As I sit in Annia's illuminated living room with 3 of the 4 Advent candles slowly burning in the corner and a black cat snoozing on the arm of a chair, I realize that this is almost exactly where I found myself four months ago. Landing in Switzerland with a whirlwind of activity around me, I sat down on this very couch and exhaled, both physically and emotionally, and happily realized this is where I would be for the coming semester.
Now, as I go through my bags and carefully balance their weights (23 kilograms each), I find myself once again on the verge of something new and wonderful. I am so thankful for the time I have had here in Switzerland, and I do not know who to begin to thank. My parents, certainly, for the sacrifices they have made and for the encouragement they have provided to help me realize all of my goals. This is just but one case of them supporting me in my pursuit of both living life to the fullest and learning along the way. My grandparents have also been so supportive to me all of my life, and for that I'm thankful. Claire Margaret, my little sister, is happy for me too, despite her having so many other things (like applying to college - good luck!) to worry about. What a wonderful family I have, and what a blessing that is in its own right.
My friends, too, of all types and degrees of relationships, have been there for me when I needed them, and even when I haven't. Among these friends are the Haselbachs, long time family friends to whom I owe so much.Daniel took me under his wing the first weeks I was here, including me in activities like paddleboarding on Lake Geneva and a trip to Luzern. All of the Haselbachs have so graciously included me in their lives even when that means speaking in English when they normally wouldn't, since my French is so poor. And then, there is Annia. Annia has been a Swiss mother to me this entire journey, providing her home and its resources to me on weekends when I just needed to get away or I just felt like being around a second family. I can't express how wonderful it has been to wake up in the morning at Annia's and share breakfast with her, talking about life and the happenings of the day. These moments, such as talking with Annia over breakfast or paddling down the lake shore with Daniel, are the sorts of things that have defined my time here in Switzerland.
I like to think that I have lived life to its fullest while I am here, traveling to numerous countries and seeing so many things that had previously been confined to my imagination. The beaches of Normandy are real to me now, as is the Berlin Wall, the Swiss Alps, the Roman Forum, and the Eiffel Tower. But, just as real and perhaps more memorable are the little cafés and kind souls who offer to point you in the right direction, patiently listening to my broken French or offering their help in their best English, then disappearing back into their daily routines. These experiences are so important in our lives; they remind us that, even though our passports are different and we have such different cultures, we're all human. There is so much peace in knowing that their are so many good people in the world that you could never possibly meet them all.
So, as I sit once again on Annia's couch, watching the first snow of the year fall outside, there is nothing I can do but smile and enjoy the profound sense of contentment I have for what I have lived over the past four months. Tomorrow night I will be home, with my family in North Carolina, and I am incredibly excited. I'll visit friends at Davidson, at home, and even make a short trip to Kentucky. All of those things, as well as the entirety of my life for that matter, will be illuminated by the warm afterglow of this experience. And that is something to be thankful for.
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Angry Mob + Fire = Burning Cars
So, today started out really nice and lazy. I woke up nice and slow, read for a little while in bed, then decided to go into town for lunch. After a quick lunch, the plan was to go ride the cable car up the mountain and enjoy a nice vista of the Jura. However, things changed once a dozen, blue police vans whizzed past. The police maintain a very, very low profile in Geneva (and in Switzerland, in general) so the odds of going for weeks without seeing any are high. Needless to say, seeing SWAT vans fly by was a bit unusual. I look down the street and see a protest making its way down Rue de Mont-Blanc, and then I remembered what was going on: there was protest of the WTO Ministerial Meeting. The World Trade Organization is headquartered in Geneva, just like many other major international organizations, though it's easy to forget they're there sometimes.
It's important to point out that most of the protesters opted for peaceful means to demonstrate for their cause, and that it was a select few (few meaning probably around 100-200 out of the supposed 2,000+ people) who caused problems. That being said, the problems were definitely there. The Geneva police force seemed well prepared for it though I, of course, was not.
I walked down the street to take a look at the noise and saw what looked to be over a 1,000, later confirmed to have been over 2,000, people marching across the bridge and into the northern part of the city. I saw about 4 tractors pulling floats and effigies of figures I didn't recognize, as well as numerous flags and banners airing grievances against the WTO and the general, global community. After the tractors passed, things got out of hand. I heard a car alarm go off, then began to smell something burning. Black smoke began billowing from behind a large crowd and, by this time, I had positioned myself behind the police barricade that had formed to keep the protest from getting into the square I was eating lunch. Bright red flames began to billow out of a brand new Mercedes-Benz, and three other cars were ignited next to it. Soon, riot police were running towards the location and I was backing away. That was a little much for me, really. Sirens could be heard converging on our location from all over the city. I took a few pictures with my phone (it was all I had on me, because my point and shoot is broken, sorry for the poor photo quality) and then moved on to a safer, less chaotic and smoke filled, place.
For the rest of the afternoon and into the evening, the public transit was out of whack and police were out in full force. I have never seen anyone in full riot gear before, much less an angry mob burning cars, so it was a spectacle. I can't say I understand either ways of manifesting (the French word for protest is "manifestation," by the way) their frustrations with the WTO, though. The peaceful protesters banners said all sorts of constructive things, ranging from "The WTO is Bad" to "Stop the violence in Darfur!" While I certainly agree that the violence in Darfur is bad, the WTO doesn't have much to do with that. A lot of the things being yelled and protested about weren't related to the WTO at all...it just seems as though some people live for a good protest. The violent protesters are a little easier to criticize. Burning up people's cars and smashing the storefronts of innocent people doesn't seem like the best way to further an agenda of progress, though the "black bloc" activists are supposedly anarchists. So I guess they don't really care.
The Swiss were very prompt in their deployment of street sweepers to clean up the mess, though. Once night fell, most of the trash had been picked up. Unfortunately, store owners and four car owners will be beginning the clean up process tomorrow.
Needless to say, all of this was a lot of excitement. I met up with some friends and watched a bit of football (European football) before heading back to the John Knox Center. The transportation was all out of whack, but we made it safe and sound. Thank goodness, because I've been looking forward to cleaning my room.
It's important to point out that most of the protesters opted for peaceful means to demonstrate for their cause, and that it was a select few (few meaning probably around 100-200 out of the supposed 2,000+ people) who caused problems. That being said, the problems were definitely there. The Geneva police force seemed well prepared for it though I, of course, was not.
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| From Geneva Protests 28 November 2009 |
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| From Geneva Protests 28 November 2009 |
I walked down the street to take a look at the noise and saw what looked to be over a 1,000, later confirmed to have been over 2,000, people marching across the bridge and into the northern part of the city. I saw about 4 tractors pulling floats and effigies of figures I didn't recognize, as well as numerous flags and banners airing grievances against the WTO and the general, global community. After the tractors passed, things got out of hand. I heard a car alarm go off, then began to smell something burning. Black smoke began billowing from behind a large crowd and, by this time, I had positioned myself behind the police barricade that had formed to keep the protest from getting into the square I was eating lunch. Bright red flames began to billow out of a brand new Mercedes-Benz, and three other cars were ignited next to it. Soon, riot police were running towards the location and I was backing away. That was a little much for me, really. Sirens could be heard converging on our location from all over the city. I took a few pictures with my phone (it was all I had on me, because my point and shoot is broken, sorry for the poor photo quality) and then moved on to a safer, less chaotic and smoke filled, place.
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| From Geneva Protests 28 November 2009 |
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| From Geneva Protests 28 November 2009 |
For the rest of the afternoon and into the evening, the public transit was out of whack and police were out in full force. I have never seen anyone in full riot gear before, much less an angry mob burning cars, so it was a spectacle. I can't say I understand either ways of manifesting (the French word for protest is "manifestation," by the way) their frustrations with the WTO, though. The peaceful protesters banners said all sorts of constructive things, ranging from "The WTO is Bad" to "Stop the violence in Darfur!" While I certainly agree that the violence in Darfur is bad, the WTO doesn't have much to do with that. A lot of the things being yelled and protested about weren't related to the WTO at all...it just seems as though some people live for a good protest. The violent protesters are a little easier to criticize. Burning up people's cars and smashing the storefronts of innocent people doesn't seem like the best way to further an agenda of progress, though the "black bloc" activists are supposedly anarchists. So I guess they don't really care.
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| From Geneva Protests 28 November 2009 |
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| From Geneva Protests 28 November 2009 |
The Swiss were very prompt in their deployment of street sweepers to clean up the mess, though. Once night fell, most of the trash had been picked up. Unfortunately, store owners and four car owners will be beginning the clean up process tomorrow.
 |
| From Geneva Protests 28 November 2009 |
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| From Geneva Protests 28 November 2009 |
Needless to say, all of this was a lot of excitement. I met up with some friends and watched a bit of football (European football) before heading back to the John Knox Center. The transportation was all out of whack, but we made it safe and sound. Thank goodness, because I've been looking forward to cleaning my room.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Homage
Before I continue, I will finish updating the rest of my blog and will make another post with links to the corresponding days. Thanks for reading, friends and family (and strangers, too).
On the shores of Normandy, where the hedgerows still stand and the wind bites to the core, there stands a tribute to the valor of our soldiers during D-Day and World War II.
I don't really know how to appropriately begin writing on my visit to Normandy, in particular Omaha Beach and the Normandy American Cemetery and Memorial. On the train ride from Geneva to Bayeux, I could feel my gut twisting up inside of me as the kilometers passed by outside the windows of the TGV and regional trains. Soon, mountains gave way to fields, fields gave way to Paris, and Paris gave way to the rolling and hilly countryside. Another Davidson student on the program, Hubie, and myself made our way to a hotel (our original one was inexplicably closed early) and went to bed. That night, before going to sleep, I read online about the shootings at Fort Hood. That night, prayers for the soldiers who were killed in Texas were said along with a little one of preparation. A heavy day lay in wait.
We caught the bus shortly before lunch time (which we skipped, oblivious to time and hunger) and rode through the countryside to Colleville-sur-Mer. Hedgerows and pastures welcomed us to the Norman countryside and, in all seriousness, I could almost picture the US soldiers fighting and crawling in the mud in their attempts to breach the rows of trees and German soldiers.
The friendly bus driver, who knew we didn't speak the best French, beckoned for us when we reached the gates of the American cemetery. He smiled and told is when to get off, and then wished us a good day. Sometimes, when you interact with someone even on the smallest of levels, you can tell that they are genuine and nice person. We stepped off the bus, and I was immediately overwhelmed with emotion.
Walking towards the visitors center, I could see two large flagpoles with American flags flapping in the strong, Norman winds. I could also catch a glimpse of the large statue through the trees, but I waited to visit that until after the main center. Walking inside and through security, we were met by a very friendly team of French security guards and memorial guides, as well as an American man managing the site. Before going downstairs and entering the main exhibit, I noticed a computer in the corner that allows you to view the records of all who have perished in American wars and where they are interned, if they are buried in an American military cemetery. I paused and looked up my great grandfather's citation, and it is pictured below.
After watching a beautiful and moving film about the lives of soldiers who were killed storming Omaha Beach, I visited the rest of the exhibit. It highlighted all the preparations, the incredibly and near insurmountable odds the soldiers were to face, and individual stories of heroism and sacrifice. Then, at the end of the timeline, I passed through a simple hallway. What a picture cannot capture are two things: the emotionless recording of every name of every soldier killed in the D-Day landings echoing through the hallway and the chills that move to your very core as you here each man's name reverberating off the cold, concrete walls.
The exhibit then changed dramatically, consisting of two large and plain, white rooms with glass placards that shared more stories of sacrifice and valor during the battle. A weapon and helmet stand alone amongst a patch of stones from the beach, and the exhibit ends with a pathway leading out to the hills over the beach. Before you leave, there is a guest book that is filled with messages of peace and remembrance by visitors from all over the world.
This reads: "We do not forget, we will never forget, the infinite debt of gratitude we owe those who gave everything for our liberation." - René Coty, President of the French Republic from 1954 - 1959.
An informative tour with a wonderful, French tour guide followed (in English) that consisted of Hubie, the tour guide, the head American guide, and myself. It was hard to focus at times, because the scene and everything that surrounded me was overwhelming. To my right were the waves gently breaking on the shore, and to my left were thousands of crosses and thousands of bodies of thousands of men who, fighting not just for their own liberty but for that of everyone, died on the very soil upon which I was standing. My words cannot do justice to everything that I was privileged to see, so I hope these pictures can make up for my lack of description.
The memorial chapel, with America and France represented.
After walking amongst the headstones I approached the memorial statue and the wall of the missing. Inscribed on the wall are the names of 1,557 servicemen (and a few women) who lots there lives but their remains were never found. There are 307 unknown soldiers buried in the cemetery as well. One of my favorite things about this site is the inscription around the base of the statue, which I tried to photograph: "Mine eyes have seen the Glory of the coming of the Lord."
After the memorial statue and wall, I walked down to the beach. Walking down the hill and onto the same beach that our soldiers ran, crawled, fought and died on amongst the sea and the sand and the blood was one of the single most moving moments for me this semester.
The beach is different now than it was then. Paths of the trenches still remain, as do remains of the bunkers. Now, though, we have polished stone footpaths and boardwalks to get out to the beach that thousands fought and died to capture. There are benches for us to sit on and think about the literal uphill struggle they all endured.
My Dad wrote this to me in an email he sent while I was in Normandy:
"When you look across the beach think of those thousands of Americans who stormed across the beach when the landing craft ramps dropped. Many were rural folk who, before the war, had never left their home-place or town. Some could barely read or write. Few knew anything about Europe and couldn't find Normandy on a map. Our friend from Clarksville, TN came in with 1st Division on D-day. He told me he never had a pair shoes year round 'til he joined the Army. On the other hand, Pres T. Roosevelt's son was there as assistant division commander of 4th Division at Omaha. He was technically too old to serve but used his family influence early on to go. As a Brigadier General he was the first general officer to land at Omaha Beach and was awarded the Medal of Honor for personally rallying the early assault waves that were pinned down by German fire."
Those thoughts and more were racing through my mind as I stood on the beach, the waves breaking gently just meters away from me. I don't know if there is a better word for how I felt - humbled, quiet, moved, at peace - than "proud." Proud of those who died in Normandy, in Europe, in the Pacific, and proud of those who gave their lives later in our nation's history and proud of all who have served.
On the shores of Normandy, where the hedgerows still stand and the wind bites to the core, there is a cross standing testimony to the courage and spirit exemplified by each young man and woman who died to secure not just a beachhead, but freedom from tyranny and injustice. I'm lucky that I could go and pay my respects and give my thanks, but I consider myself even luckier to be a part of our great nation.
On the shores of Normandy, where the hedgerows still stand and the wind bites to the core, there stands a tribute to the valor of our soldiers during D-Day and World War II.
I don't really know how to appropriately begin writing on my visit to Normandy, in particular Omaha Beach and the Normandy American Cemetery and Memorial. On the train ride from Geneva to Bayeux, I could feel my gut twisting up inside of me as the kilometers passed by outside the windows of the TGV and regional trains. Soon, mountains gave way to fields, fields gave way to Paris, and Paris gave way to the rolling and hilly countryside. Another Davidson student on the program, Hubie, and myself made our way to a hotel (our original one was inexplicably closed early) and went to bed. That night, before going to sleep, I read online about the shootings at Fort Hood. That night, prayers for the soldiers who were killed in Texas were said along with a little one of preparation. A heavy day lay in wait.
We caught the bus shortly before lunch time (which we skipped, oblivious to time and hunger) and rode through the countryside to Colleville-sur-Mer. Hedgerows and pastures welcomed us to the Norman countryside and, in all seriousness, I could almost picture the US soldiers fighting and crawling in the mud in their attempts to breach the rows of trees and German soldiers.
The friendly bus driver, who knew we didn't speak the best French, beckoned for us when we reached the gates of the American cemetery. He smiled and told is when to get off, and then wished us a good day. Sometimes, when you interact with someone even on the smallest of levels, you can tell that they are genuine and nice person. We stepped off the bus, and I was immediately overwhelmed with emotion.
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| From Normandy |
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| From Normandy |
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| From Normandy |
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| From Normandy |
Walking towards the visitors center, I could see two large flagpoles with American flags flapping in the strong, Norman winds. I could also catch a glimpse of the large statue through the trees, but I waited to visit that until after the main center. Walking inside and through security, we were met by a very friendly team of French security guards and memorial guides, as well as an American man managing the site. Before going downstairs and entering the main exhibit, I noticed a computer in the corner that allows you to view the records of all who have perished in American wars and where they are interned, if they are buried in an American military cemetery. I paused and looked up my great grandfather's citation, and it is pictured below.
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| From Normandy |
After watching a beautiful and moving film about the lives of soldiers who were killed storming Omaha Beach, I visited the rest of the exhibit. It highlighted all the preparations, the incredibly and near insurmountable odds the soldiers were to face, and individual stories of heroism and sacrifice. Then, at the end of the timeline, I passed through a simple hallway. What a picture cannot capture are two things: the emotionless recording of every name of every soldier killed in the D-Day landings echoing through the hallway and the chills that move to your very core as you here each man's name reverberating off the cold, concrete walls.
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| From Normandy |
The exhibit then changed dramatically, consisting of two large and plain, white rooms with glass placards that shared more stories of sacrifice and valor during the battle. A weapon and helmet stand alone amongst a patch of stones from the beach, and the exhibit ends with a pathway leading out to the hills over the beach. Before you leave, there is a guest book that is filled with messages of peace and remembrance by visitors from all over the world.
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| From Normandy |
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| From Normandy |
This reads: "We do not forget, we will never forget, the infinite debt of gratitude we owe those who gave everything for our liberation." - René Coty, President of the French Republic from 1954 - 1959.
An informative tour with a wonderful, French tour guide followed (in English) that consisted of Hubie, the tour guide, the head American guide, and myself. It was hard to focus at times, because the scene and everything that surrounded me was overwhelming. To my right were the waves gently breaking on the shore, and to my left were thousands of crosses and thousands of bodies of thousands of men who, fighting not just for their own liberty but for that of everyone, died on the very soil upon which I was standing. My words cannot do justice to everything that I was privileged to see, so I hope these pictures can make up for my lack of description.
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| From Normandy |
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| From Normandy |
The memorial chapel, with America and France represented.
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| From Normandy |
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| From Normandy |
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| From Normandy |
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| From Normandy |
After walking amongst the headstones I approached the memorial statue and the wall of the missing. Inscribed on the wall are the names of 1,557 servicemen (and a few women) who lots there lives but their remains were never found. There are 307 unknown soldiers buried in the cemetery as well. One of my favorite things about this site is the inscription around the base of the statue, which I tried to photograph: "Mine eyes have seen the Glory of the coming of the Lord."
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| From Normandy |
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| From Normandy |
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| From Normandy |
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| From Normandy |
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| From Normandy |
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| From Normandy |
After the memorial statue and wall, I walked down to the beach. Walking down the hill and onto the same beach that our soldiers ran, crawled, fought and died on amongst the sea and the sand and the blood was one of the single most moving moments for me this semester.
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| From Normandy |
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| From Normandy |
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| From Normandy |
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| From Normandy |
The beach is different now than it was then. Paths of the trenches still remain, as do remains of the bunkers. Now, though, we have polished stone footpaths and boardwalks to get out to the beach that thousands fought and died to capture. There are benches for us to sit on and think about the literal uphill struggle they all endured.
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| From Normandy |
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| From Normandy |
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| From Normandy |
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| From Normandy |
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| From Normandy |
My Dad wrote this to me in an email he sent while I was in Normandy:
"When you look across the beach think of those thousands of Americans who stormed across the beach when the landing craft ramps dropped. Many were rural folk who, before the war, had never left their home-place or town. Some could barely read or write. Few knew anything about Europe and couldn't find Normandy on a map. Our friend from Clarksville, TN came in with 1st Division on D-day. He told me he never had a pair shoes year round 'til he joined the Army. On the other hand, Pres T. Roosevelt's son was there as assistant division commander of 4th Division at Omaha. He was technically too old to serve but used his family influence early on to go. As a Brigadier General he was the first general officer to land at Omaha Beach and was awarded the Medal of Honor for personally rallying the early assault waves that were pinned down by German fire."
Those thoughts and more were racing through my mind as I stood on the beach, the waves breaking gently just meters away from me. I don't know if there is a better word for how I felt - humbled, quiet, moved, at peace - than "proud." Proud of those who died in Normandy, in Europe, in the Pacific, and proud of those who gave their lives later in our nation's history and proud of all who have served.
On the shores of Normandy, where the hedgerows still stand and the wind bites to the core, there is a cross standing testimony to the courage and spirit exemplified by each young man and woman who died to secure not just a beachhead, but freedom from tyranny and injustice. I'm lucky that I could go and pay my respects and give my thanks, but I consider myself even luckier to be a part of our great nation.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Catching up.
Update 2 completed. Added another post from Italy, and will finish Italy and London this weekend. School work and other business here has delayed even further the updates, so I apologize!
Additionally, all my photos can be viewed at this site. I'll have all the captions complete by tomorrow, if anything.
Thanks for reading!
Additionally, all my photos can be viewed at this site. I'll have all the captions complete by tomorrow, if anything.
Thanks for reading!
Monday, September 21, 2009
Roma: Da Una Parte
After a nice night of sleep in the bed and breakfast, it was time to wake up and visit some of Rome's more iconic sights. Today's goal: the Colosseum and Palatine Hill.
Getting to the Colosseum was fairly easy and, after a nice lunch of spaghetti carbonara, we walked to the Colosseum. The lines weren't bad at all and we were quickly inside. A temporary exhibit giving the history of the Roman Colosseum, particularly that regarding the Emperor who commissioned it, Vespasian, was the first thing we toured.
After learning about how expensive it was, how everyone gambled, and about how Mussolini ruined any chances for a unified historic district in Rome, we were able to walk outside and around the inside of the Colosseum. The weather was a little bit dreary, with misty rain dominating most of the day, but it didn't diminish the experience at all.
As part of the ticket deal for the Colosseum, you also get access to Palatine Hill and the Roman Forum. Good deal! After marveling at the Roman ingenuity that is the Colosseum, we walked a little west and were soon on Palatine Hill. As I walked up the old, brick stairs, I couldn't help but imagine Roman Senators in their togas walking up those same steps or the sound of Legionnaires running down the stairs, attempting to make a last stand against the Germanic hordes. Hundreds of years of history were passing beneath my feet with every step.
The ruins on the hill were very well preserved, and excavation projects are ongoing. Piles of artifacts and marble are scattered around the site, and every once in awhile a university student would walk out to remove or replace something from them.
Scenes of the Classical era were interrupted by an alien structure: Mussolini's villa. Egotism at its best, Mussolini constructed a home for himself upon the site which the Roman empire was ruled from.
The thorough combing of the hill complete, it was time for the Roman forum. It, too, is nicely preserved, though I can't help but think they could've done better. If I have time and remember to do it, I'm going to try to do a little bit of research into the conservation attempts at the site. Any other info would be appreciated. Anyways. Lots of interesting things were there, but my favorite were the remains of the Roman Senate. Nothing is left standing but a row of columns and the foundation, but it still has a monolithic presence. Lasting from 753BC - 476AD, the Roman Senate has the distinction of being the longest serving representative institution.
When leaving the forum, the Italian government buildings are right in front of you, so a quick look at the Italian Tomb of the Unknown Soldier was in order.
After yet another pleasant dinner, it's time for bed once again. Tomorrow's goal is Vatican City and The Pantheon - I'm excited.
Getting to the Colosseum was fairly easy and, after a nice lunch of spaghetti carbonara, we walked to the Colosseum. The lines weren't bad at all and we were quickly inside. A temporary exhibit giving the history of the Roman Colosseum, particularly that regarding the Emperor who commissioned it, Vespasian, was the first thing we toured.
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| From 3 Rome |
After learning about how expensive it was, how everyone gambled, and about how Mussolini ruined any chances for a unified historic district in Rome, we were able to walk outside and around the inside of the Colosseum. The weather was a little bit dreary, with misty rain dominating most of the day, but it didn't diminish the experience at all.
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| From 3 Rome |
As part of the ticket deal for the Colosseum, you also get access to Palatine Hill and the Roman Forum. Good deal! After marveling at the Roman ingenuity that is the Colosseum, we walked a little west and were soon on Palatine Hill. As I walked up the old, brick stairs, I couldn't help but imagine Roman Senators in their togas walking up those same steps or the sound of Legionnaires running down the stairs, attempting to make a last stand against the Germanic hordes. Hundreds of years of history were passing beneath my feet with every step.
The ruins on the hill were very well preserved, and excavation projects are ongoing. Piles of artifacts and marble are scattered around the site, and every once in awhile a university student would walk out to remove or replace something from them.
 |
| From 3 Rome |
Scenes of the Classical era were interrupted by an alien structure: Mussolini's villa. Egotism at its best, Mussolini constructed a home for himself upon the site which the Roman empire was ruled from.
 |
| From 3 Rome |
The thorough combing of the hill complete, it was time for the Roman forum. It, too, is nicely preserved, though I can't help but think they could've done better. If I have time and remember to do it, I'm going to try to do a little bit of research into the conservation attempts at the site. Any other info would be appreciated. Anyways. Lots of interesting things were there, but my favorite were the remains of the Roman Senate. Nothing is left standing but a row of columns and the foundation, but it still has a monolithic presence. Lasting from 753BC - 476AD, the Roman Senate has the distinction of being the longest serving representative institution.
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| From 3 Rome |
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| From 3 Rome |
When leaving the forum, the Italian government buildings are right in front of you, so a quick look at the Italian Tomb of the Unknown Soldier was in order.
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| From 3 Rome |
After yet another pleasant dinner, it's time for bed once again. Tomorrow's goal is Vatican City and The Pantheon - I'm excited.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Ruins and the Arrival in Rome
While trying to write this post, I've realized there isn't much I can do other than summarize how we traveled to Pompeii, provide some captions for the pictures I took, and then tell you that I made it safely to Rome. So, that's just what I'll do.
We checked out of our nice little Bed and Breakfast around 8:30AM, then left out belonging there to be picked up that afternoon, after our return from Pompeii. After a breakfast of plastic wrapped croissants and espresso, we once again boarded the Cirumvesuviano, this time getting off at the stop called Pompeii.
It was a little pricey to get in, somewhere around 20-30€, but definitely worth it. The archaeological site is huge and, even though most of it is roped of for excavation and minor restoration projects, one would be hard pressed to visit the entire site in a day. To compensate, I put on my running shoes and some good socks and walked my feet into the ground. I'll let the pictures do the talking from here. To view more, go here. You can also get to my other albums from the trip there as well.
Again, for more photos go to the aforementioned link.
After returning to Naples we walked around for a little bit, and then took our train to Rome. When staying in a bed and breakfast, be sure you nail down the address of the bed and breakfast itself...not that of the owners. They were very nice, though, and their son (an astronomy student) showed us to our big, spacious room for the night. We then walked around and found some quick food, and sleep time is to follow.
Tomorrow's objectives: The Colosseum, the Roman Forum, and Palatine Hill.
We checked out of our nice little Bed and Breakfast around 8:30AM, then left out belonging there to be picked up that afternoon, after our return from Pompeii. After a breakfast of plastic wrapped croissants and espresso, we once again boarded the Cirumvesuviano, this time getting off at the stop called Pompeii.
It was a little pricey to get in, somewhere around 20-30€, but definitely worth it. The archaeological site is huge and, even though most of it is roped of for excavation and minor restoration projects, one would be hard pressed to visit the entire site in a day. To compensate, I put on my running shoes and some good socks and walked my feet into the ground. I'll let the pictures do the talking from here. To view more, go here. You can also get to my other albums from the trip there as well.
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| From 2 Pompeii |
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| From 2 Pompeii |
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| From 2 Pompeii |
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| From 2 Pompeii |
Again, for more photos go to the aforementioned link.
After returning to Naples we walked around for a little bit, and then took our train to Rome. When staying in a bed and breakfast, be sure you nail down the address of the bed and breakfast itself...not that of the owners. They were very nice, though, and their son (an astronomy student) showed us to our big, spacious room for the night. We then walked around and found some quick food, and sleep time is to follow.
Tomorrow's objectives: The Colosseum, the Roman Forum, and Palatine Hill.
Saturday, September 19, 2009
"Limoncello? Ho, ho, my boy!"
Unfortunately, other than the pizza and nice bed and breakfast, there really wasn't much to do or see in Naples. It is crippled by crime and corruption, and a rather dirty place.
But. It is a great launching point for other adventures around the area. Our first adventure? The Amalfi Coast.
A quick train ride via the Circumvesuviano will deposit you in Sorrento, a place of excellent pasta, huge lemons, and all sorts of lemon products - including the infamous limoncello. This is a trip I highly recommend, and if I could do it again I would just skip staying in Naples and pay the extra Euro cent to stay somewhere on the Amalfi Coast. Before I go any further, the Amalfi Coast is a region in Southern Italy comprised of five towns, two of which we visited (Sorrento and Positano).
Since we didn't have much of a plan for Sorrento other than going and having a wonderful time, there were plenty of opportunities to wander and take some nice pictures. Here are a few:
During our wandering, we enjoyed lunch at a nice little pasta place tucked in the wall of one of the many narrow streets. Nearby was another road that was home to all the limoncellerias. Limoncello is a thick liquor made from lemon zest, and it is...well, incredibly zesty. We all sampled a little bit of it (not too much, because it really didn't taste all that great) and along the way bumped into a group of old, British tourists. They found the idea of a street filled with people offering you free alcohol heavenly, and took full advantage. As we walked away, one of them explained "be careful or you'll have jelly legs like me!" as he struggled to stay standing. Noted.
An advantage to the Amalfi coast is that everything is relatively close by. For 5€ you can purchase a round trip bus ticket that will take you to the other towns, so we decided to go to Positano. The bus rise itself was harrowing: the bus driver whipped the tour bus around sharp curbs overlooking very steep cliffs on narrow roads, and I'm pretty sure he was well over the speed limit the entire time.
However, when we leveled out from our last major curb, the view that awaited us was well worth it.
Positano is a little more off the beaten path, which means instead of an abundance of British travelers, you have American students and Navy personnel (from the nearby base). It is perched on the side of a hill and, accordingly, instead of sidewalks there are staircases. The staircases go up and down, side to side, and sometimes around things in no logical order. Clearly, the whimsical and laid back nature of the people who live there influenced their architecture. Positano is known more for its seafood, which I enjoyed for dinner, and its beautiful beach. The experience of walking through its winding roads and peaking in the little boutiques was well worth it. If you've got the time, I've heard taking the boat to Capri is worth it, and its already on my list of things to do when I come back someday. And yeah, you better believe I'm going to.
After another harrowing bus ride back to Sorrento and an hour long train ride back into Naples, it was time to call it a night. Operation Amalfi Coast: Successful.
Next Mission: Pompeii
But. It is a great launching point for other adventures around the area. Our first adventure? The Amalfi Coast.
A quick train ride via the Circumvesuviano will deposit you in Sorrento, a place of excellent pasta, huge lemons, and all sorts of lemon products - including the infamous limoncello. This is a trip I highly recommend, and if I could do it again I would just skip staying in Naples and pay the extra Euro cent to stay somewhere on the Amalfi Coast. Before I go any further, the Amalfi Coast is a region in Southern Italy comprised of five towns, two of which we visited (Sorrento and Positano).
Since we didn't have much of a plan for Sorrento other than going and having a wonderful time, there were plenty of opportunities to wander and take some nice pictures. Here are a few:
 |
| From 1 Amalfi Coast |
 |
| From 1 Amalfi Coast |
 |
| From 1 Amalfi Coast |
During our wandering, we enjoyed lunch at a nice little pasta place tucked in the wall of one of the many narrow streets. Nearby was another road that was home to all the limoncellerias. Limoncello is a thick liquor made from lemon zest, and it is...well, incredibly zesty. We all sampled a little bit of it (not too much, because it really didn't taste all that great) and along the way bumped into a group of old, British tourists. They found the idea of a street filled with people offering you free alcohol heavenly, and took full advantage. As we walked away, one of them explained "be careful or you'll have jelly legs like me!" as he struggled to stay standing. Noted.
An advantage to the Amalfi coast is that everything is relatively close by. For 5€ you can purchase a round trip bus ticket that will take you to the other towns, so we decided to go to Positano. The bus rise itself was harrowing: the bus driver whipped the tour bus around sharp curbs overlooking very steep cliffs on narrow roads, and I'm pretty sure he was well over the speed limit the entire time.
 |
| From 1 Amalfi Coast |
 |
| From 1 Amalfi Coast |
However, when we leveled out from our last major curb, the view that awaited us was well worth it.
 |
| From 1 Amalfi Coast |
Positano is a little more off the beaten path, which means instead of an abundance of British travelers, you have American students and Navy personnel (from the nearby base). It is perched on the side of a hill and, accordingly, instead of sidewalks there are staircases. The staircases go up and down, side to side, and sometimes around things in no logical order. Clearly, the whimsical and laid back nature of the people who live there influenced their architecture. Positano is known more for its seafood, which I enjoyed for dinner, and its beautiful beach. The experience of walking through its winding roads and peaking in the little boutiques was well worth it. If you've got the time, I've heard taking the boat to Capri is worth it, and its already on my list of things to do when I come back someday. And yeah, you better believe I'm going to.
 |
| From 1 Amalfi Coast |
 |
| From 1 Amalfi Coast |
After another harrowing bus ride back to Sorrento and an hour long train ride back into Naples, it was time to call it a night. Operation Amalfi Coast: Successful.
Next Mission: Pompeii
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