The School of Food and Drink

I like food.  I have always liked food.  Food is a great thing.  It gives me energy and keeps me going.  Italians LOVE food.  Italians cannot stop talking about food.  It is an essential part of ANYTHING.  If two or more people gather, there has to be food involved or something is terribly wrong.

Not that I'm complaining about this new culture.  If anything, Italy has given me a new appreciation for food that I have never had before. My first glimpse of this was my second day in Rome.  I sat down at my table with three others, and the wonderful manager served course after course after course to us, each time explaining the meal, as if each dish had a life of its own.  The cheese sauce of the pasta was sweet yet savory, the salad was just lettuce and the dressing olive oil, the fish sauce was a recipe from Julius Ceasar's own court.  Furthermore, the courses were all spaced perfectly from each other, giving the consumer time to digest the previous course, and get in some conversation in between as well.  The entire five course meal took an entire three hours total, but between the deliciousness of the food and the perfect timing of it all, it only felt like one hour.  Even still, that was the most elaborate dinner I had ever been to so far.  I was about to learn that this was a common thing in Italy.  Each meal at each and every restaurant took at least an hour.  On the bright side, it has been three weeks of Italian food and I have yet to try any bad food, so it is so worth it.   

The experience got even better when I jumped on the other side of the plate and learned some Italian recipes for making cake, pasta, and bruscetta at a cooking class in Perugia.  It was incredible, taking the dough of the pasta and working it down to a thin strip that is cut into what becomes fettuccine.  The teacher was wonderful to work with, and I couldn't help but notice her own passion for food, and her corrections on our technique, so that the pasta would turn out perfectly.  Not too thin, not too thick, not too sticky, not too firm, not too long, and not too short.  She had it all down, patiently teaching us new beginners.  I thought that my
partner Haley and I got the hang of it, but probably not, since this was only our first time, and the teacher was clearly a professional.  Putting my apron away, I couldn't help but wonder at how food in Italy is a school all to its own, and I was somehow suddenly enrolled in pasta making, as well as pizza eating, gelato combining, and finally, wine tasting. 

Before this trip, I had never tried a glass of wine (that is besides the wine they serve in church, which I have had plenty of).  Nevertheless, I was warned that I would be drinking wine in Italy, so it wasn't a real surprise when a large bottle of wine was placed on our table during the first dinner in Rome.  I was sitting with my roommate Christina, and a friend, Joe, and none of us had properly tried a glass of wine ever.  After pouring each other a glass, we make a small toast to a great three months ahead of us, and take a sip.  The reaction seemed to be scripted, for we all simultaneously scrunched up our faces and gagged a bit from the strongly bitter and dry red wine.  I was brave enough to try two more sips throughout my meal, but each sip tasted as bad as the last one.  It was almost ruining the gloriously perfect pizza in front of me.  Everyone at my table seemed to agree with me.  Obviously, wine needs to work on its introduction skills.

After a few more group dinners and a few more wine samples, I found that not all wine is actually that bad.  In fact, just last Thursday, I had the opportunity of attending a night of wine tasting, not only tasting several different wines and learning which ones I like, but learning the very technique of tasting wine.  It's five easy steps:  see, swirl, smell, sip and savor.  Snacks and wine were abound and it was a great time.  However, I couldn't help but feel that when using this technique for each wine I felt like a scientist studying every molecule and atom of the drink I was to consume. 

The Italians have got both food and wine down to more than a science.  And I'm okay with that, especially since it gives me mouthwatering food.  However, I just hope that I don't run into any Italians that ask me about food or wine, because I don't think I could ever be as passionate towards food as to perfect it into a science.  Why?  Well, just a couple days ago, I was wandering the streets of San Gimignano, a fascinating little medieval Italian town, with narrow streets and tall towers.  We had just an hour and a half to explore the wonderful city as well as have lunch.  At home I would spend a half an hour eating lunch at a Subway or even a Panera, then go explore.  But let's think in Italian terms here.  An hour and fifteen minutes must be left for lunch, and oh by the way, you have fifteen minutes to go run up a tower.  Must meals take so long?  I know that you are trying to make me appreciate food, Italy, but food isn't the only thing I want to appreciate.  Nevertheless, I have been thrown into the Mediterranean Culinary School for three months, so I mind as well put on my chef's hat and grab a fork.  Let's eat! 

Climbing the Hills of Rome

Well, it looks like the postcard scavenger hunt has made it onto both my best and worst moments of the week.  How did that happen?

Last Friday, my roommate and I were in Rome for the weekend, while everyone else was in Florence.  So, with some free time, I suggested that we go exploring and try to cross one more place off of my postcard scavenger hunt.  On the list for the day is the Aventine Hill, in the southern part of Rome on the eastern border on the Tiber river.  There is located a picture perfect view of St. Peter's Basilica. 
I am so excited for adventure, and eager to get going and view the scene that looks magical even on just the postcard.  It is raining as the two of us depart to catch the 906 bus that will take us to the metro station.  So we reach the bus stop and wait.

Cue my idiotic moment that puts this day on my worst moments list.  It should actually go more on my moments where I lost all common sense for whatever reason. In my defense, it was a dull Friday, with no one around, and I really wanted to get out and explore.  But yeah, that still doesn't justify standing in the cold and dreary rain for an entire hour waiting for one little bus.  Yes, I stood with my roommate in the rain for an entire hour waiting for a bus.  By that time I suppose we could have walked to the nearest metro station, but there is a complex rule about waiting that says the longer I wait, the closer the bus is, so why leave when it gets closer every second that goes by?  Finally, my roommate had more sense than I and we retreated back to campus, where both of us curled up in blankets to get warm and dry. Note that I did suffer the consequences of my stupidity with a newly acquired head cold that lasted the majority of the following week. 

In the evening, when the rain stopped, we did end up going to the Aventine Hill area, but by the time we got there, it was getting dark, we were starving, there were very few restaurants, and neither of us had any really clue as to where this exact view was.  After 30 minutes of wandering around the hill, I gave up on finding the picture.  It really was not the most productive day, and I went to bed in a depressed mood.

Just four days later, my roommate and I find ourselves in a similar situation, with a completely free day and lots of time to go exploring.  After doing some shopping and visiting the English Poet John Keat's museum, we have an entire hour left to spare, so I decided to take another courageous stab at the Aventine Hill.  I'm in a good mood again, and did a little more research, so I know generally where on this hill the view is located.

The walk from the metro station was more torturous than I anticipated.   All uphill, and we were again hungry because it was getting close to dinner, and the entire day of exploring was taking its toll.  The hill itself was indeed beautiful, and walking up it revealed rustic red buildings all around.  The walkway followed a red stone wall, which had some openings in it, one of which I thought was where the view was, but it proved deceiving.  I had no idea where we were going, and there was nothing even remotely promising anywhere in the random neighborhood we trekked through. 

Five more minutes of walking up this aimless hill and no sign of any of the trees or little path that were in the postcard.  I finally take a desperate last glance through another one of the several gates along this wall, and almost collapse with surprise.  Right through that gate was the postcard, displayed out in perfect detail before my eyes. 

Besides the fact that the walkway was more beautiful than anything expected, the tall trees pointing towards the jewel of St. Peters, the view was astounding.  I could see all of Rome in one sweeping glance.  The setting sun made the city glow with a shine as if the city was made of gold, and I loved it.  But I had already seen good views of Rome.  What made this one so different?  It turns out that this view came with its own paradise.  Orange trees and rose bushes speckled this small park, no bigger than a little league baseball field.  Red stone walls enclosed the entire area, and stone benches and two stone walkways completed the little square.  There was a peaceful atmosphere surrounding the entire area, which not the noise of the streets nor the bustling of the city were able to puncture.  I didn't feel like I was in Rome anymore.  Rather I was in a place full of peace and full of God's beautiful creation.  I felt almost at home in this little area.  I could come here often, to study, to meditate, to just sit with God in this glorious pocket of creation, reserved in a hard to find spot just for anyone to stumble upon its beauty.  My roommate and I just happened to be two of the lucky people to do so.

Was all the effort worth it in finding the Aventine Hill? Absolutely.  I rank this place above the Pantheon, above the Colosseum, up to the same level as St. Peter's Basilica.  This is one of the hidden gems of Rome.  I never expected this picture to be one of my favorite places in all of Rome.  I thought it would be a simple little view that I would find and walk away within five minutes.  However, this experience proves that the best places are sometimes the places that no one knows about, aren't in any guidebook, and are in the middle of what seems like no where. 

So here
is the official #4 find of the postcard scavenger hunt: The Aventine Hill!  I can't wait to see what wonders I can dig up for next week!

Rome's Learning Methods

I get to hang out with dead people!  Am I the only one who thinks that is awesome?  Yes?  Ah well.

Classes finally started this week, and my journey of learning continues on and on.  With four of my classes on campus, I have to somehow find a way to expand my attention span to three hours for each class, which is difficult in it of itself.  At least here in the classroom the method of learning is the same as in Pittsburgh.  I can't say the same for anything outside of the classroom.

It is fact that I am a visual learner.  I pick up on new things by reading it in a book, seeing it in a picture, even observing my surroundings.  So I can get by pretty well as long as I write things down as I learn so I can see them later.  Yet Rome has thrown me into situation where visual learning is frowned upon.  Take Italian for example.  Wednesday I had the wonderful opportunity to visit an Italian High school and make friends with Italian students that were learning English.  The students were so nice and so friendly.  However, I wasn't too happy with the communication barrier.  My group partner and I were trying to learn new Italian words, and I did, kind of, but when all I'm doing is hearing the word and what it means, even after repeating it over and over, I still forget.  I must have learned 15 new Italian words that day, but forgot them all after leaving.  I may need to get my hands on an Italian dictionary.  Nevertheless, that won't help me very well because in order to learn how to say phrases, I actually need to know how things are said by listening to them.  It will be very difficult never having learned to speak another language before.  It's kind of frustrating, and I wish everything was in English.  But I'm keeping an open mind, so maybe the Italian language won't be too bad.


At least dead people can speak in a language I understand.  I have two classes that meet onsite in Rome.  Both are wonderful and both also involve having to learn by listening as I struggle to take notes while walking through a museum while the professor is talking.  It'll take more adjustment, but at least I can write notes.  For one of these classes, Christian Art and Architecture, I had the chance to visit the Catacombs of Priscilla.  There I found the type of learning that I like the most.  Beneath the catacombs, it was dark and it was eerily warm and it was an endless maze of early Christian tombs  Our professor told tales of the persecution, and faith as strong as steel.  These people, despite the forces against them, found land to bury their dead so that their body could be ready for the resurrection of heaven.  I was walking amongst martyrs, popes and saints, besides the thousands of common faithful who surrendered to their faith.  I stood with an unexpected reaction.  My body literally wanted to jump up and down and spin around and squeal with uncontainable excitement.  There are very few moments were my heart has been happier.  Why?  At this moment, while standing there, taking in the stories, the beautiful visual paintings, and feeling the dark, warm ground beneath me, I learned about faith.  These people had a faith so strong, that it lingered in those catacombs, and my own faith connected with it.  It was as if they were literally standing next to me, giving me their passion for God.  I learned from them the most important lesson: what faith in God can do.  In the catacombs, they rest in peace with Christ in the resurrection, after a life of perseverance. 

So yes, I love hanging out with dead people.  They teach me the meaning behind what I am seeing in Rome.  Not through words, not through pictures, but merely through transferring their faith to me in holy places as these catacombs.  Thus I cannot wait to go to Assisi to walk the steps of St. Francis and St. Clare, or visit St. Peter at the Vatican.  The saints, though dead, are some of my favorite teachers, as I learn what true faith can accomplish. 

 On a different note, more postcard findings!  Both #2 and #3 from the scavenger hunt are from my day trip to Venice!  The first picture is a view of Isola di San Giorgio Maggiore from St. Mark's square!  For the second picture, I couldn't find that exact view of the entire city, but the postcard has Venice and gondolas in it, so thus there is a picture of Venice and gondolas!

A Roman Welcome

"This is the most exciting thing ever!"  Well, that was my first thought on the plane coming to Rome.  During the very next step of getting on the bus which would take me to my new home at Via Nazareth, I thought "Well this isn't very exciting.  It looks just like the fields back in Ohio!"

So my first reaction was mixed, but my half a week here at Rome was also so mixed and strange it's hard to describe it all.  Allow me to start with the best of the best for my week.  It was Friday night, and as I walk with the group I try to take all the Rome night life in, but again, it just looks like any other city back in America.  The crowded buses even felt just like the buses in Pittsburgh!  In just a few minutes I realized that I could never be more wrong.  The director had lead us straight into the middle of St. Peter's square.  I felt like I had no choice but to stand in the middle of the square, frozen in my tracks, trying to take it all in.  I was actually standing IN THE VATICAN!  Dream come true!  Furthermore, both the Christmas tree and the Nativity scene stood standing in all their glory, waiting to be taken down on February 2nd, Candlemas day.  The scene felt as if God had come down in that little manger just to greet me in the center of his holy Church.  He was welcoming to the city of Rome.  My mind was relieved that I was finally now in Rome.  No more America look a likes.  This was Rome that I was in.  To add to my amazement, the director told stories of St. Peter, and how he was martyred in that very square, and of Pope Francis, who broke so many papal traditions of pomp and circumstance.  I literally had so much excitement during his tales that I wanted to jump up and down squealing with pure joy!  This was the Vatican!  This wasn't just another parish, this was a truly holy place and still is.  I cannot wait until the next opportunity to go back. 

I suppose I should also mention that just five minutes after that joy I had one of the most mouthwatering, savory, and absolutely perfect pizzas in my entire life, but pizza or Vatican?  I'll take the Vatican please.

The week continued on, with so much of the city of Rome, including metro trips, 2,094 year old wine cellars, and a beautiful church called St. Cecilia.  All great things, but the week was not all wonderful places and a heart full of joy.

Sunday afternoon I found myself walking, walking, and more walking, as one of the Assistant Resident directors took us on a tour throughout the city.  Between the Roman Forum, the Piazza Navona, the Parthenon, more pizza, and overwhelming information, I felt like the ultimate Roman Tourist.  Our Assistant Resident Director gave us all the transportation information for the entire semester, so of course, to test us, he decided to abandon us in the middle of the city.  A small group was with me, and together confidence grew that we would find our way back to campus which was twenty minutes outside the city.  Needless to say, things didn't go as planned.  Confidence stepped a side to pure panic, then anxiety, and trying to keep a fake sense of calm.  Not because we were lost, no that was the secondary problem.  The first was getting our dear friend to a hospital, because of an allergic reaction.  At Duquesne University, easy.  Just cross the street and we would be at Mercy Hospital.  However, this was a strange city, with no real sense of direction, no real direction to a hospital, and worst of all, no one speaks English. 

I won't describe it all here, but through a series of God-given blessings, including a phone, taxi drivers, and the common sense of a group of six young college women, we checked into the hospital and there was a full recovery.  For me, the afternoon was a learning experience.  First to be willing to be terrified, Second to trust instincts, and most of all, just accept the fact that I am in a strange city and I don't speak the language, so things are going to get complicated.  Yes, my heart was racing with anxiety, even when still standing in the waiting room, and there were a few panic moments.  Nevertheless, looking back on it, it was a good experience because it was a learning experience.  it checked me back into reality and where I was. 

Don't take my entire week's experience from one unfortunate afternoon.  Actually, I don't think it was a bad experience.  Rather, it opened my eyes to all that I would be facing this semester in Rome.  Remember also:  this is just the best and the worst of my week.  There is so much that happened in between.

 Finally, one last thing:  An intro to JEN'S AMAZING POSTCARD SCAVENGER HUNT!  I have acquired twelve different scenes of Rome (see picture)  that I need to find.  I'll be posting which ones I find each week.  The first one is the Trevi Fountain and I can mark it found! Under construction, but found!