spring break and parting shots

After showing off our apartment we got to work on preparing pasta and fruit salad. I must say we were pretty gourmet although our dinner was nothing compared to the next morning’s brunch. Marco had managed to find the one pub in amalfi and it happened to be around the corner from our apartment. We rolled out, encouraged by the guiness sign out in front and were only slightly deterred when we discovered that the pub didn’t actually have guiness. It was shaping up to be a pretty low key night when suddenly, the pub transformed from a brightly lit, empty space to a dark, loud and crowded karaoke bar. It was really quite fortuitous. Here I was in italy with my 2 close friends that I could always count on to take over our neighborhood karaoke bar in dc in the fall and we wander into the pub that happens to be starting karaoke 15 minutes after we arrive. What are the odds? We dusted off some old favorites and showed the Italians how we rock with a little meatloaf. Memories of the fall flooded back and I missed the solid crew that used to take down café peyote on Thursday nights. Post karaoke, we all went back and crammed into the apartment for the night.

The guests took off early the next morning and the 4 of us decided to make a little brunch. And by a little I mean eggs, potatoes, bread, fruit, cheese, prosciutto, coffee and juice. This served on the terrace of our apartment would have been enough to satisfy us for the day but we took it a step further and went to the beach. This was my first real beach trip since summer. I napped and read like I was back in san diego until an unfriendly breeze sent us exploring amalfi for the rest of the day. A quick trip to the internet café informed me that I had thankfully been reassigned to a new residence although my actual room situation still remains up in the air. That night, the girls and I reprised our roles as gourmet chefs with pesto pasta and then some intense chats about musicals, italy, life. We went to bed happy with our weekend in amalfi and sad that we would be saying goodbye in the morning to our apartment and each other.

In the weekend’s madness we had managed to misplace one of the keys to the apartment. Emma and Lauren left in a rush and tess and I were left with the excruciating task of telling our friendly hostess that we had lost the set. I can honestly say, there are very few times I have ever felt worse. We offered to pay to replace the locks and in the true Italian way the friendly family assured us it would be fine and sent us on our way. Tess and I emerged to discover that daylight savings time had occurred and the most beautiful day in the world was half over. We lunched as we waited for our bus back to salerno and conspicuously eavesdropped on a table of old women sitting next to us. It just so happened that this particular group hailed from tess’s native Dallas and we quickly struck up a conversation. Commenting on our choice of books (rise of the vulcans for me and a primates memoir for tess) the women asked us what we were studying. Tess explained her humbio major and the nice old lady asked about my interest in economics and politics. I gave a brief description of my interests and the relevance of my reading choice. To which this poor woman exclaimed: “oh we are from texas you know! We LOVE president bush. Those poor people in iraq, they just want a little bit of the freedom we enjoy.” I managed to hold my tongue for the most part but couldn’t let them get away without a comment about the current mess iraq is in. They nodded through my explanation and ran off to rejoin their Baptist church group (I kid you not).

Refusing to let these ridiculous women ruin my morning, I boarded the bus with ben harper on my ipod. The ride was surprisingly serene and our trip to napoli uneventful. We checked into our hotel only to discover that rick steves and lets go! Had failed to mention the possibility of being assigned to a room the size of a cardboard box for our three night stay. After a short rest we ran off to explore and ended up at the pizzeria recommended by the hotel. The pizza was delicious and we soon found ourselves living an Italian movie. The neopolitan couple that was entertaining the pizzeria with song came over to inform us that they were given a request for a serenade. One of the waiters and one of the cooks apparently wanted to proclaim their love for us through the musician’s rendition of a neopolitan love song. Tess and I played along as the Italians blew us kisses from afar. We laughed our way through the rest of the evening and went back to the hotel for a good night’s sleep.

The next morning we set off to explore an island in the bay of napoli. We abandoned Capri for the lesser known ischia that tempted us with the allure of thermal baths. After an unfortunately cloudy ferry ride we arrived and began looking for a way to get to the thermal baths. We discarded the idea of renting vespas or a car and opted to take a picnic on the bus and hike down to the baths. We got off the bus into a day that had turned spectacular. The sun was shining and a coastal breeze kept us cool as we skipped down the path. When we got close enough to see the rest of our afternoon, an unforgiving construction worker informed us that the baths were closed and we would have to turn around. Stripping down to our suits we trekked back up the way we came for once not caring if we got any “fa caldo?” catcalls. With the help of a friendly old Italian man (are you sensing a theme?) we hopped on another bus to citara, what turned out to be our own private beach. We lived out our spring break fantasies for the afternoon, soaking up the sun and happily sipping corona. At the end of the day an unlucky turn of events sent us rushing back to the port to catch the last ferry. We made it back to our hotel, exhausted but extremely pleased with ourselves.

The next morning we let the alarm clock ring and ring as we attempted to recover from the worst night of sleep ever. The exhaustion and anxiety of returning home had us tossing and turning all night. We leisurely got ready for the day and were rewarded with a delightful surprise. The hotel had decided to move us into a much bigger, much nicer room. We happily relocated and then took off for pompei. The hazy warmth could not have provided a better backdrop for our exploration of the excavation. Tess delighted me with archeological insights and we marveled at the town wiped from existence with the eruption of mount Vesuvius. By the time we left, we had reached the end of our energetic ropes and returned to the hotel for showers and a little oc.

Wednesday we returned to rome for the final leg of our Italian adventure. Tess laughed at my attempt to claim that our journey had been so circular. (funny how that works out when you have a roundtrip ticket from the airport in rome) we commandeered a train station cart to get our other luggage out of storage and to our hostel. Although this hostel was familiar, our sleeping arrangements were not. We literally slept in bunk beds that came out of a closet. We spent the day repacking and getting our last fill of italy. We made a quick trip to the trevi fountain and had our last gelato. That night we entertained our 8 person dorm with yet another episode of the oc and went to bed sad, knowing that 4 am meant the end of our time together. We both woke up before our alarms and I waved goodbye to tess as she left for the airport. I was alone.

I’m not trying to be dramatic. It is simply a fact. This would be my first time “traveling” alone in italy during my entire time abroad. I went back to sleep for the rest of the morning (and by the rest I mean until 9 am) and then began my last full day in italy.

I wandered around until I found the Spanish steps and skipped down them, happily listening to my ipod. I felt like it could have been my first day in italy, as if I was exploring the country’s splendor with the bright eyes of a newcomer. I made my way to piazza del popolo and enjoyed a cappuccino standing at the bar with the rest of the Italians. I headed north to the borghese villa grounds and was overcome with the rome I had never seen. This quiet park had the peaceful serenity of the woods, not the grounds of a villa overlooking the crowds, heat and city of rome. I explored the borghese gallery, marveling at bernini’s stutues and caravaggio’s painings. I picked up a panino and lounged in the grass, eating and reading. Exhaustion began to fight my eyes and a headache was forming in the back of my head. I opted for the metro for the convinience of speed only to stumble upon the foil to my calm morning. The overcrowded cars full of pushy Italians kept me from boarding not once, not twice but three times. I wasn’t in a hurry so I sat back and surveyed the clausterphobic’s worst nightmare. I was startled by some yelling as a group of Italians frisked a young girl who had almost pickpocketed a solitary commuter. I hurried home, eager to escape the reminder that rome is not as safe as the morning had allowed me to lull myself into thinking.

Another pleasant error in my favor took me out of the closet bed and into a private 4 person room with three friendly Australians. We shared stories and then parted ways for dinner. It seemed appropriate for me to enjoy my final Italian meal in quiet reflection. As I chewed my pasta and sipped my wine I allowed myself to give into the saddening feeling of loss that I had been trying to avoid. Italy is over. I returned to our room and got cheered up by a few games of poker before bed. I beat my alarm clock to it this morning and was ready and waiting for my shuttle when it arrived. Despite a moment where the driver was lost and I allowed myself to worry that I might not make my flight, things went smoothly. Some clever rearranging managed to get all of my luggage on the plane without any fees. And here I am. On my way back to America. Only 16 hours to go. Another update can enlighten you on my feeling about home and going back. For now, I want linger on italy for a moment.

At one point during the quarter I second guessed my decision to study abroad. I wondered if I had “wasted” a quarter away from my major and the academically grounding influence of Stanford. But now I contemplate the friendships, the memories, the lessons that defined my 3 and a half months in italy. And I accept that this was just as valuable as “economic tools of policy analysis”. I can attend lectures and do problems sets to my hearts content for the rest of my life if I want. But I will never again get the chance to gallivant around italy with the somewhat transparent façade of being a student. I smiled with pride as the shuttle driver complimented my Italian this morning on the way to the airport. I teared up as I saw the coliseum fade into the distance, a tangible reminder of my leaving italy behind. I whispered ciao as my flight took off and am now content to conclude my time as a student in italy.