Two weeks ago, I spent five very rainy days in Northern Italy on a school-organized trip. This means that even though we only had one day of actual class on Monday, the remainder of the week would be spent either in a coach bus or taking tours of various museums, churches, palaces, and other historical sights that we have been learning about throughout the semester. Contrary to popular belief, this was not a “spring break.” I shouldn’t be complaining about this because I only have ONE MONTH of class left before SUMMER VACATION, but having to be up before 7am on what is supposed to be a “break” is, at the very least, slightly disheartening.
And yet again, I digress. All of us set off at 6am Tuesday morning for Ferrara. We arrived six hours later to dreary skies and rain. Even the city looked grey and soggy. In Ferrara we spent an unnecessarily long time viewing and talking about the Po River (equally grey and soggy), visited an old palace used for social gatherings called the Palazzo Schifanoia (the Italians really knew how to party, let me tell you), and the Cimitero Israelitico. This was a Jewish cemetery where we walked to the tomb of Georgio Bassani, one of the most famous and celebrated Italian writers of this century. We spent some time touring the historical center of the town (complete with a castle and a moat!) before the professors set us free in the hotel. My room was without a doubt the coolest hotel room I’ve ever seen, mostly because it was three stories high and had a television, something I haven’t been able to freely use since late December.
The next couple days were spent in Mantua, Ravenna, Padua, and Vicenza. There, we were able to see many pieces of art that we have studied in Art History and tour many of the same churches. Despite my perpetually sleep-deprived and rain-drenched state, this was legitimately cool. The more I see of famous art/architecture, the more I find myself staring at in incredulosity (new word courtesy of Laura H), wondering how the heck human beings were able to create it. The detail, the symmetry, the perfection, the sheer grandeur of these things simply blow my mind. The irrational conspiracy theorist in me wants to give props to the aliens for such work, but deep down I know that the real, significantly less exciting explanation is the answer to that age-old question: “What the heck did people ever do before the internet?”
Ravenna was by far my favorite city on the tour, mostly because it was the only day where we were able to enjoy prolonged sunshine and clear skies. This made our detour to the Adriatic Sea all the more enjoyable. So much so, in fact, that we ended up staying there for nearly half an hour (our program director originally gave us thirty seconds... she was serious). I have been pining away for Lake Michigan for a couple weeks now, and seeing such an incredible expanse of sea unfold before my eyes was very welcome indeed.
Our last day was spent in Bologna, where the weather was still rather grey but precipitation-free. Bologna is home to the oldest university in Europe and you can tell—the heart of the city bears all the signs of a dense student population: trendy little cafes, restaurants that serve things other than pizza and pasta, excellent shopping, and more than enough bars. The hustle and bustle of the crowds and the general layout of the city reminded me of Rome, which made me realize how much I missed it. After one last break for food and caffeine (did I mention that we had to feed ourselves for the entire trip?) we boarded the bus that had been my second home for the better part of five days and headed back home.
Last week was relatively uneventful—I had to remind myself that I had to go to classes again, some of which I hadn’t had in nearly two weeks. Slight buzzkill though it was, my school routine became much more bearable with the introduction of the station churches into my life. Lent in Rome isn’t as obvious as it is back home, where Friday fish fries are a cultural staple for the forty days of limited meat consumption and where nearly everyone you know discussed at length how miserable they are since they gave up ice cream/chocolate/soda/etc. for the next forty days. Here, you would hardly notice that it is Lent. The thought of going meatless on Friday shocks and perplexes the Italians. At one restaurant, it took us nearly fifteen minutes to explain to one waiter why we couldn’t have any of the specials because they all contained meat. His final response? “I’m pretty sure even the Pope is eating meat right now.” Nice.
Back to the station churches. The epic thing about Lent in Rome is that every morning (except Sundays) for forty days, there is a 7am mass at a different church across the city. These are some of the oldest, most fascinating and celebrated churches in Christendom. Some contain the relics of saints and apostles, some house the very tombs they were buried in, and some are built over the sites where martyrs are thought to have been killed. Quite possibly the most incredible thing ever? I think yes. So much so that the idea of consecutive days of 6am wake-up calls doesn’t make me want to weep. I was only able to go to mass three times last week due to Philosophy (go figure), but I absolutely loved it. We were able to spend time with the deacons that work with our program, who are so endearingly awkward and adorable and nice it’s ridiculous. You can tell that they care about us as actual human beings. It’s wonderful. Too bad they’re all pledged to God… anyways, perhaps the most awesome part of the whole experience is the sheer number of priests that are involved in the mass. They sis back by the altar, rows and rows of them, all dressed up in their vestments, chanting in Latin. During the liturgy of the Eucharist, they all speak along with the presiding priest, which only makes the experience all the more powerful. The entire establishment has restored my complete enjoyment of my time here, something that I have been struggling with of late. I’ve fallen in love with Rome all over again, and life is good.
And at the end of last Friday’s mass, Laura and I even ran into one of our fellow marching band friends from Notre Dame who is also studying here for the semester. Right behind her were a group of other Notre Dame students and seminarians, many of them wearing ND sweatshirts. It was one of the most beautiful sights I’ve seen in a long time. Even though I don’t get homesick, I have been going through some very large and violent SMC and ND withdrawals, so seeing them was like seeing a little bit of home in Rome. And because I hate ending compositions with rhymes, I am adding this sentence, which is actually non-value added and largely unnecessary.
(PS: This is my new most favorite place on earth:)
Hahahaha I like your ending sentence. I CAN'T WAIT TO SEE YOU
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