First Impressions of Italy: From Ancient Ruins to Culinary Delights

First and foremost, I must address the elephant in the room. My blog got a makeover! I felt that it was high time to change things up, and this new era of my life feels like an appropriate segue. In this new and improved website, you can find an updated “About B” page. Mostly nothing is going to change about how the blog works. My posts will remain the same– though hopefully more consistent. I hope to begin implementing some of my own photography into the page, which I began to do with the background image on my home page. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the new theme/layout. On to the post you’ve been waiting for.

My whole life, I have been intrigued by travel. Growing up, I heard countless tales from my father who used to be a truck driver. He taught me how to read a paper map and navigate the world without the internet. My stepdad was a truck driver as well, and I even joined him on a few cross-country trips, both with my family and by myself. I remember having to wake up at the crack of dawn to set out on the journeys. His semi took us at least to Florida and California. I’m sure we visited many more states, but those are the two that stick out in my childhood memories. In California, I remember being in a big city. There was traffic all around, and it was nighttime. I was dosing off and on, waiting to reach our destination. I heard my stepdad exclaim from the driver’s seat, “Look, kids, it’s a self-driving car!”

My brother and I ran to the front of the cab to be able to see out the window. Sure enough, when looking down upon the car, it appeared as if no one were driving it. Looking back, I’m unsure of whether or not I can trust my memories. It seems like it was a bit too early for Elon Musk to be testing out his Teslas. This would’ve happened around 2003 or 2004. Yet, I do remember vividly seeing a car that was seemingly moving of its own accord (no pun intended.)

In Florida, my stepdad played a cruel prank on my brother and I. As we were about to pass by Disney World, he told us he had a surprise. “You thought this was just a business trip, but I actually brought you guys here to go to Disney!” My brother and I were ecstatic. We began jumping and hollering with joy. We quickly began gushing about all of the fantastical Disney characters we were sure to see, and all the rides we would be able to experience. Just as our hopes reached an all-time high, we watched as we passed the signs for Disney and my stepdad made no move to stop the truck. He was laughing heartily as he said the words that became a catch-phrase of his, “Dream on.”

In high school, I dreamed of traveling the country. I didn’t know how I’d do it or what it would look like, but I romanticized the idea of living in my car, driving from place to place. Honestly, I was ahead of my time. These days, van-dweller YouTube channels and blogs are a dime a dozen. I didn’t know of anyone else doing those things back then, but I had a deep desire to explore. I spent countless hours on a website called “stumble upon.” It would take you to random, weird or cool websites. My interests selected for the site included travel so I often “stumbled” upon sites that listed the top 50 places to see in the United States before you die. I was typically most drawn to unusual natural phenomena such as geysers, volcanoes, mountains, and more. I would sit at the park with my friends and tell them of all of these big dreams I had for myself.

Of course, my version of traveling the country went a bit differently, but that’s a story for another time.

International travel was always something that felt inaccessible. At least traveling within the United States could be done somewhat cheaply. Traveling to another country meant having to get a passport, buy plane tickets, find a hotel or hostel, and so on and so forth. It felt daunting, overwhelming, and honestly, I truly believed it would never happen for me. I grew up in a household where we had to count literal pennies to pay the bills or buy groceries. We often had to make big sacrifices just to afford to live. International travel was a luxury I couldn’t even afford to dream about.

So when the opportunity arose to travel to Italy through a course at my community college, I knew immediately I wanted to jump on it. I emailed the professor offering the course and asked about the requirements. She quickly informed me that the cost was a hefty one: $4,000. My first reaction was to tell her that wouldn’t be possible. It was far too much, and it was a daunting ask. I had been working only part time while finishing up my last year of school. I already relied heavily on scholarships, grants, loans, and credit cards. There was no way I was going to get the money on time. The professor understood, but she encouraged me to try. She brainstormed some fundraising ideas with me– such as selling chocolate bars, homemade items, even starting a gofundme. She also told me about some traveling scholarships I could apply for. I met with a financial advisor at school and asked her about my options. Josh was immediately on board and supportive, telling me to do whatever it took to make it happen. It began to feel a little less impossible.

However, it took a long time for it to feel real. Even as I was on the last leg of the journey– a flight from Paris to Rome, I remarked in my journal, “It doesn’t feel real, but neither did being in Paris. Maybe once I get to actually walk around and see the cities proper, it will begin to sink in.”

The journey was arduous and long. I expected to be able to sleep on the flight, but that was far from reality. I was cramped and uncomfortable the entire time, and every time I would begin to fall asleep, I would quickly jostle awake with either turbulence or movement from one of my seat neighbors. By the time I arrived in Rome, I’m sure I looked a complete mess, and I felt completely and utterly exhausted. However, it would still be many hours before I was able to rest.

Our first night in Rome included a welcome dinner with the man, Giuseppe, who was to be our guide while in Rome. La Gallina Bianca (The White Hen) was a cheeky little restaurant that had paintings on the ceiling resembling an open sky light with chickens looking down on us while we dined. The meal was served in multiple courses, one of the first aspects of Italian cuisine that intrigued me. The first course was a simple pasta dish with white sauce. Next, a plate of roasted veggies with some delicious chicken. I enjoyed a zero Zuccheri Coca-Cola and for dessert, the most delicious tiramisu I have ever had. Yet the food was only half the fun.

Throughout dinner, I spoke with our guide, Giuseppe, about his life in Italy. He told me of the many places he had taken tourists to over the years, and asked around the table about everyone’s majors. He was shocked to learn that most of us weren’t even there for the art! While most of one class were art majors, there was an entire other class on the trip with majors that varied from nursing (me) to political science, to finance. When discussing finance, Giuseppe had to show off his 500 euro bill, which are apparently a rare sight these days.

After dinner, those of us that could stand to stay awake any longer joined the art teacher, Minda, on a long walk to the Trevi Fountain and the Spanish Steps. These were my first escapades in the beautiful Italy. I was enthralled with the statues and sights. I found it hard to believe that some people just lived their normal, everyday lives in Rome. It reminds me of how I felt when I first saw the Rocky Mountains. How could people live amongst such beauty and treat it as something mundane? It makes me wonder what exists in my hometown and state that I take for granted.

After a long day, I returned to my hotel room, which was stifling and humid. I threw open the windows (probably my favorite part about hotels in Italy!) and listened to the sound of traffic and people down below. Our hotel was close to Termini Station, which is a bustling train and metro station. I loved hearing the shouts of a language foreign to me, the honking of horns far into the morning hours. After being awake for 27 hours, I was grateful for even the smaller than twin-sized bed afforded to me. I slept deeply, waking early the next day to accommodate our busy itinerary.

Our first full day in Rome was an extremely busy one. Our guide, in an almost reprimanding manner, question our instructors’ decision to pack the day as full as it was. Our first stop was the famous Colisseum. It was as cool and magnificent as I anticipated. We got to go inside it as well, and I took many pictures of the seagulls that loomed around. The place was extremely busy, so it was hard to truly be in the moment and grasp the scope and gravity of it all. Giuseppe rushed us through the guided tour, yet we still ran out of time and practically ran through the Forum so that we would have time for lunch before our afternoon plans. The skies were gray and threatened to break apart with rain at any moment, but the temperature was perfect. As we walked, I couldn’t help but think about how many thousands of people had stepped on the cobblestone roads beneath my feet, and how many centuries had passed in the meantime. It was a surreal moment to be acutely aware of the significance of the history that took place in that very place, with the ancient ruins preserved in this post-modern world.

The next stop was the Pantheon, which we had spent time in class learning about before the trip. We talked about the geometry and architecture of the building. How the squares weren’t squares at all, but the people who built it understood how perspective would be impacted by viewing the ceiling from the ground and adjusted accordingly. We talked about the meaning of the number of squares used, and the hole in the ceiling (which we got to see rain come through,) as well as how the sunlight shines in particular ways during significant times of the year. It all truly baffles me.

We found lunch at a little takeout pizza place. Even their “fast food” was fresh and delicious! After lunch, it was a battle to find a public restroom (which became a theme for the rest of the trip), but we managed to find one at the back of the bakery, just in time to meet our guide for the next leg of the journey. I have to say that, while I can totally appreciate art in all forms, I am in no way a connoisseur of art, especially not paintings or sculptures. I know next to nothing about the Renaissance artists, even after having seen some of the most famous paintings of the time. I was in no way prepared for the sheer beauty I was about to see as we approached the Borghese Gallery. All that I knew walking into it was that it was the home of some rich family that collected art. Boy was I in for a treat.

We entered the first room, and I was immediately stunned. The voice of our guide faded into the background as I took in all of the details. The entire ceiling was covered, wall to wall, in perfectly painted scenes of war, love, and music. Statues painted so realistically that I felt as if I could reach up and feel the hard marble. The way the light was depicted looked divine, as if I were walking into a perfectly preserved piece of Heaven itself. The choice of colors gave the painting a glowing effect that emphasized the otherworldly nature of it all. Yet, that was only one ceiling of one room, and the room itself was filled with countless other artistic treasures. The pure scope of this museum was lost on me that day, but upon reflection nearly brings me to tears just thinking about how much beauty was contained in one building. It makes me feel grateful that there were people who knew these things needed to be preserved, and fought to save them.

I made my way through the rest of the museum in an awed trance. Bernini’s sculptures blew me away. The way he sculpted the marble to look as if it were as soft as flesh. The details of Hades’ spiraling beard, the dogs’ fur, the terror on Daphne’s face as Apollo turned her into a tree. My goodness, words still escape me. I thought if I gave myself enough time, I would be able to transcribe all of the thoughts and feelings I experienced during my trip. Yet here I am, months later, and I am still dumbfounded. It went like this, room after room. Eventually, I wore down, and when we got some free time to explore, I made towards the nearest bar (cafe). I ordered my first espresso, and I did so in Italian, which made me feel really proud of myself.

That evening, a small group of us went on a walk around Rome. As the sun set, it transformed the sky into beautiful shades of pink, blue, and orange. We wandered around until we found a restaurant to stop at for dinner. The owner practically forced us to a table, telling us it had our name written on it. He encouraged us to buy one meat plate for each of us as an appetizer (which would have been $100 without the rest of the meal.) When my friend Corey tried to order a caprese salad, the man informed him that those were “for the women.” We stood up for ourselves, however, and ultimately ordered what we wanted. For a main course, I had gnocchi in a red sauce. It was delicious, but the owner loomed over us, I imagine to get us to leave faster. Eventually we did just that, and by the time I reached my hotel room, I had accumulated 22,000 steps. My body felt every one of those steps, and I gratefully showered and fell into another deep sleep.

My journey to Italy began in an unforgettable way. Every moment surpassed my highest expectations, and I found myself in complete and utter awe. Yet, I was onto something in my previous journal entry, because as I explored, the world before me became more tangible and real with each step I took. Drinking from the public fountains, smiling at passersby, savoring each meal as if it were my last– these were the experiences that brought Rome to life. Even the most mundane sights, such as the architecture, metros, even the Italian police, filled me with inspiration. I was immersed in a world that once seemed unattainable. One that I hadn’t even allowed myself to dream of for fear of disappointment. Yet, there I was.

I have much more to tell you all about my Italian adventure, but I fear if I put it all into one post, it would be the length of a novel. I plan to divide my stories into multiple posts (I’m unsure of how many,) that I hope to publish on a weekly basis. That being said, if you’ve enjoyed this glimpse into my travels, rest assured, it’s only the beginning. There are countless more extraordinary, beautiful, and transformative moments that I’m eager to share with you all.

Thanks for reading, and stay tuned!

Until next time,

B