Class, Culture, Clubbing

Went with a couple of my class peers to a play Gabriele d'Annunzio, about a famous poet and solider of Italy. We were invited by a older student in our class, whom was invited by one of his work colleagues. He was from Florida, out of all places and I am inspired by this older man who still has the courage to learn a new language, teach in another country and experience new things.  We went to the Teatro Nazionale. We sat second row and paid only 10 euros with our discount.   It was a great play from what I could understand. I had a bit of a summary through the theater playbill.  It is much easier to read Italian then to understand considering that in any language. The main character portrayed D'Annunzio very well as he was bald and had the signature mustache of the late poet . The passion and hand gestures gave us students some insight of what they might be discussing when words blurred together.  But it was easy to figure out the main plot, as this was an Italian play, women and love! Of course the main character dealt with sex, mistresses and love, or this wouldn't be a play about an Italian man. The lighting and back ground really caught my attention. 

There was a 19th century DJ creating all the sounds and music with a backdrop of an oversized picture frame outlining him, a chandelier overhead and books to prop his keyboard and turning tables. He played multi instruments that I could not even recognize. I  pictured this DJ at a nightclub in Miami somewhere as it really grabbed one's attention.

After the play we headed next door for some delicious pizza. But let me shine some light on some of the night scene in Roma that I experience after the classy part of the night I had. Of course I haven't seen all the nightlife but from what I have experienced past three weekends, me likey! First off, one does not go out to the club here at 11:00pm or 12:00pm or 1:00am for that matter. 2:00/3:00am is more like it. The "guest list" is on average opened until 2:45am. I mean, crap I'm in bed by that time often in Florida nowadays. At first you think to yourself, this is late I don't like it, but you quickly adjust to the Roma lifestyle and PARTY ON! You preparty until 1:00/1:30am and head out. By the time you hit the club no need to buy drinks you're half way to your morning hangover. But I do believe this is why all clubs often charge both male and FEMALE (how dare they) a cover charge because many people do not buy many drinks inside. The cover ranges from 5-15€ but drinks are a little overpriced being from 5-10€ a drink. Saturday night for the first time I took the night bus or I should call it BB (boozin bus). I felt I was on the Later Gator (free bus service in Gainesville, FL) back in college. Everyone was drunk, tired and sweaty but everyone had one hell of a night.  I arrive home on average 5:30am and sleep until 12:30/1pm. Do I feel guilty sleeping in so late because I would normally be on the beach that time? No because I know I'm going to do it all over again tonight.  Festa tempo!

Happy Hour

 Yesterday I went to my first Apertivo. Its equivalent-like event is happy hour in the States. But here one pays around 10-20€ for a small buffet of italian food and any drink on the restaurant's menu. Great deal since a cost for a drink is around 7-9 Euros and they make the drinks strong unlike the water-downed drinks for happy hour Americans are use to. I ordered an Italian Long Island Ice Tea. I know what you're thinking LIIT, yuck I drank those at 18, but it was delicious! Would I have more than 1 maybe 2 holy hangover no!   Most Italians use Apertivo as a social hour for some bites then have dinner later but the food is enough to fill ones even big belly.  Typical food found are pizzas, eggplant with a sort of topping, meatballs, spinach balls, pasta of course, baked zucchini, cheese potatoes and all sorts of "get in my belly" goodies.  To find an apertivo near you, just walk the streets of Roma and look for apertivo signs or just google it!

NOM NOM NOM

Sciopero! Sciopero!

Sciopero! Sciopero! A word one gets to know quickly when one lives in Roma. Strike! Strike! Is all to familiar here. I've been in Italy for just a little over 2 weeks and have already experienced by first Strike. So, today as I attempted to take the metro to my italian classes, the entrance was closed. I already had an idea as many have warned me about this strikes but I thought the strikes were only for busses.  I live near Termini, the main metro and train station. Think of it as Grand Central or Port Authority in NYC shutting down for a few hours. No big deal! Right? I mean there were numerous tourists standing around confused and without luck trying to find someone who speaks english. They had suitcases and worried faces that they wouldn't make their flight or train. I helped a young man stating that it's a strike and common in Italy. I wish I could have helped in some way more but I was running late for my own class and had to figure out what my next step would be. 

Luckily the small amount of Italian I know I somehow managed to read the Advisor and speak with a Italian of what was the matter. A strike was occurring and it was to end at 2:00pm. I was running late for class and decided to walk to the next station that was roughly 10 minutes away. My thoughts came over me. No warning, no international signs to help the tourists, what was this strike about. Did it accomplish anything? A matter of fact it did. It made tourists confused, workers late, gave the metro employees a day off and gave me a wonderful brisk walk to another station. I laughed my way to the next station Cavour, thinking how there ever was a Roman empire when there are strikes as often as pizzerias. Although if this happened in US, especially NYC, all hell would break loose and I'd be the one to open the flood gates, but we're in Italy. See everything with the glass half full is my mode. I mean I wasn't worried I was late because everyone is going to be late. So if I was a worker I'm getting paid and get a break to arrive late because some Union decides they want Tuesday afternoon off, so be it. My professor stated to me that the strikes often happen on Friday. Even better! Strolling to work in 1-2 hours late is my kind of Friday. I wonder how effective these strikes are. I think we should implement them more in the US. Gather your co-workers pick a date that works best for everyone to have off, strike and enjoy your day off. I like you Romans, who know how to live.

Enough dreaming. Roma has two metro lines A and B. They are usually efficient and easy way to get around the city. Today, the metro was pleasantly empty for once. There were seats empty as you can see. Normally, when you take the metro in Roma, its packed more than the latinos pack their luggages with saran wrap when they travel to South America.   Hooray for strikes!

Side Note: Passes, Gypsies, Crazies.

Keep your metro pass at all times with you. Because the "metro police" will do random checks at the entrances and exits to see if you have paid. I have already been checked to see if I was a paying costumer.  And THIS is what they are worried about but to hell with getting you on time to where you need to be. There are monthly passes that you can purchase. But wait, another obstacle. They are not for 30 days from where you purchased it, because that would be too easy. Its for each month of the year. So buy early and save later!  You can only purchase them at small stores (where magazines or tobacco are sold). They do not sell at the normal machines, why you ask? Because they quickly run out of them. There are only a limited amount and you must buy them preferable at the end of the month or right in the beginning and hope you be so lucky to obtain one.

Gypsies, well they're everywhere. Not just in Roma but around the world but it's something to be addressed. Don't look at them and don't look at their children. Keep your bags close and don't ever let your guard down. I dodge a gypsy at least once a day crossing streets to not get spit on if I don't give them MY own hard working money.

Crazies. I think America shipped some crazies over to Europe to let them deal with the ever growing population. Past week, I have walked by several American homeless crazies. Am I being insensitive? How do I know they're American? Easy if you dare to even lock eyes with one, it will send off their aliens in their head and they shall condemn you to hell, tell you to fuck off followed by every curse word in the english language, ask you what are you doing in your life etc. etc.  Are they crazy? Absolutely! They talk to themselves into the window reflections screaming, spilling whatever drink they may have on the sidewalk or perhaps if you're lucky on you or your shoes.  So as you can see, its an obstacle course to often walk the streets in Roma, but like I said, look at it as a half full glass, entertainment and make sure you know what you're doing with your life because some stranger just might shift the alien in your head as he condemns you to hell. God speed through the streets of Roma!

Lord Help Me Find My Way

Born as a Roman Catholic, I have somehow lost my way to God. My belief stayed with me through college but my education and life experiences have brought me further away from any kind of religion. God, an adult's imaginary friend, One who helps keep people sane and from destroying each other. I still prayer and often talk to my Imaginary Friend but I want to believe again in my God. I often wonder when times are the roughest and I am sitting and praying for my Lord to help me not go crazy in my own mind, if its my own strength getting through my demons or if its God sending me an angel for guidance and peace of mind. 

They say the biggest religion is non-religion and I get it, but I so desperately want to believe again.

Pope Bendict XVI resigned Monday February 11,  2013. First Pope who has done so since the 15th Century. Ash Wednesday passed this week and instead of giving up something as most Catholics do, I decided to give in to God and be a practicing Catholic in one of the most Roman Catholic cities. I pray it leads me back into my faith in God and helps calm my soul.

What better way to begin my mission to become a Catholic then begin on Ash Wednesday, visiting the Pope. I played hooky from school on Ash Wednesday and in light of the Pope's resignation decided to see the one closest to God. I woke up bright and early and headed to the Vatican to try to get a ticket into the Mass. My luck they had one. Usually you have to obtain a ticket to visit the Pope in one of his weekly group masses or in a special Mass such as Easter or Christmas. Tickets are usually obtainable by the Swiss Guards (ones in purple and yellow stripped joker suits) by the bronze doors but that morning I was to go to the Vatican post office. 

I arrived about 2 hours early from the start of the mass at 10:30am. The seats were already filling up. I thought to myself these 2 hours of waiting are going to take forever but to my surprise it was a delightful entertaining couple of hours. There was a full orchestra band from Germany playing their songs from their state which happens to be the same state the Pope is from. How did they get those instruments passed security beats me, but I fully enjoyed their music.  There were choirs from all over the world sharing their voices to the crowd. As we waited patiently, punctually the Pope arrived on time and as he got on stage, the crowd rose to their feet and cheered as if the Superbowl champs just walked on stage. I felt a sudden joy within and my happiness grew from seeing such believers and followers of the Pope that I to wanted to believe as deeply as these Catholics believed. 

I  have seen many pictures of Pope Benedict and thought he looked a bit demonish but as the man walked on stage, I saw a man who has a lifetime of experiences who looked like he couldn't hurt a fly. After all he is my babcia's (grandmother's) age.  The experienced Pope spoke around 8 languages speaking Italian, French, English, German, Spanish, Portuguese... As each language was spoken, people with the native tongue cheered loudly with followers performing for the Pope through their song of prayer or sound of music played by instruments. 

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It was by far a wonderful experience. I will be awaiting the Papal Conclave that is to occur in the following weeks and to meeting the next Pope that is to come. Till then May God Bless you as he has blessed me.

The Good, The Bad and The Ugly

I took a journey out side the Roma center, traveling by bus for 40 minutes to the large mall, Porta de Roma to fix my Mac battery. Several observations were made which as should call The Good, The Bad and The Ugly.

The Good:        Presently, Carnival is taking place in Italy. Celebration before lent and Ash Wednesday, children dress up in costumes, throw confetti at each other, masked parties the usual. The confetti is seriously everywhere. In the squares, in the mall and the actual stores making the streets look like a party for my soles. I love the smiling children and many princesses dressed up.

   

 Another great thing about the mall in Italy is dogs are allowed, and not just the little rats and ones you can fit in strollers, big dogs. They are not allowed in the actual stores but you can take a stroll inside the mall no questions asked.  I just wonder what happens if there is ever an accident.

The Bad:       Italian men, where do I begin? Here a group of men have a friendly match of soccer behind the symbol of Roma, the Colosseum.  As I strolled pass on my walk home, Italian men started to say "Ciao Bella." Many think this is a charm of Italians, but I got an insider look from friends I have met in Italy and discussed that the Ciao Bella is often used as power tool that the men are in control. They think their charm and their consistent Mother's praises through the childhood and adulthood makes them some God's gift to women. Ciao Bella will never have the same meaning to me again as it is used against women to show this. I ignore the men with their Ciao Bellas and snap a photo and continue to walk. Another man decides it to take it further and start talking dirty. I do not know Italian but in Italy its all about the hand motions and his hands were below the belt that made a clear translation. 

The Ugly:         Completely disgusted. As I took my bus ride to the mall, there were no seats available. I stood for the 40 minutes and had no complaints. My complaint, my disgust comes yet again from the Italian men that simply lack manners. Of course when I state Italian men, not all Italians are like this but far too many observed the past week and today show that this is an ugly part of their culture I do not like.  An elderly woman with a cane enters the bus. There are no seats available. Two men are sitting down and did not get up. It took roughly a minute or two before a WOMAN gave up her seat for the elderly woman. The women are no different as they look away from the elderly. 

One thing my grandmother taught me since I was 5 years old, was when I was traveling on the tram in Poland. I had to consistently give up my seat for the elders, pregnant women, women with children, women that were reaching elderly ages, basically almost everyone except men and minors. My grandmother would pull me from my seat immediately when someone entered the bus that could use the seat more for a benefit than my young self. Here apparently, they were not taught the same. 

As different stops approached and seats were exchanged, seniors stood holding tight to the rails while the others sat comfy in their seats.  A seat opened up by me and as I approached it, a woman's boyfriend ran and snagged it from me. The women are no better, because Lord knows if my man did that his cute little tush would be pulled by the ears right up as quickly as he ran to sit down. But here the women say nothing and begin their conservation to their "godly like" boyfriends. One thing I did notice were the foreigners that have migrated here from other countries, were apparently taught by the same kind of grandmother I had. They gave up seats to women, seniors children alike.  And it's not about the giving up a seat so I can sit my pretty self down. The men don't hold doors open here, they rush in front of you, running you over almost through the doors, they talk down to you, and dare I say it, almost rape you with their eyes as they hold their "cazzo or minchia".

My trip back was pleasant I got a seat and sat quietly in the corner. I could not wait to get home as my stroll through the huge mall has wore me down.  The ending could not be any more perfect, as I entered the bus for my journey home, the people did not wait for the group to exit at the last stop. They charged to quickly get a seat!! They pushed over a father and mother with a child and stroller because they were slowing down entering the bus. Good God I though if I only knew Italian my mouth would be going off, cursing the people to their graves. As I arrived to the last stop, my stop, I exited the bus. Wait I tried to exit the bus, but the crowd charged through the bus and as I squeezed past the people a woman in her 40s shoved me off the bus. If I wasn't so drained, I would have shoved her back and got my survival New York City attitude on her!   My motivation to learn and speak Italian is greater than ever so I may be the big mouth I am and give these people a lesson or two about life and manners. Till then Ciao Belli!

Note to Self: Do Not Bring Heels to Roma

Yesterday was a beautiful day to have a walk through my new neighborhood of Roma. I walked with my new friend Lilli, my flatmate's girlfriend, as she was familiar with the city having visited here a few times. Within a 15 minute walk we arrived to the heart of Roma. Campo di Fiori, a known place of young people at night,  where vendors had just finished cleaning up from the market that was there that morning.

Within a couple of minutes of leaving a shoe maker where Lilli  wished to have some heels redone the bottom of my fairly new boots came off from the cobble stone streets. WELCOME to ROMA! But I decided to give my boots a run for their money before I myself needed to go to the shoe maker. I' m glad I decided not to bring any stilettos, and settled just for wedges. I don't know how the Italians buy such expensive nice shoes and walk this rough streets, but this is what makes Roma Roma, the preservation of his culture/history/heritage and its cobble stone crooked streets.

 It became a beautiful day and as I walked pasted this Roman buildings I could not imagine that I am living here. Actually living in Roma!

Crossing the streets is like playing chicken. There are often no pedestrian cross lights but one must embrace the Rondos without any fear and take the leap in front of cars, buses, trucks and Vespas and pray that they will stop. Which they always do, but sometimessss just sometimes your life flashes before your eyes for a second as the bus rapidly breaks, squeaking its tires to allow you to cross. The key trick to survival is take the leap with a group in hope that if someone gets hit the odds are in your favor.

My day concluded having a stop at the local shoe maker to fix my boots. Although I did not speak any Italian, it was enough to show my shoes as this is a common occurrence in Roma. This man must be pretty wealth off.  15 minutes, 6 costumers later, the shoe maker made me new rubber bottoms so I would not slip on the marble sidewalks and made me a sturdier heel. I wonder how long these new bottoms will last. Till then, for only 14 Euros you too can have brand new soles.

Appartamento Adventures

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Living in a building that was built in the 1800s comes with its challenges and adventures.  My keys were Not a challenge but look more like a work of art. I love the roman keys for the apartments that really resemble the old Rome.

My room originally was divided my two single beds, Jersey Shore style. I mean who really sleeps on a single bed except those crazy kids from Jersey. This is common among Roma but luckily my room came with two single beds that now make my wonderful queen bed.  Room could definitely fit an air mattress for any visitors : ). 

The only downside I'm facing with is that there is no heating system in these old buildings, so I'm freezing my buns off.  I dress in sweaters, socks and pants and still feel as if I was right outside in the cold. This little heater left in the room is what I am dealing with. BUT when all the flatmates turn on their heaters there is a power/internet outage... soooo to say the least this is the BIGGEST problem.. but I have Polish blood I should be use to this kind of weather.  Brrrr I can't wait for March to come around.

Off to Roma

Flying Alitalia was off to a rough start, going through security twice walking to another terminal but as soon as I stepped into the airbus, the experience became pleasurable.

My seat 21A no one barely speaks English and I'm sitting next to an older lady so lets call her grandma. At first she seemed mad that I had the empty seat next to her, especially the window. But we quickly became aircraft friends as she saw me struggling to take my boots off. She got out of her seat and motioned me to bring my feet in the air. We both struggled to pull my boots off and shared a laugh. Grandma rocks. I cannot wait for Italy !