Rome top 10

Top 10 Worst of Rome

10-Pizza, if I have to eat any more mediocre pizza caldo, I think I will vomit.
9-Via Arenula, not having to avoid the wobbly sidewalk tiles that get your shoes soaked
8-Animal noises, why do they make animal noises when they try to pass you
7-Umbrella salesman-even if you have an umbrella they try and sell you one
6-Italian mindset, piggybacking off successes from 2000 years ago is no way to leave, get up and do something great.

5-Dog shit, I will be so thankful not to see it or potentially step in it.
4-Hobit hole apartment, finally a space without leaks, roaches, bums, and shoty electricity.
3-Bargaining, why do you have to bargain for a fair price for everything
2-Filth and decay, I know the city is old, but why is it acceptable to throw your trash on the ground and allow your dog to shit on the street?
1-Italian efficiency, at least they are efficient at creating chaos.

Top 10 Best of Rome

10-Scooters, the smells, sounds, movement, and danger I have come to love.
9-Campo screaming lady, listening to her scream or eat spaghetti off a car shakes things up enough
8-Make-out central, seeing people of all shapes, sizes, and ages making out somehow makes the country feel more romantic
7-Cuisine-not knowing what you are ordering and still having it taste well is so rewarding
6-Anonymity-the ability to talk freely and not everyone can understand you.

5-Dinners with my roommates-sitting down and enjoy good food and good company
4-The river tiber, the fluctuations, runs, and floods
3-The back streets of Trastevere-a 24-7 street, a joy to experience at any time
2-Ladies of Rome-great looks, tan bodies, and a mysterious language
1-Landmark walking-the chance to walk past the...(Pantheon, St. Peter's, coliseum...etc.) on your way to run an errand.

Calcio: Italian for Anarchy

Soccer like no other sport. Attending matches in Italy has further confirmed my stance that soccer is by far the most amazing sport. I was lucky to get to attend the Serie A match between Juventus and AS Roma. For those of you who do not understand, this is a great rivalry. I conveniently took a group of classmates, many of which had no clue what they were getting into despite my repeated emails about the severity of what we were going to see. I located us in the section adjacent to the visiting fans and informed everyone not to wear black and white (the colors of Juventus). They listened to me and were glad they did. Hearing 88,000 fans singing in the AS Roma song in unison is one of the most intimidating and spine tingling sensations I have experienced. Things started off pretty well, we sat in our area, specific seats are not respected, and noted riot police on both sides of the plexi-glass wall maintaining an increased buffer between us and the unruly visitors. The key to surviving any soccer match is to watch the game and to react like the people around you. So when a bad call is made, you thrust your right hand in the air and yell. But all hell can break lose when one passionate Roma fan lobs a firework into the seats of the visitors. They didn't see it coming. BANG...like a bomb going off. There was a moment of calm shock, the fear on their faces quickly eroding into hateful scowls. And then it is on like Donkey Kong Bitch. A barrage of missiles...small tubes of coffee, plastic beer and coke bottles, come raining down on you. Somehow sitting in a modern stadium at this moment seems like you are participating in a medieval castle siege. The key to safety is reaction. Needless to say after some exchanges of vulgarities and obscene gestures we collect their objects and return the volley. The entire time the riot police do nothing. Fantastic. The battle continues as does the match, although for safety reasons I am unable to comment on the specifics of the match. As the battle appears to be reaching a crescendo, Juventus like a good general, rallies their troops. They score a solid goal. Now the Roma fans are even more upset and as the game heads to halftime, they have 15 minutes with no distractions to express their anger. The battle surges, the vendors eagerly resupply the mercenaries at the bargain price of 5 euro per missile. At this point the beverages are not being consumed and the vendors are not removing the tops. In other words full bottles of coke and beer are being violently hurled. One explodes near us enveloping Ian and I in sticky shrapnel to the cheers of the Juventus fans. We return fire, deliberately selecting our targets, this time throwing coins. They hurt more and are impossible to see. I know this from personal experience. Our whole unit of 20 is engaged in the battle. A couple of our troops cower from the onslaught requiring the consoling of the team mother. War brings out the worst in people. At some point the game resumes and Juventus scores three quick goals. With the soccer game secured for the visitors, all the home side can do now is beat them in the stands. Any shred of control is lost, seats are being ripped up and thrown like frisbees across the wall. The police constantly fall victim to misfires. Exploding bombs. Eventually, the police determine something must be done. As one officer on the Juventus side is struck with a seat, they surge, clubs in the air, face guards down, and shields up. The visitors are compressed into an area 1/3 of the original. People are stampeded, trampled, and beaten. Beaten like step-children. Tag team, club weilding, third-world beating. The surge of course encourages the Roma fans. They cheer and thrown with more conviction as a good home town ass-kicking is on. Order is restored, but not before many bloodied faces and bombs are delivered. Unconscience spectators are drug from the battle field. The game ends and both sides of riot police move in to separate the fans and to get the home crowd out of the stadium. The visitors cheering loudly, so we throw more. One of us is nearly beaten by the military police who have now reinforced both lines. We walk out saddened by our teams outcome, but raging with adrenaline. Somehow being able to unleash my frustration for this country by throwing projectiles at random Italians is soothing. I went back for more the next Sunday. What a great game.

Legge Bene Jonathan

Legge Bene Johnathan, Legge Bene!

By far, the most entertaining quote of the program. Imagine our Italian teacher vehemently pleading with Johnathan to speak better Italian. I can understand his confusion as the letter 'c' embodies more sounds than a specific character from Police Academy, but funny nonetheless. Johnathan is a smart man, he knows French. But when you hear him start making Italian words sound French it become funny. Sounds become more rounded, letters are removed from pronunciation, and the 'r's, oh how I love the sound of a French 'r'. The verbal garbling of the Italian language teased her (our teacher). Sometimes getting her so excited she almost threw objects at him.

Va bene.

Hair Dressers and Umbrella Thieves

So the day after Thanksgiving marked the moment when I first fell victim to a crime. This night was nothing short of bizarre. I now enter the ranks of Amy and Serena, all victims of petty theft. Josh, Mike, and I make a cross town trek to a fantastic restaurant, Gusto, in the pouring rain. We are talking Tiber river flooding, serious umbrella weather, looking to board a boat, rain. Walking in the rain, absolutely no singing, for 30 minutes until we make it to Gusto has yielded wet pants from the knee down (ah the power of capillary action). Now this restaurant is pretty hip and general good manners should be used. As Josh and I don't see an umbrella depository, being the gentlemen that we are, we store our umbrellas outside near the front door. In we go. Our waiter, deemed to be Karen's next hair dresser as he clearly was not a good waiter gives me a menu. I tell him that I am not eating and would just like to see a wine menu. After all I just came for birthday drinks (Amy's b-day). He brings me out a glass and an open bottle of wine. Asks me if it is ok, and before I can utter a word, pours me a taste. Awestruck, I tell him that I want to see a menu. He then does the same for Josh and Mike. This is going to be real fun with an asshole that wants to push overstocks off on foreigners. I take the sample and order a different glass of wine. A couple of hours pass and when it comes time for the bill the fun begins. My glass is not on the bill, so I just blindly give him money. Then the ladies want to separate the check, but he can't do it, which he explains very rudely. The bottle of wine he suggested for the ladies which he claimed was only a couple of bucks more than what they were looking at turned out to be 8 euro more. This is the definition of price gauging. As the girls finagle the cash card dilemma, he has the audacity to tell us that tip is not included and that it is 15%. Surprisingly enough this is the first time while in Rome that this had occurred. What an ass for trying to take advantage of us. He didn't get 15%, and he forgot half a bottle of prosecco on the table which after the bill was signed magically disappeared. Leaving with a sour flavor that contaminates the culinary flavors in my mouth, we bid farewell to the far too stylish and superior Italian who tried to screw us. As I emerge from one barrage and prepare to enter the next, still raining drops so big that the sidewalk looks like fish jumping out of a lake, I realize my umbrella has been stolen. Thirty more minutes of fun in the rain without an umbrella. Where are the umbrella salesmen when you need them. Are they stealing umbrellas and reselling them to other tourists? Ah, Italy.

Plenty to be Thankful for

I hope everyone had a most amazing Thanksgiving. Although I had to this most pure festivity away from the sacredness of my family, I was able to surround myself with friends. What an amazing feast we had, even if it was in a classroom. The table was adorned with little toms and most impressive 13 kilo turkey was somehow cooked deliciously in an oven far to small. Martha Stewart would have been proud. Twenty-two students preparing twenty-two traditional dishes from their families makes for the eclectic Thanksgiving feel. I have never been at a Thanksgiving where Jello shots were tradition, but I am not one to judge. The noises, smells, and action were all authentic. It does feel like the holidays now. May you all have had a great holiday as well filled with laughter, food, and good health.

48 Hours of Artistic Pandemonium

My first time to Fiernze and I am still reeling from the experience. The city sweats of exquisite art, it can not hold more. Indeed the city is a giant gallery. In a mere 48 hours I managed to see all the important sites minus one. My legs are tired and my soles worn to the liner, but my mind is full and spirit renewed. I will start with the "Birth of Venus." I had no idea the painting was so large. She is breathtaking. Serene. It is hard to describe the power of such a piece, but the combination of movement and her stoically calm demeanor yield a highly volatile piece. The second piece would be the Duomo. An immaculant combination of colors, textures, and materials encourages a dynamic experience. Once inside, climbing through passageways and examining the inside of the dome is worth the hefty 6 euro charge. The frescos on the interior of the dome are powerfully grandiose, depicting a divine battle of biblical proportions. One gets the pleasure of not only experiencing the inside, but on summiting. An amazing panorama of Fiernze awaits. Try and catch your breath and take it all in. By far the single most moving piece for me was David. I turned the corner and was nearly knocked on my ass. By breath was drawn from me and a tingling chill traveled my spinal chord. Electrifying. David is a magnificent sculpture alone, but the setting around him makes him epic. Flanked by unfinished works of Michelangelo, these behemoth blocks of stone are animated with expertly executed rough drafts emerging from them. You get the opportunity to see the hand at work. Then David is awash in amazing natural light, making him appear to glow within the space he commands. All the tourists just seem to disappear.

Cosmo.it

At some point I will catch up and describe my travels in Fierenze, but for now, quench your parched medulla oblongata on a peppering of Italian Cosmo quotes. Clearly, cosmo maintains an equally racy and mysterious level of intrigue in Italy as in the U.S.

tacchi da' mal di mare--(a stiletto that turns the sea mad) Image a pair of heels that are so subductively saturated they can infuse a room with such electricity and sexual power only a raging sea can rival them.

lingerie da urlo--(lingerie that howls) Now every woman needs a pair of fine Italian lingerie that leaves her screaming like a wild animal.

devo sprigieriare l' erotismo--(the need to release ones' eroticism)

Now I know where all the cheesy lines woman expect Italian men to woo them with come from. Clearly Italian men are well-vised in the art of verbal seduction.

Uva Rara

Last Friday night Josh and I decided to try our hand at a quaint wine bar in Trastevere. When we walked in we soon realized that the attractive young woman (how do Josh and I always manage to drink around such great ladies) spoke beautiful American English. It became quite appetizing to have a causal conversation with another American who is not studying architecture or trying to figure out how to get to the colleseum. Eventually we discover that our wine nymph doesn't like wine, but is dating the owner. So as she procures our bottle, we know a good show is unfolding. To begin with she uses a foil cutter, but creates a jagged scarring gauge at the improper location on the bottle. Next she thrusts the corkscrew in with vigorous determination, futiliy trying to make up for her previous sloppiness. She steps the corkscrew out...first pull...second. Now typically the cork should be free by now and she should be smelling it. But no, not our little Californian. She yanks and pulls, rotating the bottle around violently trying to jimmy the cork free of its five year grasp. Back and forth she jostles the cork, coaxing it out with grunted verbiage. "Come on little fellow, come on work with me." As she is doing this she bluntly proclaims her fear of breaking another cork off, but quickly reassures us that she is fully trained to remove broken cork. How many times has she done this? No time to ask. SNAP...well the cork is broken sitting mockingly in the neck. However, she is quite good at removing a broken cork. At least she gets a lot of practice at it. But as this little spectacle is unfolding my mind wanders to where all mens' minds wander...sex. Phallic references are easily drawn from what I witness and combining that with her soothing sentences yields a truly divine mental image. Continuing along this train of thought...SNAP...I begin to suddenly feel sorry for her boyfriend. None the less witnessing another random American floundering helplessly in the Italian culture like I do was refreshing. Because of this I am sure I will be back. She definitely is an Uva Rara (try not to say that without a growl).

Wonkavision

"A little nonsense, now and then, is relished by the wisest men." There is no other way to describe the eccentric purchase of one quirky undergraduate. Maybe it is the mystique of Capri (the Sirens of the shopping world) that confounds logic and coaxes people to make fantasmic purchases. Nonetheless a purchase of economically priced faux designer frames occurred. Pearly white, squat, and square...a modern take on wonkavision glasses. Give the man a white suit and a top hat.
"We are the music makers, and we are the dreamers of dreams."

Noises from an abyss

Playing soccer in a piazza in Italy used to be an accepted past time. But apparently in Almalfi this is frowned upon as it makes people crazy. Five-thirty on a weeknight, four of us decide to knock the ball around. Nothing competitive or physical. Four guys juggling and passing. A little conversation to pass the time. Abruptly from an abyss in the urban fabric a high pitched drawn out "eeeee...ooooooo" is uttered in out general direction. I must warn you that the correct spelling of the sounds still eludes me six days after experiencing it. The noise was both odd and well calculated. The first time such Italian vulgarities are uttered at us we pay them little response. "eeee...oooo" Ok, so maybe it is one of our friends playing a bizarre joke on us from one of the hotel windows. We placate them in turning around and looking for the origin of such pollution. Silence and darkness. Back to the game, an anomaly, a tear in the interstitial fabric of time. It comes again like some horror movie haunting..."Booooccckkk....Moooooo." Now as they more closely resemble barnyard noises it must clearly be either one of our friends or the matting call of a salty dog. Between each noise is roughly a 30 second pause...yes a full thirty seconds. "Seeeeoowww." Sounds like meow. Ok we should reply as we still cannot see who is making noises at us. Clearly they were not raised with manners. As a cultured bunch of Americans, we begin meowing into the dark at this noisy object. Nothing....30 second pause. "ping....beep...beep." Maybe it is the audition for Police Academy Italy. Finally when our curiosity is reaching a boiling point a hardly discernible, unbelievably drawn out, "Sileeeeeennnnccceeeee....Pleeeeeeeeeaaaaaasssssse" is wailed from the bowels of some subterranean lair. Squeaking reverberations bound off the battered walls of Christendom. Well enough soccer for us. Enough noises from a crazy lady. Maybe we can coax her out of hiding with a can of tuna.