smooth sailing from there...(ha! "sailing" that's like the one mode of transportation that I didn't use that night)<br /><br />The metro, like I've mentioned before is under construction so I had to find the "metro bus," that was probably the hardest part of the adventure but other than that it was great! I was staying with Megan and Ali at their place out at the end of one of the metro lines, the same one I got off the first time when we went to church in Roma. The reason there was a little chaos and concern, besides the fact that my dear friends were apparently extremely concerned about and thought I was crazy for having traveled all that way by myself, was that the metro buses stop at midnight. Don't worry, I caught the LAST bus of the night and found Megan after having only walked a block or so. If you haven't figured out that I'm serious when I say the Lord loves me, well, it's true and this was one of the best examples yet! Haha! What a night!<br /><br />Anna Maria Mamma sent me home with sooooo much food and entire container of the famed mozzarella di bufala (oh! Bonissimo!!!!), including a couple forks. So, after Megan and I made the trek back up to her home, we decided we weren't done talking so we sat and enjoyed the rest of our conversation over some of the best treats Italia has to offer. What a perfect way to end my sojourn in Roma and Italy...Europe for that matter.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07556343837729876121noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1060632716116160864.post-40510976986141556852011-03-19T09:43:00.000-07:002011-05-19T11:16:07.115-07:00"Excuse me can you tell me how to get to...?" -Everyone, RomaToday was a meravigliosa (marvelous) day! I slept in until 11am...wow. I figured out my adventure for tomorrow--my last Sunday in Europe and boy do I have the best and most anticipated day planned out. I went out and walked around a little by myself and then met up with Megan who would be joining us for our last Persian meal of the trip. We said goodbye to Babak who was leaving for Istanbul to meet up with his family for <a href="http://www.persia.org/Culture/nowruz.html">Norouz</a>, Persian New Year. I actually got to skype with Sassan, his older brother, which was again the first time I've ever talked to or seen him. They both look so much like my grandfather it's kind of uncanny. And then Megan, Janise, and I headed out to walk around on the town and explore a little more.<br /><br />We actually went out at the perfect time because there were all kinds of live entertainers everywhere we turned. In what I think was a mall there was a live band filling the air. On Via Del Corso there were people in between every corner. The best were this cute little lady that was dressed up like a mime in a corsetted antique dress and she danced around with an umbrella. And we're talking like ballroom danced. She had a stand with a couple elaborately decorated vintage looking umbrellas and she passionately graced her selected courtyard with the floating tip toes as the music flowed from light and flirty to deep and love torn. Interesting display, but I have to admit she was talented. One of the others was a street break crew. We stopped and watched for a little while, but just as with most street crews I've seen in different places around the world, they focused a lot more on hyping up the crowd before and after they perform than the actual break dancing itself. I've realized that after having been in charge of the Break Dance Crew on BYU campus for about a year and a half it's hard for me to watch or be impressed by other crews sometimes. I mean, I knew the guys were good, but the more crews I see perform the more I realize, shoot! the BYU Breakers are actually like totally stellar!! Way ta go dudes! (and dudette, there was one girl and she was actually the president's wifey :) ).<br /><br />Janise was tired and Megan, Ali, and I had a midnight rendezvous awaiting for that evening, so we parted ways at Stazione Colosseo and went home to freshin up and get somethings done. I finished my final prep for Sunday and at around 11:30pm headed back out to meet up with Megan and Ali at Stazione Ottaviano.<br /><br />Whoever came up with the idea of a 24 hr. bakery was a genius. I applaud you! The bakery was a short walk down a couple now dark streets not too far from the Vatican, and then down a seemingly unfriendly stairwell on the left. Had I not been with Megan and Ali, who had been here once or twice before and knew that this was our desired location, I imagine even my adventurous spirit might not have found me wandering down into this basement gathering place. The streets were scarce of people and those that were lallygagging around did not draw out any of my typical eagerness or fascination to get to know new friends, as they stood, stooped, stared, and whispered from the shadows of the sidewalks.<br /><br />Once inside it was just like that part in the movie Eat.Pray.Love. where Julia Roberts character walks into a Cafe and is lost in the huddled sea of people yelling over each other to the handful of service ladies running around behind the counter with bread, pastries, and other too incredible to describe wonders flying from plastic glove to bag to patron. Amazing. I wish I would have filmed the scene. That would be the solitary way to do it's description justice.<br /><br />We each ordered two, three, four items and headed back up the dark stairs to enjoy our devilish ambrosia in the crisp evening's fresh air. We walked around a bit in search of the perfect spot to perch and nibble. As we approached a corner crossing, I climbed up on top of the Metro wall, swung my legs over to hang over it's inner facing edge and with a half smile and a taunting raised eyebrow coaxed my pastry lovin' friends to join me. With the nerves common to one walking across a long suspension bridge, they cautiously climbed up and over, settling in right next to me.<br /><br />What a sight to see. Here we were, three American girls, each with their own BAG of fresh baked, hot out of the oven delicacies in one hand, munching on another with the guidance of the other hand, chatting up a storm at a volume that could compete with the best gaggle of high school girls Italia has to offer, constantly having to remind each other and wipe off remnants of those heavenly treats from cheeks, lips, noses, and fingers, sitting there on a dark corner in the heart of Roma, glowing with the dim light of a street lamp and the stars above, legs dangling into the dark abyss familiar in day light by thousands as they emerge from it's depths after their arrival from who knows where on the metro to join the world of travelers, tourists, locals, business people, and everything in between on these streets that have existed and seen more history, joy, tears, blood, and love than any one street in our Country, giggling and bursting into laughter every other moment...<br /><br />Few people passed by over the couple of hours we tarried there, but I bet they had never seen anything like it. Once in a while I would get up and walk the tightrope around the mouth of the metro on this wall. I think Megan would stop breathing every time. I just laughed. And took a couple pictures. Boys, love, religion, heartbreak, life, Italia, home, family, you name it, we talked about it. <br /><br />I had an early morning approaching me so we finished off the last of the treats we intended to eat together and again parted ways.<br /><br />I love walking around Roma at night. It has the perfect combination of peaceful and mysterious.<br /><br />Everyone was still up when I returned. I skyped Seany as soon as I got back and helped him write his mission farewell talk which he would be giving the following morning at church (He's going to be serving a mission for our church in Donetsk, Ukraine...follow his adventures <a href="http://elderseanrooneyblog.atspace.eu/">here</a>). I stayed up until around 3:30am Roma time and had to call it a night. I strategically placed my things around the house so as to expedite my getting ready process for the morning and went to sleep.<br /><br />I set two alarms just to be safe. I had an adventure awaiting that I was not going to jeopardize by faulty technology or my personal weakness for sleep.<br /><br />Sidenote: Today was funny too, in the past week it's become a daily occurance, multiple times a day actually, that people stop me on the street when we're walking around and ask for directions. It's really funny and they all try different languages to ask as well. Everyone here thinks I'm Italian, locals and otherwise, but really I don't know what it is about me that says, "Hey! I know what I'm doing and where you want to go" but it's kinda fun. And the best part is that I've been able to help them 100% of the time even without a map.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07556343837729876121noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1060632716116160864.post-26779032833836569242011-03-18T16:38:00.000-07:002011-05-19T09:40:12.249-07:00"I've been demoted to a cutter!" -Janise, Marilena's Kitchen, RomaOh my goodness! I've forgotten how nice a "real," luxuriously clean, beautifully whatever temperature I want, for however long I want shower is. mmm :) So, so good. And the pleasant way to put a serene smile on my face. Perfection.<br /><br />While I showered I had Janise head off to an adorably quaint little market that was through a beautiful courtyard full of orange trees, out a secret garden like, visibly antique, rod iron gateway crawling with luciously green vines, down or might I say up a whimsical cobble stone passageway lined with unique shops that lead up toward those steep steep stairs that at this time of day and given the weather conditions looked as though they just went on eternally as they disappeared into the dense, low hanging blanket of clouds that lay so thick they may just have been the actual stairway to heaven...but then again, I'm already in Heaven, right?<br /><br />Breakfast: Hand picked wild strawberries, bananas, bread with that sung the song of fresh baked when crunched and pulled apart and makes you want to lick your finger and dab up every last crumb, incredible (and my new obsession) apricot jam, and of course my European lifeline: Nutella. Divine? Yes. There is no better word.<br /><br />We descended from our 5 diamond accommodations, paid Christian, said our goodbyes, took the last pictures of paradise, and headed up those stairs to our favorite bus stop and off to Roma--la mia casa Italiana. Oh Roma!<br /><br />This trip was via Napoli of course and I made sure when planning out our route back that we would have a layover there. I had a special treat up my sleeve for Janise. Upon my arrival to Italy my first time around I remember, with great detail, my first ever experience with Shwarma. I've been hooked ever since. And for the past two and a half years my senses have been tantalized by one of my best friend's descriptions of "the best Shwarma in the world." Unfortunately, for all our other friends back in the states, the hopes of ever trying such unprecidented perfection were as likely as their plans of ever traveling around Europe...sadly slim. You see this masterful creation happened to be in the far of land of Italy, in a little town called Napoli. Luckily for Janise and I we not only were heading straight there, BUT I had some pretty decent directions on how to find the original "Shwarma Shack." We went, we explored, I took a chance on a little alleyway which lead us the back way up just the street that we should be on, and in a moment of near desperation given the wanning time, stepped into the actually shop our director intended us to find. We hurried and purchased and literally ran back to the station in just the nick of time to step onto our train.<br /><br />We each enjoyed the imfamous shwarma throughout the train ride back and yes, it was as incredible as described and not only blew my previous experience with shwarma out of the water, but I fear, as is the case for my dear friend, that my taste buds will never again be satisfied by any other shwarma. A stiff price to pay but totally worth it. It was a party in my mouth! I also skyped on the way back and confirmed our dinner arrangements. Done and done. Ristorante Marilena e Fabrizio Part 2: The Gnocchi Lesson.<br /><br />I don't know if I mentioned this in my last post about dinner at Marilena's, but a good portion of the conversation that evening was spent discussing all the future cooking lessons we were going to have. I'm sure you're all thinking about how impossible that would be...me in California, Babak all over the place, Janise in Alaska or Seattle or on some island off the coast of Washington, Megan soon to be heading back to Rupert, ID, and then of course the Master Chef and her faithful sidekick, Marilena and Fabrizio in Roma. Oh, don't worry we got that all worked out real quick like...drum roll please...dun dun dun! Skype. Duh! We started scheduling our little lessons out right then, and once that started so did the cuisine request shout outs. Gnocchi top the charts and so tonight was the night. Oh my amazing!<br /><br />Once again the Lord totally played that video game just right and Megan walked up right as I was turning down Marilena's street and after we grabbed some flowers and stopped off at a little pasticceria (pastry shop) around the corner, we arrived at their door just as they pulled up smiling, waving, laughing, and cheering loudly in Italian, seemingly having forgotten their motor scooter was stilling humming. It all just added to the beautiful sounds of a bustling Roman Friday evening. We couldn't really hear anything but the body language was clearly, <br /><br />"I'm so excited you made it! I'm so sorry we're late!"<br /><br />We headed up stairs, rolled up our sleeves, well, Marilena practically rolled them up for us shortly after helping us take off our coats, hanging our bags, shuffling us ALL into the kitchen, and starting to rattle off directions for each of us--love that woman--and..."hi ho, hi ho, it's off to work we go!"<br /><br />Making gnocchi really isn't that difficult, what it is is totally time consuming and slightly manual labor :), well, at least my first assignment was. Ho-ly! I mean, I know I'm a soccer player and therefore lacking in the upper arm or I guess hand strength BUT really really? The potatoes were all cooked and ready to go. I started peeling and then Marilena pointed to a funny little contraption, one of which I totally want now, and the race began. Megan took over peeling and it was my duty to smash them as closely to rate of which she peeled...ha. ha. ha. Let's see if I can shed some light on this little thingy...oooh!!! Ok! So I'm assuming most of my readers have played with play-doh at some point in time in their lives, well, there's always a tool that you could put a ball of play-doh into and it would have a little lid that would cover it with a little handle and it would just send us all giggling to oblivion as you'd push down and the play-doh would slowly ooze out the bottom which was full of little holes. The result was spaghetti-like strands or strings of play-doh. At that time we would usually use it as fake pasta or hair for the little person we were creating. But on this magnificent evening this tool combine with potatoes led us to a brilliantly simple yet delectable fine dining experience.<br /><br />I made it through about 90% of the potatoes before my forearms and hands just couldn't do it anymore and I passed the task onto the fabulously strong Megan. From there we took the mass of spaghetti noodled potatoes and placed it on the table and added flour and a little water (and a pinch of salt for those that want). We pretty much just eye-balled it, kneaded it up, and were left with the perfect mound of "dough" if you will, ready to be played with. The next assignments were dividing out the mound, rolling out each section into real long quarter of an inch thick snakes, cutting each snake up into inch length segments, and then...and oh was this a trial at first for all of us who tried, the ever elusive two finger roll down the cheese grater (fine grate) for design, texture, and forming into the tradition gnocchi shape.<br /><br />To start, I rolled and cut with Ali at my opposite doing the same. Marilena then set to the task of instructing Megan and Janise on the finger rolling of the dough as well as the perfect placement on the cook-prep cloth which laid across the entire counter to our side--after rolled you don't want them to touch because they'll stick to eachother. Oh how I love Marilena. So much patience. Such a funny way of showing it :). Megan picked up on it by the time I had finished cutting up my first section, but Janise, oh poor Janise...actually, I don't know if it's "poor Janise" or "poor Marilena," all I know is that I don't know if any of us have ever laughed so hard! Marilena honestly just could not fathom how hard it was for Janise to "master" this art. And Janise, bless her heart, she tried soooooo hard and with a smile the entire time. I think it was probably a good thing that we had already spent a couple days with Marilena by this point so we knew that despite the volume of her voice rapidly increasing and her spontaneous aggressive outbursts of movement and words coupled with some beautifully good old fashion Italian mannerisms as she'd grab the cheese grate right out of Megan or Janise's hands to try for the 5 billionth time (or so it seemed to her) to show Janise just how it's done, often times even grabbing each of her hands herself and trying to work her through the proper movement, that she really wasn't "mad" per say, just really enthusiastic in her demonstration and persistent desire for her to "get it." bahahahahahaha!!!! Janise was such a good sport, and the rest of us all did everything we could to try and stay productive and precise in our assigned tasks so as not to draw any attention to our peripheral glances, uncontrollable raised eyebrows, and cheeks flushing with the strain of trying to not only keep a straight-ish face, but also keep the eruptions into ab workout laughter to a minimum. Eventually, Marilena took the knife from me, hand it off to Janise and I was set to the task of rolling gnocchi...<br /><br />I must admit it took me a few times, and I likewise drew the unsatisfied attention of my dear Master Chef, but eventually I think I really got the hang of it. I even got a couple of loud applauses and cheerful kitchen dances from Marilena in praise of a couple of my inch by half an inch pieces of texturized dough. Mostly probably because of her relief that it was almost done. :)<br /><br />We each grabbed a corner of the cooking cloth and slowly poured the gnocchi into a steaming pot of water. From here we just waited for them to bob up to the surface then we'd scoop them into a strainer, bounce them over the sink until every last drop was gone (to the best of our ability...we gave that job to Fabrizio because that job got the most criticism and little temper tantrums of them all). We'd made the sauce simultaneously with the gnocchi making process as well as the stuffed egg plant course, so from here it was off to the table to enjoy, flour covered and all.<br /><br />Let's just say we indulged the bulge. And the bulge hurt. I was pretty much at about a third trimester food baby by the time she allowed us to stop eating. Boy oh boy was I glad we didn't have a dance after party after all that. There was a fruit course and two dessert courses as well. Which reminds me, I really need to get the recipe for the one desserts she made--apparently it's how she won over Fabrizio, and after one bite we all understood why.<br /><br />Over all I think it was an incredibly successful, fun filled, fulfilling evening. As they say about a good movie, we laughed, we cried, there was suspense, and there was joy. We went, we made, we ate, we loved, we learned, we lived. And oh how glorious it was!!!<br /><br />We said near tearful goodbyes as well as plotted our next possible opportunities to squeeze in future encounters before Janise and I had to catch our train, plane, and automobile out of not only this majestically mystifying country, but out of this beloved continent.<br /><br />The metro is under construction for a while so being that it was after 11pm we had to catch a bus back to Piazza Venezia and then walk home from there. The four of us left together and as soon as we hit the streets and were clearly out of sight or sound of our favorite Roma Mamma we all about doubled over on the street and had to stop a second and take a breather because of how stuffed we all were. We regain composure, all embraced, and waddled off in opposite directions.<br /><br />Maybe for the first time in my life I was actually on the verge of sharing my dinner with the sidewalk while we waited for the bus. Gratefully my stomach decided it wanted to keep it all to itself. I am shocked and amazed to say that other than around Chinese New Year during my mission I don't think I have EVER eaten so much food in my life! Oh but it was soooo good :)<br /><br />We made it back safely and stayed up a few more hours catching up with Sepideh and the girls, skyping, chatting, emailing, calling, and me, blogging about the past week's adventures.<br /><br />Roma is not over for me yet so I didn't have to say goodbye...but who am I kidding...at the rate I'm going, despite it being round two for me here, I don't believe you can ever take Roma out of this girl's heart. Part of me just is completely at home here...<br /><br />...maybe I've been doing some research about moving and living here for an extended period of time...<br /><br />...ah, time. Only it truly knows what my future holds.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07556343837729876121noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1060632716116160864.post-56865620841642401622011-03-17T19:36:00.000-07:002011-05-18T16:38:45.255-07:00"No really he lives in a cave and his car is like the flinstones." -Alberto, PositanoSo like I said, we grabbed our stuff and quite literally RAN away. Oh but don't worry we took a picture of the what would probably become one of the most infamous spots for our entire trip. Duh! In fact, for all your eye candy pleasure...here are some pics...<br /><br /><br />how quaint.<br /><br />Anyway, so like I said, we ran. The thing was pretty much only knew how to get to the market and to the bus stop, but the those were both likely places that we could run into Jess and Dave so the night before I had seen Dave run down some stairs by the market when he tried to chase down that stupid high dude that stole my pack. So we headed that way. And yes, we were still basically running. What? We were seriously like so paranoid about running into them but also super hungry and had NO CLUE what time the next bus was coming through so I figured as long as the stairs kept going down the mountain we would eventually end up at the beach. hmmm, the beach. I love the beach. It's. Like. Heaven.<br /><br />We made it. And in good time too. Unfortunately, remember how I said it was like 7am or whatever, yeah...nothing was open. We put our stuff down...IN A REALLY GOOD VISIBLE PLACE :) And I walked around looking at the menus at the couple of nice restaurants right there on the beach. Oh and by the way...don't even get me started...it was absolutely gorgeous. It was breath taking...or giving...something about clean, fresh, crisp ocean breeze seems to just make everything seem brighter and peaceful. Hmmm...I need to go to the beach...Anyway, we ended up at a bar for some classic Italian hot cocoa and a pastry. mmm, mmm, good.<br /><br />By this point we'd already walked by these guys a couple times and by the time we were done with our breakfast, maybe they joined us at the bar. Convenient. They were definitely locals and definitely speaking Napoletano and giggling an awful lot. I had to pee so I made eye contact with one of them a couple times and then I started chatting with them. They actually had great English. So, after some other girls squeezed onto the bar as well, I asked them to watch our bags so we could run to the restroom. The one that we would come to know as Alberto just rose his brow, cracked a mischievous smile and said, "Oh of course and don't worry we'll take everything."<br /><br />"Perfect!" I exclaimed and ran off.<br /><br />I know you're all really starting to think, "ok, who let this girl backpack around the world basically alone??" or probably, "Didn't she learn her lesson last night??" hahaha, I getcha but, I just knew they were fine...I could feel it. And really really, it was probably one of the best decisions of the entire trip :)<br /><br />We came back, thanked them, and were off to enjoy an absolutely fabulously relaxing day on the beaches of Positano. It was ahhh, so wonderful. So needed. So perfect. There was hardly anyone along the coast and the sky was beyond big, bright, and beautiful. I honestly don't know what was more clear, the water or the sky. And the forecast for today was a huge storm. Ha! (this happened almost everywhere we went our entire trip actually...we bring and take the sun everywhere we went in Italia)<br /><br />I found a great place to stash our stuff, when I walked down along the southern end of the beach I found an old rusted stairwell that lead up to a rod iron door to who knows where. It was lightly chained off and well hidden from view by a serious amount of over grown trees and budding bushes. It was pretty easy for me to climb over and under and park our stuff up there. Shoes included of course.<br /><br />We spent the next few hours mostly separate doing as we pleased. Janise playing travel photographer and me...I just did the beach thing. There were some cliffs off to the north and though there were some pretty huge waves crashing into them I was pretty sure there had to be a way up the cliff so I watched the sets rolling in for a little and picked up on the pattern and then just went for it. I'm starting to sense a pattern with this day. Yes, I ran.<br /><br />and...just as I assumed...A dug out staired path leading to the seemingly ever elusive UP. Ooh, I love up. I climbed up, mostly with ease. There were only a couple spots that I had to make it up as I went. What I didn't know to be the halfway point at the time was a white stained by time and the spirit of adventure peace sign spray painted on the rocks. Love it. A man after my own heart...and I say man because I've never seen a chick walking around with a spray bottle tagging...yes, I'm totally stereotyping...although, now that I think about it...I've totally done that. ha! funny.<br /><br />The staired path ended a little abruptly but there was a path a hop over a fence away. So I hopped. Left or right? Right would most likely send me back down and into the town center. And left, well I had no clue where left went and the path quickly disappear around a bend and behind more over reaching trees.<br /><br />Left it is.<br /><br />I was passed by a family at one point and judging by the looks on their faces you'd think they'd never seen a girl barefoot in a little white dress walking with a light bounce in her step humming some song as she went. Weird. Maybe it was the bright scarf tied in my hair or my best retro big sunglasses. Who knows. Who cares.<br /><br />My journey lead me to a couple remarkable views and then...the pearl...a solitary little cover with nothing but the soothing sound of the water washing up and down the shore and splashing along the rocks. hmmm, perfect.<br /><br />I skipped back to my stuff, grabbed my book of choice for this part of the trip having read nearly all the other, found Janise and beckoned to her to join me. She was a little sketched out by the initial race to beat the crashing walls of water to get to the first few steps of the climb up, but from there it was great. She went through this little open ended cave that lead to another long stretch of beach and disappeared with her camera. I stuffed my Book of Mormon down the front of my dressed and starting climbing the face of the rocks on the north side of my magical little cove. I found the perfect perch just high enough that only my feet would get wet by some of the big waves and where the constant ocean spray was enough to refresh but not too much to saturate my book or blur my vision.<br /><br />and, I said a little prayer and just opened and read. I don't know why I was surprised but I opened to the same chapter that I'd been opening to for the entire trip. And it wasn't because I've been using the same BOM every time. Interesting.<br /><br />I could have sat up there, basking in the sun, reading, pondering, and just experiencing every moment forever. Unfortunately, we had a date to keep. You see, on my way back to find Janise I passed those guys again and Janise and I were hungry and not really wanting a feast of granola bars and trail mix. But, we also didn't have a clue where else to eat other than the expensive spots right on the water. We needed local help. Good thing I just smiled at one.<br /><br />Janise about died when I walked back with a satisfied smiled from ear to ear.<br /><br />Janise: "So did you find a place to eat?"<br /><br />Me: "Yup."<br /><br />Janise: "Awesome, where?"<br /><br />Me: "Alberto's."<br /><br />Janise: "Hmm, is it supposed to be real good? Where is it?"<br /><br />Me: "Oh I don't know. He said it is and I'm assuming it's his house."<br /><br />Janise: "Wait what?"<br /><br />I just smiled and nodded. "I asked them where the best place for lunch was in Positano and the one with the green eyes and the baseball cap stepped forward and said, 'My house.' And that my dear Janise, is that. Free lunch and cute company with awesome English."<br /><br />"How do you do that???" Shock and awe is the best way to describe her at that point.<br /><br />So, that's the appointment that pulled me off my heaven sent rock escape. We had to meet them on the beach at 1pm.<br /><br />From there we spent a few hours just hanging out on the steps in the center of town with a bunch of Alberto's friends. Pablo and Christian and and and. They knew everyone and I swear Alberto was related to half the town. Everyone that walked up was either a relative or a neighbor which for a town of a little over 3000 I guess isn't too hard but still. It was so much fun. And seriously, I swear there are like NO women in that entire town. And they actually kept telling us that it was like a holiday that women aren't supposed to go outside day or something...but<br /><br />a. they were remarkably good at joking around and,<br />b. there's no way!<br /><br />...but really really, I still couldn't tell you if they were being serious or not. Like they would try and prove it to us by asking random dudes that walked by and they all seemed to be in on it.<br /><br />Oh yeah, I guess I probably don't need to mention that we didn't have a plan for where to stay that night. But don't worry, after like hours of chatting I had my little Alberto Russo and his motley crew wrapped around my finger. We got really great gelato, a night over drinks, and the top FLOOR of a sea front hotel which included the entire roof terrace and princess accommodations at an extremely discounted rates...like we're talking ridiculous. I had stopped at the restroom again and on my way back he grabbed my arm, pulling me to the gelato counter, hands me his favorite and says pick my price. I totally low balled...like hostel rate level...and he got Christian to give it to us. The hotel wasn't even open for the season until the next day so he just gave us the key to the front door of the hotel and insisted no men were allowed in our room unless they pay me 100 euro and a bottle of wine. hahahaha.<br /><br />There was only about an hour and a half that night that we didn't spend with them where we went to this pretty little spot they recommended for dinner and then we got all dolled up for drinks, etc. later that night. The waiter of course knew the guys and we had actually met his son and one of his workers through Alberto. The whole restaurant treated us like family after that. There was even this funny little old artist that had just finished painting an interesting depiction of beauty on the main wall that came and joined us for a while.<br /><br />The bar tender was really funny that night too. He obviously also knew Pablo and Alberto so he'd walk over and chat with us every once in a while. The other thing they were trying to convince us of was that Pablo lives in a cave. Everyone confirmed it but really really? I still don't know. hahaha But the bar tender, when he brought our drinks back he tried to offer me another...alcoholic perhaps?? I told him I don't drink at all and that I never have and never will and they all just stopped and stared...they may have even stopped breathing. I continued and said, "Yeah, I don't drink, don't smoke, or do drugs." and that's when the bar tender said,<br /><br />"What? She doesn't drink. She doesn't smoke. She doesn't do drugs. And she's beautiful," then he kinda smacked Alberto on the back and goes, "She's the perfect woman!"<br /><br />We all laughed and I don't know who's face was closure to the color of a wild strawberry...mine or Alberto's.<br /><br />We headed back up to our room and all sat on our king size bed and watched "Dark Knight" in Italian.<br /><br />The night ended with Alberto trying to explain to us that in Italia they say hello and goodbye with due baci (a kiss usually on each cheek...which yes we not only knew but were very accustom to by that point). And then asking if he could. umm and yeah, we let them ;)..though I apparently had been doing it wrong all this time, because I was always under the impression that they were two cheek kisses. Haha cute little country boy...although he's 30 so I guess he's not really a boy...but he sure acted like one sometimes. For example, they refused to let us take pictures of them. Silly silly boys.<br /><br />We slept really well that night.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07556343837729876121noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1060632716116160864.post-21432894055176736682011-03-16T23:59:00.000-07:002011-04-29T18:23:42.570-07:00"I'm really glad your friend Cami came tonight, oh and you too of course. Would it be ok if I took her on a scooter ride, you too of course." Dave<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7z_2J6YtOuQoMvWIxkLQp6LvopFObtxykdVCbJzbziJqHT8OtvuRP5ImUyTD2A7GJ4TSgjM2lj0CDVApAAX0BiIXG7U-UQXiUR0Qbgg5WYHajf55HgMM6jHwKxJM0hwsDmKTUYr4t2dcx/s1600/lemons+2.jpg"></a><div><div><div><div><div style="text-align: left;">Ok so I've gone back and forth on whether or not I was going to share the next 12+ hours of our trip experience with you all. I even thought maybe I would just email the details to those that I thought would "appreciate" it more than others--though I don't know if that's a good choice of word. But in the end, what's a good travel story if it spares some of the gory details?? I'm gonna stick to my full disclosure policy and run with that. Just don't judge.</div><div><br /><br /></div><div>So the night with Dave and Jess begun eventful but there was nothing to that point that could have foreshadowed what would come next.<br /><div><div><div><div><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvmbyulp6cwGWQIIHSh6MjJnENJij2EZSsJSfnRSLaobK0tgAlYJepnKzgJXoXBci8KCFtyNC7rsYtbHe8ApU8ioPZMFxHez09IcRZziZ3jU24t1fe_-IWXx3aUXKnqSgeswGL3RIYsZf5/s1600/dave+and+jess.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5600100062230119538" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvmbyulp6cwGWQIIHSh6MjJnENJij2EZSsJSfnRSLaobK0tgAlYJepnKzgJXoXBci8KCFtyNC7rsYtbHe8ApU8ioPZMFxHez09IcRZziZ3jU24t1fe_-IWXx3aUXKnqSgeswGL3RIYsZf5/s400/dave+and+jess.jpg" style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; width: 300px; display: block; height: 400px; cursor: pointer; " /></a></div></div></div></div></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >This is Dave and Jess</span></div><div>It started out with us all just sitting around and then Dave suggested we go pick some of the lemons from the tree in front of the villa and squeeze them with the oranges Emilia the shopkeeper had just given us to make some yummy juice. Ok. Being the public health dork I am, when he asked for some help with a flashlight outside (he was cutting with his army knife and the moonlight wasn't quite bright enough), I offered to help so Jess could keep her foot up.</div><div><br /></div><div>Harmless, right? Yeah, sure.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7z_2J6YtOuQoMvWIxkLQp6LvopFObtxykdVCbJzbziJqHT8OtvuRP5ImUyTD2A7GJ4TSgjM2lj0CDVApAAX0BiIXG7U-UQXiUR0Qbgg5WYHajf55HgMM6jHwKxJM0hwsDmKTUYr4t2dcx/s1600/lemons+2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5600100085550761810" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7z_2J6YtOuQoMvWIxkLQp6LvopFObtxykdVCbJzbziJqHT8OtvuRP5ImUyTD2A7GJ4TSgjM2lj0CDVApAAX0BiIXG7U-UQXiUR0Qbgg5WYHajf55HgMM6jHwKxJM0hwsDmKTUYr4t2dcx/s400/lemons+2.jpg" style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; width: 300px; display: block; height: 400px; cursor: pointer; " /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >This one of the oversized lemons that the Amalfi Coast are famous for: Cedro (pronounced Che-dro</span>)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>From there he had me follow him into the kitchen and we started hand squeezing the fruit. It totally took me back to my days living in the "909"...we used to have an orange tree and I think a lemon too and I loved picking them and getting out that little bowl thing with the dully pointed part that sticks up in the middle and squishing and spinning the orange halves around and around until every last drop was out. This was much the same. And we just casually chatted as we took turns.</div><div><br /></div><div>Janise sat on the couch to keep Jess company. I guess we would have all been talking together but they had music playing so we would have been shouting...it was like loud, hard rock, hater, army man music.</div><div><br /></div><div>Our conversation went everywhere from army stuff to music to family to traveling to fashion to Italia to them to us to college and majors to life philosophies...you get the picture...and you all know I can talk and be engaged in almost any topic of conversation.</div><br />Every once in a while I felt like, "hmm, ok that was a little close," or like "ok, I think you just popped my personal bubble," or "hmm, was that 'graze' on accident?? Yeah, of course it was."<br /><br /><div>The evening progressed and he just kept drinking that limoncella...another one of those things I'm glad I was warned about because otherwise I would probably have gotten drunk by now because of how often it was offered...and don't worry, I definitely accidentally bought chocolates with it in them and the fam didn't realize it until daddy tried them...oops! Sorry Bishop :) Limoncella is basically an alcoholic lemonade that the coast is famous for. And the more he drank the more...well, let's just say I made panicked eye contact with Janise not even halfway through the night and she asked if she could help at that point. I know how to make pretty stellar bruschetta. I didn't need to be taught. Nor did I need him to try and "get to know me" any more than he already had.</div><div><br /></div><div>I took a breath of relief and joined Jess in the living room.</div><div><br /></div><div>Then out came the cards and the camera.</div><div><br /></div><div>"BS!!!" was the game of choice. We dove in. By this point he was getting super obvious in his gestures, attempts, looks, stares, and comments. Actually, I think the camera had already come out while we were cutting lemons and in the kitchen. That's right, that was the first time I thought he tried to kiss me...what?!?! oh yeah! kiss!! I had to literally duck out of it...he'd cornered me up again the kitchen sink area...oh but he was just joking of course...he just stumbled a little...riiiggghhhtttt.</div><div><br /></div><div>Right off the bat he chose to sit as far from Jess as possible and next to me...like I was sitting between them. And within 5 minutes he straight up turned his chair so that his natural gaze and entire body were directly facing me. Then he's like totally distracted looking at the pictures...and drinking...and he started randomly taking pictures of me...or at least trying to. I just kept putting my hand up and stuff to ruin the pictures. He started getting like legitimately frustrated with me. And then of course he would take pictures of the other girls too so he could justify it. 4 of me 1 of them. 2 of me 1 of them. 3 of me 1 of them.</div><div><br /></div><div>Janise and I were DYING!</div><div><br /></div><div>When the game was over he wanted to go get cappuccino. So everyone was going to go. But then he just wanted to take the scooter but only two people could be on it. And then like Jess can't really walk. Oh and this was after he made this profound announcement...it was more like a speech actually but he uh, he offered for us to stay there with them for the remainder of our trip. Janise and I looked at eachother not knowing what to think. Jess just smiled real big and was all excited too. So strange. So, I volunteered to stay with Jess and he and Janise could go get drinks. We had all already said we wanted hot chocolate. He just kept trying to make eye contact and bringing it up again and again how only two people could go and like asking, "So wait, what do you all want?"</div><div><br /></div><div>3 Hot Chocolates. That's it. It's not rocket science buddy.</div><div><br /></div><div>And then like he was either so drunk that he couldn't hear us or he'd just straight up gone deaf, he almost frantically searched out a notepad and pen and asks again,</div><div><br /></div><div>"So, Janise what do you want (ummm...she's going with you dude)...hot chocolate (writing it down)...and you Jess?...h-o-t c-h-o-c-o-l-a-t-e...and cami (crossing the room and handing me the pen and pad) can you just write down what you want?"</div><div><br /></div><div>ummm...ok.</div><div><br /></div><div>Holding the pen I go to write under the list he'd already made and...what the? I see this instead of his so-called list:</div><div><br /></div><div>"I really wish it was you coming on this walk with me..."</div><div><br /></div><div>WHAT!!!!!! Who are you dude!!?!?!???!?</div><div><br /></div><div>I contained all the disgust on my face and blatantly wrote, in all caps:</div><div><ul><li>HOT CHOCOLATE</li></ul></div><div>I promptly handed it back to him, still avoiding eye contact (I could see him starring at me with those "need you" eyes...oh and did I mention he ripped out, crumpled up, and pocketed the note after reading...that's always a trust promoting gesture). I started talking with Jess after shooting Janise an, "I'm so sorry but thank you!" glance and they left with him dragging his feet.</div><br />, you might be wondering why I hadn't just stormed out by that point or raised you know what...well, you see at this point Janise and I were having a really difficult time trying to figure out whether or not Jess had picked up on any of this yet. No, like really though. She's such a nice little girl but she seems to be a little disconnected in places, if you will. Which also made us question why he was marrying her...let's just say they were on different planets from what we witnessed. We were just afraid of the off chance that we were like way off base and he really wasn't coming on to me ever chance he got and then ruining their perfect little fairytale...and they still had like 10 days left of their time there. And secondly, honestly, we really didn't have anywhere else to go. It was pretty late by the time the bag fiasco was over and the buses were done, everything was closed, there wasn't a human being out and about, we weren't near the touristy part of town (which honestly at that point we didn't even know where that was), and it was stormy and cold and beyond dark outside with the only light coming dimly from the moon. Beautiful, yes, but not very...grab your stuff and run!!! friendly.<br /><br />Even during the time we were together she showed no sign of awareness and even hoped right on facebook and added me and just chatted it up.<br /><br /><div>They got back. Cold, soaked, tired, and empty handed. The place was closed...probably due to the weather...or time.</div><div><br /></div><div>From there things just went downhill...if you can imagine there being any further down to go. Oh it did.</div><div><br /></div><div>By this point he was totally sloshed and was trying everything he could come up with to get me alone. He tried to give me a personal tour of their villa. He would try and send the other girls away. I would move across the room and sit as far away from him as possible and in a spot that there really wasn't enough room for another person and he would come squish next to me and lean into me with his whole body...I got up and moved nearly immediately. He even followed me up to the bathroom one time. CREEPER!!!</div><div><br /></div><div>And still, Jess didn't even flinch...at least on the outside...</div><br /><div>...I was dying...soooooo uncomfortable!!!!</div><div><br /></div><div>Well, after about 20 more minutes of trying to get them to go up stairs Janise and I came up with a brilliant plan and we didn't even have to talk verbally about it to be on the same page instantly! Claim to be beyond exhausted and pulled out the futon bed and started making it!!! Duh!!!! Why didn't we think about that sooner??? Dumb!</div><div><br /></div><div>So we get goin on that and they head up stairs. Our bags were up against the wall that the head of our little bed was smashed up against as well. Really what we did was put the cushions of the couch (they were all connected) on the ground and so I was on my hands and knees with my back to the stairs that led up to their room. I was laying the blankets and sheets out to cover them and meanwhile Janise had the grand idea of heading up stairs to brush her teeth (SHE COULD HAVE DONE IT IN THE KITCHEN SINK IN CLEAR VIEW OF ME!!!). She left me alone and I didn't realize it until next thing I hear is HIM! He's already halfway down the stairs and my brief glance over my shoulder proved the feeling of being intently watched to be fact.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ahhh!!! What to do? What to do? Freaking out much? Yes! That was the least of the <span style="WHITE-SPACE: pre" class="Apple-tab-span"></span>thoughts going through my head. Just look busy. Look busy and whatever you do don't look <span style="WHITE-SPACE: pre" class="Apple-tab-span"></span>back. Just look busy. Ummm....straighten the totally already straightened covers...ummm, <span style="WHITE-SPACE: pre" class="Apple-tab-span"></span>dig through your bag for something...come up with any reason to not have to stand up, <span style="WHITE-SPACE: pre" class="Apple-tab-span"></span>cross the room, make eye contact, or give him any way to strike up conversation. What the? <span style="WHITE-SPACE: pre" class="Apple-tab-span"></span>Ahhh!!! He's crawling across my bed at me! He's right behind me! I don't understand! I <span style="WHITE-SPACE: pre" class="Apple-tab-span"></span>don't understand!!! Make it stop! What the heck is he doing. If he gets any closer I swear <span style="WHITE-SPACE: pre" class="Apple-tab-span"></span>I'm gonna kung fu kick him so hard he'll never be able to make babies! With anyone!</div><div><br /></div><div>"Hey, so I'm sorry I couldn't take you on a scooter ride tonight. I just...I'm sooo grateful that you came tonight. You have no idea what this has meant to me. I hope that you guys will take us up on our offer to stay here with us for the rest of your trip. I really have enjoyed having you here. I really like talking to you...So, I was thinking, tomorrow I'm gonna get up early and make this amazing breakfast. But I think I'm going to need a little assistance. I would love if you'd get up early with me and help (by this point he had so much alcohol in him I could smell it with every word...there was NO WAY I wasn't just gonna agree with everything he said...within in reason and morals)?? Ok good. Great. I was also thinking, I really really want to take you on a scooter ride, and the other girls too of course, but since we're making breakfast how about I set my alarm real early and I can take you for a ride all around the town. You know, before everyone else wakes up. Just you and me. It'll just make more time for me to take the other girls later. So what do you think?"</div><div><br /></div><div>uhhhh...there were so many words I would like to say and yell and scream and chastise and..."are you asking me on a date?" followed by a slap was certainly among them...this is by no means flattering Sr. Don't even fool yourself for a second!!</div><br /><div>I just went with, "Yeah sure. I uh, will probably not wake up very early but maybe, yeah, we'll see. I'm like so tired so, Night!"</div><br /><div>get out of here, get out of here...seriously....and then the most beautiful sound I have ever heard...</div><div><br /></div><div>"Hey guys! What's up?"</div><div><br /></div><div>I have never been so excited to hear Janise's voice in my life!!!!</div><div><br /></div><div>Let's just say we turned off the light like right away...after I brushed my teeth in the kitchen sink and we whisper-mostly-kidding-yelled at each other about our different experiences with him and restrained with all we had to keep our belly laughter down to the lowest volume humanly possible.</div><br /><div>What on earth did we get ourselves into!?!?!? What is this??</div><br /><div>I feel asleep pretty quick...standard...but Janise apparently not only took a while to fall asleep but also woke up early which both turned out to be really tragic circumstances. Yikes! Sooooo glad I sleep so well. I did wake up for a little bit early in the morning but I thought I heard them yelling at each other so I quickly made myself fall back to sleep. I did also see him walk outside sometime after that and maybe come back in later and look at me but I never let him know I was awake in the least. I think at one point I even pulled the covers over my head completely.</div><br /><div>Eventually, Janise and I just couldn't handle "it" anymore and despite the fact that it was like, oh I don't know sometime around 7am, we silently packed up our stuff, cleaned up the room, put the furniture back to it's proper place, I did the unbelievable...I ripped a piece of paper out of the PB (yeah I know), scribbled some totally believable reason for how we had to go meet up with some friends and had to skip out early, sorry for leaving before saying goodbye, thanks, and good luck!</div><div><br /></div><div>hahahaha</div><div><br /></div><div>arguing, ha!</div><div><div><div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkrW6i4QL6pTHr51S4n9NkcgKiRc8e9i9QCRMkypy40-4aesxcCFshwp94zVA_q5oBQE7XdaYA3XehVYVHWAeG4H18rtd_84K1kBWqYS_7lKKczDKUvr4wg6Ya3DlzhaM61H03SbMzYz-A/s1600/lame+dave.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5600100069969132802" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkrW6i4QL6pTHr51S4n9NkcgKiRc8e9i9QCRMkypy40-4aesxcCFshwp94zVA_q5oBQE7XdaYA3XehVYVHWAeG4H18rtd_84K1kBWqYS_7lKKczDKUvr4wg6Ya3DlzhaM61H03SbMzYz-A/s400/lame+dave.jpg" style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; width: 300px; display: block; height: 400px; cursor: pointer; " /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >"Look out ladies of the world...I am God's gift to women</span>."</div><br />BY WAY OF AN UPDATE:</div></div></div></div></div><br /><div>Jess is like super insistent on being Facebook friends with us. I accepted and have been wanting to write and tell her what a horrible person her dude was but don't worry first she posted all these pictures of us all together and then she tells me that they're over and then she starts spilling some of what went down that night/morning and I'm not going to explain what this means but lets just say his excuse was that he was trying to get a threesome together.</div><div><br /></div><div>OMGoodness!!! So glad that's over. Ha! Oh and did I mention that now she like wants my number so she can come out and visit me??? What's with people like this!?? I don't even understand.</div></div></div></div></div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIIW94HVOmJCV_bsbPzTDGRBAeCehvlPe9Zux6o_byOEHXGzuQ7QDjdao7b-bJoJvh-_z_NMGOpdVVKPGCnT6t2BeQzAIWS5V8EmmJZp9R246hTKCm3I6ObG_xpMVIl4LulcV-lw6O5xuX/s1600/lame+dave+2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5600100072175264050" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIIW94HVOmJCV_bsbPzTDGRBAeCehvlPe9Zux6o_byOEHXGzuQ7QDjdao7b-bJoJvh-_z_NMGOpdVVKPGCnT6t2BeQzAIWS5V8EmmJZp9R246hTKCm3I6ObG_xpMVIl4LulcV-lw6O5xuX/s400/lame+dave+2.jpg" style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; width: 300px; display: block; height: 400px; cursor: pointer; " /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >Dave in my eyes.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Ladies: If any of you ever sight this lame excuse for a man...Run away!!!...maybe slap him once for me and than run away.</div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">Gents: I don't think I need to spell out what I'd expect from you all...all I gotta say is the more permanent the better. :P</div><br /><br /></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07556343837729876121noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1060632716116160864.post-25606806354169594782011-03-16T20:10:00.000-07:002011-04-20T02:03:07.443-07:00"How are you laughin about this?" -Everyone to meSo, here's how Positano got real exciting.<div><br /></div><div>First, Dave it like 30-40 minutes late to come pick us up. Like by the time he came and had walked halfway up this major road that leads to the north end of the village. He just trotted down like nothing happened.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ok, that's fine. They are taking care of us to I'm not gonna complain. By that point the wind had eased up and the rain had stopped so other than the pitch darkness that we were surrounded by we were totally fine.</div><div><br /></div><div>Have I mentioned I'm like totally afraid of the dark?</div><div><br /></div><div>He leads us up the road and we stop off at an adorable little market to grab a couple items to add to our evening. He had insisted on carrying my pack but it didn't exactly fit through the doorway of the grocery store so being that we were in like the safest little town in the world, no one was out, it was super dark, and we weren't really in a touristy part of the town we just left it at the doorway...you know, like 5 steps away from where we were standing. We were greeted almost with cheers by the owners. (It was interesting to me that he'd been in Italy for like a week and he didn't even know like "thank you" and "you're welcome" or some of the other like super basic stuff...we've been so blessed to have been staying with people that speak with Italian so we could learn...I spoke with them a little and understood basically everything they were saying. it was fun). The store didn't have the specific wild strawberries that he wanted so the lady, Emilia, took us down the street about 20 yards to her brother's fresh produce store and picked out a bunch of fruits to send us home with...and she definitely didn't charge us for them. On the way over I checked for my bag. Still there. And again on the way back...check.</div><div><br /></div><div>We brought our stuff to the counter, they rung us up, we paid, and of course I had to go and keep talking with them. They were just so nice and cute and friendly I couldn't help it. Next thing I know Dave has walked back in and looks at me with wide eyes and says, "You picked up your bag right?" I was like "what?" And he said, "You came and moved your bag from the entrance right? "</div><div><br /></div><div>ummm, no.</div><div><br /></div><div>Oh yeah, it's exactly what you think. My bad was gone. Totally stolen. Yes, the entire thing. Like EVERYTHING. My whole life, money, cards, clothes, scriptures, driver's license, books, gifts, everything. Luckily I had all my electronics, my laptop, camera, chargers (randomly), and glasses with me in my messenger bag which was still slung across my chest. I yes, I had a panic moment about my passport because there's this secret compartment that I have kept it in EVERYDAY of my trip up until...today. What the random?!?! Heavenly Father loves me! For some reason I took it out...oh yeah! When we checked out of the hostel in Sorrento the guy needed it for something and I had let Janise hold it in her little passport pouch that she hangs around her neck 24 hour/day. This one day. Wow. Talk about divine intervention. Dave felt so badly. The entire store and neighborhood came out to help look for it. To no avail.</div><div><br /></div><div>You see, as Dave was paying there was this creepy, stoned looking, 6'6", broad shouldered, prematurely graying, almost handsome but not because of how sketch he looked...and the vulgar aroma of being doused in alcohol didn't help either, that just kinda stood there and was staring at me--very intently and strangely actually. I noticed him right away and even before I saw him staring at me I felt a really bad vibe coming from him. I actually had walked away to the other side of the store until he left because he had such a dark spirit about him. He walked out, walked back in, staring the whole time, and then left just before us. And actually had I not been chatting it up with the store keepers we would have walked out ahead of him, but no, I had to go and run my mouth in my broken Italian and get to know the lady selling me my eggs and water and find out about their Easter traditions and the large chocolate egg sitting next to me that I could fit inside.</div><div><br /></div><div>We headed up to their villa and Dave just apologized the entire way up. I tried to assure him I was fine, and really I totally was. I mean come on, so I have to buy some new clothes when I get home and make what I was wearing last for like 5 more days. Big deal. So I lose some money and my driver's licence and a couple credit cards. I can earn more money. Buy another pack. Report and cancel my credit cards. And everyone wants and excuse to take a new DL picture. I might have had a bit of fatigue and joint pains and I would probably have to invest in some new sunscreen but otherwise, I really didn't need anything in there. I wasn't stressed about it at all. I had the PB, my passport, the laptop, my other credit cards, and my camera. What else do you need when traveling. This just meant that my load just got way!!! lighter.</div><div><br /></div><div>But seriously, now this trip is like so perfect and cliche. I mean come on of course my bag get stolen while I'm backpacking through Europe. That's totally normal. People have been telling that's gonna happen all the time. Shoot, if I'm gonna to this, I'm gonna do this right! No halfway for this little adventure seeker.</div><div><br /></div><div>We got there and explained everything that to Jess, who by the way was sitting with an ice pack on her foot because she "rolled her ankle on their way out of the restaurant"--which turned out to be a lie, she later told me that he wasn't being careful and they slide out on their way back from dinner and she got thrown and wrecked her ankle...and I actually talked to her today and she said it turned out to be broken when she got home...but she lied about it because he made her swear she wouldn't tell us...weird.</div><div><br /></div><div>Then...wonder of wonders! a miracle! a miracle!! We get this phone call. It was Emilia, the store lady...they found my bag!!! We're still not too sure how they got the number for the villa but whatevs, we wrote it off as "small town" and Dave ran down and got it and the story.</div><div><br /></div><div>Apparently some old lady found it on tossed on the side of the road somewhere near around the corner or something. It was opened and gone through but not very well. He must have just been looking for money and valuables and only found clothes. Haha! Had he looked harder, like in my toiletry bag he'd have hit the jackpot but alas, he really was just a dumb oaf.</div><div><br /></div><div>See? I'm telling you, Heavenly Father loves me! You all need to just stop worrying about me so much. I got this :)</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07556343837729876121noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1060632716116160864.post-53768766523325313822011-03-16T19:22:00.000-07:002011-04-20T02:00:51.300-07:00"Just before I got here a missile turned my truck into swiss cheese." -Dave, Iraq<div style="text-align: left;">We walked back, I stopped in on a little market and bought some fruit and a bag of chips and we headed off to the bus.</div><div><br /></div><div>You see there aren't any trains that run along the Amalfi Coast so we get to take a bus. It goes literally right along the coastline. OMGoodness! It is breath taking! First stop, Positano.</div><div><br /></div><div>Now, my this point we had a pretty good grasp on where we wanted to go and stop along the coast and for weeks now I had been anxiously looking forward to a beautiful day spent lounging on the beach in Positano. Like, I almost just wore by bathing suit there...</div><div><br /></div><div>good thing we didn't.</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQykzDFQA3Ha-_hoKoevzeF4-_rO5J_n2jaG-gvooG-wdU6dC1g1NHuCiSDLUFf7vJ-bLxmSjbTND96maH_5z7eWQMilC4lu2Ak6LzKPzZTmPEeq8ctuXClXwIGYBofoktDRX5BQiaBCPF/s320/DSCF1029.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597567195245275138" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span></div><div>We get there just fine. It's absolutely more than I could have imagined. We set out to find somewhere to stay and...the most incredible wind storm OF MY LIFE blew in!! Oh my. I almost died trying to walk up this ridiculously slopped sidewalk. Like we're talkin' I had my pack on and I just about went bounding down the mountain face village...if I hadn't caught myself I probably would have rolled all the way down into the village center by the sand!</div><div><br /></div><div>It was so intense. After like 20 minutes of that plus not seeing a soul! and every thing's closed...we took our lives into our hands and made it back to the bus stop to take shelter. Even there though we were being blown around...granted the shelter was like 1/4 inch or less diameter sticks held together with string on a tree limb cemented into the ground vertically.</div><div><br /></div><div>"We're getting on the next bus out of here. I don't care where it's going!" (me)</div><div><br /></div><div>And that's what we did.</div><div><br /></div><div>Luckily the next bus, though it took like 30 minutes, was heading in the direction of the actually town Amalfi. I had some information for a hostel there and it was definitely on our "must spend significant time" in list. By the time we got there the good ole weather man had thrown some rain into the mix.</div><div><br /></div><div>We got off the bus and literally just stood there for a few seconds. We found out that the hostel closes at 2pm everyday for check-in...awesome, it was 4pm by the time we got there...there goes that option. I looked around a little and spotted a travel shop off to the northeast of the bus stop. Perfect! I skipped over there...closed. Like really really closed. Perfect.</div><div><br /></div><div>Our tummies decided it was time to take decision making into their own hands and grumbled their way into our heads. Time for food. We decided to just find somewhere to eat and think about housing after that. Maybe there we could ask some locals too.</div><div><br /></div><div>I picked an alley and we head up it, enjoying the scenery as we went. This little jaunt lead us to an adorable little spot with a really nice mama cooking away. Bruschetta, lasagna, spaghetti, and hot chocolate was the order of the evening and boy was it good.</div><div><br /></div><div>At some point the lady's brother came in and he owns a hotel so he said he'd take us there whenever we were done. Meanwhile this American guy walks away from his table looking kinda lost but with camera in hand...classic, "uh, I need someone to take a picture but I'm nervous to ask." I made eye contact with him and offered. They couple invited us to join them for the remainder of our meals. We moved to the table right next to their and enjoyed really good conversation about military issues, life, and mentality.</div><div><br /></div><div>Dave and Jess. Both military. He is currently serving in Iraq and was on his mid-point leave. She flew out to meet him in Rome and they were spending the rest of their time together in Positano in some little villa. They got engaged two days before that night.</div><div><br /></div><div>It was really interesting talking with them about their experiences with the military and hearing their thoughts and perceptions of the politics going on in the States with reference to the military. Jess's ENTIRE family is military. I guess her dad is pretty high up too in the Army and so he's gone all the time. Like she said when Sept. 11 happened he left like that day and was gone for two years! That's insane! I really don't think I'm built like that. Uniforms are hot but I don't know if I'm as strong as those women. Shoot, she spent a year in wherever...I don't remember...but somewhere in the Middle East herself when she was like 19. Wow. That's all I can really say.</div><div><br /></div><div>It really made me reflect on some of my dear friends that are out there right now. Devan, Christian, Christopher, one of Seany's best buds from high school, oh and Danny. Geez, I really don't like this but I am very grateful to the men and women that are willing to serve their country in that manner.</div><div><br /></div><div>By the time dinner had rapped up they were aware of our situation and offered for us to stay with the at their villa. They said there was plenty of room being that it was just the two of them. We had felt very comfortable with them for the past two hours so we excitedly accepted the invitation and Dave and I figure out a place to meet that I had noticed on the bus ride.</div><div><br /></div><div>They took off on their scooter and we waited and then hopped on the bus. This'll be fun!...ha! that's what we thought.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07556343837729876121noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1060632716116160864.post-3633289267850429872011-03-16T08:44:00.000-07:002011-04-19T23:00:20.037-07:00"A picture is worth a thousand words." -Napoleon Bonaparte<div style="text-align: center;">I think today in Sorrento is much easier to describe by picture...</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><span class="Apple-style-span"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQLcTnj9NwtlqviBpxqFa1MweeoXy9a1DeNklzXRGv8cFWRwOvt6UkKGvhGAxtVLjT_Fg9IVKr4MXzLRuIqNEf9PIZPxAYSN9xbZVVIqVrdXA0AxNizkE_tL37JOsgTyqjXWx6Ud8_DRNS/s1600/DSCF1026.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCgqlAigno_Rjknv195xAmmRDp68MHioS32NTePzAhrbOJH3CYNgU9RCe-9TIangzz7f-MGPGHWkG1esTIuHRrOHxv4LFHnMYvZdZZaEbs0zKRy6IjAVFhxoUD5zkeo6xdSQyD_DIoC5qu/s1600/DSCF1024.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCgqlAigno_Rjknv195xAmmRDp68MHioS32NTePzAhrbOJH3CYNgU9RCe-9TIangzz7f-MGPGHWkG1esTIuHRrOHxv4LFHnMYvZdZZaEbs0zKRy6IjAVFhxoUD5zkeo6xdSQyD_DIoC5qu/s320/DSCF1024.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597519132718847138" /></a></span><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><br /></div><span class="Apple-style-span"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh37Ooqk-TCNRerwk4QkkoHw2Fr8CFmxOmYHkaWWsa-ZRDLTzyLh7MmNIa7j0XUIL8RFXAUfKx_fYtQEYTut4bgxNoNtOFSDOT5HI-1_wQizMnw_vayQace0TXPMzgbEosxK74SOZV9sx1t/s1600/DSCF1019.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh37Ooqk-TCNRerwk4QkkoHw2Fr8CFmxOmYHkaWWsa-ZRDLTzyLh7MmNIa7j0XUIL8RFXAUfKx_fYtQEYTut4bgxNoNtOFSDOT5HI-1_wQizMnw_vayQace0TXPMzgbEosxK74SOZV9sx1t/s320/DSCF1019.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597518221353798242" /></a></span><div style="text-align: center;">Don't worry, this is all handcarved precious wood in-lay...</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqIqs1Vu_iGUqhax86qZr28cHEb2ZqjskMfScXXIVmhKfpJ0ZgIuanDQgegzMANq_Hi6pUKH9vB2Zz-7Fh5AFQqBbmUXCXXbUi8L3lF67h2jXsysMuD9jN5vxQLC2f2fNysMrE_jQpx1GD/s1600/DSCF1017.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><span class="Apple-style-span"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqIqs1Vu_iGUqhax86qZr28cHEb2ZqjskMfScXXIVmhKfpJ0ZgIuanDQgegzMANq_Hi6pUKH9vB2Zz-7Fh5AFQqBbmUXCXXbUi8L3lF67h2jXsysMuD9jN5vxQLC2f2fNysMrE_jQpx1GD/s320/DSCF1017.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597518216201701554" /></span></a><div style="text-align: center;">as a carpenter's daughter this was just remarkable and beautiful to me...and this the wonderful father-son duo that are carrying on their family tradition.</div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><span class="Apple-style-span"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBWwXA9W6r672kTT1YglG222WfzsxvNJN8gKl4tiZ4cCqT_GRouH6daW9g2GfFonzyACmR_ovSXD2HftICPPKevL7z1oirpB52K-QhqooQsZ4xzTJT4tdnq1asfWggFDNfG9PGiZXBIBZi/s1600/DSCF1023.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW8lHHGoZNfdhtU-YrCYHfgXAC5P__LZGxUa6N3F8Wpe_QeV2tvmA9ZDGjWawSGey-bMHTA_yVePXYn49HBztNHq7evo08S8R8vDTMsHBrqLCU8QK7QKzsSbp0tmX7rYsUm7L2ujdpXV1f/s1600/DSCF1022.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW8lHHGoZNfdhtU-YrCYHfgXAC5P__LZGxUa6N3F8Wpe_QeV2tvmA9ZDGjWawSGey-bMHTA_yVePXYn49HBztNHq7evo08S8R8vDTMsHBrqLCU8QK7QKzsSbp0tmX7rYsUm7L2ujdpXV1f/s320/DSCF1022.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597525096205708114" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></span><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg66DfzeGHUSPYDIcdJblBlFXB-CuxoljghYA2-DbbiP7RV9nVGyEzi_kvmFS6zxxA8J7EQUUPa8_IJh5UrgoPqPphsnObZpyFklh4U8qATgkhAWv_IwZF08oTO0Y7DY3ig9I1UwHriAeew/s1600/DSCF1021.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><span class="Apple-style-span"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg66DfzeGHUSPYDIcdJblBlFXB-CuxoljghYA2-DbbiP7RV9nVGyEzi_kvmFS6zxxA8J7EQUUPa8_IJh5UrgoPqPphsnObZpyFklh4U8qATgkhAWv_IwZF08oTO0Y7DY3ig9I1UwHriAeew/s320/DSCF1021.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597525100318087906" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span></a></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><u><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBWwXA9W6r672kTT1YglG222WfzsxvNJN8gKl4tiZ4cCqT_GRouH6daW9g2GfFonzyACmR_ovSXD2HftICPPKevL7z1oirpB52K-QhqooQsZ4xzTJT4tdnq1asfWggFDNfG9PGiZXBIBZi/s320/DSCF1023.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597525102190148610" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></u></div><div style="text-align: center;">they are apparently collecting pictures of people from around the world and after we spent some time chatting and exploring their work they decided to add me to the wall.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><span class="Apple-style-span"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg66DfzeGHUSPYDIcdJblBlFXB-CuxoljghYA2-DbbiP7RV9nVGyEzi_kvmFS6zxxA8J7EQUUPa8_IJh5UrgoPqPphsnObZpyFklh4U8qATgkhAWv_IwZF08oTO0Y7DY3ig9I1UwHriAeew/s1600/DSCF1021.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOsO9__ppqwsRc5pEgWHaooGD1HjnTa7vnUPPrdngS7A8TfNo80HtY5I71yPAB_HZoSNNtrmfGN0OEZxpfEHEpL9xO2gSHWjG2SbNiSXNdIuTBJZITNp4pcuPuGa24EvCsmH063HsTAj83/s1600/DSCF1016.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOsO9__ppqwsRc5pEgWHaooGD1HjnTa7vnUPPrdngS7A8TfNo80HtY5I71yPAB_HZoSNNtrmfGN0OEZxpfEHEpL9xO2gSHWjG2SbNiSXNdIuTBJZITNp4pcuPuGa24EvCsmH063HsTAj83/s320/DSCF1016.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597518209002053218" /></a></span><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn4eGEc-ngkYsRsnKRWcTnDdCkPpc58BXTtOwriqFU7p3KFB0AOJBBhhJAY_rUqIEo5WOiNtLKNv4D-fJdYswYyDN5dNQvGRpWmgPvzaaAJ8zE1EizYwILnW3Cv86r6Nj70eQJJZ9fA1gH/s1600/DSCF1014.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><span class="Apple-style-span"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn4eGEc-ngkYsRsnKRWcTnDdCkPpc58BXTtOwriqFU7p3KFB0AOJBBhhJAY_rUqIEo5WOiNtLKNv4D-fJdYswYyDN5dNQvGRpWmgPvzaaAJ8zE1EizYwILnW3Cv86r6Nj70eQJJZ9fA1gH/s320/DSCF1014.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597518205753679986" /></span></a><div style="text-align: center;">I didn't really know where we were going but Janise has gotten pretty good at trusting my instincts and knowing I'll get us back to origin eventually :)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmHenIl41g7zHgKhd_fg3lI3ZHjcvFFU3sFzaGgoF5pRqWx1D0su95UKxqNWSsT8RBwlEMVDh17uwuDhAqbGXNpd4S21Y6ivdZxsePFQXrAWSfDVzGT-1fGhsnECtgq8juQjhqRFH8Qrmn/s1600/DSCF1013.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><span class="Apple-style-span"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmHenIl41g7zHgKhd_fg3lI3ZHjcvFFU3sFzaGgoF5pRqWx1D0su95UKxqNWSsT8RBwlEMVDh17uwuDhAqbGXNpd4S21Y6ivdZxsePFQXrAWSfDVzGT-1fGhsnECtgq8juQjhqRFH8Qrmn/s320/DSCF1013.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597518195741819858" /></span></a><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilhvRbNwCn0rlW0LsXWGivMJai1xobdr8l9NdEX7JKE32jyiF6oscgC3W-7AJhgklURK6J9XX3aeQTYelHwRIIuIyC3EBDWma1obHIDk5K1ilw4WLXHFOw-g7vU1HzNrsyaL75eNrGYoq4/s1600/DSCF1011.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><span class="Apple-style-span"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilhvRbNwCn0rlW0LsXWGivMJai1xobdr8l9NdEX7JKE32jyiF6oscgC3W-7AJhgklURK6J9XX3aeQTYelHwRIIuIyC3EBDWma1obHIDk5K1ilw4WLXHFOw-g7vU1HzNrsyaL75eNrGYoq4/s320/DSCF1011.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597517328359549762" /></span></a><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitZMYao0jPyI_XKKEwNGilqw0HYX_33-SsU-yEwcCAsEWjnI4RpyRQZfW_SQSJ3y-7nNR8T_OtY4cnboC7WbYsGxbUqtt8xx5UeIg7_88zD_9WuUzsuTGkThDbCEJUXe5qp8w3UYlfOvTx/s1600/DSCF1010.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><span class="Apple-style-span"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitZMYao0jPyI_XKKEwNGilqw0HYX_33-SsU-yEwcCAsEWjnI4RpyRQZfW_SQSJ3y-7nNR8T_OtY4cnboC7WbYsGxbUqtt8xx5UeIg7_88zD_9WuUzsuTGkThDbCEJUXe5qp8w3UYlfOvTx/s320/DSCF1010.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597517330005845506" /></span></a><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2y-Bb8LsTbgvi5aRNn1MBaIWORq-b2TiiZgpOZF2Iu53d3WCl2xKKGU_r8FWqrUfgFXkMQvdNqfq8H-8UkgeKoMAxwfOVz3uaM0Vgg46tj0JB3jAnRvpwF-Ohu2QtvPGwaIOA6IyTVP6p/s1600/DSCF1008.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><span class="Apple-style-span"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2y-Bb8LsTbgvi5aRNn1MBaIWORq-b2TiiZgpOZF2Iu53d3WCl2xKKGU_r8FWqrUfgFXkMQvdNqfq8H-8UkgeKoMAxwfOVz3uaM0Vgg46tj0JB3jAnRvpwF-Ohu2QtvPGwaIOA6IyTVP6p/s320/DSCF1008.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597517325191902370" /></span></a><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJOHovs9GFGn_lQ3lsgOr7jaDBU1KH9ZVwOIhztQaxMTPPkb8Fx1CBAoiRJg-7Q9buiP0vLt9PX03LF_qSiLwA2Vx5rh14m1j8TCcC-dq3uWy6-_KYZnXBJ3A5hrDGPNZ3yNnJ_iNA5zI9/s1600/DSCF1006.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><span class="Apple-style-span"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJOHovs9GFGn_lQ3lsgOr7jaDBU1KH9ZVwOIhztQaxMTPPkb8Fx1CBAoiRJg-7Q9buiP0vLt9PX03LF_qSiLwA2Vx5rh14m1j8TCcC-dq3uWy6-_KYZnXBJ3A5hrDGPNZ3yNnJ_iNA5zI9/s320/DSCF1006.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597517316934264802" /></span></a><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtes5zgQCKhh1l9-QeRhWmZcorVyIcIfJ-TLbauAgPIY8p7ULdTXcFnQCYOMXm9md-7KwXPa4Y2jo4TadapGCZ7l27s_NkU2pZMX8NHYVynyvNWVRM204Fv7QBdlnNJ-U_gEXm-U3YvmW6/s1600/DSCF1003.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><span class="Apple-style-span"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtes5zgQCKhh1l9-QeRhWmZcorVyIcIfJ-TLbauAgPIY8p7ULdTXcFnQCYOMXm9md-7KwXPa4Y2jo4TadapGCZ7l27s_NkU2pZMX8NHYVynyvNWVRM204Fv7QBdlnNJ-U_gEXm-U3YvmW6/s320/DSCF1003.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597517312552293202" /></span></a><div style="text-align: center;"><u><br /></u></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ5ZsZbfFbz9KjFgzDYY_poO_neuh3U9res0Sy9cBZJM_e8nrJBqh2PG0HpHtz6BTwlB_7rLzg_EBSWnxplOnpp7379waxCxxiXSDCX6v3IUeqjksl0erhT2WelvxyM5PrqOurJejV4pvl/s1600/DSCF0999.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><span class="Apple-style-span"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ5ZsZbfFbz9KjFgzDYY_poO_neuh3U9res0Sy9cBZJM_e8nrJBqh2PG0HpHtz6BTwlB_7rLzg_EBSWnxplOnpp7379waxCxxiXSDCX6v3IUeqjksl0erhT2WelvxyM5PrqOurJejV4pvl/s320/DSCF0999.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597516246586003986" /></span></a><div style="text-align: center;">sometimes pictures still don't do a scene justice...this hillside was completely covered by flowers of every color...it was like rainbow mountain</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1CUVwT0rb-dSoRAs-3Oq-EXDh332n0qaM2UvVnQaN3-YkrmcbbGfAX5wt2sjxU-_8d9cCdX7YzNHsa8mhQD2x-vr3eSkD_WTF74vrxO_5akjCKDdoB9OBTfttw6BQzD6O4_zC237Ps2tP/s1600/DSCF0990.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><span class="Apple-style-span"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1CUVwT0rb-dSoRAs-3Oq-EXDh332n0qaM2UvVnQaN3-YkrmcbbGfAX5wt2sjxU-_8d9cCdX7YzNHsa8mhQD2x-vr3eSkD_WTF74vrxO_5akjCKDdoB9OBTfttw6BQzD6O4_zC237Ps2tP/s320/DSCF0990.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597516242904142162" /></span></a><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhassh5srw6HqFAgctpvX6JbnMvevivIEscw1NcUbP3ckffcHZEU3rQryjvkQ7QxoY5fP3ddYDOmm3sNj9V6GDymDOqP8e6TWDrwfi6yYmCJXIfBMosDIhHDnjWjJrRNH5a81KImCJwiFGS/s1600/DSCF0988.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><span class="Apple-style-span"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhassh5srw6HqFAgctpvX6JbnMvevivIEscw1NcUbP3ckffcHZEU3rQryjvkQ7QxoY5fP3ddYDOmm3sNj9V6GDymDOqP8e6TWDrwfi6yYmCJXIfBMosDIhHDnjWjJrRNH5a81KImCJwiFGS/s320/DSCF0988.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597516236386601522" /></span></a><div style="text-align: center;">I love docks.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHsR0v2hQ5GyqeVtSPk2f4by4dajk7whbypzRc48skfH02zib5UOxXxJ8xqEb9pJ_xVqhqmftGcNRDu46j6m9o1jeQCm_-1BTZWA2P9nh_Q_Ujr-ksF2hSxiBCrAdcYJCwK7cXqxWKrNne/s1600/DSCF0987.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><span class="Apple-style-span"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHsR0v2hQ5GyqeVtSPk2f4by4dajk7whbypzRc48skfH02zib5UOxXxJ8xqEb9pJ_xVqhqmftGcNRDu46j6m9o1jeQCm_-1BTZWA2P9nh_Q_Ujr-ksF2hSxiBCrAdcYJCwK7cXqxWKrNne/s320/DSCF0987.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597516233872275570" /></span></a><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieP4cU6ddMbQWU4pwpDE-1tTfkQOTPvLsL2kvIuRG3epEiQT1eRSorPpJNtnSyTPcU-aADFbYXeXUqpE-jv2I6mBXEGuZ4eIilfCOk3wrUZlDnkLr3W0nIYl4XVCByZ8dsEdA18M6SG4gL/s1600/DSCF0983.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><span class="Apple-style-span"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieP4cU6ddMbQWU4pwpDE-1tTfkQOTPvLsL2kvIuRG3epEiQT1eRSorPpJNtnSyTPcU-aADFbYXeXUqpE-jv2I6mBXEGuZ4eIilfCOk3wrUZlDnkLr3W0nIYl4XVCByZ8dsEdA18M6SG4gL/s320/DSCF0983.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597512943316621810" /></span></a><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE60YpPaBmdJ5WE4E5QyohmHyQk3tNmqoUFs5qum_eGXkzT-9ohVqWT1WZtQz4GZEvZ-n5m2MIb-tbYAubcGa1uLcBX-WnNcfrjNo3fwxGyZXk2V3inoEtQqYNZvcSFKqvlpnMvgqoVWcc/s1600/DSCF0982.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><span class="Apple-style-span"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE60YpPaBmdJ5WE4E5QyohmHyQk3tNmqoUFs5qum_eGXkzT-9ohVqWT1WZtQz4GZEvZ-n5m2MIb-tbYAubcGa1uLcBX-WnNcfrjNo3fwxGyZXk2V3inoEtQqYNZvcSFKqvlpnMvgqoVWcc/s320/DSCF0982.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597512938496961922" /></span></a><div style="text-align: center;">Sherbet ice cream anyone??</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifH0RKtQCvTShkxyb92gwyibxJb_k7OUawFfsdAMQQkPoVVHj8bNXcUmfnayGl3mD0jyHw2Knf9_9okBRZMWXWK-7wcVKWXsPcwLnFGGnpLh6q4KmhEN7ITkgQAaT39drQMSiuT8wVVNe7/s1600/DSCF0979.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><span class="Apple-style-span"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifH0RKtQCvTShkxyb92gwyibxJb_k7OUawFfsdAMQQkPoVVHj8bNXcUmfnayGl3mD0jyHw2Knf9_9okBRZMWXWK-7wcVKWXsPcwLnFGGnpLh6q4KmhEN7ITkgQAaT39drQMSiuT8wVVNe7/s320/DSCF0979.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597512933262644306" /></span></a><div style="text-align: center;">here kitty kitty kitty...livin' the dream!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9kUd6WDE0yJKWeMXiXXKMvvlVg0ntVN2fUnmNu03o04Jq67shAMHOMUR_4ZgNUmw4c5-ZTCiqQ8BxPKHUMg4g3yOF-q74-_IZuP0kfSQmOl2nRcyEnQ0mpgkB0_JvjqqmOvDftlGJFwyM/s1600/DSCF0977.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><span class="Apple-style-span"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9kUd6WDE0yJKWeMXiXXKMvvlVg0ntVN2fUnmNu03o04Jq67shAMHOMUR_4ZgNUmw4c5-ZTCiqQ8BxPKHUMg4g3yOF-q74-_IZuP0kfSQmOl2nRcyEnQ0mpgkB0_JvjqqmOvDftlGJFwyM/s320/DSCF0977.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597512923314587746" /></span></a><div style="text-align: center;">I'm without words...</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHlKqSH9w2MRKl8gtq_bhyphenhyphen6EAYO31v2Z2gv3vk-Da44u-ng89x5HVkSK0c-1CKZlVA4la9LDTaPM_lHNdaLquV-7eFj_LKlL1_NuhTpSB8h94TWK41c4ENMeTZZ6oPapRcKAZTaJL6G-xm/s1600/DSCF0975.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><span class="Apple-style-span"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHlKqSH9w2MRKl8gtq_bhyphenhyphen6EAYO31v2Z2gv3vk-Da44u-ng89x5HVkSK0c-1CKZlVA4la9LDTaPM_lHNdaLquV-7eFj_LKlL1_NuhTpSB8h94TWK41c4ENMeTZZ6oPapRcKAZTaJL6G-xm/s320/DSCF0975.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597512919424991634" /></span></a><div style="text-align: center;">like I said, docks...it was even raining...though I don't know if this one would be stable enough to dance on...given the right circumstance I might have tried...oh memories...</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd4E-T0MfTMUldGiQI9VfLjavVSzHcvO3s-U_bQChS8bzf5QIW50Wf2jihOSbVqNlt1EJuMi8WGtavvG7iEOpTQXDzNVucO1yqZrkvW0tcmksJpN3csaTfM08pMb0YwIaocQhEB5iSIfcr/s1600/DSCF0974.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><span class="Apple-style-span"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd4E-T0MfTMUldGiQI9VfLjavVSzHcvO3s-U_bQChS8bzf5QIW50Wf2jihOSbVqNlt1EJuMi8WGtavvG7iEOpTQXDzNVucO1yqZrkvW0tcmksJpN3csaTfM08pMb0YwIaocQhEB5iSIfcr/s320/DSCF0974.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597511439926922610" /></span></a><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp59H71FCLnWx-WajDDmwThIAmWILUs7lKegbSMOkQe6OLzFLj32S5V63jfsppzq3ZeEnP0O66NzEXrcpTLMroNLea-ryJA3WmCTnSBDoFu2GVO9UXT-szKTmrCZOvTZo6jr1a0ZdlO1bv/s1600/DSCF0973.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><span class="Apple-style-span"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp59H71FCLnWx-WajDDmwThIAmWILUs7lKegbSMOkQe6OLzFLj32S5V63jfsppzq3ZeEnP0O66NzEXrcpTLMroNLea-ryJA3WmCTnSBDoFu2GVO9UXT-szKTmrCZOvTZo6jr1a0ZdlO1bv/s320/DSCF0973.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597511437776783890" /></span></a><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpeVRwE1bj_vR-l8U099rR0LfYcUbwKkVpje9n3LGde8sGuBLE5-0CXOqkcyF78m-8x1C6yy335oxlhnbAFPYJ3FmjELZFf1cJdRiQGeOavtuq9yOvtFNFHNCIh18ryLIXXU6HzIEKDlRA/s1600/DSCF0971.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><span class="Apple-style-span"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpeVRwE1bj_vR-l8U099rR0LfYcUbwKkVpje9n3LGde8sGuBLE5-0CXOqkcyF78m-8x1C6yy335oxlhnbAFPYJ3FmjELZFf1cJdRiQGeOavtuq9yOvtFNFHNCIh18ryLIXXU6HzIEKDlRA/s320/DSCF0971.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597511430516739842" /></span></a><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWBFW31xUc7QT5YDtlViC7niYdFuIhX6-DAabzc8QwuKf2_okbWlIkEeonJUXjEMukIua_eOaYXgkHrhmVQ_q-QWZ8JDlHgJWy9xA8G_D6JiRnIt2yyYNRl9qMle0cskRS6FyczmztovU6/s1600/DSCF0969.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><span class="Apple-style-span"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWBFW31xUc7QT5YDtlViC7niYdFuIhX6-DAabzc8QwuKf2_okbWlIkEeonJUXjEMukIua_eOaYXgkHrhmVQ_q-QWZ8JDlHgJWy9xA8G_D6JiRnIt2yyYNRl9qMle0cskRS6FyczmztovU6/s320/DSCF0969.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597511429330837730" /></span></a><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkeut0zcqKFK-6OXwEAFSeHIFiEWuKXgrRCGESObuy-11-U-v6gEzqVyDp0923vnA6cDW9tNSb3-NDYzjYlB3UWh6Qve0XguYMLgvqhZKUVLri8l0bMx1SzIPlR8Ktf6-VMiWDLrBEpK6g/s1600/DSCF0967.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><span class="Apple-style-span"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkeut0zcqKFK-6OXwEAFSeHIFiEWuKXgrRCGESObuy-11-U-v6gEzqVyDp0923vnA6cDW9tNSb3-NDYzjYlB3UWh6Qve0XguYMLgvqhZKUVLri8l0bMx1SzIPlR8Ktf6-VMiWDLrBEpK6g/s320/DSCF0967.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597511424822120962" /></span></a><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQLcTnj9NwtlqviBpxqFa1MweeoXy9a1DeNklzXRGv8cFWRwOvt6UkKGvhGAxtVLjT_Fg9IVKr4MXzLRuIqNEf9PIZPxAYSN9xbZVVIqVrdXA0AxNizkE_tL37JOsgTyqjXWx6Ud8_DRNS/s320/DSCF1026.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597519135195375570" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">this one was for Kimi...and just because I love other country's English sometimes...</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">for more awesome English check out <a href="http://engrish.com/">engrish.com</a> this is killer :)</span></div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07556343837729876121noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1060632716116160864.post-73777756469138361642011-03-15T19:02:00.000-07:002011-05-19T11:05:52.788-07:00"Don't worry cars stop for dogs, just not people" -Me, after Janise almost died...twiceOn the train ride we met the nicest couple that was there on one of their annual trips. They reminded me so much of my family and my parents. By the end of the ride I had his business card and an open invitation for if we're ever in Orlando alone, with friends, or family to stay at their home. They also gave us the card for this romantical little spot hanging off the cliffs of Amalfi for us to stay at. He said, "Just tell him we sent you and he'll give you a great little deal."<div><br /></div><div>Sorrento is the end of the line for the circumvesuviana and so we just folded ourselves into the herd and headed out into the city.</div><div><br /></div><div>It started raining. We ended up out on Corso Italia and just walked slowly as we absorbed the feel of the now sparkling night. There were so many lights and cute little shops and people and cars and buses and motor scooters. And you know we were definitely in the middle of tourism because like we say about cold beach days at home,</div><div><br /></div><div>"Only tourist go out when it's like this."</div><div><br /></div><div>It kind of made me giggle watching these women ducking into the shoulders of their significant others trying to hide from the rain, not step in puddles, keep their silk shirts, skirts, scarves, or whatever unspotted, and all the while I'm thinking they should be more concerned about keeping those 4 inch heels underneath them. Many just rushed over to the little men that seemed to just spontaneously appear out of the crevices of the walls selling umbrellas.</div><div><br /></div><div>Janise suggested making a purchase as well being that I didn't have a hood, but I declined. I actually had one in my bag but I LOVE THE RAIN!!! It always just makes me want to just sing and dance around and jump in puddles or drive through them had I a mode. I actually did start singing a little but it's just not the same without my siblings. Miss those kids.</div><div><br /></div><div>Janise had written down the address for some hostel so we set off in search of it. We ended up walking all around the main center of Sorrento before it was getting dark enough outside that I felt like it was time to ask for directions. Really, one of my favorite parts of traveling is the exploration of all the little nooks and crannies that make little places what they are, so up until that point I was thoroughly enjoying our stroll.</div><div><br /></div><div>A little man gave us directions:</div><div><br /></div><div>Cross the street, walk until you hit the bridge, cross the bridge, after the bridge cross to the left and there will be a little hidden staircase, go up the stairs, go right at the top of the stairs, walk and the place is pretty far down on the left.</div><div><br /></div><div>Done and done...like 30 minute walk later we arrived at the sketchiest place of the trip thus far. It was like the second or third floor of this building and we had to buzz to get in and then there was absolutely no signage so we guessed and checked until we got up the right creepy dark staircase to the hostel door. It was all decorated with...well, pretty much everything under the sun. Bright this and that, dangley here and there, paintings, sculptures, framed magazine cutouts, other hostel brochures, family pictures (at least I assume that's who they were), religious decor, weird, ugly, beautiful, cute, strange, "I don't want to ask" stuff, you name it, it was there.</div><div><br /></div><div>The man was nice, though I wouldn't choose to interact with him again in my future, and we lucked out that the hostel was empty that night so we ended up with a room for 8 and a bathroom all to ourselves. That was nice. Kinda not the most clean place I've ever been in, and let's not even talk about how safe and secure I felt in there. Oh and the view! It was to die for! Or maybe made us feel like either a. we wanted to shoot ourselves (there was a lovely aroma of urine if you opened the window and the train tracks were a mere rocks toss away and the sound of that lovely horn was far from a welcomed serenade...we actually joked about trying to jump from our window and landing on top of one of the trains...what? The distance was probably totally possible...it was just the whole moving train thing that we got caught up on) and b. we might actually die...like in our sleep or not! Let's just say that had Romeo wanted to scale the wall and beckon us he could have does so with great easy and with no assistance from Rapunzel...not to mention I'm pretty sure the wind could have blown open the window on it's own. Brilliant! Never felt so safe in my life :)...I won't even tell you about the mother of the owner who was out there when we went out to walk around after checking in...think creepy Cruella De Vil surrounded in a puff of smoke...</div><div><br /></div><div>We definitely said our prayers before going to bed...and maybe I slept with my valuables under my pillow. </div><div><br /></div><div>Oh how I love traveling.</div><div><br /></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07556343837729876121noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1060632716116160864.post-86876202259771264632011-03-15T12:53:00.001-07:002011-04-19T23:01:17.529-07:00"Hey! Have you seen dead people?" -Some lady, Pompeii<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSYVf5QPV3ZOMeOjJ7q5Utpwh_WDwDut8YOZcM9SJWPnw4vF43lkeaOxtljLOifl3UhOa9phoFmrNj8yP8cv5-f12daAEK1fHpKip4MgqB35oapjKyDu2esWiF5mSOhB7Mybc1khgmLgZZ/s1600/DSCF0962.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg7nv6VKR1biaNfcuKvc6qNkP3mYgUANZoDZcgkuhE4yzTQaw_jY4ofIfw05tEoQP-CSqQ62Lgb6F7bqaOijnI5kesDlkk5Mt-5zNv2JuAOI6cPNhsZU2fiLAjMOCsDG7JZ89ZYrqvwHeN/s1600/Casa+di+Octavius+Quartio.gif" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><span class="Apple-style-span"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 193px; height: 234px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg7nv6VKR1biaNfcuKvc6qNkP3mYgUANZoDZcgkuhE4yzTQaw_jY4ofIfw05tEoQP-CSqQ62Lgb6F7bqaOijnI5kesDlkk5Mt-5zNv2JuAOI6cPNhsZU2fiLAjMOCsDG7JZ89ZYrqvwHeN/s320/Casa+di+Octavius+Quartio.gif" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597458568679527714" /></span></a></div><br /><div>It's official! I found my dream home! And yes, it was right smack dab in the middle of Pompeii--not to be confused with Pompei the quasi-modern city that surrounds the Mt. Vesuvius anillated heathedistic community that now stands well preserved in ruin.</div><div><br /></div><div>Casa di Octavius Quartio. Yup, that's it. I just really like the lay out and how all the rooms face in and everything is always focused inward like seating,etc. And the co-existance with nature with the water running through the home and on outside and the trees and beautiful gardens with the walkways and lattice and terrace...aww...can't you just imagine it all in full bloom!! And don't even get me started on the artwork that gentely graces the walls inside and out. I love art!...though I may pick some more tasteful items...It's gorgeous! I want one! I'm going to design my home after this.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinWqpuln40c69bC76YmbjbzE_yxhBUQm8Rb7Xo2qITLfUN7mdV4dXwBUZDzo-3ZhyphenhyphenU_4PW_BDT5N2bpIcBmsuYLGEjtKq22pDuJrPQ-HJVpNZ8cLTsORE5RgeDIJpLh6Fed6vhwPs7k9bC/s1600/s%253Bflkjhs%253Bldfkjg%253Ba+551.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinWqpuln40c69bC76YmbjbzE_yxhBUQm8Rb7Xo2qITLfUN7mdV4dXwBUZDzo-3ZhyphenhyphenU_4PW_BDT5N2bpIcBmsuYLGEjtKq22pDuJrPQ-HJVpNZ8cLTsORE5RgeDIJpLh6Fed6vhwPs7k9bC/s320/s%253Bflkjhs%253Bldfkjg%253Ba+551.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597460563740416002" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0QPmHbxdEA5x3GEib7BiV7Tm98c7b8A3JGZtFaSmuyjLUTZP_rcCTy9OPdcFogX-M8_MXcyXHD62dpjPBEQVz4zegpaR-2S7uLvJLY2mS2c-9RswLN8SmczhKkYwL35wm_CS7O9piqRYT/s1600/Casa+di+Octavius+Quartio+7.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0QPmHbxdEA5x3GEib7BiV7Tm98c7b8A3JGZtFaSmuyjLUTZP_rcCTy9OPdcFogX-M8_MXcyXHD62dpjPBEQVz4zegpaR-2S7uLvJLY2mS2c-9RswLN8SmczhKkYwL35wm_CS7O9piqRYT/s320/Casa+di+Octavius+Quartio+7.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597459815596283346" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2WW1_qWWJCF1cFz8S-4HoUdG22jh2sMl3S2_yocXpjs-HciOk0BkoGXNFxVp6AC975MR3WcHvckQCYE9hyjyTnQ3h-HttDMztFdZZsDgllM20amWG4AT_7QVUveOncpP7KphHa3IqTrTo/s1600/Casa+di+Octavius+Quartio+6.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2WW1_qWWJCF1cFz8S-4HoUdG22jh2sMl3S2_yocXpjs-HciOk0BkoGXNFxVp6AC975MR3WcHvckQCYE9hyjyTnQ3h-HttDMztFdZZsDgllM20amWG4AT_7QVUveOncpP7KphHa3IqTrTo/s320/Casa+di+Octavius+Quartio+6.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597459810883597234" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a><br /></span><div style="text-align: center; "><br /></div><span class="Apple-style-span"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUJdjzenTjs4BXYOmOi5R11A_BFzORBPLA7VWNSznIwDZFX6UZ5dJykLasLSYZut-1mcFA2Wz73Tr0FHd2aLPcNcD7kEOBdVK8TjvIL0UpESBHFoXS8DwosN3c4W7sCdbdMBSTIbTGRvhy/s1600/Casa+di+Octavius+Quartio+4.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUJdjzenTjs4BXYOmOi5R11A_BFzORBPLA7VWNSznIwDZFX6UZ5dJykLasLSYZut-1mcFA2Wz73Tr0FHd2aLPcNcD7kEOBdVK8TjvIL0UpESBHFoXS8DwosN3c4W7sCdbdMBSTIbTGRvhy/s320/Casa+di+Octavius+Quartio+4.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597458587161487314" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 246px; height: 320px; " /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU6IZ8vcoF7f-46JsdLqhdpO_REVo_yPFLXO3r1ygvUUvHGtpI2jYYcjSQpJlz1OpjteXQDO5YQv28yCe53SO8MPAmqvIhj_ISbnV-eGEMkZnj3zZIrEnFGmKDA9C_0Q3s628be1KEOMmf/s1600/Casa+di+Octavius+Quartio+3.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU6IZ8vcoF7f-46JsdLqhdpO_REVo_yPFLXO3r1ygvUUvHGtpI2jYYcjSQpJlz1OpjteXQDO5YQv28yCe53SO8MPAmqvIhj_ISbnV-eGEMkZnj3zZIrEnFGmKDA9C_0Q3s628be1KEOMmf/s320/Casa+di+Octavius+Quartio+3.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597458578449006354" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px; " /></a><br /></span><div style="text-align: center; "><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwjf8AhrlljGdsZTh1wVBnBTu8GdOi_wkQjIAUZ8Ou9N4Ip1fvhMBxXrYvvXbSisrNRoO32vb0Fq1mmiX8YaNjFH_QTRybD5pYxiv10nUaGOCOYh9F2LdnoTIiGQXqsQMtObFlFDfdXQ7N/s1600/Casa+di+Octavius+Quartio+1.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><span class="Apple-style-span"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwjf8AhrlljGdsZTh1wVBnBTu8GdOi_wkQjIAUZ8Ou9N4Ip1fvhMBxXrYvvXbSisrNRoO32vb0Fq1mmiX8YaNjFH_QTRybD5pYxiv10nUaGOCOYh9F2LdnoTIiGQXqsQMtObFlFDfdXQ7N/s320/Casa+di+Octavius+Quartio+1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597458572632546994" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Pompeii was so rad! And there were a couple of digs going on while we were there and they were all cordened off and it just made me want to jump in and start taking notes or something :)<div><br /></div><div>There were a couple remarkable sites...what am I saying, "a couple"?? Pretty much everything was amazing! I was blown away by how well preserved so many parts were. And don't even get me started on the artwork that is still depictable and awinspiring with all it's viberant colors and magnificent detail.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0dm7hE1NGTQacVnC1LZcaG-wMi8N7kSkMmqNcVn6ZKhgGFbbPevHLtfwyUqTRk394wnk0DOvUg9Bor9NcN7OOmhmF_LHGm5AQ2x8om_0sg_kmtt49CkBE_07l2KXxkcdZB0KQ6graMxAI/s1600/janise+2+1949.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0dm7hE1NGTQacVnC1LZcaG-wMi8N7kSkMmqNcVn6ZKhgGFbbPevHLtfwyUqTRk394wnk0DOvUg9Bor9NcN7OOmhmF_LHGm5AQ2x8om_0sg_kmtt49CkBE_07l2KXxkcdZB0KQ6graMxAI/s320/janise+2+1949.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597461256155453698" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></a><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipzVJnvfKVdzBSESPwN5bMucMRTPe3Kc2I2XARCaAxQd9XUBO9xE-0b00uM3ckdU2VjXRbVtdblFB9IzCnB6lKrzwyPchENb4sARkEADriZO0uh10S3HnJDY-5BQRsyOKbodCojT04t8nW/s1600/DSCF0952.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipzVJnvfKVdzBSESPwN5bMucMRTPe3Kc2I2XARCaAxQd9XUBO9xE-0b00uM3ckdU2VjXRbVtdblFB9IzCnB6lKrzwyPchENb4sARkEADriZO0uh10S3HnJDY-5BQRsyOKbodCojT04t8nW/s320/DSCF0952.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597471405585526786" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSpyWgNeboW8Xp1ZSwMlF2GxF7aur9lwZeJxwDytepUefCQPmBeysqwoKDV0Bj6nctFtdNKE3VJfGyT817mFKsl26SAl3gfBoLJjOMg-rkJMZwbOVhfxxkDZshQ_Pt1plx20_du5-8G9Tp/s1600/DSCF0950.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSpyWgNeboW8Xp1ZSwMlF2GxF7aur9lwZeJxwDytepUefCQPmBeysqwoKDV0Bj6nctFtdNKE3VJfGyT817mFKsl26SAl3gfBoLJjOMg-rkJMZwbOVhfxxkDZshQ_Pt1plx20_du5-8G9Tp/s320/DSCF0950.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597471399472633826" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a><br /></span><div style="text-align: center; "><br /></div><span class="Apple-style-span"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0dm7hE1NGTQacVnC1LZcaG-wMi8N7kSkMmqNcVn6ZKhgGFbbPevHLtfwyUqTRk394wnk0DOvUg9Bor9NcN7OOmhmF_LHGm5AQ2x8om_0sg_kmtt49CkBE_07l2KXxkcdZB0KQ6graMxAI/s1600/janise+2+1949.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk0YikkdPl9KOwGwCZfXqUHnHcLQF6f23leqpRSyEIC1Y3Lp-HJRyGy_AZMfIdgR5BSCBFBxylm52mIzXAdaC8hEIDm9wKiYGFBg2Dq1QH4Zg4587gRnKOLEzdD4TjItXtKD4LGoBFOIcb/s1600/janise+2+1960.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk0YikkdPl9KOwGwCZfXqUHnHcLQF6f23leqpRSyEIC1Y3Lp-HJRyGy_AZMfIdgR5BSCBFBxylm52mIzXAdaC8hEIDm9wKiYGFBg2Dq1QH4Zg4587gRnKOLEzdD4TjItXtKD4LGoBFOIcb/s320/janise+2+1960.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597461254720027378" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKffm6DW0VRzng6Bg3Tm1FlA1JD5i9rukW2ZwVpmCJT_OejL5yZJVyje93eVBeDVKqUoI7RGWYFn27wQUc37Rc0Sc3wbvqK0xM3QtjHK3WFhqzlL8plaYGzS6A7BGn1hjNKdplJ8QepMhh/s1600/janise+2+1938.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKffm6DW0VRzng6Bg3Tm1FlA1JD5i9rukW2ZwVpmCJT_OejL5yZJVyje93eVBeDVKqUoI7RGWYFn27wQUc37Rc0Sc3wbvqK0xM3QtjHK3WFhqzlL8plaYGzS6A7BGn1hjNKdplJ8QepMhh/s320/janise+2+1938.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597461247551449026" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></a></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4gXebDjbJdh7NE8D2GHpcfSdjtbWeAmUsJcpQUfazjCD19hdifwNZx1aNcdbdiYqVVOb-8fO2Uz2jUkDl9jhUmov1KxwrEM01uTHjogwosFZ4A2v2_5UihDwATIpXvAB5Jf0AhtFTZNNr/s320/DSCF0961.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597471951515588434" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">We got back, grabbed our stuff and were off! Our directions from our new friend...who's name has left me at the moment...were:</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">"Walk out, turn right, and go straight and you'll run right into the station."</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">Yeah. Right.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">After about 30 minutes of walking a bus finally drove passed and Babak flagged him down...on a kinda highway road (ha! no big deal. After 5pm there's like not a soul out in Pompeii). The guy couldn't have been older than me, big guy with spiked, thick italian hair, and some huge designer shades. He told us to just get on and he took us straight to the train station (another 10 or so minute BUS RIDE...so much for being right at the end of the street...yeah, it wasn't even near the street we were on either). He and Babak just chatted it up the whole way and he let us off free of charge. It was pretty legit. We would have never found it ourselves. ha!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSYVf5QPV3ZOMeOjJ7q5Utpwh_WDwDut8YOZcM9SJWPnw4vF43lkeaOxtljLOifl3UhOa9phoFmrNj8yP8cv5-f12daAEK1fHpKip4MgqB35oapjKyDu2esWiF5mSOhB7Mybc1khgmLgZZ/s320/DSCF0962.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597479710762334898" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">We walked up this little, ridiculously steep hill and our stomachs began to protest as the aroma of pizza and lemon's entered our nostrils. Ok time to eat.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">Let's just say we got ripped off royally! We weren't going to eat at one of the touristy spots but some guy offered us a euro discount on anything on the menu. We sat, ordered, waited for days for our pizzas (which turned out to be all the same frozen cheese pizza with a piece of meat or veggie here or there according to you order which we watched them toss on there there right before they popped em in the microwave). He brought us our check and we already knew how much it was supposed to be so we just handed him the cash and as we grabbed out bags he goes,</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">"No, no, 3 more euro. You owe me 3 more euro."</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">huh?? We calculated and it's pretty hard to mess us 3 x 5...we don't owe him anything. We looked confused and explained our math and then he goes,</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">"3 euro service charge."</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">Instantly knowing what just happened I couldn't even close to contain the blurting laugh that came out as Babak, fuming by now, just hands him 3 more euro and we walked away.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">3 euro service charge...for what? My nicely mircrowaved piece of cardboard??</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">We left Babak on the platform because this was the end of his adventure with us. As we departed he was still mumbling, "After all the amazing pizza in Napoli but trip end with this trash..."</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">hahahaha...poor Babak.<br /><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7ZbMarWmhiiThNTRJLUeICyqdvA_6P5k1XjxtBpl39zAQuD91h0-gJKgHr5MYjtf2CKo-mLzHKhZrMibJUYekjXOjAxfRuzlF_ImVHpv9WaeTQ2-7PLGknXVfSXKkDo2FQE2SOTgxQqh4/s320/DSCF0963.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597471955962259570" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div>Bye bye Pompeii. And on to Sorrento!!!...and just in case you're wondering...no we don't have somewhere to stay...yet :)</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07556343837729876121noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1060632716116160864.post-61994770602836033482011-03-14T14:58:00.000-07:002011-04-19T23:01:33.337-07:00"Pompeii's a real city? Like people really live here?"<div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;line-height: normal; "></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-family:"Georgia","serif";color:black">After lunch we had to wait around a little for Janise and so I left my stuff with Babak and went and explored around the little street vendors that crowd all the walkways around Piazza Garibaldi.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It's crazy!<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Between the mad chaos of cars trying to go every which way and with no concern for pedestrians and the men approaching you to try and sell you whatever, and the men at the stands, and the ones in the stores, and then of course the ones sitting on the sidewalk selling, and then add 3.5 people per square foot there's not a lot of breathing room--let alone walking room. </span></span>I love it!<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It totally reminds me of some of the crazy morning markets and night markets in Taiwan.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>With every step you take your life into your hands.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It’s awesome!<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I find it to be totally invigorati ng and like a funny game.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>How many cars and sales guys can I dodgewithout flinching??<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Haha, these are the things that Babak doesn’t let me do though, that’s why I went alone.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>No, not stupid, just adventurous.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>In these situations he’s normally got a death grip on my arm or his arm all the way around me and guiding me through the crowds of this world.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>He’s so cute and Persian.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Thank you Babak for your protection.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I’m sure you saved my life at some point.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-family:"Georgia","serif";color:black">I’ve been on a hunt for a ring.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I don’t know exactly what it looks like, what color, stone or no stone, flowers or no flowers, just you know, THE ONE.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I haven’t found it yet and I’m not an impulsive buyer so if I don’t see it I will just leave without it.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>This street had a ton of really rad merch so I thought I’d peruse a little.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I found a table that made me double take so I turned on a dime and began to try some on.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Meanwhile I must have started dancing around during my search because the nice man at the table asked if I liked the music with kind of a knowing smile and he turned it up a little.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I acknowledged that I did and inquired as to its origin.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-family:"Georgia","serif";color:black">“Egypt.” He said.</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-family:"Georgia","serif";color:black">I’m sure you all know by know what happened next. </span></span><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-family:Wingdings;mso-ascii-font-family:Georgia;mso-hansi-font-family: Georgia;color:black;mso-char-type:symbol;mso-symbol-font-family:Wingdings"><span style="mso-char-type:symbol;mso-symbol-font-family:Wingdings">J</span></span></span><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-family:"Georgia","serif";color:black"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Well, we began talking about Egypt and then my aunt who’d just been there, and then their current political situation, and then Iran, and then my family, and his family, and his life story and how and why he ended up in Napoli (he’s going on 16 years), and then his business, and and and…</span></span>He was so nice.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Just like a sweet little (actually big) daddy.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>He’s got 8 kids.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>5 boys 3 girls.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>One son in Houston, Texas, a couple daughters in Italia, a bunch in Egypt, and then I think a couple kids in like Germany…Berlin I think.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>His oldest grandson is 12 and he’s a little bowl full of jelly.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>He’s in Egypt and he likes to play futbol (soccer).<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>And his youngest grand is this adorable little girl that loves to dance…really though.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>She does.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I saw her.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Before I knew it I was on the phone with his son from Texas so he could prove to me how good his English was and then I’m looking at a slide show of pictures of his grandkids and kids and home videos. Hahahaha, it was awesome!!<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>By the end he offered for me and my family and friends whenever in Napoli to come stay with him and his 21 year old son in their home whenever we want.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>“It’s little, but it’s clean, close, free, and no one’s ever there because they’re always working…I’ll just leave you a key and you can come and go as you please.” The interesting thing is that</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-family:"Georgia","serif";color:black">we were currently without a place to stay for this coming evening.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>By this point it had now been 20 minutes…I know right?<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I really do know his ENITRE life story…so, I thanked him and headed back.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>We found Janise like right away and I mentioned to them about my new friend and his welcoming invitation.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Janise thought about it for a second and thought it was a great option to consider.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>If I could describe Babak’s facial expression in words believe me I would.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Impossible.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Let’s just say I’m pretty sure that was like the last straw for him for my “adventurous side” and if he were a little tea pot short and stout his lid would have gone through the roof on that one. </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-family:"Georgia","serif";color:black">“Are you crazy Cami joon!?!?!?!?<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>No!<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Are you serious!!<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>You are crazy!!!<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>NO!!<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Some little Egyptian man shows you pictures of children on his phone and videos and tells you all about his ‘family’ and then invites you to stay with him and you think that’s ok?!?!?!?!?!”</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-family:"Georgia","serif";color:black">“umm…(Janise and I look at each other, trying so hard not to laugh because it was for sure one of those situations that laughing would have been the absolutely positively worst thing that could have happened in that moment, we shrug) yes?”</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-family:"Georgia","serif";color:black">“You guys!<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>WE ARE IN NAPOLI!!!!!” (He may have even thrown a “stupid” in there at some point)<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>“For all you know we walk in and his apartment could be full of guns and weapons or other men to tie us up and take us away and never be seen again and no one would ever know!”</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-family:"Georgia","serif";color:black">Yeah, you know, people keep telling me that like it’s supposed to strike fear into my soul and cause me to shudder and sweat…hello people, I’m fully aware of my geographic location.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I did get myself here using a labeled map.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-family:"Georgia","serif";color:black">Ok, ok, sass aside, I know, I know.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I’m in Napoli. Most dangerous, deceitful city in the world (which I doubt btw).<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>But seriously, in my defense…</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-family:"Georgia","serif";color:black">Yes. I believe those really were his children and grandchildren…for one thing they all looked like him.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-family:"Georgia","serif";color:black">Yes. I think he’s just a good guy trying to make an honest living for himself and his family.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-family:"Georgia","serif";color:black">Yes. I really did feel ok with staying with him as long as a man was with me and Babak happens to be one of those.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>But really really, I pick up vibes from people and he had nothing bad bouncing off of him.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I actually felt a very honest, genuine vibe.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-family:"Georgia","serif";color:black">But whatever.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>You all can think I’m crazy.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-family:"Georgia","serif";color:black"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-family:"Georgia","serif";color:black">Janise just held back giggles (which we let out with force later) and smiled with me in shock for the rather crazy public display that had just taken place in the middle of Napoli Centrale. </span></span>Babak didn’t even let the conversation continue from there.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>He just picked up his bag and stormed off in the direction of the circumvensuvianna which is the train that takes you south toward the Amalfi Coast.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-family:"Georgia","serif";color:black"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-family:"Georgia","serif";color:black">“We’re going to Pompeii.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Get on the train.”</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-family:"Georgia","serif";color:black"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-family:"Georgia","serif";color:black">He didn’t talk to us after that for a little bit.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-family:"Georgia","serif";color:black"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-family:"Georgia","serif";color:black">As we boarded the train, Babak looks back at me and says, “You are never allowed to talk to strangers again…especially nice little Egyptian men.”</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span style="font-family:"Georgia","serif"; color:black"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span style="font-family:"Georgia","serif"; color:black">We got to Pompeii.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Me standing in a corner because it was easier for me to lean on things than take off my pack and put it on again.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Babak sitting in the baggage area, like literally this little cubby hole.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Janise sitting in the middle of a group of old people just laughing, yelling, and chatting away.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>They were really cute.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span style="font-family:"Georgia","serif"; color:black">We got off at Pompeii basically in the same manner as when we first arrived in Napoli…actually totally different because this time I didn’t have a single friendly little note in the PB to give me even the slightest inkling as to where to go or even begin.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Well that’s a lie actually.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I know I should go to the ruins.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Luckily as played guess and check and started walking in the direction we thought the civilization might be in and nice bus driver just pulled over, had us get on his bus and took us to where a handful of hostels were.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Perfect!<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I love small towns.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span style="font-family:"Georgia","serif"; color:black">Studio 39 was the destination of the evening.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Nice beds, totally spotless clean, smelled good, food and water provided, and better yet…all the wifi my little heart had been longing for.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Maybe I just let Babak and Janise go explore that night and I sat and typed, skyped, called, and emailed away. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span style="font-family:"Georgia","serif"; color:black"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span style="font-family:"Georgia","serif"; color:black">It.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Was.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Glorious.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span style="font-family:"Georgia","serif"; color:black"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span style="font-family:"Georgia","serif"; color:black">p.s. did you know that Pompeii is like a real city like tons of people live there and there's industry and...yup, like I said, I promise I'm not stupid or like didn't pay attention in school but I swear to you no one ever taught me that Pompeii was inhabitable...they only ever just made it sound like it was ruins. Haha, go ahead and laugh at my expense... :)</span></p><p></p><p></p></span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07556343837729876121noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1060632716116160864.post-6294904439248242702011-03-14T09:37:00.000-07:002011-04-20T15:02:55.498-07:00"Napoli has officially stolen my heart." -Me, Napoli<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; "><span class="Apple-style-span">Via Toledo: Very cool.<span> </span>So, today Janise was meeting up with us at Napoli Centrale but not until the later afternoon so we packed up our bags and headed out to explore and take some rad pictures.<span> </span>We headed down Via Toledo, took a turn down somewhere to the left and found ourselves in Babak’s version of heaven.<span> </span>The entire little alley ALL the way down was shop after shop of only one thing: Guitars.<span> </span>The kid needed a cup to catch all the drool.<span> </span>I don’t know if I mentioned this but he’s in Italy studying Jazz Guitar at the Conservatory in Roma.<span> </span>From there I took us to find the place I’d been wanting to go since I heard about it.<span> </span>This is what I was told:</span><span class="Apple-style-span"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-family:"Segoe Print"; mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;color:black">“If its daytime you can try wandering into the quartieri spagnoli, which are down near the end of the street [Via Toledo] off to the right, but don’t look lost or too American. It’s just a whole new world in there. Little walking only streets with houses thousands of years old, super, super poor, clothes hanging everywhere, etc.”</span></span><span style="font-family:"Segoe Print";mso-bidi-font-family:"Segoe UI""><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; color: black; ">Welp, here I was with my backpack and Babak with his and a map in my hand to find it and yup I definitely found it and explored it that way.<span> </span>It was incredible.<span> </span>It was almost breathtaking seeing these people and their homes and their faces and the history and colors and smells and sounds all woven together.<span> </span>They’re all just there.<span> </span>Living.<span> </span>It’s normal life to them.<span> </span>It’s beautiful.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; color: black; ">…oh and did I mention that Babak also took out his ginormous! Professional grade camera with a lens that grows longer than Pinocchio’s nose!<span> </span>Yup, sorry dude, we definitely failed on following that advice in this case.<span> </span>I don’t think I looked more American, lost, tourist MY ENTIRE TRIP!<span> </span>But I felt safe and wasn’t lost :)</span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; color: black; ">Hey, you do what you can, and then you pray and play and in the end it always works out.</span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; "><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; ">Mission accomplished.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px; ">From there we took a bus, grabbed lunch at this amazing pizza place called Pizzaria Pellone.<span> </span>Mmm! Mmm! Good!<span> </span>Bonissimo!!!<span> </span>I got the margarita with mozzarella di buffalo.<span> </span>I’m actually salivating right now typing this.<span> </span>And as a disclaimer, Starita and Pellone are just too good and too different to compare.<span> </span>You have to just try both.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px; "><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; ">Really though...I really am in love...really really...and not just with mozzarella di buffalo.</span></p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07556343837729876121noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1060632716116160864.post-62721469992905974942011-03-13T12:31:00.000-07:002011-04-19T23:11:10.966-07:00"T.M.I" -Me, in my head (Mom's favorite phrase: too much information)<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; ">After church Babak and I decided it was a perfect time to explore and enjoy the wonders of Napoli.<span> </span>We started with the National Archaeology Museum.<span> </span>It was pretty cool.<span> </span>Actually it was really cool because this is the museum that much of the best Pompeii artifacts have been brought and preserved.<span> </span>It’s amazing to me to see all these paintings and sculptures and daily use items not only so well preserved but to then read the stories and theories behind each of them.<span> </span>It’s experiences like these that make me feel like I should have been an anthropology double major.<span> </span>The two highlights (and allow me to disclaim that when I say “highlight” what I mean is like…the two things that I either enjoyed the most or stood out the most):<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="text-indent:-.25in;mso-list:l0 level1 lfo1"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; "><span>1.<span style="font:7.0pt "Times New Roman""> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; ">I love love loved! When I finally got to the hall of Women.<span> </span>And it wasn’t just because I was tired of seeing penises all over and certainly had nothing to do with the fact that I just happen to be the perfect height that if I wasn’t careful and paying attention I could run smack dab into some wonderfully detailed part of some dead guy buck naked in all his man glory.<span> </span>Let’s just say I had an awesomely embarrassing experience from which I can confidently state that as fact.<span> </span>Gratefully no one was around. (if I could insert a blushing smiley face here oh I totally would)<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; ">My favorites have always been the depictions of Aphrodite, Athena, and Artemis.<span> </span>I want to be the combination of them </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; "><span>J </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px; "> </span></span></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px; ">Someday I will.</span></p> <p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="text-indent:-.25in;mso-list:l0 level1 lfo1"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; "><span>2.<span style="font:7.0pt "Times New Roman""> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; "><span class="Apple-style-span">The erotic room or love room or whatever other words you would like to use.<span> </span>I will refer to it as maybe the porn room.<span> </span>I would like to take this opportunity to thank a dear friend for warning me about this room ahead of time because had he not I would have missed the little sign on the side of the door entry and waltzed right on in there not thinking anything of it.<span> </span>Bah!<span> </span>I wrote this in my journal:</span><span class="Apple-style-span"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in"><span style="font-size:12.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Bradley Hand ITC";mso-bidi-font-family:Arial">“So I’m walking around minding my own business as per social custom in a museum and<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I started to walk right into a room full of explicit depictions from the Pompeii brothels.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It was rightly described to me as<span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color:black"> ‘[providing] good reasoning for why the city was destroyed’.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I’m not one to be offended by nudity in art, and though I really don’t know if I’ll ever go in there in the future either (I have a very graphic memory), it’s definitely not really a ‘Sabbath Activity’ so I’m FOR SURE refraining today.”</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; "> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; ">From there we went to this magnificent Castel that is up on the highest peak I could see in all of Napoli.<span> </span>Castel Sant’Elmo.<span> </span>Wow.<span> </span>It’s the real deal.<span> </span>Babak and I climbed up to the top and walked along the path of the outer wall.<span> </span>Neither words nor pictures can describe the view from up there.<span> </span>I guess you’re all just going to have to go and see it for yourself.<span> </span>Honestly, once we got up there it was kinda funny and fun because a storm decided to blow in and the wind was so strong that our cameras were struggling to even focus on anything.<span> </span>I’ve never had that happen before.<span> </span>I was actually pushed off balance a couple times too.<span> </span>I’ve definitely had that happen before. <span> </span>It started exploring around the city on our way down and it really began to rain.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; ">I. Love. Napoli.</span></p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07556343837729876121noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1060632716116160864.post-56047935930458095422011-03-13T09:56:00.000-07:002011-04-19T23:16:33.660-07:00"Mormoni Chiesa? oh! Mormoni Chiesa!" Random men on the streets of Napoli<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:normal"></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black">Church! Church! Church! I love going to church! I got up early this morning and we greeted by the cutie little lady of the house with a delicious display of tea, breads, yogurt with fresh fruit, and freshly made glazed donuts. Yum! The set up was this adorable sunroom with a little old wooden table, the room was wall to wall windowed with a tranquil view of a beautifully designed backyard full of luscious greenry and flowers. I love the spring! Have I ever mentioned how much I love flowers?? ;) After that I quickly got on mormon.org and found the address for the church in Caserta and Napoli. We’d decided to go to church in Caserta and would from there go and see the gardens of the Palace there.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black">I got ready, google mapped the church, googled images of the actual building to I would recognize it, figured out the metro etc., and then started to work on my blog a little, and started sending a couple emails when I overheard Babak and the old man talking in serious tones. Something about Passports and Iran. After about 5 minutes they came into the living room where I was. I pretended to be oblivious to what I now understood as basically Babak trying to keep us from getting kicked out for him being from Iran. I later learned that the reason everyone was giving us such a hard time was because there’s this fairly new law that is strictly enforced, particularly with regard to Persians. Everyone has to require passports in order to house people and they have to report all their patrons’ information to the police and apparently particularly for Iranians they’re like crazy. So, even though Babak explained our situation to him last night when he called and the man was like, “No problem, as long as she has her passport you’re fine,” I guess sleeping on it freaked him out so he was pretty stress-flustered. There goes 9 o’clock church…oh well! Napoli it is! That’s great! I’m soo excited.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black">After about an hour they had everything figured out; Babak was able to get a hold of someone and then like his roommate and and and…all I know is the guy agreed that as long as he could provide his passport number he’d let us slide. Phew!! That would have been awesome…walking around Napoli and traveling to church with my pack…ha! Heavenly Father loves us!<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black">We start walking, get down to the National Archeological Museum, our B&B was like four blocks inland from it, and Babak looks at me and says, “Where from here?” Ummm, huh? You’re the one that kicked me off the computer because apparently being 26, girl, and/or from the US means that I’m incapable of reading a street map?? Apparently he didn’t even end up looking at the map I had pulled up because that’s when the confusion started. Awesome. Welp, I guess we’re going based off the first couple directions I figured out. These basically consisted of the Metro station to get on at, the general vicinity of the church, and the address which I’d luckily written down in the PB (which Babak soon just confiscated so he could lead the way…lead the way by asking by showing the address I’d written down </span><span style="font-size:12.0pt; font-family:Wingdings;mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";color:black">J</span><span style="font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; color:black"> ). It was so fun! I love being slightly unaware of where I’m going because those are the times that you usually see some of the most memorable things, meet unusual people, and create some of the best memories. This was definitely one of those occasions. Let’s just say it was a good thing we left 2 hours early to make it for sacrament. The adventure included a regular subway, this funny down-the-face –of-the-cliff type metro which had staircases along both sides and in retrospect I’m pretty sure we could have walked down the stairs more quickly. But it was surely a unique little ride. Oh yeah the metro station ticket machines were ALL down and the guard just kept saying, “well, you need to just buy a ticket.” Ummm, I know my Italian is pretty limited so I could be mistaken but Sir I think those signs written in man’s hand writing and posted on ALL the machines in the station clearly indicate through words and symbols like circles with line crossing through words like bigilettos and servizi with “X”s crossing them that no matter how much money I put in that little slot it’s not going to give me a ticket in return. Nope, sorry. Hear that cling? Yup, still spittin’ my coins back </span><span style="font-size:12.0pt; font-family:Wingdings;mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";color:black">J</span><span style="font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; color:black"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black">For Babak. Well, let’s just say I think he’d say it was a memorable experience as well…just don’t know if in the same light as me.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black">The view as we walked and then again from inside the little church were breathtaking. With every step all I could think is how people really live here. It was fun walking from stop to stop and listening to Babak trying to describe to people where I was wanting to go. All the conversations pretty much ended up with dynamic Italian conversations that always ended with a bunch of looking around and facial expressions of thought about “Oooh! Mormoni Chiesa” (Oooh! Mormon Church). I love that when I travel and in the end if I throw our “Mormon” people suddenly know what you’re talking about. It’s so fun!<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black">In the end, it was a really nice and friendly man up the street sitting in this little guard shack that was our final angel on our path to church. They were very excited to see us and curious of how we knew of their little branch. I shared our connection and we were off to Sunday School…the elder and I decided Gospel Principles would be the best option for us today. Babak’s second Christian church experience. Haha </span><span style="font-size:12.0pt; font-family:Wingdings;mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";color:black">J</span><span style="font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; color:black"> What an amazing experience.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black">We were escorted down a hallway. Second door on the left. Sat down and listened at the Elders taught and bore testimony about the restoration of the Church. It was beautiful. The people were so nice. It was remarkable how much it made me feel like I was right back on the mission and made me miss that time of my life. We met a lot of people. Sacrament was really fun and interesting too. Before the opening hymn they handed me a cute little handmade pamphlet with the lyrics to the Italia national anthem on the inside and a little color penciled flag on the front.Then the youth were presented at the head of the room and lead us all in singing praise for their grand country. Then all the talks were about respecting your government and standing by your leaders even during times of difficulty. It was really good, kinda funny because they were all making comments about “the north” and “the south”, and the whole time I was praying that Babak would get something positive out of the lesson because I can’t imagine that was his favorite topic.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black">After sacrament this really short but totally sharp looking brother, probably in his late 30s, comes up to the elder I was talking with and said something to the effect of, “that’s great, but I’m Napolitano, not Italian.” He had a knowing half smile and eyes just waiting for reaction. The elder looked at me and said, “Obviously he missed something during sacrament.” We all just laughed.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black">Afterward the elders escorted us to the metro a different way than we came and it was probably one of the coolest little walks I’ve ever gone through IN MY LIFE! We went up a little bit from the church and turned down this alleyway at basically the top of the hilled street. From there we wined around some corners that I probably would have never gone through by myself (although come to think of it I did start down that way on the way down the street). It was soooo cliché Italian and rustic and amazing! I love elders for knowing all the little nooks and crannies.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black">The church is true and I love it! I think it might be even truer in such a gorgeous location...just sayin' :)<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><p></p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07556343837729876121noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1060632716116160864.post-70134535271563954372011-03-12T21:36:00.000-08:002011-04-19T23:10:27.499-07:00"I think I have an unhealthy relationship with food...I just love it sooo much!" -Me and a couple dear friends<p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; ">So as soon as we got into the B&B the cutie little man was so excited and started telling us that basically he’d made his millions and now he just does this because he just loves it.<span> </span>He starts pulling out maps and marking all this stuff and telling us “go here and go there and stop here and try this and that” and and and…he was giddy like a school kid.<span> </span>And it ended with him insisting on the best pizza in all of Napoli (which means it’s the best pizza in all the world…duh </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; "><span>J</span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; ">) is just a few blocks down the street, cross to the right once you hit the Farmacia and you’ll be on Via Materdei and walk up and it’s the second pizza joint on the left…NOT the first, the second.<span> </span>Got it.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; ">We went.<span> </span>We witnessed.<span> </span>We indulged.<span> </span>We bulged.<span> </span>We laughed.<span> </span>We philosophized.<span> </span>We enjoyed.<span> </span>It really is the best pizza in all of Napoli.<span> </span>So good in fact that the next night when EVERYTHING closed at 8pm and we were walking down the mountain from the castle in the rain, after Babak made us take another ridiculously expensive taxi ride to nowhere (meaning that the place he took us was closed and who knows where in the dark), we walked all the way through one of the most sketch parts of the WORLD I’ve ever been in until we came out on Via Toledo (which is like the main road) and then walked up until we made our way back there, praying the entire way that it would be open so we didn’t have an untimely demise caused by starvation.<span> </span>Babak doubted me the entire way but I stuck to my guns (and even though when we got off the metro (but it wasn’t a metro I don’t know what it was) in a creepy dark place and I was honestly scared for my life…which wasn’t helped by Babak quietly chanting to himself, “this is not a good place to be.<span> </span>This is not a safe place to be.<span> </span>We should not be here.”<span> </span>I just calmly looked around and noticed where EVERYONE else that got off was going and just followed them…that was a good plan until they all started walking into their homes after a couple blocks.<span> </span>From there I just made some gut driven choices and we ended up A-O-K.).<span> </span>The pizza place is called Pizzaria Starita a Materdei.<span> </span>The owner, the front staff, and our waiters from the night before recognized us and warmly welcomed us back home.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; ">We’re family now.<span> </span>We’re even friends with our Mesopatamian<span> </span>waiter Pan on Facebook and by the end of our time there he was inviting us to come out and party with him and later a couple times before I came home he wrote me to see if we were back in town so he could take us out. Hahaha.<span> </span>I love the world we live in.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; "><span class="Apple-style-span">p.s. it’s no wonder everyone in Italy is totally skinny, they really don’t have a food establishment on every corner and three in between everywhere you go like we do here in the states.</span><span class="Apple-style-span"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07556343837729876121noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1060632716116160864.post-51203122336566498202011-03-12T19:53:00.000-08:002011-04-19T23:11:37.825-07:00"We were celebrating my birthday with our son." -Cutie Old man, B&B, Napoli<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; "><span style="color: black; ">We went to two or three more hotels and B&B's before we found one that would actually take us. And by that time I'm pretty sure every call on the taxi comms system was working together to try and help us, the newlyweds, find a place to stay. hahaha I love Italy!</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="color: black; ">From there we were dropped off on a street corner, because of course he wasn't exactly positive where the B&B was located, wished luck, charged a million dollars, and off to the curb and walking once again we went. This time in the dark.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="color: black; ">We found the cutie little place but the owner was out with his family for dinner so he said to just wait a little bit and they'd be right back to let us in.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="color: black; ">Oh. Did. We. Wait. Like 2 hours. Right back, huh? Love it! Really though, we were totally fine. Or I was at least.<span> </span>Babak paced back and forth for a while. I just perched myself right on the nearest street bench and started pulling snacks out of my mary poppins bag of goodies. Bread and Jam were the main snack of choice. haha, and here's where it really gets good.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="color: black; ">So, allow me to paint a picture. Imagine it's dark, you're walking along a dirty sidewalk litered with trash (because the city worker are apparently on strike…really really), on the edge of the sketch part of town, street lamps and scattered and erratic car headlights zooming here and there are the only source of light as you go, and the air is just filled with honking and all the other sounds cars make as they stop, go, screech to a halt, turn on a dime, and crisscross in and out of lanes, everyone trying to get everywhere all at once, and every man for himself. Then suddenly, though I don't know how it could really be "sudden" but that's sure how it seemed by people's facial expression, out of the middle of nowhere appears this girl sitting on a park bench. She's wearing a hat, she's kinda dirty, her boots and clothes appear to be in desperate need of cleaning, she's bundled up with a scarf, surrounded by piles of bags and stuff, there's not really anyone else around her, and she's eating what seems to be bread out of a plastic grocery sack, just ripping a piece off, dunking it in the jar of jam in her other hand and then right on into her mouth. Yeew, right? Like, I hope she washed her hands first. Yeah, that was me. The homeless girl (pun totally intended) sitting in the middle of Napoli late at night, eating out of a plastic bag, covering myself in bread crumbs as I went. It was glorious! All I was missing was a grocery cart and I could have pulled it off like the genuine article. Oh yeah and did I mention that eventually Babak came and sat next to me. Dark skinned, hairy middle eastern guy, so many layers on he looked three times his size, with his wild shoulder length curly hair sticking out in every direction from under his beanie pulled down pretty low to his eyes. The homeless girl and her crazy street friend. Seriously, judging by people's facial expressions and how much more willing they were to walk closer to the street where all the psycho driver were you'd have thought we either looked like we were gonna kill them or we must have smelled REAL bad!</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="color: black; "><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="color: black; ">...let's be honest, the latter just might have been true. :)</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="color: black; "><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="color: black; ">The old couple eventually showed up. They newlywed thing made it through the door there too and the matron of the house showed us right to a beautiful room with a king size bed. Gratefully after signing some papers Babak fessed up to being my uncle...which always goes over well. Typically something like, laughter--questioning--shock--and then laughter again.</span></span></p><p></p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07556343837729876121noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1060632716116160864.post-27628284182355584212011-03-12T14:47:00.000-08:002011-04-19T23:15:41.979-07:00"So are you guys newlyweds?" -Taxi Driver, Napoli<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span class="Apple-style-span"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="font-family:"Cambria","serif";mso-ascii-theme-font:major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-hansi-theme-font:major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black">Janise and I split again at this point so she could see Venice (I’ve already been) and Babak and I headed off to Napoli to begin the treasure hunt the PB held that would lead us on what certainly would turn into the most incredible adventure of my entire trip…and maybe life.</span></span></p><span class="Apple-style-span"> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:"Cambria","serif";mso-ascii-theme-font:major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-hansi-theme-font:major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black">We get to Napoli the best way possible.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>No map, no plan for a place to stay, super excited for the quest we were about to embark on in one of the cities we both have been looking forward to going to for years, my laptop—dead, and basically neither of us speaking the local language because they literally speak another language here so not even Babak’s Italian seemed like it was going to help, luckily not too hungry, and plenty of sunlight </span><span style="font-family:Wingdings;mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria;mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;mso-hansi-theme-font:major-latin;mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; color:black;mso-char-type:symbol;mso-symbol-font-family:Wingdings"><span style="mso-char-type:symbol;mso-symbol-font-family:Wingdings">J</span></span><span style="font-family:"Cambria","serif";mso-ascii-theme-font:major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-hansi-theme-font:major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black">.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>This is going to be awesome!</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:"Cambria","serif";mso-ascii-theme-font:major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-hansi-theme-font:major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black">As headed straight out to Piazza Garibaldi outside of Napoli Centrale and split in search of the ever elusive wifi.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I headed straight to the McDonalds and Babak…well, I’m not sure where he went.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I could connect to wifi just fine but a dead laptop won’t connect no matter how hard I try so I simply looked around, found a plug, plugged in and it was happy surfing.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>That’s what I thought.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Basically by the time my desktop pulled up and was functional some McD’s rent-a-cop comes up and with his finger shaking in my face says, “That’s not allowed.”<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>No problem.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Puppy dog eyes and innocent smile to the rescue!<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I got a 2 minute allowance…it lasted about 4.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Unfortunately without a map we were still pretty lost.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:"Cambria","serif";mso-ascii-theme-font:major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-hansi-theme-font:major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black">Babak called up our Roman local napolitanita Gina and she sent us the information and some basic directions for the metro for how to get to a specific hostel and we were off. We got off the metro and all we had was the name of the hostel. There was a sign with an arrow in the doorway exiting the metro station, one about 10 yards from there toward the street, and then another further down in the direction of which the arrows were pointing. I mentioned it to Babak just about 8 times but for some reason it just wasn't ever the right answer to his search. The exchanges would go something like this...</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:"Cambria","serif";mso-ascii-theme-font:major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-hansi-theme-font:major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black">Babak: "Hmm, so now where should we go?"</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:"Cambria","serif";mso-ascii-theme-font:major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-hansi-theme-font:major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black">Me: "Isn't Ostello, hostel in Italian?" (pointing at the sign as we walked through the doorway)</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:"Cambria","serif";mso-ascii-theme-font:major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-hansi-theme-font:major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black">Babak: “Yeah, yeah.” (shrugging me off)</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:"Cambria","serif";mso-ascii-theme-font:major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-hansi-theme-font:major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black">Me: "Well, we could go that way." (pointing in the direction of the signs)</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:"Cambria","serif";mso-ascii-theme-font:major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-hansi-theme-font:major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black">Babak: "Uhh...hmm" (looking around and then walking away, usually in the opposite direction)</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:"Cambria","serif";mso-ascii-theme-font:major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-hansi-theme-font:major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black">"I really don't know where to go from here."</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:"Cambria","serif";mso-ascii-theme-font:major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-hansi-theme-font:major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black">Me: "Well, why don't we just go that way, like the signs say?"</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:"Cambria","serif";mso-ascii-theme-font:major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-hansi-theme-font:major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black">Babak: (walking away, again and ask some man sitting on a bench and then a taxi driver, etc.)</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:"Cambria","serif";mso-ascii-theme-font:major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-hansi-theme-font:major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black">Me:"Aren't we going to the Ostello?<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Ostello mean hostel right?”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:"Cambria","serif";mso-ascii-theme-font:major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-hansi-theme-font:major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black">"What about this direction?"</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:"Cambria","serif";mso-ascii-theme-font:major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-hansi-theme-font:major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black">Finally, HE DECIDED to go some direction (which happened to be the direction the signs that I'd been recommending we follow pointed) and about 10 seconds into that direction he looks up and pointing to one of the signs (that I'd pointed at like 10 minutes earlier) he goes, "Hey, look! "Ostello" right there!"</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:"Cambria","serif";mso-ascii-theme-font:major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-hansi-theme-font:major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black">Hahahahaha.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>He claims that he really never heard me recommend following the signs.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>He just thought I kept asking how to say “hostel” in Italian.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Thank you selective, stressed out hearing. Oh the joys of traveling with a man.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:"Cambria","serif";mso-ascii-theme-font:major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-hansi-theme-font:major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black">Love you Babak!!</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:"Cambria","serif";mso-ascii-theme-font:major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-hansi-theme-font:major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black">We turned to follow the sign. Umm Hello! sidewalkless, tunnel under the rail tracks, barely two lane, high speed limit, racing cars, dirty, liter-ee, graffiti-ee, narrow little road. Awesome. I just started walking as Babak second guessed the signs further and then pulled ahead of me. Little white girl with a pack as big as herself (or so I've been told), in a dress with a big bow tied around my head. Boy do I make Babak nervous. Boy do I love it! From there it was a trek up the side of the cliff face, really it was designed well, though completely under construction and therefore seemed WAY more sketch than it probably will be once it's all done, but like I was saying--the design, it made it much more like it was just a steepish stroll up a little-ish hill. There was a guard box. Did I stop to chat, ask for directions, or permission? Nope. Did they try to stop, question, or seem to even notice our existence? Also, nope.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>We just walked right around their little barrier and continued.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:"Cambria","serif";mso-ascii-theme-font:major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-hansi-theme-font:major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black">At the top of the hill and to the left there were two apartment type buildings and a kinda constructiony, STAY OUT! feeling type place with wired fences to the right. O-K, left it is. The first building looked kinda hostel-ish so I started in that direction as Babak still kinda stood there working on the "Left or Right?" options.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It’s been a long day. My approach was swiftly and actually quite aggressively crossed by a couple of large rodent size dogs that seemed to come out of the inside of an old rundown car. Ok, ok. I served a mission in the number one country for stray dogs in the world. I've had my fair share of encounters with ravenous, foaming at the mouth, come out of nowhere, heading full speed ahead (ahead being me of course), type dogs. I can handle this. Just. Stay. Calm. and friendly of course :) Babak about freaked out. Honestly, it was totally no big deal and I had it completely under control. The older, more freaky, sickly looking one eventually decided to keep its distance, and the other younger baby black lab looking one just reminded me of my dog Sage and I just made her feel like a welcomed friend (without touching her of course...all my health classes have ruined me as far as petting animals that aren't mine or that live outside are concerned...I know, I know, I'm a public health dork). I let her smell me and jump up on my legs and eventually she just lead us to where we were actually wanting to go. It was quite cute. What a smart little puppy. She must encounter a lot of lost travelers that know exactly where they are and where they are going, but not exactly how to get there.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:"Cambria","serif";mso-ascii-theme-font:major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-hansi-theme-font:major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black">The hostel. Interesting place. Clean. Well furnished. Quite a few steps up from what I'd anticipated. Bright. Spectacular view of the coastline (probably because once you got up the hill and then the million steps to the entrance we quite literally were on the cliff face well above the train track. Sounds nice huh? Welp, it was. All except for the jerk owner.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I’m sorry that’s not nice…but totally true. Lame. Apparently being from Iran means you can't stay in a hostel. No, he wasn't really that racist, although he almost seemed to be totally ok with not being able BY LAW to house us. You see, in Italy in order to stay ANYWHERE you have to present your passport and Babak didn't bring his.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I'm not going to comment on that. Let's just say that the man even said like, "Well, if she had just come in and reserved for the two of you, you would have been fine, but since you are here at the counter I cannot accept you, especially because you're Iranian. Sorry."</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:"Cambria","serif";mso-ascii-theme-font:major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-hansi-theme-font:major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black">Ummm, ok. Stupid.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:"Cambria","serif";mso-ascii-theme-font:major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-hansi-theme-font:major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black">And as if that wasn't cool enough, he wouldn't give us information about other hostels other than "there're tons of hostels in Napoli"...like that's gonna help.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>He wouldn't allow me to log into the wireless or even pay to use their computers even for just long enough to find a couple more addresses and/or phone numbers. Super lame. He barely let us sit in the lobby to rest and if it weren't for my "but I'm just a poor poor lost little girl traveler with a larger than life pack" face I probably couldn't have convinced him to let me use the RESTROOM! Meanie!</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:"Cambria","serif";mso-ascii-theme-font:major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-hansi-theme-font:major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black">We left. Tired. Without a clue where to go. No clue where we were. Babak pretty ticked beyond all imaginable reason. And me? Well, I was using everything in me to not laugh at our current predicament. Come on, how can you not laugh at a situation like this?...not gonna lie it was better than the alternative easy negative responses.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>This was the first time I had firsthand experience with such blatant rude Iranian discrimination.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Little did I know, this was just the beginning.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:"Cambria","serif";mso-ascii-theme-font:major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-hansi-theme-font:major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black">We got back to the train station and Babak just stood there listless and distraught. Ok, time for me to take over. Without real warning I just headed across the street. Complaining and cursing wasn't going to get me any closer to a bed than I was already and it was getting late...and yeah, we're in Napoli and I've been given my fair share of lectures on how dangerous Napoli is, particularly at night, by friends and family.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I’m adventurous but not stupid.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:"Cambria","serif";mso-ascii-theme-font:major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-hansi-theme-font:major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black">We walked up hills, back down them, down long streets, through short passes, through crazy intersections, and all along the way I would ask if anyone knew where an internet café or another hostel was.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:"Cambria","serif";mso-ascii-theme-font:major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-hansi-theme-font:major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black">" You're in the wrong part of town."</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:"Cambria","serif";mso-ascii-theme-font:major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-hansi-theme-font:major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black">"There isn’t anything like that around here."</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:"Cambria","serif";mso-ascii-theme-font:major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-hansi-theme-font:major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black">"Huh?"</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:"Cambria","serif";mso-ascii-theme-font:major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-hansi-theme-font:major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black">Finally, Babak was so put out and frustrated with walking or whatever <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>and not wanting to just take the train back to the main station and find somewhere closer to there, (I'm dead serious, I think it was now more because he was following a girl around than anything else) that he just up and took charge and went and got us a taxi to take us who the heck knows where hotel. Fine.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>You can pay for it.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>A train would have been cheaper.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>:p</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:"Cambria","serif";mso-ascii-theme-font:major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-hansi-theme-font:major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black">The ride started out a little awkward so...I started talking to the driver. We could kinda communicate. But in the end, at least it broke the below zero chilled tension that filled the cab. Eventually, he and Babak started chatting casually as he drove us to this "perfect little place" that he knew of right on the water...and like 15 minutes away. I understood probably 25% of the conversation and definitely understood the topic stream when I paid attention, which I wasn’t really doing because I was falling in love with Napoli. But the best part was after he took us to the first place, it was full, so now he felt bad and called some taxi buddies that figured out an "even better, more beautiful spot" and took us there. On the way there he asked what we were doing and, the infamous question, "So are you guys newlyweds?"(with a knowing smile) to which Babak of course responded, "Yes, yes we are."</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:"Cambria","serif";mso-ascii-theme-font:major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-hansi-theme-font:major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black">WHAT!? <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I mean I know we’re Persian and all and we have a long history of inter-family marriages but…Bahahahahaha! When I figured that one out, it took everything in me to hold in my laughter. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:"Cambria","serif";mso-ascii-theme-font:major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-hansi-theme-font:major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black">As a result of that, the guy decided he'd give us his favorite taxi tour of the Napoli coastline, etc.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:"Cambria","serif";mso-ascii-theme-font:major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-hansi-theme-font:major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black">Napoli really is enchanting.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></p></span><p></p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07556343837729876121noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1060632716116160864.post-46453361592986801312011-03-10T09:20:00.000-08:002011-04-19T23:22:14.438-07:00I went to Florence. It was good. Maybe someday I'll tell you more :)<div><br /></div><div>...I just really want to get to southern Italy because that's where the fun really started.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07556343837729876121noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1060632716116160864.post-36579662709991894422011-03-08T15:27:00.000-08:002011-04-19T23:23:54.001-07:00"Don't judge me but it's kind of a lesbian party..." Ali, New York<div><div style="text-align: left;">Today was one of those days you wish never had to end, and really it was all because of one darling young woman by the name of Megan Whitlock. Now, I'm not sure what it is about this beautiful lady that just rocked my world today, but I'm sure it has nothing to do with her bright smile, welcoming hug (and I mean she's 6 ft tall which means her arms can wrap right around me...that's the best), it certainly doesn't have anything to do with the dance party from last night, nor the fact that I'm partially reliant on her for "I don't speak Italian" moments and her willingness and eagerness to step in and save the day, it totally doesn't have to do with the fact that she's from this bitty little farming community that happens to hold a special place in my heart--come on, it was my first introduction to like haystacks and tractors (and yes, I know they're not all called tractors...I guess if I said "John Deere" that's a more acceptable generalization…there’s just so many I can’t keep them straight…but I think I still know the difference between potatoes and sugar beets haha), and finally, my blossoming love for her absolutely has nothing to do with her political, religious, psychology, or world views (or the fact that they pretty much line up nicely with mine). Nope. None of those could possibly be the reasons why.</div><div><div><div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal">After a little convincing, Janise was persuaded to go visit Musei Vatican, so I left her on the metro and headed off to spend the afternoon with Megan. We met at the tie shop and headed to the Bone church (she'd really wanted to see it ever since we'd told her about it). Closed. Really? They must have known I was coming. Oh well. She can save that “donation” for another day's adventure.<o:p></o:p></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal">What now? She really wanted to see a particular piazza and hadn't seen much of the "touristy" stops in Roma since she moved here a couple weeks ago. I wanted to further explore the Roman Forum. It was a clear, absolutely gorgeous day. Blue sky, cool breeze, perfect warmth on your cheeks when walking in the sun. What better to do on a splendid day like this than a lackadaisical stroll? Perfection. I'm not sure how long we walked, but I gave us a nice little tour of most of the major parts and we just chatted for hours as though we’ve been friends for years. And no, we never got lost. By this point I had a pretty strong grip on things and even took a couple chances that all ended up quite well. :) Oh, how I love the streets of Roma. I seriously could move here.<o:p></o:p></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal">Eventually, it was time to meet up with Janise at Piazza del Popolo and luckily she made it ;) and we only had to wait for about 20-30 minutes. From there the three of us went up a million stairs to the best view in all of Roma at one of the side entrances to Villa Burghese (which is that absolutely incredible park and I could lose myself in there for days if permitted). It was our rendezvous point with Megan's roommate Ali. And boy are we glad to have her in our lives now too! The two of them together plus the two of us, jeez louise! Too much fun and not enough words! I can't imagine what it would be like to go dancing or karaoke bar hopping with these girlies...hmm...I love the thought!! Someday I'm pretty sure that will HAVE to come to fruition!<o:p></o:p></p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIgOHu3jnNNd4qz-FBe-YwoHLMXYBGFHoENZbwL2HI1TwKH8aTnVYnyj9SFZz8eIVS0DktyxSF2lUk4XAhSAZC8-vmLrrClLq-qr5_a7l_GJocNBYqmY80VAncdnCqEcTFiabIfwnw6qtO/s1600/janise+2+1531.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594920516101438178" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIgOHu3jnNNd4qz-FBe-YwoHLMXYBGFHoENZbwL2HI1TwKH8aTnVYnyj9SFZz8eIVS0DktyxSF2lUk4XAhSAZC8-vmLrrClLq-qr5_a7l_GJocNBYqmY80VAncdnCqEcTFiabIfwnw6qtO/s320/janise+2+1531.JPG" border="0" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; width: 320px; cursor: pointer; height: 214px; text-align: center; " /></a></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIgOHu3jnNNd4qz-FBe-YwoHLMXYBGFHoENZbwL2HI1TwKH8aTnVYnyj9SFZz8eIVS0DktyxSF2lUk4XAhSAZC8-vmLrrClLq-qr5_a7l_GJocNBYqmY80VAncdnCqEcTFiabIfwnw6qtO/s1600/janise+2+1531.JPG"></a><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0in; line-height: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span">Us at the top of the Spanish Steps</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0in; line-height: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0in; line-height: normal; ">Again, we walked for days and they invited us to join them for their evening plans. We agreed. Best decision of the trip thus far.<o:p></o:p></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0in; line-height: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span">Introducing <span><a href="http://www.msadventuresinitaly.com/blog/2008/03/27/the-guide-to-italian-aperitivo-and-drinks-in-italy/"><b>Aperitivo</b></a></span>!!</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal"></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal">We had dinner plans with Babak and Sepideh for that evening, but dinner in Italy is like after 8:30pm so we had a couple hours to kill. This seemed to be the perfect match for our needs. Buy a drink, eat a feast (an over exaggeration of course...depending on how hungry you are and how good of an aperitivo you attend). So, yes, let's get to "how good of an aperitivo" we just attended...ha! You're gonna loooovvvee this!</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal"><span class="Apple-style-span"></span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal"><span class="Apple-style-span">The Back Story: Megan and Ali, for their first week in Rome, lived in four different locations. Yes, one week...on second thought, welcome to my life for some of this adventure. Anyways. One of these beloved places was a little hostel (<span class="apple-style-span"><a href="http://www.casainternazionaledelledonne.org/foresteria.htm#english">Orso Maggiore</a>)</span> in Trastevere, a section of Rome on the same side of the river as the Vatican, etc. There they became great friends with the owners/bar tenders who also happen to be a nice lesbian couple that love to host "women only" events in their courtyard.<o:p></o:p></span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal"><o:p></o:p></p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkb7ZLJw6ynK0L_CndwRZ0XuwEB9vo3o3JuwutaLOTWwB5a8Y-ztj7OU87WlPzpEhRiFLC3tSIgPOHaQgE-2dfblHs2Z7unga6xQYxoY-l0mRoqjl9ac7-Q9rbEKVal0dQ6E75nPzGJplR/s1600/s%253Bflkjhs%253Bldfkjg%253Ba+364.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594923091332524754" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkb7ZLJw6ynK0L_CndwRZ0XuwEB9vo3o3JuwutaLOTWwB5a8Y-ztj7OU87WlPzpEhRiFLC3tSIgPOHaQgE-2dfblHs2Z7unga6xQYxoY-l0mRoqjl9ac7-Q9rbEKVal0dQ6E75nPzGJplR/s320/s%253Bflkjhs%253Bldfkjg%253Ba+364.JPG" border="0" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; width: 320px; cursor: pointer; height: 240px; text-align: center; " /></a></span><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkb7ZLJw6ynK0L_CndwRZ0XuwEB9vo3o3JuwutaLOTWwB5a8Y-ztj7OU87WlPzpEhRiFLC3tSIgPOHaQgE-2dfblHs2Z7unga6xQYxoY-l0mRoqjl9ac7-Q9rbEKVal0dQ6E75nPzGJplR/s1600/s%253Bflkjhs%253Bldfkjg%253Ba+364.JPG"></a><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal"><o:p></o:p></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Ali and Megan</span></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal">Um...just wait, it gets better.<o:p></o:p></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal">They are now friends on facebook. Oh facebook, how we love thee. So, now every time they are hosting an event, they let Megan and Ali (also two women that spend a lot of time together...) know and invited them. Megan, are you sure they are not confused about your love interests??? Maybe you should check on that...though, I don't exactly have advice on how to approach that one...good luck.<o:p></o:p></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal">Anyway, tonight the aperitivo was hosted by these two lovely ladies and you know that made it an event I was not about to miss out on. We got there and were elated to see that DJ Margret would be spinning and the decor was something to take pictures of (if only my camera hadn't died). We waited around for a little while as they finished setting up (oh did I mention that in that time maybe my travel partner managed to lock herself in the restroom in the adjacent restaurant??? oh, forgot that one huh...my bad :) ) and then we joined a number of other "couples" and "foursomes" in the seating area nicely surrounded by the glimmer of candlelight and standard cafe bulbs. The music was a grand array from classic show tunes to hard rock--but only those expressing the rise of the feminine regime, male ignorance and stupidity, and/or other maybe famous in other crowds’ songs of love, but not the kind of which I personally seek after. The buffet for the evening was quite delightful. A mixture of fragrances and colors, mostly all vegan with a hint of carnivore appealing flower arrangements on each table. Look out herbivores...don't lean in too close, I don't think you'll like the scent of those flowers. All this was set against a dancing background of bright lights and electric figures coming from the DJ's projector. I would describe this further but being that I blushed at the sight of a handful of the images that graced my view across the wall on which they were being more than life size projected, I think I'll refrain. Suffice it to say that they were mostly feminine in nature, some of them were the combination of more estrogen than I'd EVER care to see again as long as I live, and others...well, we'll leave it at that. Thanks. Like I'm not naive, nor blind, but let's consider me educated and call it a night. hahaha.<o:p></o:p></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal">We drank, we ate, we laughed, we ate some more, laughed even harder, made future plans of a singing the night away jam sesh with Babak at the guitar, and headed off in our separate directions for the remainder of the evening's adventures.<o:p></o:p></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal">All we had to do was walk down this street and it would run into the street we needed to get to the Trastevere tram station. Simple enough. The walk was beautiful. A bunch of little streets intersecting with ours and all dimly lit by strings of lights, antique street lamps, people lighting up, and the occasional headlights taunting us with potential doom. Shortly after this wonderful part of our walk we found ourselves mostly alone on the streets, surrounded by junky cars, broken down buildings, and more graffiti than I think I'd seen in Italy, or anywhere for that matter, to that point. Sketch much? Yes. I pretended not to notice, but eventually just told Janise to look like she knew where she was going (she had started looking more like a lost and nervous outsider than I felt comfortable with). We picked up the pace and gratefully soon thereafter dead ended at the street of our desire.<o:p></o:p></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal">From there we were to just hop on tram number whatever (Babak had told us...can't remember now) and it would take us to Piazza Venezia where we were to meet up with them to head to the "the most Roman restaurant in all of Roma!"--or so it was acclaimed. We got on the tram and were home free. Not. Just after the tram crossed the bridge it stopped, turned off its lights, opened its doors, and shut down its engine. huh? Ok. We sat there for a second and then some cutie old woman rushed over to us and said to follow her to the next tram and it would take us to our desired destination. Ha! So cute. So wrong. So okay. As soon as that tram pulled up I felt like it couldn't be going the right direction but we followed the shuffling coax of the little Italian native and got on. Nevertheless, the first stop was directly followed by crossing back over the bridge into Trastevere. Perfect. I jumped up and made my way off at the next possible stop, with Janise in toe. Back across the bridge we go! (Man, it was starting to feel a bit like that never ending train ride in southern England).<o:p></o:p></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal">From there we had a rather deja vu experience as again the tram ended here. This time we got off and I headed in the direction that I knew Piazza Venezia was. We walked a ways and then decided to cross the street so I could look at the bus stop signs as we went and if one happened to arrive that would beat us to our rendezvous we could hop on. One came. You know, I've seen pretty jam packed modes of transportation. I've been on some too. But never in my life have I seen a spectacle like what pulled up to the curb next. Insane! Like, um, can those people breathe? Do buses have those room capacity regulations like buildings? Because if they don't, a mere picture of this would be a great defense for a need. I started laughing as I watched people try to shove their way on and others, already on, try to stay on, plead for people not to get on, try and keep people from getting on,...my goodness...I swear those tires should have popped at the next misplace cobblestone in the road. We actually even approached, but just seeing how miserable those poor poor, apparently desperate not to walk people were I just laughed harder and motioned to Janise that we would continue our brisk walk. Why brisk? Well, we were late of course. Duh.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal"></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal">We really were just down the street and around the corner and made it probably sooner than that bus could have gotten us there. We were desperately greeted by a very worried Babak and concerned Sepideh and after hugs, kisses, and my assurance that nothing happened and we really were fine and then their sputtering off in Farsi about the tram and why it stopped and blah blah blah, we hopped on another bus and headed off to enjoy our last evening in Roma.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal"><o:p></o:p></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal">We went pretty far out of town, out past the Iranian Embassy. It was quite a unique experience. As we were approaching, both Babak and Sepideh took stance a little (that's the only way I can think to describe it right now) and suddenly started chanting and raising their fists,</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal"></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal">"Down with Dictator! Down with Dictator!"</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal"></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal">over and again until we fully passed the compound. So interesting. We got talking with them a bunch about the whole thing and I learned a lot about the situation in Iran from Iranians my age living it. My uncle was there on the front lines when all these riots have been happening. Like some of you may remember a couple years ago when Iran had a democratic vote and the dictator overturned it and during the riot in the streets a random innocent woman was shot in cold blood. He was there. He heard the shot. It was a really eye opening experience spending some much time with these amazing people. Really, we talk about this war that’s going on and we talk about insurgents and rebels and dictators and armies and riots and and and…and really, it normal people, people like you and me that are out there on the streets and barricaded (in their homes) and hiding and voicing what’s right. Out there quite literally fighting, risking their lives, and all because when you have no right to an opinion and no right to make your own choices for your own life—when you don’t have the right to choose—nothing else matters. And it’s obvious around the world that the right to choose is even greater than life itself. And if you think I’m crazy right now it’s because you or maybe a loved one haven’t experienced your agency or freedom to choose for you and your own being taken away from you, or just not having it all together and seeing everyone around you taking it for granted.<o:p></o:p></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal">“That’s my family."</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal"></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal">That’s all I could think. That’s my uncles and aunts and cousins. All of the sudden there were faces to those “rebels” and “rioters”. Suddenly, “the situation in Iran”, as our media likes to refer to it, has become much less a movie and much more the day to day life of my flesh and blood. A life they were born into. A life they didn’t choose. A life they are choosing to maximize for the cause of not only themselves as individuals and their families, but for everyone. Generations to come. People all around the world. Because even if you don’t feel it, somehow and in some ways we are all effected by people in the world not having the natural human and, I believe, divinely appointed right to choose.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal"></p><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594920519618384258" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXijejiuD3JfBudeAzfebWAEjopSuLxzH7UzZW03x3t5PuGuP9_zhxFnkN4elVev6aFX_9r5iDjCQOk-W8Lf4ZZg1S7DRdLWn8D4AgD_kaiHRt-0fJu7cWZySXcLlsDDNbAWWm_q2T0Xao/s320/janise+2+1564.JPG" border="0" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; width: 320px; cursor: pointer; height: 214px; text-align: center; " /></span><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal">We took the bus for probably 30 minutes, got off and followed Babak into this kinda broken down part of town, through back streets, construction zones, through an alleyway, across some foot bridge, down some totally nighttime sketchy metal stair well, through an abandoned dirt parking lot for an old vacant church, around a corner and into this little shack restaurant, “al Gallo Rosso”. And yes, it was incredible and very worthy of the title, “best food in all of Roma”—and it wasn’t just due to the little guy walking around playing the guitar and getting the ENTIRE restaurant to sing at the top of their lungs all together swaying their over-sized beers side to side in the air and offering the waiter to take shots with them…which they gladly partook of.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal"><o:p></o:p></p><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSb0OXQDUldeNIRps6jTGKM3nUiDZiiu-Xv15HamwTb9oP8Lx_Bi0Z7mtlfKPDJCPZ1r2cr5E-QN5IL0ibuOK-RrM_7gmvk8jGnvkYKoR_VmHQ9hOX-5POcveutw_PwO2-MBFim-Qg4Jbe/s1600/janise+2+1646.JPG"><br /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSb0OXQDUldeNIRps6jTGKM3nUiDZiiu-Xv15HamwTb9oP8Lx_Bi0Z7mtlfKPDJCPZ1r2cr5E-QN5IL0ibuOK-RrM_7gmvk8jGnvkYKoR_VmHQ9hOX-5POcveutw_PwO2-MBFim-Qg4Jbe/s1600/janise+2+1646.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594920526668315538" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn8s9jpKXz__nAaAik9ain_ADvB5DmWK4h6bUffDHUE1gbuL4aqCdkbpGlLTAB4-oYJphEWgu64jLHurGd3Idj5Zb_ggZwvMZNd01OGKmakQ9OUP9vNRn17FbWtL_gRwRTjjo4uhtvV_FD/s320/janise+2+1630.JPG" border="0" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; width: 320px; cursor: pointer; height: 214px; text-align: center; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Sepideh and I trying really hard to figure out what on earth we were going to order...none of our languages were all that helpful...neither were the buzzed waiters.</span></div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594920529960288514" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF2HTzxeYcG_9muYC6VxFeTaobIRV3LCVKZVgQlbcm_WaJeJaOu5jHOyElWPqvC1J7q0cIqC3dVk1n_2rTL_iXCHf9e0mtB7gOidQdS_S67CrcB34t6X4KuxgebE-uaIPmOaDIsPNqMLc_/s320/janise+2+1640.JPG" border="0" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; width: 214px; cursor: pointer; height: 320px; text-align: center; " /><div><br /></div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594921169145209154" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSb0OXQDUldeNIRps6jTGKM3nUiDZiiu-Xv15HamwTb9oP8Lx_Bi0Z7mtlfKPDJCPZ1r2cr5E-QN5IL0ibuOK-RrM_7gmvk8jGnvkYKoR_VmHQ9hOX-5POcveutw_PwO2-MBFim-Qg4Jbe/s320/janise+2+1646.JPG" border="0" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; width: 214px; cursor: pointer; height: 320px; text-align: center; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Maybe it was unearthly freezing when we got out and I couldn't handle it anymore (I wasn't wearing my jacket...hey, I was raised to scarifice pain for beauty :)) so Babak made me put on his extra hoodie from his pack.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal"><span class="Apple-style-span">On the way home there was only one other guy on the bus with us. He actually had waited to get on at the same stop as us and made everyone totally nervous. Let’s be real, he looked kinda scary. Talk, dark chocolate young man, hood pulled down over his beanie, smoking, distant but close in proximity, not making eye contact, standing in the shadows. Like a said, at 11:30pm in not a well lit area, kinda scary. So, I did what I do best in times like these. Faced the fear head on. Just cut out the awkward tension. I introduced myself and got him to open up J A charmingly handsome guy from Cameroon or Gabon…I don’t quite remember…he had a really thick accent. He was really nice. Ok, let’s be real I think that the other three about died when I asked him his name and sat by and starting chattin’ it up with him. Haha…they’ll get used to it. J He really was nice. By the end of the conversation we learned a lot about his country, his family, their geographic locations in the world and why they’re living where they are, the political situation in his country, what his life goal is, about his mama, and his plans for the evening. Oh and we got into a really awesome conversation about his standards. I guess I could have asked or approached it differently but I don’t think it was that awkward for where we were in the conversation but I asked, “So, what are your standards?” And we got into a really great conversation about drinking, smoking, drugs, and women and I got to share some testimonies with him. Rockin’! Mostly it stemmed from him expressing his frustrations about women at parties and clubs. He just thinks they all have no standards and they just go from guy to guy “Just dancin’ then kissin’ then movin’ to the next and do it all ov’a again…What happen to this world we’re livin’ in? A girl’s gotta have some standards…”<o:p></o:p></span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal">I love this kid!</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal"><o:p></o:p></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal">At that point his stop was next and he leans in and basically said how he doesn’t meet quality people very often and consequently he was going to tell us his “real name”—apparently I looked pretty sketch with my bow on my head so I didn’t deserve it upon first impression. If I had 5 more minutes pretty sure I’d have gotten us invited to his party…and probably a number ;)<o:p></o:p></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal"><span class="Apple-style-span">Hahaha I think I’m going to be the end of Babak…</span><span class="Apple-style-span"><o:p></o:p></span></p></span><br /><div></div><br /><div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07556343837729876121noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1060632716116160864.post-22268655533668569192011-03-08T01:07:00.000-08:002011-04-20T00:21:32.769-07:00"lui è il mio migliore amico."<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; "></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal">This morning started off with me being up early, as often happens, and consequently I was able to enjoy some personal time with two of the girls we were staying with.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Cristina and Gina.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>A couple of napolitana bellas.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I heart them.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Gina is quite the little baker and very into Napoli tradition and culture so she and her mom provided breakfast this morning.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I had my choice of a couple different bread/cake type items with absolutely divine jam and fruit tea that Cristina helped me find among the million other teas that I’m not incline to partake of.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>From there we just sat in our pajamas and like the girls we are chatted, giggled, and ruptured into laughed ever chance we got at even the smallest things as the discussion went from Italia to boys to food to friends to family to more food to work and finally Napoli, the heartland of Italia.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>We spent a good 30+ minutes with me, pink bible (PB) open and scribbling, and them playfully arguing (or if any of you have ever met a Napolitano you can imagine the banter-type dialogue I’m talking about) about the best things to do in Napoli.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The easiest thing for them to agree on was pizza, but that was kind of a given.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>They settled on, “if you only do one thing while you’re in Napoli you must go to the island of Capri.” Well then, that is what we must do! It was recorded in the PB and that was that.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I hope all Napolitanos are like them.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal">Afterwards, I spent a couple hours googling, mapping, and scheduling out our day before everyone woke up so as to maximize our exploration time in Roma.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>And BTW (by the way), when I say “before everyone” else I mean, I was up around like 8am and probably didn’t have anyone emerge from their rooms to return to the land of the living till around 11am at the soonest.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I didn’t have a map of Roma so I did the next best thing; I just sketched one out in my ever trusty PB.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I dotted out all the places to see, both from my memory of my last trip and those recommended to me.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Then I added metro stops and street names.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It was going to be a glorious day!<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I love my life!</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal">No long after we headed out, I learned that it was a National Holiday: Women’s Day!!!<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Ummm, so I’m from California, United States of America.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I am a woman with more rights and freedoms than my sisters in most other countries.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>We celebrate groundhogs seeing their shadows, flags, birthdays of president’s long gone (and not even on their actual birthdays for that matter), people dressed in large bunny rabbit costumes hiding eggs in the lawn (or the snow depending on where you’re from), fat men in great big red velvet suits with white “fur” cuffs, pirates, secretaries, various types of cancers and diseases, graduations from kindergarten, and pets, to name a few.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Why, in this country so obsessed with any excuse to declare a national holiday have we not caught up to the Italians in declaring a day, that really lasts a week and includes time off, concerts, parades, shopping discounts, really great food (like you can find really not great food anywhere in Italy), and my personal favorite, FLOWERS FOR ALL—EVERYWHERE!! and all in celebration of what?<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>None other than the vehicle of creating life and providing the better half of beauty to all around: WOMEN.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal">I would say, “those of you close to me know that I could go on and on about that topic,” but then I think, I don’t even know how close to me you’d have to be to know about my slight obsession with the wonder of woman and the beautiful femininity of her body, her potential for elegance and grace that it more powerful than the strongest man, and her crucial, both capstone and cornerstone, role in society, religion, family, and life in general.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I will refrain. <span style="font-family:Wingdings;mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-char-type:symbol;mso-symbol-font-family:Wingdings"><span style="mso-char-type:symbol;mso-symbol-font-family:Wingdings">J</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal">The Bone Church</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal">I felt comfortable with the layout of Roma by then I lead us on a walking tour.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It was such a beautiful sunny, bright blue, birds dancing through sky, sing as you go day!<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Perfect is the only word.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>We headed off to some spots we’d been the other night so Janise could take some desired daytime pictures (Roman Forum, Campidoglio, Trevi Fountain, Piazza Venezia, etc.) and then off to Piazza Barberini.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I had some pretty specific directions given to me and for the most part I just followed those.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Sometimes it made us laugh how accurate they were…</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><b><span class="Apple-style-span"></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; "><b><span class="Apple-style-span"></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; "></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: 'Segoe Print'; color: black; "><b><span class="Apple-style-span">“…get off the metro at Piazza del Popolo, and walk across the piazza and between the twin churches down Via del Corso until you intersect their version of Rodeo drive (via dei condotti). From there you turn left and walk straight up the street to the Spanish Steps and all the most high end Italian fashion stores are along there.”<o:p></o:p></span></b></span></span></span></p><span class="Apple-style-span"> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: 'Segoe Print'; color: black; "><b><span class="Apple-style-span">Or<o:p></o:p></span></b></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: 'Segoe Print'; color: black; "><b><span class="Apple-style-span">“The best price on ties for your brothers are at Piazza Barberini (which is the stop for the Trevi fountain). On the north side of the piazza by Via della purificazione is the tie shop, and then if you go north up the street running along the east side of the piazza, via vittorio Veneto, there used to be a lamborghini shop there and a church with the walls and chandeliers and everything made out of Human bones. (Santa Maria Della Concezione) And then to get to the Trevi fountain you need to walk down Via del Tritone a little ways and then the fountain is off a street to the left. I think there are either signs or you could ask someone. I’m pretty sure you need to go at least down to the burger king before you turn left...”</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 9pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p></span><p></p><span class="Apple-style-span"><p></p></span><p></p><p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal">With directions like this there was no way I was getting lost; and they were always spot on.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal">And today was the day that Janise and I were going to finally know what we’d been wondering since its recommendation, “The Bone Church?<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Like a church made out of human bone?<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>What does that even mean?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal">Well, let me tell you. Yuck!!<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>We walked up the stairs to the little entrance and were straightway yelled at by the reception lady who scolded us over the top of the large group of people crowding her desk. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal">“Excuse me (in like 3 languages)!<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>There is a required donation of 1 euro! And I have to explain everything to you!”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal">O-k.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>We went back to her desk a little red cheeked for her life stopping explanation and for our obligatory donation.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>She basically just said how old the church was, how many people had visited it, and how this was a sacred place for worship and not to take pictures.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Wow. Thanks for that.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I can’t imagine how unfulfilling my experience would have been had I not stopped and listened to you.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>And I’d never have guessed about the whole picture taking rule.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I was wondering what those huge signs in every doorway with a camera in a circle with a line through the middle meant.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Thank you so much ma’am.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal">The church was very interesting, to say the least.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It was a little hallway with three rooms.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It was very cave like.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Like the phrase “dark and dank” immediately come to mind.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>And the décor, awe…magnifico!<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The walls were cleverly adorned with the most captivating arrangement of human bones, in the most elaborate designs I’ve ever seen (and hope to see).<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Chandeliers, significantly sized wall hangings, light fixtures, tables, chairs, frames.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>They even had these really creative arrangements that formed little beds and shelves for the monks to sit, stand, and lay on.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>There were monks there you ask?<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Oh yes, there were.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>And now I’m sure, like myself, you’re wondering why.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Well, I would like to share with you the answer to that question but they weren’t very talkative.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It may be because of the smell, or the sacred nature of this holy location.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Maybe it was because their little brown friar Tuck outfits were stifling.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Who knows, but I’m gonna go with the whole death factor.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>???<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>THE MONKS WERE DEAD!<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Yes!<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>No!<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I’m not lying!<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>As if the whole like fingers, toes, vertebrae, ribcage thing hanging in my face and smelling oh so wonderfully wasn’t enough; dead people!<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Like really?<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Ya liked ‘em so much you decided to decorate with them!?<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Come on people!<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Let ‘em go!<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I don’t know if anyone’s told them or not yet, but just cus you hang on to their bodies and wardrobe (or in this case and time, skeletons) and place them in lifelike positions doesn’t mean people are going to be fooled and think this is a normally functioning establishment and start paying tithes and attending Sunday services!<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Ah!!!<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I guess having once in my life also been an Egyptian history and archaeology buff you’d think I wouldn’t really think decorating with human remains is strange but, I don’t know, these just weren’t so…mmmmm…no words…I just have no words…Once we got to the last room and saw the skeletons of children nailed to the wall as like a center piece in playful positions, “Over it.” was far from a sufficient description for how we felt and “run away run away” was definitely the method of departure.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Hey, we tired.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>We went in with an open mind and we left with the heebie-jeebies.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal">And for the record, someone should really tell that lady that “a require donation” is called “admission”.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal">Just around the corner and down the street from the bone church was the cutest little tie shop a girl could ever visit.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It was described as “the best ties in Rome” at a good price so Janise and I decided this was a perfect light weight, classy option for the men in our lives (if you guys read this before we get home sorry to kill the surprise).</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal">We walked in, and when I say walked in what I really mean is, “we took a step and a half in” and were cheerfully greeted by this adorable little man.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>His name is Francesco and he’s born and raised in Roma.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I picked pretty quickly, being a person that this type of decision comes relatively easily for being very aware of the style and preference of the men in my life.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Janise needed “a little” more time and thought.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>No problem and warmly welcomed.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It gave me plenty of time to learn the whole life story of my new friend, his little shop, and eventually some stories about missionaries and others that have come through his shop.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>In fact!<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>When we were talking about missionaries I brought up Landon and he totally knew who he was!<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Haha!<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Of course he did.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>He described him physically, etc. and we knew we were talking about the same Anziano Hansen.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>He was sooo excited!<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>He asked all kinds of questions about him and asked me to tell him to make sure and stop by next time he’s in town.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Then he asked if he could write him a note.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>So I pulled out the pink bible and he proceeded to scribble in English.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>He had me check to make sure it made sense, threw a little Italian flag sticker on it, we took a picture, and exited with his very sincere invitation to stay with him anytime we’re in Roma in the future…as long as we don’t drink (alcohol that is…and yes there’s a story behind that).<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>He gave me his phone number and re-emphasized that next time we need to come with Landon and stay with he and his family in their home and how he’ll take care of us, we embraced, kissed and were off.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><span style="font-family:Wingdings;mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-char-type:symbol;mso-symbol-font-family:Wingdings"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol;mso-symbol-font-family:Wingdings">J</span></span> So cute!</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal">From there we hoped on the metro to visit Castel Sant-angelo (you know the fort for protecting the Pope that’s in the movie Angels and Demons), walked around near the Vatican, through a bit of Trastevere, and back toward a gorgeous park called Villa Borghese and then it was time to meet up for dinner.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal">Ok, so as I said before we were invited for dinner by a couple from the Roma 1<sup>st</sup> ward and that was for tonight.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I don’t even know how to begin to tell you about this marvelous experience.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Janise and I had rushed back to meet Babak, who was very aware of the place, time, and arrangement, but he said he wasn’t going to be able to meet us for at least an hour.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Well, I had listened intently-ish while Marilena was telling him the directions (in Italian) and so I told him we’d just meet him there.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Janise looked nervous but I knew we’d be fine.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal">We get off at her station and come above ground.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>To my left the Vatican—I knew she lived a couple blocks from there.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Straight ahead was the direction the metro would continue if we were to go toward church—consequently, I figure the options of “right” and “behind me” weren’t right because I knew she was between the church and stazione Ottaviano.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I started left with a prayer in my heart.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>After about 10 steps I knew this wasn’t right. About face!<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>And we headed in the direction of church.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I had her address in the PB and her number as well as Megan’s (who we were now 30 minutes late meeting) so I wasn’t too concerned.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I just figured I’d give it my best shot before I up and call 911.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>We walked a block or so and I asked a news stand guy if he knew of the street.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal">“No.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal">Ok.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I felt like we were in the vicinity and I knew it would be a street across to my right so I suggested we cross the street.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>We waited as cars and scooters zoomed by and suddenly my empty stare focused and found that I standing directly across the street from my new friend. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Megan!<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Haha!<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Turns out she had just had the feeling that she should cross the street too and that found us directly across the insane traffic from each other.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>We exchanged hollered greetings and all started laughing with relief, excitement, and wonder.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Heavenly Father loves us!!<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Yeah yeah!<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Turns out, had we gone one more block down I would have easily been able to follow the directions as I’d remembered them from the previous afternoon.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal">We were more than warmly greeted by Marilena with a million hugs and kisses, pulling our jackets off us, tossing our stuff on the couch, shuffling us in and out of the kitchen and then to the living room, sitting us down, standing us up, talking a million miles per hour, asking a billion questions (all in Italian of course, knowing we don’t speak, but that seemed of no consequence), all the while shouting commands about dinner to Fabrizio, and we all just laughed through it all.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The smell of pasta was thick in the air and music was playing loudly—she was youtubeing all kinds of folk music originating from her beloved hometown in southern Italy, Calabria.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Fabrizio, originally the one at the door but shoved out of the way by his lovely Marilena in her excitement, stood by with a gentle grin and soft happy eyes and just waited for his turn to greet us between commands about how he was doing dinner wrong. <span style="font-family: Wingdings;mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-char-type: symbol;mso-symbol-font-family:Wingdings"><span style="mso-char-type:symbol; mso-symbol-font-family:Wingdings">J</span></span> Oh how I love them. (I must disclaim that if she’s sounding mean that’s far from the truth…she’s just a real chef and he loves her for it…we all do)</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal">She was really in a fantastic mood (which I learned was really just how she always is) and just kept youtubing more and more songs.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>They were beautiful and some really fun and next thing I know she’s dancing and singing around the living room telling us about how this is the traditional dance of Calabria.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>You all know it didn’t take much coaxing for her to get me onto my feet and follow her in this elegant dance.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Megan joined seconds later and eventually Janise as well.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Next thing you know she’s turned on some really great fast song, turned it up full blast, and we’re dancing around the living room, laughing, singing, swaying from side to side with scarves in our hands now, with Marilena motioning and correcting us if when weren’t quite seductive enough, and she then starts a little good old fashioned “swing your partner round and round!!!”<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Incredible!<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Hysterical! Don’t even know how to begin to truly describe this melodious chaos!<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>And yes, we were goin’ so strong the ENTIRE LIVING WAS SHAKING, like the TV was bouncing on its stand and almost fell off but I caught it.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Hahahaha…we wondered about the neighbors but the concern only lasted about 10 seconds and was shrugged off by harder and louder laughter, singing, and bouncy dancing.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Ok, who told her about me before I got there???<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Pretty sure that HAD to be a set up.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It was too good to be true!!</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal">Fabrizio tried to sneak in one time to put something on the table and he didn’t get two steps into the living room before she fully and quite literally attacked him…like basically jumped on him trying to pull him in to join us.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>He definitely had to use ALL his bodily strength to wrench himself out of her grasp and into the safety of the kitchen cus seriously she’s a strong little Italian mama.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal">Babak wasn’t strong enough to withstand.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The moment he showed up she had in my the midst of it all (after giving him a good scare about how she was sooooo mad at him because she didn’t know he was really coming and then for being late…hahaha she’s cracks me up…I learned she’s totally obsessed with playing practicle jokes and boy did we ALL have fun with that one)…we could have danced the night away at the rate we were going but sadly after about an hour dinner was calling…though I can’t really describe it as “sadly” because the delicacies of Marilena’s kitchen are far from sad…</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal">Dinner was fabulous, like three heaping huge course: bruschetta…so so so good!<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Like I’m obsessed! I’ve gotta get back into the habit of making that at home; a pasta with a bacon-tomato sauce; and something described to me as their version of cordon bleu, basically chicken tenders wrapped (with a string and toothpick…which you had to be careful of because they made it to our plans fully in tact and with no warning) around a thanksgiving stuffing-like mixture which included some veggies and cheese and sauce, pretty good.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Oh and p.s. I’ve decided I really need to start like stuffing my shirts or something before I attend wonderful little celebrations like these because I’m pretty sure I ALWAYS get a bigger “mountain” (in the words of Marilena) than ANYONE ELSE at the table…“No, no, no you’re so skinny (putting up their little pinky finger…apparently that means skinny) you need more!”<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>and then, I’m always the one that gets succored into helping “finish off the last tiny little bit…”, which means they just pick up the serving dish and slide the reminds onto my dish mostly without asking or my consent or after much pleading in the case of my well-past-stuffedness.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>This was of course the case tonight.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Although I did have a helper.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Megan was my angel tonight because at least she could take half…she’s used to it by now.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Babak couldn’t even help.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Pansy.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>In fact, he made the comment that in his almost two years now living in Italy this was the first time he’s not been able to even finish his plate.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>So, yeah, you could say that I was little beyond stuffed by the end of the evening.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>But oh it was soooo worth it.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal">After dinner, Marilena, who held my hand or arm or grasped my leg nearly the entire evening as she sat next to me, shared a little more about her beloved Calabria, she put on a little play for us as she reenacted an encounter she had with an old friend in the airport that had us all peeing our pants and barely able to stay seated, and then—her conversion story.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Oh how I wish I could have just recorded that part of my European adventure for I think I will forever hold it dear in my heart.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I have heard and been touched by a lot of conversion stories in my life but this was one of those that just pierces you right through because of the depth of conviction and resounding presence of the spirit gently yet densely filling the spaces between walls, people, and hearts sitting in reverence pensively listening.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I know it was all in Italian, but I think I was kinda blessed with the gift of tongues against for those moments because we both just sat there fully understanding eachother and at some points she just stared at me, our eyes were locked as she spoke of the process and people to whom she feels she owes her life.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I wish you all could have been there to feel it.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>We both teared up towards the end as she spoke of the one to whom she contributes the softening of her heart and real journey’s start.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Man, I hope that even one of the beautiful people I helped bring into the light of the Lord Jesus Christ can still talk about me in that way.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It really caused me to reflect on so many things.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>One in particular being a scripture in a book of scripture we have called the Doctrine & Covenants.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It’s in section 18 verse 15.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It reads:</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in;line-height:normal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: rgb(47, 57, 58); "><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><b><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-family:"Bradley Hand ITC";color:#2F393A">“And if it so be that you should labor all your days in crying repentance unto this people, and bring, save it be one</span></span><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="font-family:"Bradley Hand ITC"; color:#2F393A"> </span></span><span style="font-family:"Bradley Hand ITC"">soul<span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="color:#2F393A"> </span></span><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color:#2F393A">unto me, how great shall be your joy with him in the kingdom of my Father!”</span></span></span></b></span></span><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal">Oh the joy of this wonderful sister’s sweet testimony.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I am so grateful for that experience.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I need to get in stronger, more consistent contact with my friends, members, and converts from my mission.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal">We ended the evening with a little skype action, adding each other on skype, exchanging other contact details, her threatening us with her expectation that we will speak Italian with her by two months from now and she’s gonna hold us to it (she like wrote down the dates and everything, like got out the calendar), and a little more music over a bowl of Italian candies.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal">Babak treated us to a taxi home because we were all too cold and stuffed to walk, or quite honestly think straight.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal">P.S. Just a cool thing that we learned on this trip that I thought I’d pass on.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Did you know that through gmail chat you can call anyone on any phone in the United States and Canada for FREE for the whole year of 2011?<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Well, it’s true.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Tried and tested.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Pass it on.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>We each called home.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It was great!<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I love the surprise in people’s voices when they hear us on the other end of the line.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It just tickles me.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>If I had all your numbers with me I probably would have called a number of you just for kicks and giggles.</p><p></p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07556343837729876121noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1060632716116160864.post-10421051037237159452011-03-06T10:26:00.000-08:002011-04-19T22:49:50.309-07:00“Tick-tock-tick-tock!” –Cutie old man walking to Church<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPcIpbtsCmWsNauho7MMrXuL8ENP57juHXc2spsua0R_nJmxLjAkcqossDWIDSPi7Hw1DB0vcJ7yMGytQP_158QQXTwQ3EeorKWCq_RiaKgNFdcbHLZV3chxd2ghjpL1pK2h7Qmp4iFW7G/s1600/janise+2+1259.JPG"></a></div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div style="text-align: left;">Oh how I love the Sabbath.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It’s seriously the best day of the week traveling or not…but for me, particularly when traveling.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I think I already got into in when sharing about last Sunday but I’ll just repeat that I love love love attending church in other countries!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>This Sunday was a particularly exciting one for me because I was going to get to meet some very very dear friends of one of my best friends.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>AND!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I learned that this was going to be the first time my uncle Babak has EVER attended church.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Like in his life!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>If my family members read this blog I don’t want you to think that like I really just wanted to meet you all because I wanted to convert you all, but I have received a lot of blessings in my life and joy and peace that I haven’t been able to find elsewhere that have changed my life, my worldview, and personal philosophy to such a great extent that it brings great joy to my heart to be blessed with opportunities to share this part of me with you all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>When I had been communicating with Babak and told him I intend on attending church on Sunday he said,</div><div><p class="MsoNormal" style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal">“No problem, I will absolutely take you to the Vatican on Sunday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Whatever you want!”</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Wingdings; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-char-type: symbolfont-family:Wingdings;"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol;font-family:Wingdings;">J</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Love it!</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal">Needless to say he was a little surprised when I pulled out this address to some place outside of Vatican City.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>For the first bit he was kinda like, “you don’t know where you’re going…this is wrong…there’s no church there…” So, to try and prove it to him I google earthed it so show him that there in fact is a church on Via Bra #24.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal">“That’s a church?” He said with a look of confusion and disappointment on his face. “Cam, I can take you to a more beautiful church.”</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal">I tried to explain that to me, this was the most beautiful part of all of Roma.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He still didn’t believe me and though by then I felt totally comfortable follow directions I’d been given for how to get there he reluctantly lead the way.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal">We got off the metro at Battistini and from there could have caught a bus closer to our destination but for some reason he didn’t believe me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>So, he went and asked some drivers for his own directions and we began to walk accordingly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I made sure we left like an hour and a half early so that we would absolutely not miss sacrament and that turned out great given the whole walking thing.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal">We started up some hill which was the last turn before the street we would reach Via Bra.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Now, I know I already described my church shoes to you and I was doing totally fine walking in them up the cobble stone, uneven, and broken up concrete road and sidewalk and our stroll was accompanied by the ever identifiable sound heals make as you walk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Suddenly, my train of thought and our conversation was joined by a really loud,</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal">“Tick-tock tick-tock tick-tock…”</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal">I looked back at Babak thinking that he was doing it and then Janise looked forward at us both…we quickly realized that the “tick-tock” wasn’t coming from any of us and looking a little back and off to my right an adorable, polished, little old man caught my glance and with a wink at me and a nodding glance in the direction of my feet, his smile stretched with mine as I realized that he was the source of the tick-tock and that he was making fun of my loud boots. Hahaha!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He carried on for about 1 minute or two (literally) and then with the commencement of his almost teenage girl giggle we all ruptured into laughter, hello’s, goodbyes, and good day’s.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I glanced over my shoulder again and could help but want to take a picture with him as he started into it again with a laugh.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Tickled by my request, he struck a valiant pose and with due bace he began bearing his testimony of Jesus Christ with arms a flyin’ and then, “Ciao!” and we carried on, all smiling ear to ear.</p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCCKctL8frOfIli8_Ovxf2GEGI5uBF9VVm24DmHQpU2l2GWODjrEMhp714LLfd4fS4PauDmtlI8miOodtMDxUX5Lywjy-Ja0rjlGGR-ALfZqTb3vm-tF7rroZJLB2HABAaDa5eSa0QYrZ6/s1600/janise+2+1257.JPG"></a><div style="line-height: normal; "><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOZJL9s0p6iFEHKAKodQoXGgNuc3k7BFXzU-ieLMPOCzCZfFhP3itGzQNgPRid0oCSa_c1Oo-CKbZVt6SDlRWiIgkgr3KOsaoQZnpx98is_UeNnA8i9Cux-zXTW7SG3ic7qY4yrO9J8FYC/s1600/janise+2+1254.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594916449183176898" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOZJL9s0p6iFEHKAKodQoXGgNuc3k7BFXzU-ieLMPOCzCZfFhP3itGzQNgPRid0oCSa_c1Oo-CKbZVt6SDlRWiIgkgr3KOsaoQZnpx98is_UeNnA8i9Cux-zXTW7SG3ic7qY4yrO9J8FYC/s320/janise+2+1254.JPG" border="0" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; width: 214px; cursor: pointer; height: 320px; text-align: center; " /></a></div><div style="line-height: normal; "><br /></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal">Much to Babak’s surprise, we got to the church and it was in fact a church and there were people inside of it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We were followed in by a cutie little Italian gma who excitedly welcomed us in and ushered me in the direction of an English speaking member.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I ask him for Marilena and Fabrizio and we were off to Sunday school with her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>As we sat down, right before the class began, low and behold who comes struttin’ in?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The tick-tock gpa!!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Ha!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I knew it!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>You know when you just know someone is a member?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I totally felt it when we met.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We immediately recognized each other, began giggling, embraced, exchanged some broken Italingish and sat just as the opening hymn was announced.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal">We attended both Sunday School and Sacrament meeting and they were both wonderful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It was fast and testimony meeting and Janise and I had decided to fast and had a pretty interesting conversation with Babak as we tried to explain why we didn’t want breakfast or lunch on our way there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Now, I totally know that testimony meeting is not always a great first impression of the church for people because you never know what you’re going to get, but this testimony meeting (which is the first Sunday of every month, the members of the church on their own fruition can approach the pulpit and share their beliefs and understandings or wisdom about the gospel that they have learned through their own experiences with the rest of the congregation…really cool opportunity) was incredible!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I’ve never been more grateful for a testimony meeting in my life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>What a perfect way to introduce Babak to Christianity and the LDS Church then through the members speaking a language he understands and sharing their experiences and gratitude from their heart in their own words.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>And you might be thinking, “How do you know if anyone was crazy or saying something impactful?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Well, after about the first testimony this nice young man named Jeffery brought us some headphones and the first brother that had directed us to Marilena was translating for us in the back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>So, really really the meeting was beautiful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Actually, you know when you’re sitting there and taking the opportunity to bear your testimony that day has never been further from your mind and then, “BAM!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>You’re hit right in the chest with that pounding feeling from the Spirit, also referred to as the Holy Ghost and it is a spirit that we believe the Lord works through to guide, direct, and communicate His will for us through.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Yeah, that happened.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It was actually while Marilena was up bearing her testimony and I just had the strongest feeling that I really needed to take this opportunity to share my testimony with Babak and maybe others in this public setting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Umm, remember how I don’t speak Italian?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Oh yeah, right, like I forgot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Initially, I wasn’t really sure how to go about following that prompting but felt really at peace about doing so I did the only thing I knew how and turned to the Hymnal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I immediately knew what testimony I wanted and was to share: I know that my Redeemer lives.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>With my basic Spanish and budding Italian skills I flipped through the “First words and Phrases” index in the back and began looking up hymns that I thought might be it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I quickly figured out what “redeemer” was in Italian and after a couple of tries found false by humming the first lines, I found it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Next, I started reading through the lyrics as best I could to figure out which verse I would read.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The second.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It was perfect.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I waited for this beautiful sister to finish her testimony about how she wishes she can “stay awake for the Savior” and then followed another white girl (who happened to be from Rupert, ID) to the stand that Marilena had just introduced me to.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal">There was a lady sitting next to me up there and she translated my introduction and then I just read through the hymn.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Stumbling, heart pounding, and beat red face through the first two lines turned into calm, peaceful, flowing recantation as the spirit took over and some of the congregation began saying some of the words with me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Other than staring at the book, I directed my words to those I knew in the congregation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>In the end, I was grateful to be done and grateful for the prompting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Church in Roma, what a beautiful experience.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal">Afterward everyone came up and talked to me and it was almost an hour before we left the building.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Everyone was sad to hear we wouldn’t be staying longer in Roma, but excited Babak lives in Roma <span style="FONT-FAMILY: Wingdings; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-char-type: symbolfont-family:Wingdings;"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol;font-family:Wingdings;">J</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Wingdings; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-char-type: symbolfont-family:Wingdings;"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol;font-family:Wingdings;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); font-family: Georgia, serif; -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594916456742347778" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCCKctL8frOfIli8_Ovxf2GEGI5uBF9VVm24DmHQpU2l2GWODjrEMhp714LLfd4fS4PauDmtlI8miOodtMDxUX5Lywjy-Ja0rjlGGR-ALfZqTb3vm-tF7rroZJLB2HABAaDa5eSa0QYrZ6/s320/janise+2+1257.JPG" border="0" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; width: 214px; cursor: pointer; height: 320px; text-align: center; " /></span></span></span></p><div><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Wingdings; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-char-type: symbolfont-family:Wingdings;"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol;font-family:Wingdings;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); font-family: Georgia, serif; -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></span></span></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal">Marilena, Megan (my new friend from Rupert), and I set up dinner plans, and Marilena and Fabrizio gave us a ride to the metro stop near their home so we’d know how to get there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>From there Janise, Babak, and I walked to the Vatican</p><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpFo-1Hfigv3Enq_KTP1FbGRmXkgOkpHhO87Uudyr4ndk8htajGEg2tSkZLz12ABWYSzB8qKi8AOG7-hlAoI4t6M_T9s9JIM8ibcOP-HsbUzs_vvnn58xoMX9Vb_1_XDpyZUJPFW4QcFIr/s1600/janise+2+1262.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594917289495180370" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpFo-1Hfigv3Enq_KTP1FbGRmXkgOkpHhO87Uudyr4ndk8htajGEg2tSkZLz12ABWYSzB8qKi8AOG7-hlAoI4t6M_T9s9JIM8ibcOP-HsbUzs_vvnn58xoMX9Vb_1_XDpyZUJPFW4QcFIr/s320/janise+2+1262.JPG" border="0" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; width: 214px; cursor: pointer; height: 320px; text-align: center; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center; "><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPcIpbtsCmWsNauho7MMrXuL8ENP57juHXc2spsua0R_nJmxLjAkcqossDWIDSPi7Hw1DB0vcJ7yMGytQP_158QQXTwQ3EeorKWCq_RiaKgNFdcbHLZV3chxd2ghjpL1pK2h7Qmp4iFW7G/s1600/janise+2+1259.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594916465423805890" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPcIpbtsCmWsNauho7MMrXuL8ENP57juHXc2spsua0R_nJmxLjAkcqossDWIDSPi7Hw1DB0vcJ7yMGytQP_158QQXTwQ3EeorKWCq_RiaKgNFdcbHLZV3chxd2ghjpL1pK2h7Qmp4iFW7G/s320/janise+2+1259.JPG" border="0" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; width: 320px; cursor: pointer; height: 214px; text-align: center; " /></a></div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal">and sat for a few hours in the sun and talked about religion, the LDS church, “the superior power” as Babak calls it, family, and life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It was a remarkably eye opening, interesting, and perfect Sabbath day afternoon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The afternoon was ended by this funny conversation:</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal">Me: “Babak jun, let’s go make dinner (we were going to be making a Persian feast).”</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal">Babak: “Wait what? You will be eating?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>What about your fasting?”</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal">Me: “We do it for 2 meals remember?”</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal">Babak: “So you will eat dinner?”</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal">Me: “Yeah totally.”</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal">Babak, raising his hands and head to the sky: “Thanks God!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We will be eating!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>No more fasting!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I thought I would die!”</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594917290769503026" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbPWhcgd23UVSoPJ_hQKPMfcWg73l8D8A3zrQUP8kTQFgVb57IT-THEyc-h097tvcN7Y4cTYxrwkYdk0Iqk057oUxHvo9Y6zmi6ZW4x_GYPzwssKGQIO7VD2gEBF6vZJTEeJg7I_i0ZB2B/s320/janise+2+1280.JPG" border="0" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; width: 320px; cursor: pointer; height: 214px; text-align: center; " /></span></p><div>Hahahaha apparently he fasted with us, after his coffee which we bought on the way to church.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We laughed all evening about that one.</div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><div><div><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7bikup-me97lMHXO05S9MWPr5dcGXonQR2RlndwlpFspZea-zjs8XJDoHWJPQcf_vccWCLfotaRg022686sLik3uDz8sNiMNPmAODD4qOHKK4pWfaFlMzNKmL-qwcjgdH8MqxSyNjiA8k/s1600/janise+2+1283.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594917297949237250" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7bikup-me97lMHXO05S9MWPr5dcGXonQR2RlndwlpFspZea-zjs8XJDoHWJPQcf_vccWCLfotaRg022686sLik3uDz8sNiMNPmAODD4qOHKK4pWfaFlMzNKmL-qwcjgdH8MqxSyNjiA8k/s320/janise+2+1283.JPG" border="0" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; width: 320px; cursor: pointer; height: 214px; text-align: center; " /></a></div></div></div></div><div>Dinner was amazing! Sepideh, who we’re staying with, is an amazing Persian cook. We finished off the evening by doing as the Roman’s do—this week is Carnival so we went out with Babak and Sepideh, got all dolled up, I painted our faces, and we went out to walk around Piazza del Popolo where “the party’s at”.<span> </span>I know I know it’s Sunday.<span> </span>It was so fun!<span> </span>I love Roma!!</div></span></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQYYKrQrAyNtCGna2iHjRd9NUOK3WN7lv2K0tR1DGANnf9N_xCM6068s4Hlm2ynceZG2GlnVXwq5urrZ0CN7ksDOOY_cT-KOa8_VbFDKv2xzlTw-aoT7VZccsc50LURQTZOTyODQNd-z4G/s1600/s%253Bflkjhs%253Bldfkjg%253Ba+265.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594918889896373554" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQYYKrQrAyNtCGna2iHjRd9NUOK3WN7lv2K0tR1DGANnf9N_xCM6068s4Hlm2ynceZG2GlnVXwq5urrZ0CN7ksDOOY_cT-KOa8_VbFDKv2xzlTw-aoT7VZccsc50LURQTZOTyODQNd-z4G/s320/s%253Bflkjhs%253Bldfkjg%253Ba+265.JPG" border="0" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; width: 320px; cursor: pointer; height: 240px; text-align: center; " /></a></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; "><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyw_VL8HR7yGiW07uoKE9APxnjUBNPbzhzAuX23WLuDCyP7Sa-4Xdrg87NhL1vXji84Y-25BJ8W5U2qjwgr1Rztoq_27XBRKmAJDrRv4KHeoluPm2zu4V_YGoZZgnnsjqZ2FsTerReSH-U/s1600/janise+2+1337.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594918886043051314" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyw_VL8HR7yGiW07uoKE9APxnjUBNPbzhzAuX23WLuDCyP7Sa-4Xdrg87NhL1vXji84Y-25BJ8W5U2qjwgr1Rztoq_27XBRKmAJDrRv4KHeoluPm2zu4V_YGoZZgnnsjqZ2FsTerReSH-U/s320/janise+2+1337.JPG" border="0" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; width: 320px; cursor: pointer; height: 214px; text-align: center; " /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibp1TtMICu0Exk-GxNVaBk33Asm4NcgtZlqI91bihKjt8PMRUgZxTScFRWIvTpFYdMKrM-QNjxyLvYf9AEAr9tC14XU0-510joTvevIpEzHDZ9_fatMOErruVQ1wAwccvm8o6mZkfYiwHo/s1600/janise+2+1320.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594918154284521426" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibp1TtMICu0Exk-GxNVaBk33Asm4NcgtZlqI91bihKjt8PMRUgZxTScFRWIvTpFYdMKrM-QNjxyLvYf9AEAr9tC14XU0-510joTvevIpEzHDZ9_fatMOErruVQ1wAwccvm8o6mZkfYiwHo/s320/janise+2+1320.JPG" border="0" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; width: 214px; cursor: pointer; height: 320px; text-align: center; " /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMa_E6jmA2-vzlG4GLPQOJ2aO3TzJ6f6C5k95PChFtr4X4Xc2ET0QTnJDSEWvHzqjrlWp9PZITIJ9pphRyWxCRSr6cGpz-5nC4MUNCCBoFQNU9MIMduJtzS2t52jqGWizwnxPUDuvYAC4F/s1600/janise+2+1316.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594918148422684386" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMa_E6jmA2-vzlG4GLPQOJ2aO3TzJ6f6C5k95PChFtr4X4Xc2ET0QTnJDSEWvHzqjrlWp9PZITIJ9pphRyWxCRSr6cGpz-5nC4MUNCCBoFQNU9MIMduJtzS2t52jqGWizwnxPUDuvYAC4F/s320/janise+2+1316.JPG" border="0" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; width: 320px; cursor: pointer; height: 214px; text-align: center; " /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXGsfXuW5fpSrSEBu6k0vr46dpRlDLkhJnzeJGWUf1ne3-xs-AYJegoKEdNlvXauMIaj9FK8nJ6uN5FsXzZOUe2_Zh2mmwN0ZfEoUVE50nSSno8-gFeKyXufLNFu9PfKjaM4pZdOgP-I7V/s1600/janise+2+1302.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594918141774020578" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXGsfXuW5fpSrSEBu6k0vr46dpRlDLkhJnzeJGWUf1ne3-xs-AYJegoKEdNlvXauMIaj9FK8nJ6uN5FsXzZOUe2_Zh2mmwN0ZfEoUVE50nSSno8-gFeKyXufLNFu9PfKjaM4pZdOgP-I7V/s320/janise+2+1302.JPG" border="0" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; width: 320px; cursor: pointer; height: 214px; text-align: center; " /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7bikup-me97lMHXO05S9MWPr5dcGXonQR2RlndwlpFspZea-zjs8XJDoHWJPQcf_vccWCLfotaRg022686sLik3uDz8sNiMNPmAODD4qOHKK4pWfaFlMzNKmL-qwcjgdH8MqxSyNjiA8k/s1600/janise+2+1283.JPG"></a></div></div></div></div><div><br /></div></span></u></span></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQYYKrQrAyNtCGna2iHjRd9NUOK3WN7lv2K0tR1DGANnf9N_xCM6068s4Hlm2ynceZG2GlnVXwq5urrZ0CN7ksDOOY_cT-KOa8_VbFDKv2xzlTw-aoT7VZccsc50LURQTZOTyODQNd-z4G/s1600/s%253Bflkjhs%253Bldfkjg%253Ba+265.JPG"></a><p class="MsoNormal" style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal">Here’s the cast from Church…Love these darling people:</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal">Marilena: She’s sooo pretty and stylish, she was beyond excited to meet me, she’s super helpful (as soon as we met she immediately was on a mission to find the other girl and introduce us), everywhere she went she just talks to everyone and serves them, she just bounces all over the place.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal">The cutie tick-tock gpa (Brother Aquilino…I think): He was so cute, totally well dressed, a bright smile you could never wipe away, and seemed to be “that gpa” for the church members.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Like, when they announced that testimony meeting would begin, everyone’s sitting there all reverent and stuff right?, he just hollers something at the Brother conducting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Everyone in the congregation just laughed, except for the little old lady sitting next to him, the one that had welcomed us originally, she hit him and scolded him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We sat right behind in during the Sacrament/testimony meeting and it was the best seat in the house, I assure you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He was just like a little kid. He just kept playing little jokes on those sitting around him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The best was when he flicked this little girl sitting in front of the old lady on his right and then pretended he was paying attention.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The little girl, kinda all nervous, looks over her shoulder but could not figure out what had happened.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>She turned back around and the gpa just starts convulsing with giggles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The old lady hit him again and started chastising, this time with a stern finger pointing his way.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal">The regal old man:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>You know sometimes an older gentleman from church starts talking and all you can think is, “The Church should hire him to read scriptures out loud (or something)” ?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Well, I met the best Italian version of that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Just imagine one of those thunderous voices and then add the most amazing Italian melodious rhythm to his voice and perfect up and down inflection.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Wow, that was him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We all could have listened to him talk all day!</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal">Relief Society President:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>She was really cute and apparently it’s like celebration of women’s week so as soon as we walked in she excitedly rushed over with two bouquets of some of these yellow, fluffy, pom-pom like, flowers, which I think are now my favorite flower, and invited us to their Relief Society party on Tuesday night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>All the ladies around joined in the chorus of invitation.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal">Beautiful old woman:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>This one older sister got up and bore one of the most beautiful testimonies of the Savior His love that I have ever heard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It was glorious and made everyone relax, smile, and have a look of great love on their faces.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>And as is that wasn’t perfect enough she was wearing an ankle length fur coat, had big huge pearl earrings, a designer bad, and bluish-silver hair like what I picture when I imagine the gma from “gma got run over by a reindeer”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Amazing!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I want to be her when I grow up.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal">Cilvio: There was this funny little old man that just followed me around the building.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>His name was Cilvio.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He has pretty great English and he’s quite possibly the most inquisitive people I’ve think I’ve ever met.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>And I think that it must be pretty normal for him to stalk new comers because a couple members came to my side as though “coming to my rescue” but I just let him carry on because I was far from annoyed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He said he pegged me for American right off the bat, soon became aware of my Islamic decent and he had a lot a lot a lot to say and ask about it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He was kinda funny.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal">Brother Carlo Denti:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He was this absolutely delightful brother that I rather enjoyed speaking with both before and after sacrament meeting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He was sooo nice!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I also liked him because he took particular liking to Babak.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>They spoke for quite awhile.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He also on his own found that Babak was not a member so he explained sacrament meeting and testimony meeting and some other things about church.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Thank you Brother Denti!!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I had previously tried to explain some of those things to Babak but<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I could tell that he didn’t quite get it because of his facial expressions.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal">Oh yeah, and there was a new Bishop and apparently people weren’t there last week because it was all the buzz and mentioned a number of times during the testimonies.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal">What a remarkable day.</p></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07556343837729876121noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1060632716116160864.post-7115334670950001912011-03-06T08:36:00.000-08:002011-03-08T03:32:22.822-08:00“The Maya believed that cacao held the power to unlock certain hidden yearnings and reveal destinies.” Vianne Rocher, 'Chocolat' the MovieHere's a sweet little history lesson...(and yes, I'm back logging right now...I'm trying to catch up :) )<div><br /></div><div><span class="apple-style-span"><i><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%;font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri;mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;color:#122513;mso-ansi-language:EN-US; mso-fareast-language:EN-US;mso-bidi-language:AR-SA">The word cacao originated from the Maya word Ka'kau', as well as the Maya words Chocol'ha and the verb chokola'j "to drink chocolate together" ,and was adapted </span></i></span><i><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%;font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri;mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;color:#122513;mso-ansi-language:EN-US; mso-fareast-language:EN-US;mso-bidi-language:AR-SA">centuries later by the aztecs. The Maya believed that the ka'kau' was discovered by the gods in a mountain that also contained other delectable foods to be used by the Maya. </span></i><span class="apple-style-span"><i><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%;font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri;mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;color:#122513;mso-ansi-language:EN-US; mso-fareast-language:EN-US;mso-bidi-language:AR-SA">According to</span></i></span><span class="apple-converted-space"><i><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif";mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi; color:#122513;mso-ansi-language:EN-US;mso-fareast-language:EN-US;mso-bidi-language: AR-SA"> </span></i></span><span class="apple-style-span"><i><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%;font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri;mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;color:#122513;mso-ansi-language:EN-US; mso-fareast-language:EN-US;mso-bidi-language:AR-SA"><a href="http://www.authenticmaya.com/maya_religion.htm">Maya mythology</a>, Hunahp</span><span lang="ES-GT" style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif";mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi; color:#122513;mso-ansi-language:ES-GT;mso-fareast-language:EN-US;mso-bidi-language: AR-SA">ú </span><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%;font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi; color:#122513;mso-ansi-language:EN-US;mso-fareast-language:EN-US;mso-bidi-language: AR-SA">gave cacao to the Maya after humans were created from maize by the divine grandmother goddess Ixmucané. (Bogin 1997, Coe 1996, Montejo 1999, Tedlock 1985). </span></i></span><i><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%;font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi; color:#122513;mso-ansi-language:EN-US;mso-fareast-language:EN-US;mso-bidi-language: AR-SA"><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; display: inline !important; "><span class="apple-style-span"><i><span style="font-size:12.0pt;color:#122513">The cacao tr</span></i></span></p></span></i><i><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%;font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi; color:#122513;mso-ansi-language:EN-US;mso-fareast-language:EN-US;mso-bidi-language: AR-SA"><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; display: inline !important; "><span class="apple-style-span"><i><span style="font-size:12.0pt;color:#122513">ee is called Madre Cacao or Theobroma cacao meaning "Food of the Gods". </span></i></span></p></span></i><i><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%;font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi; color:#122513;mso-ansi-language:EN-US;mso-fareast-language:EN-US;mso-bidi-language: AR-SA"><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; display: inline !important; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-style: normal; "><i><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%;font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi; color:#122513;mso-ansi-language:EN-US;mso-fareast-language:EN-US;mso-bidi-language: AR-SA"><span class="apple-style-span"><i><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%;font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri;mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;color:#122513;mso-ansi-language:EN-US; mso-fareast-language:EN-US;mso-bidi-language:AR-SA">The Maya celebrated an annual festival in April to honor their cacao god, Ek Chuah.</span></i></span></span></i></span></p></span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%;font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi; color:#122513;mso-ansi-language:EN-US;mso-fareast-language:EN-US;mso-bidi-language: AR-SA"><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; display: inline !important; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-style: normal; "><i><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%;font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi; color:#122513;mso-ansi-language:EN-US;mso-fareast-language:EN-US;mso-bidi-language: AR-SA"><span class="apple-style-span"><i><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%;font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri;mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;color:#122513;mso-ansi-language:EN-US; mso-fareast-language:EN-US;mso-bidi-language:AR-SA"></span></i></span></span></i></span></p></span></i><i><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%;font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi; color:#122513;mso-ansi-language:EN-US;mso-fareast-language:EN-US;mso-bidi-language: AR-SA"><span class="apple-style-span"><i><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%;font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri;mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;color:#122513;mso-ansi-language:EN-US; mso-fareast-language:EN-US;mso-bidi-language:AR-SA"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBrAhru_nQdd_qb-AwH973AWSN1Ku53MGOHQOV1SjEMaZn2DkNXjgnsrvMRg2DECXqhZxtQ_z2gUOn1gxHJunqWbqaBXMx3NUyG-XDdIloGqrHWnuQDIocq0a-F1j3OHZ99guO3MYlbidv/s320/maya+choco.jpg" style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 257px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581010944788463938" /></span></i></span></span></i></div><span class="apple-style-span"><span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; "></p><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic; color: rgb(18, 37, 19); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-style: normal; "><i><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%;font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi; color:#122513;mso-ansi-language:EN-US;mso-fareast-language:EN-US;mso-bidi-language: AR-SA"><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; display: inline !important; "><span class="apple-style-span"><i><span style="font-size:12.0pt;color:#122513">A lord tests the heat of his chocolate in this painting on a Late Classic Maya vase from</span></i></span><span class="apple-converted-space"><i><span style="font-size:12.0pt;color:#122513"> </span></i></span><span class="apple-style-span"><i><span style="font-size:12.0pt;color:yellow"><a href="http://www.authenticmaya.com/peten_lowlands.htm"><span style="color:#122513">Petén</span></a></span></i></span><span class="apple-style-span"><i><span style="font-size:12.0pt;color:#122513">; note tamales (Maize cakes), covered with chocolate-chile sauce below him.</span></i></span></p></span></i></span></div><br /><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic; color: rgb(18, 37, 19); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-style: normal; "><i><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%;font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi; color:#122513;mso-ansi-language:EN-US;mso-fareast-language:EN-US;mso-bidi-language: AR-SA"><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; display: inline !important; "><i><span style="font-size:12.0pt;color:#122513"><span class="apple-style-span">"And so they were happy over the provisions of the good mountain,</span></span></i></p></span></i></span></div> <span class="apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(18, 37, 19); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: normal; "><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-style: normal; "><i><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%;font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi; color:#122513;mso-ansi-language:EN-US;mso-fareast-language:EN-US;mso-bidi-language: AR-SA"><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; display: inline !important; "><i><span style="font-size:12.0pt;color:#122513"><span class="apple-style-span">filled with sweet things, . . . thick with pataxte and cacao. . . the rich</span></span></i></p></span></i></span></div></span> <span class="apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(18, 37, 19); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: normal; "><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-style: normal; "><i><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%;font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi; color:#122513;mso-ansi-language:EN-US;mso-fareast-language:EN-US;mso-bidi-language: AR-SA"><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; display: inline !important; "><i><span style="font-size:12.0pt;color:#122513"><span class="apple-style-span">foods filling up the citadel named Broken Place, Bitter Water Place".</span></span></i></p></span></i></span></div></span> <span class="apple-style-span"><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic; color: rgb(18, 37, 19); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-style: normal; "><i><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%;font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi; color:#122513;mso-ansi-language:EN-US;mso-fareast-language:EN-US;mso-bidi-language: AR-SA"><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; display: inline !important; "><i><span style="font-size:12.0pt;color:#122513"><span class="apple-style-span"><a href="http://www.authenticmaya.com/popoleng.pdf"><span style="color:#122513"> </span>Popol Vuh</a></span></span></i></p></span></i></span></div><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic; color: rgb(18, 37, 19); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-style: normal; "><i><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%;font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi; color:#122513;mso-ansi-language:EN-US;mso-fareast-language:EN-US;mso-bidi-language: AR-SA"><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; display: inline !important; "><i><span style="font-size:12.0pt;color:#122513"><br /></span></i></p></span></i></span></div><div style="text-align: left; "><span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; display: inline !important; "></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; color: rgb(18, 37, 19); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; "><span style="font-size: 12pt; ">Our first night in Hungary was one never to be forgotten. It was a night of all you can eat chocolate from our gracious hostess’s scrumptious stash of some of the most delicate pieces of heaven both homemade and not, secret from even her husband, who was allowed to join us for the night.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; color: rgb(18, 37, 19); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; "><span style="font-size: 12pt; "><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >Aawww...what a night...or for him maybe it was more like, "ahhh!!" as, due to a "male" comment, he quickly found himself in a whirlwind of </span><span class="Apple-style-span" >explanation</span><span class="Apple-style-span" > on how there's so much more to this sweet sensation than what meets the lips.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; color: rgb(18, 37, 19); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; "><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; color: rgb(18, 37, 19); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; "><span style="font-size: 12pt; "><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; color: rgb(18, 37, 19); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; "><span style="font-size: 12pt; ">A night of education on the mysterious power chocolate has over women as part of celebrations, special occasions, monthly annoyances, moments of weakness, and daily delights. How though for some, the sweet fragrance of flowers seem to melt the ever dainty feminine heart, for others, the bittersweet sensation of a glorious piece of heaven settling in and slowly melting away across the rolling hill landscape of one’s tongue is a soothing yet enchanting experience. An experience of which my words could never fully describe to the sufficient degree as perhaps the taste buds would if they could with us share. Such an enlightenment can instantly be stirred by the mere waft from a nearby shop. And, in the end, how this seemingly simple sweet far from disappoints any encounter, romantic or not.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; color: rgb(18, 37, 19); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; "><span style="font-size: 12pt; "><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; "><span><span class="Apple-style-span" >This was the case for his beloved. The case was in favor of greater romance in their self-proclaimed soul mate relationship. Neither, “It was meant to be,” nor, “I just knew from the moment we first spoke…there was just this feeling or vibe….</span><span class="Apple-style-span" > indescribable</span><span class="Apple-style-span" >...” are excuses that will succor the heart of anyone dedicated to a lifetime or eternal commitment. Even the most sacrosanct relationship must be nurtured according to true needs. This brought us to median of our dialogue on this ambrosia: “How to meet the need.” Amongst giggles, occasional blushing, and wide-eyes of curiosity and wonder if what I said was true (which was always confirmed by our lovely Lisa), I began to rattling off a number of chocolate-inclusive romantic ideas, dates, surprises, and ordinary opportunities that our dear Latzi could try with little effort and much success. Our evening was christened with our follow through on his recommendation of the movie </span><span class="Apple-style-span" ><i><b>Chocolat</b></i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" ><b> </b>and her replacement of the typical cinema popcorn with a heaping bowl of Belgium chocolate chips for us each. We watched. We nibbled. We fell in love. We enjoyed every moment of it.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; color: rgb(18, 37, 19); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; "><span style="font-size:12.0pt"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; color: rgb(18, 37, 19); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; "><span style="font-size:12.0pt">Janise and I are now hopelessly determined to find that little village and spend an evening much like that in the movie when they dance the evening away in a quaint village surrounded by the beauty of real, deeply rooted culture and tradition, embraced by the warm smiles of friends yet to be made in a country awaiting us, serenaded by the charm of live music and a glaze of laughter.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; color: rgb(18, 37, 19); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; "><span style="font-size: 12pt; "><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; color: rgb(18, 37, 19); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; "><span style="font-size: 12pt; ">We’ll find it. I’m sure of it.<i><o:p></o:p></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; color: rgb(18, 37, 19); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; "><span style="font-size: 12pt; "><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; color: rgb(18, 37, 19); font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; "><span style="font-size: 12pt; ">mmmm...cocao...</span></p><p></p></span></div></span><p></p></span></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07556343837729876121noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1060632716116160864.post-70388634763643921352011-03-05T23:35:00.000-08:002011-04-19T22:32:49.257-07:00“Close your eyes! Close your eyes!” –Babak, Roma<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:normal">Italia!!!!</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:normal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:normal">Roma!!!</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:normal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:normal">So I was decently good at planning this one out.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Our first class accommodations on our 6 hour train ride from Bern to Roma included snacks and drinks.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Always appreciated, on a tight budget or not.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>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.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:normal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:normal"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><span style="font-size:40.0pt">“ROMA TERMINI”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:normal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:normal">The pictures of one of the entrances showed this to be a HUGE sign over the doorway.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Quick.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Easy.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Obvious.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Right? </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:normal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:normal">We got off the train and head out to find this esteemed entrance.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Haha.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>There are TWO!<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The doorways at each end of the stazione have that beautamis sign.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Awesome.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>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).<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Everything else they do is fashionable so maybe that one’s more likely.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It would certainly apply to mom and aunt fifi, but they are in their own little category, probably along with kimi and I.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:normal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:normal">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.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>So, I promised her that if I hadn’t found him by 915pm (it was 9pm) I would call him.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>That didn’t really seem to calm her nerves at all.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>And “what does he look like again?”<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>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…”<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Oh Janise.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>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.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:normal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:normal">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?”<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>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…</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:normal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:normal">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.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>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!<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Close your eyes!”<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Umm, ok…He lead us up the stairs and out a little bit and then…”Ok, Open them!!!”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:normal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:normal">Oh don’t worry, we’re standing right in front of the Colosseum.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>No big deal.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>We walked a couple blocks and across the street and that’s where we were staying.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Like are you kidding me right now?<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Do you know how much people pay for views and convenience like this?<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Gol-ly!</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:normal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:normal">So that became the game.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>We dropped off our stuff and headed back for our part Persian, part Italian, part English tour of Roma!</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:normal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:normal">For the record, I’ve been to Roma before.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>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??<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It was incredible and I actually plan on back blogging my journals from it sometime this spring.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>We started in Roma and literally saw everything and more that I think you can see.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I just remember non-stop raving about Roma for months and probably years after that.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>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.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:normal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:normal">We started out with the most cliché for Janise’s spectating eyes and everywhere we went..."Close you eyes!!"...</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:normal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:0in; margin-bottom:0in;margin-left:.5in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;mso-add-space:auto; text-indent:-.25in;line-height:normal;mso-list:l0 level1 lfo1"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family:Symbol;mso-fareast-font-family:Symbol;mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol"><span style="mso-list:Ignore">·<span style="font:7.0pt "Times New Roman""> </span></span></span><!--[endif]-->Colosseum</p> <p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:0in; margin-bottom:0in;margin-left:.5in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;mso-add-space:auto; text-indent:-.25in;line-height:normal;mso-list:l0 level1 lfo1"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family:Symbol;mso-fareast-font-family:Symbol;mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol"><span style="mso-list:Ignore">·<span style="font:7.0pt "Times New Roman""> </span></span></span><!--[endif]-->Trevi Fountain</p> <p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:0in; margin-bottom:0in;margin-left:.5in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;mso-add-space:auto; text-indent:-.25in;line-height:normal;mso-list:l0 level1 lfo1"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family:Symbol;mso-fareast-font-family:Symbol;mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol"><span style="mso-list:Ignore">·<span style="font:7.0pt "Times New Roman""> </span></span></span><!--[endif]-->Spanish Steps</p> <p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:0in; margin-bottom:0in;margin-left:.5in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;mso-add-space:auto; text-indent:-.25in;line-height:normal;mso-list:l0 level1 lfo1"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family:Symbol;mso-fareast-font-family:Symbol;mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol"><span style="mso-list:Ignore">·<span style="font:7.0pt "Times New Roman""> </span></span></span><!--[endif]-->Pantheon</p> <p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:0in; margin-bottom:0in;margin-left:.5in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;mso-add-space:auto; text-indent:-.25in;line-height:normal;mso-list:l0 level1 lfo1"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family:Symbol;mso-fareast-font-family:Symbol;mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol"><span style="mso-list:Ignore">·<span style="font:7.0pt "Times New Roman""> </span></span></span><!--[endif]-->The Roman Forum</p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:0in; margin-bottom:0in;margin-left:.5in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;mso-add-space:auto; text-indent:-.25in;line-height:normal;mso-list:l0 level1 lfo1"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:normal"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Italy.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>You just have to know her to understand and if ever presented the opportunity you should absolutely take it.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>She is one of the most remarkable, intelligent, interesting, and self-educated <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">people</i> I have <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">ever</i> known.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>And she’s certainly one of the funniest with her blunt descriptions, declarations, and freely shared opinions.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>If you ever want to fall on the ground laughing you should talk to her about “The David”.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:normal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:normal">For me, the Pantheon, and all of Italy actually, is just worth my reverence.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I can’t help but pensively gaze at these structures and not think about all the people that used to live there.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>What did they do there?<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>What were they thinking when they sat or stood where I am right now?<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>What way did they walk to get to work?<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Where did they work?<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I bet someone fell in love running through those paths in the Roman Forum, around that corner, or sitting on that wall.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Like with the Pantheon is…hmmm…another little known fact is that I used to be healthily obsessed with Greek and Roman mythology.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>That’s actually kind of a lie. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I knew all the gods, goddess, major and minor, and everything in between.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>All their stories, strengths, and weakness.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Like I said, obsessed.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>So many lives molded, lead, and died in those beliefs.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Beliefs that lead to actions.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Lead to strength.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Lead to weakness.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Lead to conquer and failure.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Whole communities found and lost.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It’s remarkable.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The same was true for these people and look at the miraculous history such beliefs have left us.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Ah!<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>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.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:normal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:normal">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.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>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.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:normal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:normal">Our tummies lead us to search out some real good food for dinner and real good we did find.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Babak took us somewhere specific and I’ll have to get the name because OMGoodness!<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It was mmm, mmm, good!<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>To this point actually, I have yet to find a more scrumptious bruschetta.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Meraviglioso!!! <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Buonissimo!!<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I have made and eaten pretty decent bruschetta myself but this, mmm, incomparable.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The flavor was so strong and the mixture of oil, salt, and tomato…I should just go back right now.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Forget the southern coast, I like need some.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:normal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:normal">Beyond full we walked back, I think there was probably a bus ride in there somewhere to, enjoying the historical wonders all the way.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>When we got back a pretty cool thing happened.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>You see, Babak, like mentioned above, is my mom’s littlest brother, step or half, I forget the difference.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>They have different moms and actually he’s my age so he was far from born before my mom left Iran.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>They’ve never met.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>In fact, she’s never met any of his siblings.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>So, this was kind of a momentous occasion.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>But so when we skyped them, my parents, that night, that was the first real contact my mom and he have ever had.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It was kinda cool.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Apparently he looks just like my gpa.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>He actually had to take some time and sit and ponder the experience for a while afterward because it was kinda emotional for him.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>He explained it like this,</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:normal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:normal">“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.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Then it’s like not a dream anymore.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It’s real.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:normal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:normal">Pretty cool and yeah, I totally get that and have experienced it.</p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07556343837729876121noreply@blogger.com0