Walking Like An Egyptian

A bomb explosion in Cairo has killed a French tourist and injured more than 20 other people, mostly foreign tourists.

It happened at an open-air hotel cafe packed with tourists in the Khan al-Khalili area - a major attraction and home to a prominent mosque.

The device, most likely home-made, was thrown from a balcony, Egyptian police said. Conflicting reports say the bomb may have been left under a bench.

The tourist killed was identified as a 17-year-old girl by French authorities.

There has been no indication so far of who is behind the attack, and no arrests have yet been confirmed... - http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/middle_east/7904731.stm

Makes you want to travel to Egypt, don't it? Yeah, that's what I thought too when I read this article THREE DAYS BEFORE I ACTUALLY WENT TO CAIRO.

What started off as a pipe dream painstakingly became a reality as I weighed the pro's and con's of traveling to another one of my dream locations: Cairo, Egypt. It was surreal as I sat in our school's fallout shelter-like library in between Facebook and doing absolutely nothing productive when I actually booked a flight to Egypt. Who the fuck goes to Egypt? Welp, obviously this guy. And obviously I picked one of the best times to go in the past 5 years too -- the last time Egypt had any terror-related attacks. Horray for fulfilling dreams!

Ok, so I started this off a little douchebaggy. I am NOT complaining in the least about going to Cairo. It was fucking amazing. I cannot stress how overcome with emotion I was when we touched down in Cairo, excuse me, AFRICA. WTF MATE? Africa? Really? Like really, truly the continent of Africa? Yeah, I guess so...but it still doesn't seem like it was real.

So I made quite the executive decision before embarking on this fantasy-turned-reality that I would skip all-of-my Thursday and half-of-my Monday classes in order to truly fulfill this experience. As of now my decision hasn't bitten me in the ass, but then again, I haven't received any grades back from the mid-terms I just had to take coming off of my sleep deprived trip of a lifetime.

The first thing I noticed when we landed in Egypt (besides the humongous Lion King-esque sunset going down over the horizon) was the absolute horrendous air quality and pollution that infests Cairo. Breathing the air is like huffing a vacuum cleaner; garbage is strewn about like a landfill. It's terrible. Not just because of the devastation that human waste causes, but because of the history, grandeur, and imagery that I had previously conjured in my head over years of wonder and awe of the ancient Egyptian world was suddenly turned into, well, garbage. So long, The Mummy. Goodbye, Aladdin. Yet then again, Egypt was still a whole new world to me...

After cruising through customs (with the newly-added and now always-cherished "EGYPT" stamp), we were met by the guys who were running the hostel we were going to be staying at. We arrived safely at the hostel, but not after thinking we were going to die at any given chance while en route. F whatever you think about how badly Americans drive in any given city. Egpytians drive like they are all in Sherman tanks on D-Day. In-fucking-sane. I can't begin to describe to you how badly they are, I can't find the words.

Either way, after a great night relaxing at a local shisha bar (hookah, for all you un-cultured folk) near our hostel, we made sure to take at the very least a cat nap in order to wake up the next morning. We were heading to the mothership: Giza.

Located about 20 minutes outside of Cairo, we woke early in order to watch the sunrise atop the sand dunes in Giza. Oh, and I forgot to mention we were watching the sunrise onto the Great Pyramids. Amazing.

Like a little boy on Christmas morning, I raced as fast as I could to the very top of the dunes. The sun was my Christmas tree, and underneath it she unveiled my presents: the Pyramids.

We wrangled up a group of guides that led us around the place, equipped with horses and camels to transport us throughout our journey. I was beyond words. Actually, I lied. I was singing "A Whole New World" the entire time. Thanks, Disney.

Galloping across the Sahara on horseback, swaying with every bob of the camel's neck, I was in Egypt. I was in hysteria.

The sun, the sand, the Sphinx...need I say more?

Without boring you about how cool I feel my life has kind-of been lately, I'll spare you most of the details in regards to everything else. Every night was capped off at a shisha bar for a mint tea lounge sesh. Looking back on our day's events, we would try to capture the least of our emotions in words. The result was endless chatter, laughter, and incessant headshakes from disbelief that we were truly experiencing these times.

So, how do we try to out-do our day at the Pyramids? Head East, of course, to Alexandria.

Now looking back, our four-hour bus ride was well worth the wait as we drove into what seemed to be a day spent with a shotty tourguide and half-assed sights to see while battling the rain. Eventually, we made our way to the Catacombs of Alexandria. Anything short of playing the Indiana Jones theme song, I'm pretty sure you could get the picture of these underground tunnels/burial chambers that were carved into 3 separate levels deep into the Earth. It was pretty neat, but nothing I really expected to be blown away by (call me calloused because I probably was after yesterday's incredible jaunt to Giza).

After staging a mini mutiny to overthrow our tourguide's plan for the day's adventures, we ended up agreeing on visiting the famed Library at Alexandria. It was spectacular. What seems like an architect's wet dream, the Library is a 7-level informational hotbox loaded with everything from tourgroups to students and ancient heiroglyphics to the world's fastest printing press -- quite the building to say the least.

Upon eating the most Egyptian meal I could afford, KFC and McDonald's, we took the bus to the Citadel that used to defend Alexandria's coast. EPIC. That's all I can say. Waves crashing into the rocks. Warm ocean water exploding with blues and greens of every sort. The sun fighting through the clouds in the distance to shine rays upon the endless sea. Agape.

That pretty much completed our trip to Alexandria, and our trip to Egypt as well. I'm purposely omitting the last day or so because it was filled with Egyptian museum in Cairo (you know, really boring stuff like seeing King Tut's stuff and a couple of cool knick-knacks here and there...no biggie really) as well as the Citadel in Cairo (fully equipped with more national museums, one of the largest mosques in Cairo, and some other neat things I'm sure I'll tell you about if you ask).

We ended up doing A LOT of unbelievable things in Egypt. It truly was everything I hoped for, and more. I don't even know how to end this really. It's like my trip to Switzerland; I just can't put into words skydiving over the Swiss Alps. I now can't put into enough words how Cairo was just recently. Epic, to say the very least.

I sound trite. I sound cliche. I sound pathetic, most importantly, I'm sure. But really, I don't give a damn. This is my life, this is my story...and goddamn I'm sticking to it.

Nappy Naples

The Cool Kids in Front of Mt. Vesuvius at Pompeii

So I stayed in Rome for the second straight weekend with the exception of Saturday when we ventured south into the loins of Italy -- Napoli (or as you Americans call it, Naples). There wasn't much driving my trip besides the allure of Pompeii, located about 30 minutes outside Naple's Metro station. It was quite the journey first trying to get to Roma's Termini station, then to Napoli, then to Pompeii, and finally to the ruins...

Everywhere I've gone so far, I've taken it upon myself to be the self-proclaimed tour guide/hero who enjoys reading up on the history and glamour of the sites we are visiting; and I wasn't going to let this trip be any different. Well, actually, that's exactly what I did, so I'm lying to you. But hey my friend, once again I promise I always tell the truth. I fingered (gross, get your mind out of the gutter) through Rick Steve's Guide to Italy which really is a crock of shit. I guess he's some tool from a public television show, and subsequently he holds no credence for me (sorry, I was spoiled with uneducational cable shows).

Anywho, my good buddy Matt took the liberty of leading us through the ruins for a few hours; it was incredible! To see Mt. Vesuvius bearing down in the background of this ruined city was such a sight to see to say the least (yay, alliteration!). We walked through the streets, alleys, homes, and lives of a city that once housed some 20,000 residents that was completely and utterly fucked (for lack of a better term). The residents had no clue that Vesuvius was a volcano; and around noon on August 24th of 79 A.D. -- they found out the hard way. For 18 hours straight, Vesuvius shot ash 12 miles into the air that rained down like a plague from God. It was during those 18 fateful hours that 2,000 of the residents were trapped in 8 feet of ash before being covered in the hot mud and lava that raced down the mountainside at 100 miles per hour. Enough of the history lesson though because you pretty much know the rest...

I swear I didn't feel this way while I was there, but now when I am telling you all this, I can't begin to comprehend the ferocity of such a tragic event. Visiting Pompeii was a very moving trip, and I hope you all get the chance to experience the same.

On a lighter note, I did find out that Pompeii-ans (?) were f-ing sex fiends. You think "sex sells" is a new phenomenon? Bullshit, retard. Pompeii had around some 30 brothels for it's mere 20,000 residents. Do the math -- that's a lot of s.e.x. Don't worry though! Because I know what you're thinking: "Joe, I'm sure they were devasted with the rest of the city, right?" And I will say to you, "NAY! They were so adored that even the pictures on the wall were preserved, not to mention all the beds in the rooms!" I'm not even joking. When I walked into the humble 5 room brothel, I immediately noticed the glass plates protecting pictures of men and women (I hope) engaging in different sex acts. So not only were Pompeiians nymphos, but they invented the f-ing VALUE MENU of sex. Splendid.

So the rest of Pompeii was really, really cool et cetera, et cetera...

What amazed me the most, besides Pompeii of course, was the condition Napoli is in. Much to my chagrin, Rick Steves did inform me a bit about Napoli holding the title for the most densely populated city in Italy, as well as it being of the dirtiest, crime ridden cities in all of Europe (it's pretty much the birthplace of the mafia). Oh, that would have been nice to know if I hadn't been reading it as I was entering the trainstation in Napoli. Besides graffiti and garbage strewn about everywhere your eye wanders, there were stray dogs roaming the streets like tumbleweeds in the western frontier. We even had one follow us around Pompeii (we named him Monkey); and had it not been for another stray to catch his attention, he would have followed us on the train back to Napoli.

It's been wild to see the differences in regions, cities, and towns all throughout Italy and Europe so far. Napoli definitely takes the cake, though, by being the dirtiest. But you know what? Napoli is also the birthplace of pizza (which I heart) AND the reason to the song "That's Amore." So I guess I'll cut you a deal, Napoli. You're not that bad when all is said and done. After all, when the moon hit's my eye like a big pizza pie...without you, I don't know what amore would be like.

The Pope is Dope

So sue me -- I forgot to tell you about the papal audience we attended a few weeks ago. Rats.

Ok, so it was pretty f-ing cool; whether you are Catholic, Buddhist, or overweight, I think it's pretty impressive to see the leader of an entire religion. It was an early, rainy morning over Roma...

...that's pretty much it. I wish I could tell you something really, really exciting that happened, but to be perfectly honest -- I wasn't terribly impressed. Almost let down, even. We sat in a large auditorium for about two hours, eagerly anticipating the arrival of the successor of St. Peter. Bands were playing, flags were flying, cheers evolved from mere whispers amongst friends to cries of excitement as the Swiss guards positioned themselves for the entrance of Benedict XVI. It was quite the experience, don't get me wrong; but once the Holy Father sat on his holy throne, it more or less turned into a global shout-out hour. Different priests/bishops/dudes in black robes would then take turns speaking in their native tongue while addressing the Pope (and the audience). They pretty much just said "...blah blah blah, pray for us Pope."

Now don't get me wrong, I do revere the Pope and Roman Catholicism (Fr. Murphy taught me so); but I think the coolest part was after everyone had their shout-out, and we all joined in to say the Our Father in Latin. I have never taken Latin, so I mispronounced the whole prayer in its entirety, but that's beside the point. The point is, ladies and gents, that in almost half-perfect harmony...the Pope and I shared a moment. I could see the twinkle in his eye, a tear slowly caress his cheek, and a faint smile only an aging clown could discover. He then proceeded to give us his holy blessing, and give some face-time to the lucky front row fans. (It was total bullshit; we were in the nosebleeds. Whatever happened to the first shall be last, and the last shall be first? Huh, Ben?! Never heard that one before?!!!) I'm not bitter, though, because I know when all is said and done that St. Peter will call my name. And maybe then Joseph Ratzinger will be one person ahead of me, and I'll just have to cut him in line...

Interlaken Skydiving Videos

The Cool Kids in Interlaken, Switzerland

After many of you probably thought I was full of shit once you read that I went skydiving over the Swiss Alps, I've decided to prove it. Honestly, I don't believe half the shit I say too -- so I'm not offended. I have this whole thing about saying things I don't mean; I'm sure it's not a problem though, so don't worry whenever I talk to you. I promise I always tell the truth.

The first video is from the helicopter ride up while I'm sitting on Roland's (the instructor/hero) lap. I was in the chopper with him, a girl from Florence, and her instructor who is videotaping her terrifying ride. I wasn't terribly afraid while I was riding up with the only exception that I had no fucking clue what I was about to do. I tried asking Roland questions the entire time because I was overhearing the other instructor rattle off about 29 different rules to the other girl about to jump. Roland took it upon himself to keep his mouth shut though, until approximately thirty seconds before the door opened and he maneuvered his (and ultimately my own) way to the small platform/footrail outside the bird. Thanks for the help, Roland!

The free fall is not possible to explain; words will never do it justice. People on the ground were trying to be cute and assure me of their plan to sing "Free Fallin'" the entire time they were doing so, but in reality you don't have time to think. The only thing you have time for is soiling yourself. It is quite possibly the most epic thing I have done in my life (not the soilage, but the act of skydiving; though I'm sure I've done the former enough for the both of us). I have told you all how bad I am with heights, and this was a downright bitchsmack to the whole elevation community for the conquering of my fear.

You freefall for a supposed 45-50 seconds, but it felt like 2. It was there and done with in the blink of an eye, but I know it will always last a lifetime. I was fortunate enough to be able to pull out my camera after the freefall when our chute decided to pay us a visit; and then I recorded the entire ride down through the landing. I really hope you all enjoy the videos, and my commentary along with it. I was talking the whole time, but I'm sure you are all very happy you can barely hear most of my schoolgirl screams. You want to know what your quintessential college white boy sounds like when he skydives? Turn up your speakers, ladies and gents, sit back, and enjoy...

The Last of the E-Mails

Douchebag at Hadrian's Villa



Hello all,

Since I last talked to most of you, I had already been to beautiful Siena, San Gimignano, Hadrian's villa, and St. Benedict's monastery at Montecassino. I can't get enough of all the history, beauty, and culture I am surrounded by. Everything is so surreal. It's like being a living part of a history book.

Classes have started to pick up more and more, and I am truly enjoying them. Luckily, I'm only taking 4 classes (Italian 101, Philosophy in Politics, Italian Film, and Emerging Financial Markets). The classes are tiny (I am 1 of 5 people in my finance class), but it makes for really interesting lectures, discussions, and also makes me stay on track because I'll look like a jackass if I don't go or study. Besides, we eat, sleep, and go to class all in the same small building on campus. Oh, for those of you who don't know Loyola's campus is called the John Felice Rome Center and it's located in Monte Mario.

This past weekend started a lot of people's traveling ventures through Europe, and this guy didn't want to be any exception to that rule. I went with a big group of people from Loyola, plus some students we picked up in Florence, to Interlaken, Switzerland! I can't even begin to describe the scenery in Switzerland. It was a lifelong dream to be able to go there, and it was everything I hoped for and more.

We left last Thursday from Termini in Rome via a double-deck bus around 8 pm-ish. Everyone was really excited, but the girl who planned this whole thing (she works for some student travel company in Europe) really f-ed everyone over by telling us the trip would take around 8 hours at most, but in reality it took about 14. Nice having more than half a day sitting on your ass in a smelly bus. Oh, and the company refused to open the bathroom for some God awful reason so we had to stop a lot more just so people could pee. Great lakes, great times. Either way, we got to Interlaken safely around 10 am. We stayed at the world famous (suprising, cause I had never heard of it) Balmer's Herberge. It was a big hostel, but it was nice. They gave us breakfast each day which consisted of concentrate orange juice from a box (think Franzia of juices) and 2 slices of bread. I've never so much wished for prison food (see earlier Michigan State post for further reference).

Switzerland couldn't have let me down even if it tried to. I started taking pictures IMMEDIATELY, of course. Oh, and I posted a link to my flickr site on my facebook profile links so you guys can start to see the pictures I'm uploading. I have so many to upload and so little time. But I'm trying to name them all so you know what you're looking at. It'll take some time, but be patient.

Ok, so back to Swiss cheese story time. That Friday we checked into the hostel and I stayed with all my friends in a cozy 8 person room. We put out stuff down in the room, ate some tasty toast, and went exploring.

Most of my friends and I started just wandering around the town of Interlaken, and we would take pictures of everything. And by "we would take pictures" I mean me. Taking pictures of everything. EV-ER-Y-THING.

After realizing I couldn't possibly take any more pictures at ground level, I noticed a big mountain that was practically begging to be climbed, so I did. We hiked about 3000 feet up (it took a few hours). From being on the street level to venturing through the clouds into thin air was an incredible journey. It started to rain and become really windy, but I just asked myself W.W.B.G.D (what would Bear Grylls do?) so I kept climbing. We made our way to a waterfall that was initially a trickling stream, but now was rushing with fresh mountain water. We indulged ourselves with some tasty Alps water from the waterfall. It was glorious and now I am going to use my mountain man abilities to bottle, distribute, and sell Swiss Alps water. Ignorant Americans are going to eat (and drink) it up. Hello financial independence!

So, blah blah it was rainy and wet and not dry and cold...andddd I was now miserable walking down a mountain after reaching the almost top. (We almost got blown off a cliff cause the winds were so strong, so we turned around.) We met a random American who was climbing alone as we were turning around, so we hiked down together. His name was Forrest, not Forrest Gump. And he just graduated from Butler in Indianapolis. I guess it is a small world after all.

That night we ate at a small pizzeria next to the hostel and then went to the most popular bar in town -- underneath our hostel. That was a blurry night so I'll try to tell you more of the next morning.

So we woke up bright eyed and ready to take on the Alps on Saturday. Some people went skiing, others went canyon jumping, and I (along with 6 other brave souls) went into another town to do nothing. (I forgot to tell you that Interlaken is the EXTREME SPORTS CAPITAL OF THE WORLD!) Nonetheless we took a bus to a train to a town called Grindelwald -- feel free to call it Grundel World. We saw a great snow sculpture competition and walked around town until we got bored with the little people, and made the decision to take a gondola ride up the mountain. Initially we were thinking we should take the gondola to the very top, right? Yeah, but then we realized there were hefty prices involved so we decided on the shortest, cheapest route we could find. Instead of getting off at our supposed destination, we beat the system by staying in our gondolas until the very top! (Ha ha Swiss! So much for the honor system!)

Well, being at the top of a mountain was a lot easier when you're staring up at it from a street 7100 feet below. Once we were forced out of our gondolas at the very tip top, we had no choice but to rent some form of transportation to get us down. Imagine 7 Americans (myself in sweatpants, tennis shoes, and a backpack) whom are all under-dressed for any type of snow activity, just tramping around the top of Europe -- sounds exhilarating eh? So we all chose the best way down would be to use the ever-trusty sled. Now I'm not talking your neighborhood hill, let's go to Lincoln Hills sledding time; I mean we are at the very top of Black Diamond ski runs in the Swiss Alps with some of the best skiers and snowboarders in the world. Looking back, sledding was probably one of the most insane things we could have done pretty much because we were so unprepared. The only way to stop our sleds from their grease lightning speeds was to use the "Flintstone technique" and slam your heels into the snow, and pray like hell you'll stop before hitting something or someone. We made it down the mountain safely, though, so no need to worry. If you'd like more detail, I'm sure I could talk your ear off about it for quite a while -- it was a fantastic time, but deathly scary. The kicker is that we were seeing little kids doing this sledding so carefree. I'm talking like 5 and 6 year olds were weaving in and out of people (and by people, I mean us). Oh, and it was nice being passed by a father holding what looked like his fetus-esque newborn baby. That really gave us the confidence we lacked in ourselves. So after a long, eventful 3 hours sledding and hiking the Swiss Alps, we finally made it back to Grindelwald, and eventually on the train back to Interlaken for a well-deserved night's sleep.

The next morning we arose quite early because we made plans with about 20 people in the hostel to add one more incredible story in our tales of Switzerland. We were going SKYDIVING. Now for those of you who may not be so aware of this, I am TERRIBLE with heights. I get nervous riding the escalator too long. The first thing I did when I went to the top of the Sears Tower was look for a trashcan to vomit in. I am not good with tall things. Be it buildings, mountains, or people. So the inevitable was to occur; I was going to sign my life away to a random stranger, and PAY HIM to take me into the air for the sole purpose of saying "screw your 300 franc helicopter ride, I want out" and then plummet to the Earth. Sounds fun, right? Well surprisingly, it was. I was eerily unafraid when my name was called to join the other 3 people in the helicopter for my turn at cheating death. The truly uneasy part was having the helicopter lift off the ground and realizing I had 0 training, or any clue for that matter, on what I was supposed to do. I was under the impression that we were given a class or something, maybe even a goddamn pamphlet to read about what to do when, in fact, we jump out of a moving helicopter at 13,000 feet above the Swiss Alps...well, I thought wrong. I didn't know SHIT about what was going to happen. My guide, Roland, pretty much told me to sit on his lap while he strapped me in tight (I swear, I was in Switzerland, NOT San Francisco); and then he proceeded to be silent. Yes, you've been told since elementary school that "silence is golden," but in reality, it's a bunch of bullshit when I am about to free fall for 45 seconds with the only slim chance of life after the fall is a fucking canvas that is strapped to THE OTHER PERSON'S BACK. Oh, needless to say, I made it home alive -- alive enough to write this eloquent letter to the ones I love -- and I now can truly say it is a fear not quite conquered, but perhaps backhanded in the face. I was fortunate enough to be able to take videos of the helicopter ride up, and then when our chute deployed, I was able to grab it out of my nifty jumpsuit, and take video of the glide down into the landing. Others were paying 150 CF (Swiss Francs) to pay for this fucking maniac camera dude to shoot them while skydiving, but I said "no no no fucking maniac sir; I will do it myself." I think it's a hell of a lot better seeing as you get my colorful commentary throughout the duration of the most terrifying moment of my life. If you would like, and promise not to get offended by words I'm sure none of you have ever heard, I will post the videos up on facebook, here, or I can e-mail them to you.

All in all, that's pretty much what's going on so far. If I've left anything out, I'm sure it'll come up in conversation later on when I see you all soon. This has already been the most amazing experience of my life, and I will truly never forget it. I'm going to be staying in Rome this weekend (we have Friday classes this week even though we usually don't, but we have to make-up for the Papal Visit we had last Wednesday) -- I just realized I left that out, so I'll make sure to detail that in the next e-mail or post. So hopefully, I'll be sending these more regular, it's just difficult to balance the time to write all of you with school, traveling, and, of course, eating. Send me love in e-mails so I don't think you've forgotten about me! Or else I'll just stay over here until you do. I love and miss you all very much.

Much love,

Joe D.

Rome-ing Around

Milan from the Air

The following is part 1 of a 2 part series I have sent to my family via e-mail. Deal with it, you're getting the hand-me-downs...

Hello all, and welcome to the first installment of "Joe's Adventures with Strangers..."

So this past week has been pretty hectic. It all started last Tuesday with the adventure to Chicago with Lou and MM. There was a huge traffic jam on the way to Chicago somewhere around the Michiana (Michigan/Indiana) area, so Papa D used his wit and grit to somehow maneuver our way to the Windy City -- it was pretty exciting when I wasn't falling asleep.

We stayed at a lovely Double Tree near O'Hare after showing my house near Loyola to Mom and Dad, and then we feasted like kings at Gibson's Steakhouse. I had a lovely cut of beef, thank you for asking.

My parents were even so generous as to let me sleep in their room on a spacious pull out sofa at the foot of their KING SIZE BED for my last night in America! YAY!

Then Wednesday came, and it all hit the fan...

After waking, waiting for Mom to punch her time sheet, and traveling to the airport, we finally realized that Milan was being bombarded with some absurd amount of snow so the airplane couldn't even reach O'Hare. I was stuck.

Luckily, I was introduced to a wonderful guy (Robert Johnson) and we shared a room at the Wyndham right near O'Hare. AirOne gave us the room and some food vouchers for the inconvenience, so it wasn't too bad at all. Looking back, I am happy that we were delayed because it really allowed for a lot of us to get to know each other in a different way instead of the really crappy icebreakers like a trust fall or some name game.

We had to check out by noon, but our flight was scheduled to leave Chicago sometime around 6 or so, so you can imagine how much fun it was sitting in the international terminal for an extended period of time.

The flight wasn't bad at all really. Somewhere over the Atlantic it got a little bumpy, but other than that all was well. We landed in Milan around 11 AM Italy Time, so do the math as to how jet lagged I was (and kinda still am). After being cattled like steer ready for slaughtering, our big group of American tourists boarded a flight specifically being held for us destined for Rome. You can imagine how happy the handful of people waiting on board were when we showed up loud and cranky, eager to get the F off another plane.

We landed in Roma safely, but the baggage sitch is still an issue for a lot of people here. Some don't have bags still (it's almost been a week). Thankfully, I have both of mine so we can stop talking about THOSE people.

Those of us who had both of our bags were then bussed over from the airport to the John Felice Rome Center in Monte Mario. Surprisingly, I was more excited to be closer to a bed than I was to actually be in Italy (Yay ungrateful American!)

I was amazed at how dirty the surrounding areas of Rome are. Every inch of every wall seems to be coated in some form of graffiti. Anything from love notes to swastikas can be found in the blink of an eye -- I would have never imagined it. It's not too bad per se, because it does give me more to look at, but it is a little unsettling to see how people treat their cities no matter the history or beauty the town truly carries. Oh, and no one picks up their dog's shit either so you have to either walk in the street and cheat death with every passing step because the drivers are f-ing maniacs; or you run the gauntlet on the sidewalk and chance smelling like a dog's asshole for the rest of the day. I guess local Italians really think their shit doesn't stink?

I have been able to walk around downtown Roma only once since I have been here! Since we arrived a day later than planned, our orientation schedule that was planned to a T was now consolidated into a lot of great trips! This past weekend we took a bus early in the morning to Tuscany, and stayed in Siena. (More buses, yeah!)

All I could say is WOW. It was gorgeous. I can't even begin to describe (but I will) how gorgeous the countryside is. We stayed at the Hotel Garden -- this amazing hotel villa on a bluff snuggled between the hills just outside of the city. I'll be sending pictures of this place when I can (we don't have wireless in our rooms, I am in a computer lab down the hall right now.)

We were supposed to do all this "planned" stuff Loyola scheduled for us, like lunch, talks, blah blah blah boring right? Of course I was first in line to say F that. Myself with a group of about 7 or so walked (like a 2 mile walk, but it was so worth every step) into town from our hotel because the D'uomo wasn't going to be open the next day when we were "allowed" to have free time. [The D'uomo is the cathedral in downtown Siena, and it is redonculous.] Oh! And along the way is when we stopped to have our inaugural slice of pizza in Italy! Ham and cheese. Yum. So so good.

We walked through the Piazza del Campo too, and this time I really cannot even describe it to you -- words don't do it justice. (If you have seen the opening scene of the new James Bond film, it's the place where the huge horse race takes place in the opening fight scene.) I'll be sending postcards out to all of you, so get ready for some imagery!

Um, there's so much I can tell you but right now I am so overwhelmed that I need to pause and think of what to tell you next! That night we walked back into town and went to a few bars around Siena. Again, gorgeous. I want to live there.

Of course we all went to the sleazy American bar there, but this is after a buddy I met here (who luckily can hold his own in Italian) and I went to a makeshift bar next to an ice rink in the center of town, and met up with some local kids. You know the scene in movies when a guy walks into a room that he REALLY stands out in and everyone looks at him? Yeah, like music stops, everyone stares, and there's no sound but the guy's feet sliding ignorantly across the floor? I am that guy, welcome to my life. Enjoy.

It wasn't too bad though, so I really can't knock it that much.

After we met up with some locals we headed to a few pubs and ended the night there.

We headed back to Rome on Sunday, only to wake up early once again to go to Hadrian's Villa on Monday. It was incredible to walk through his palaces and imagine the Roman Emperor living life within the walls. I'll be sending pics right after this so you can get some visuals too.

Ok, I know I'm a scatterbrain and I hate to do this but I'm stopping right here cause I could keep going on and on and on. So I'll be sending another e-mail real soon cause now we don't have day trips to take all my time away.

(The second part will soon follow...)

Winter Hibernation

It's been a long and grueling winter so far, and I, just as many furry creatures, have taken to hibernation rather than continue spreading my good word via Mr. Feeny. I am now abroad in foreign lands, venturing further than many true men have dared to explore. Italy is practically a third-world country so get ready for some updated versions of my travels. VERY EXCITE!