"This is where Jesus lives, right?"

We went to the church of all churches today -- the Vatican. My main concern about going to the Vatican was not about being a half-Jewish/not even close to Catholic girl but was simply hoping that the other tourists in the Vatican weren't jerks when we were all so close to God...

I don't think people really cared where they were in relation to God because they were just as obnoxious as always and no one seemed to appreciate when I stated that I shouldn't have to wait in line because I am, after all, one of God's chosen people whether the Catholic church admits it or not. I think I will have to come back to Europe just so I can teach everyone the concept of personal space and how to apologize after you elbow someone (me) in the head.

It was actually really hard to find our way around the Vatican when we first got there because they had really poor signage; when my mom commented on this, I said that it was done on purpose because God works in mysterious ways... [this is where my mom rolled her eyes -- a maneuver she repeated frequently as I continued to make unfortunate, yet entirely harmless, religion-based jokes]

If you ever find yourself at the Vatican, I highly suggest booking your tour of the museum/Sistine Chapel online like we did because it meant we could sleep in this morning and happily pass everyone else who was stuck in line. Booking online didn't spare us all of the drama though -- we were big nerdburgers and also pre-booked the audio tour, which would have been great if they'd given us the right tickets when we first got there, instead we had to run up and down a whole bunch of stairs and argue with a lot of people who were convinced that they knew what we were trying to say before we'd even started talking until we could finally get our guides and start our tour. During this fiasco, my mom made a joke worthy of me and said "If I die in the Vatican, do I go to Heaven faster?" Thankfully, we did not find that out.

All of the art in the Vatican is incredible, but people are still awkward, so it was often crowded and uncomfortable. After you've gotten through/survived the Vatican museum, you get to the reason why 99% of the people are there -- the Sistine Chapel.

Ceiling to floor of Michelangelo/Renaissance perfection, the Sistine Chapel is glorious. With the audio guide, I got to hear all sorts of things about Michelangelo's Last Judgment and although the facts were rather dry and it felt like it would never end, I learned a lot and really got to appreciate what I was seeing.

We also visited St. Peter's Basilica. And I had thought I was churched-out... This place was unlike any of the other churches I've visited in the past three weeks or ever and while I still haven't decided what my favorite church is, this one is a contender. While each church I've visited has been spectacular in its own way, I felt like I could stay in St. Peter's for days and still not see everything.

Also after hunting through literally all of Rome for postage stamps and coming up empty, I was able to buy them at the Vatican so my mail is now Pope approved!

And now, a moment of silence as this is the last day of the trip and I must start my big girl life when I get home tomorrow. Or I could just run away in the middle of the night and assume a new identity and stay in Europe forever which is a serious possibility.

Back to the Beach

Today we escaped the heat and crowds in Rome for the coastline (I know, it's shocking since we clearly hate the beach). Whitney's school was "organizing" a field trip there, so we were able to tag along with her and her friends instead of having to navigate independently.

I used quotation marks for the word "organizing" because getting there was an absolute mess. The group was probably 40 or 50 people (plus two trip leaders and two Jaffe stowaways) so when the first bus came to take everyone to the train station, only half of the group could get on and we were left to wait for the next bus. When that bus came, we still couldn't fit all of the remaining people on and since there was only one remaining "leader" we couldn't take the bus. The leader wanted us to stay and wait for another bus to come by but we suggested that we just walk there since it was only about 15-20 min away. Brilliant. At the train station, we had to buy tickets -- the students didn't know this, mostly because no one ever seems to pay for public transportation in Rome but also because they'd been told that this was a free trip. The train itself was death and we had to ride it all the way to the very last stop. When we got to said stop and disembarked the trip leaders basically said, well, be free -- what they neglected to say was that the free beach that the students had been promised was actually two kilometers away and that you needed to pay to go to the beach that we'd been dropped off at. Everyone is not hoping that these will not be the people responsible for handling the weekend trips to Tuscany and Capri that Whitney will be taking with the school.

This beach was very different from those in Capri -- first off, it was cheaper. But it was an actual sand beach! Susan collected some sand, obviously, but this was black sand and as far as we can remember Susan doesn't have any black sand (for those of you who are wondering, my mother has sand from the coasts of Cohasset, California, Sydney, Australia; Perth, Australia; the Cape of Good Hope and probably more). I'm not sure that this sand was any more conducive to walking than the rocks in Capri were though because it was burning hot.

The water here was probably warmer than in Capri, but not nearly as clear. I could still see my feet, but it was murky. Another major difference were the waves! This beach had them while Capri had none and floating on your back over waves -- the amount of buoyancy was the same in both place -- is a lot of fun.

While my mom succeeded in finding sand, I was also able to find more shells! When we first got there, I was a little disappointed because my first search yielded very few results and what I did find looked very similar to what I'd found at Capri so there would be no way of telling them apart. This all changed when Whitney's friend, Mustache Will (named for his very distinctive handlebar mustache... although it isn't as good of a nickname as my Woodchuck Will) came out of the water with all sorts of shiny things. He said that you needed to walk out a little further and just feel around with your feet... easily enough done and I found all sorts of exciting things. These things are quite different from my shells from Capri as well -- my shells from Capri are mostly an assortment of colorful curly-q gastropod shells while the shells I found today were monstrous, metallic oyster shells. I found wayyy too many to take with me so after careful examination, I chose my favorites and let Whitney's friends fight over the rest.  Bringing these home is about as practical as bringing home the rocks from Capri, but I'm doing it and paperweights for everyone!

Also, despite my use of SPF 70, I am really dark now... So dark, in fact, that while I'm sitting in the lobby of our hotel to get a legitimate WIFI signal, I just had two different people come over to me and ask me if I speak English because they thought I was Italian and worked here.

What Dreams Are Made Of

If you think I've already made too many Lizzie McGuire references in this blog, you're probably right, but I'm not the least bit sorry for it.

Ya know that thing we've been doing so well, where we get up at dawn to beat the crowds at whatever sight we're going to see? That didn't work out for us today because we overslept. Luckily, however, the Coliseum is a big place so we didn't have a problem getting in.

When I say big, I mean it. (Although, because we nerded out and got the incredibly long and detailed audio guide, we did learn that the Coliseum's name is not a reference to it's colossal size). There was one major flaw in our visit and that was that I forgot to say "Sing to me, Paolo" and do the move until we'd already exited the Flavian Amphitheater, but better late than never, I guess.

After that, we visited the Roman Forum. Nothing funny happened on our way/while we were there unless you count getting hot and sweaty. If this breaks your musical theatre-loving heart, one funny thing to happen today was when we bought our tickets for the Coliseum and my mother told a woman that I was 23... I'm not 23 and I think my mom should know that because I'm under the belief that she was there when I was born. My mom was a bit disappointed by the Forum and I really don't think she appreciated me shouting "Where them Virgins at?" as we looked for the Temple of Vesta and the living quarters of the Vestal Virgins. The whole thing was sort of a bunch of mismatched "buildings" (mostly ruins and the occasional sign that declared where something used to be) and there were a lot of cobblestones to trip over. She did have me take a lot of pictures for her high school Latin teacher though, but I found this particularly strange since she isn't in touch with him and because he's probably dead.

After the Forum and its non-fun, we got lunch and then it was time for one of my favorite tourism activities ever -- the hop on/hop off bus!!! This was Susan's first hop on/hop off experience and I think she did very well (if you think that getting on and off one of these buses isn't hard, then you clearly haven't seen 99% of the people who try to do it).

We took the bus to the Trevi Fountain to make our wishes just like Lizzie McGuire did... except not really because there wasn't any water in the Fountain; there was scaffolding. Apparently the Fountain is under construction (which I'd heard in Venice, but was hoping that would no longer be the case). We could still see a lot of the Fountain though and were super impressed with what we could see. Also, because Rome is smart, they set of a little area of water where you could still throw in a coin and make a wish. I will say that Disney let me down a bit here because my wish for adventure was not immediately granted in the form of an Italian pop star.

We walked a few blocks from the Fountain to the Spanish Steps -- another one of the places visited by Ms. McGuire. I showed some restraint here by not doing a cartwheel as seen in a certain movie that shall remain nameless but has already been referenced like six times in this singular blog post.

After that, we got on our bus and found our way back to our hotel where we now await the arrival of one Ms. Whitney Jaffe who shall be dining with us this evening.

When (Back) In Rome

We spent our last few hours in Capri doing some last minute shopping before returning to the water. Instead of going back to Marina Piccola, we went to Punta Carena and the lighthouse. The lighthouse was a lighthouse and while it was important at some point during the history of Capri, we enjoyed it from afar and didn’t get a closer look. My mom said that Punta Carena was a beach; this is not true, it was a stretch of rocky coastline where you could jump straight into the crystal, clear water.  I would say that this would be a better hideout for mermaids/sirens than Marina Piccola, but I am neither Homer nor a Homer scholar so my opinion on the matter is moot. To get down to the water, you had to walk down the rocks and over the hoards of sunbathers, who all resembled lazy seals on the beach, and then you just dive right in (or take the ladder, which is what I did). Once again, it was impossible to tell how deep the water was and since I couldn’t simply walk in and get even the slightest bearings that way, I don’t think I’ll ever actually know.

After my mother was dragged away from her new dream home, we were on the ferry and off the island, headed back to Rome. Ferry to train, train to taxi and taxi to hotel. The most interesting (and by “interesting” I mean equal parts difficult and mortifying) was when we thought we wouldn’t make it on the train if we walked all of the way back to our compartment, so we got on in the 4^th cart and walked all of the way back to the 11^th.

We’re staying at the same hotel we stayed in the night before we dropped Whitney off – at least, we thought we were. When we got to the hotel, they inexplicably (or maybe it was explicable but we still haven’t mastered the language barrier) had us shuffle down the street to another hotel/apartment building and that is where we are now.

My mom is also making fun of my newfound FIFA addiction and subsequent withdrawal – when we first got back to Rome, we couldn’t find the game (France v. Germany) on our TV and I was distraught. I still think that soccer (or football… is it pretentious if I call it football now?) is a really awful sport, but I need my FIFA!!! I settled by channel surfing until I found Gilmore Girls in Italian, which eased the pain a little but after numerous attempts, we managed to find the right channel (it was #1…) and now I’m happily watching Brazil v. Columbia (Brazil just scored!)

The only way I'm getting my mother to agree to leave here is by promising that someday, I will buy her a house in Anacapri that will be full of the custom-made leather sandals she can't afford and a little Italian lady who will teach her how to speak the language and cook pasta. This is a promise that I fully intend on keeping by the way and I might throw in a motor boat so she won't have to take the ferry when she comes here.

Italy is seriously lacking in their 4th of July spirit. Just saying...

Our Day in the Mediterranean

My mom rises much earlier than Whitney does, so early starts are getting easier and easier. We bagged the boat tour around the island when we saw all of the morning haze -- it wasn't a cloudy day, we just weren't in the mood. 

Deciding not to go on the boat tour meant that we could head over to Villa Jovis, and by head over, I mean up. Villa Jovis is the second highest point in Capri, but unlike the highest, Monte Solaro, there isn't a chairlift. It is the remains of a palace built by the Roman emperor, Tiberius, in 27 AD. I don't think that it had originally been on our "must-see" list or even a planned destination at all, but Oscar Wilde mentions Tiberius and his palace on Capri in passing in the most plot-less chapter (11) of his not-so-thinly veiled social commentary, The Picture of Dorian Gray, so I decided that we should go and my mother decided to indulge this whim.

She probably regretted that decision as when we got halfway through our 90 minute walk to the summit. Actually, she told me that; she also said that if I rushed through looking at the ruins, she would throw me off the cliff like Tiberius apparently did to his wives. 

Clearly I was not thrown off the cliff. The ruins were very cool -- I'm not really sure why Tiberius felt the need to make this specific location his home, especially when it was practically unaccessible and he apparently had twelve other smaller castles on the island, but we went, we saw and we conquered. I think we might have been more excited by it all if we a) weren't completely exhausted and b) weren't going to see all sorts of ruins in Rome, but Rome won't give us an incredible panoramic view of Capri, so there's that.

The walk back down was not nearly as treacherous and took less than half the time as well. We got lunch and then a lemon slush for dessert (because lemons are a big deal here). During lunch, we spent a little time debating what we should do next -- should we take the bus to Marina Piccola and go to the beach or go look for another boat tour? I voted for the beach and because I'm equal parts logical and obnoxious, my mom agreed. 

Someone, somewhere along the way decided that Marina Piccola was where Ulysses was apparently seduced by the sirens and I can see why -- I actually think it seduced my mom as well because she didn't want to leave and is now saying that she is never going to leave Capri at all. When we got there, we decided to rent chairs and sit on the private side of the beach because we hate co-habitating with the unwashed masses (plus we didn't have any chairs or towels of our own and this simplified things). 

Susan wasn't feeling the beach at first, mostly because it was a rock beach and not a sand beach. I must admit, rock beaches are a lot more painful than their traditional counterparts, but that doesn't usually deter me. Once we'd found our spot, I practically had to drag her into the water -- the crystal clear water, the absolutely perfectly beautiful, crystal clear water. I think it's sort of sad when sea water looks clearer than your swimming pool at home, but that is what we were dealing with. We were pretty graceless getting in (it goes back to that whole rock beach thing, because hot rocks and slippery rocks are not conducive to walking and we had both) but after that, things were glorious.

The really crazy thing about the water was that you couldn't tell how deep it was. At one point, we swam all of the way out to the edge of the swimming area and we could still see the bottom; the only way I knew was if my feet were touching the ground. Also, I naturally sink. One time, Whitney told me that her superpower was buoyancy and since I'm made of lead, I would actually believe that, but in the Mediterranean, you float, so that was another new and exciting experience for me. 

My mom also has this thing about collecting sand from the different beaches we've visited, but since this was a rock beach, it meant hunting for the perfect rocks to bring home. (Rocks are clearly not practical souvenirs, but as long as they don't have to go in my suitcase, I'm ok with it). I also went looking for sea shells because they're shiny and much easier to carry than ya know, rocks. 

I can't tell you how long we spent at the beach because I honestly don't know. We went from the early afternoon until they were closing up, but it was too relaxing to worry about the time! 

"Neh-ver lee-ving" -- Susan Jaffe

Capri so far

What has happened to us on Capri so far? I'm glad you asked.

This morning, we got up early and ready to start our day. I put on a thick layer of SPF 900 because I think the only thing worse than getting a sunburn on vacation would be Hell itself and it is hot and sunny here. 

We took the bus to the Grotta Azzurra (Blue Grotto) this morning at 8 in our on-going attempt to not deal with crowds and that was a great plan, except that tours didn't start there until 9. Faced with that, we decided to get back on the bus and return to our hotel for some breakfast. After breakfast it was back to the Blue Grotto, which was then open for business. 

I'd like to take a moment to state that we were not the only people who didn't realize that they weren't open until 9 and that we couldn't find any signage to assist us figure out what the hours were until we hunted through one of our guide books -- laboring over every word and sentence -- where we found the answer hiding in like size 0 font. 

When we returned, things were booming -- while it had been a ghost town at 8, a few hours made all the difference because there were charter boats were floating outside the Grotto and about 2 dozen canoes were vipping back and forth to take tourists inside. 

So a "grotto" is defined as a small, picturesque cave, and boy, was the entry into this Grotto small. We had to lie down, flat on our backs, to fit through. I wasn't 100% convinced that the boat was even going to fit and with the waves knocking against, I'm actually convinced that I died in that moment.

The revelation that I'd died was probably a pretty common one here, since once inside the Grotto, you saw colors that only a god could have imagined. Those colors would be blue, obviously, but it was the type of blue that makes artists throw away their work because they'll never truly be able to capture something so perfect. It's the sun's reflection through the seawater that creates this picture for those of you who were wondering about the science behind this.

Because my mom makes friends with EVERYONE, our tour guide from the Blue Grotto is giving us a private ride around the island tomorrow (we're paying him for the charter, of course, but it's way cheaper than what we were planning on paying someone else). He also offered to let us take a quick swim in the Grotto, which is most definitely illegal. Not to implicate my mother in any international crimes, but one of us went in and it wasn't me. 

We then visited the historic center of Anacapri. Susan wanted to visit the various churches and I went along, even though I'm getting close to being churched-out and am saving the last of my stamina for the Vatican. We ate lunch at Ristorante Barbarossa; Barbarossa was apparently a pirate and you could apparently see his castle from the restaurant, but we didn't see it so something is wrong with us or the guidebook. My mom kept saying Barbosa -- sorry, Mom, he isn't real, neither is Jack Sparrow and we're visiting the wrong sea anyways. I ordered pizza (what a surprise!) and unlike everywhere else in Italy and the world, where it is either a small, one-person pizza and/or cut up into slices, this was one giant pie and I was left to fend for myself. Mom and I also split some calamari and it came with these monster lemons that were about the size of apples; they gave us more lemon than squid!

Although we didn't leave Anacapri, we ventured out a little further to visit the Villa San Michele, which was a big house built by this Swedish doctor/author, Axel Munthe, who along with being rather eccentric, probably had some side action going on with the Queen of Sweden. (Although the museum did not confirm nor deny this statement, it was heavily implied from their provided information). So, Axel was an animal lover, a collector of antiquities and obsessed with death and when combined with copious amounts of money these factors will lead to a unique household. At a whopping 327 meters high, this house had glorious views of the entire island and Mt. Vesuvius (this is where Whitney would have taken a panoramic photo if she were here). The best part, however, was Axel's mysterious sphinx statue that looks away from his house. It's apparently impossible to see the face from the property but if you touch it's hindquarters with your left hand and make a wish, that wish will come true. So, yes, Nemo touched the butt and I touched the butt.

After that, we took the chairlift to the top of Monte Solaro. It didn't occur to me until I was on the lift that I don't think I've ever actually been on a real ski lift before and that I don't think I like it. About halfway through the 13-minute ride from the ground to the summit, I started to release my death grip and enjoy myself a little bit. Would I do it again? Well, I had to to get back down, so yes. 

Monte Solaro is the highest point in Capri at 589 meters, meaning that this is the other part of the day where Whitney would have used the panoramic function on her iPhone. It made the view from Axel's house a tid bit insignificant. 

After that, we returned to our hotel. The thing about our hotel is that it has a sister hotel and this sister hotel is like the cooler, older sister that has a swimming pool and a restaurant and who everyone wants to hang out with; since we are staying here, we get a free shuttle to go over there and we decided to take advantage of that. It was glorious; pools are nice even when there are parents yelling the most horrible things at their children (and we heard a lot of screaming and while I'm not sure what the Italian parents were saying, the American parents were pretty ruthless with their kids). Mom was disappointed that the water wasn't warmer, I was disappointed that she barely went in the water with me, but I got to swim and we both got to soak up some sun, so no one was unhappy. (Also, a pool with a view? Epic!). 

Now we are back at our real hotel, where I am celebrating having worn a bikini in public for the first time in like 10 years by eating Oreos and examining my tans lines (I reapplied my SPF 900, which was really SPF 70, at least three times today and I still got some color -- a lot of color, actually). My mom has disappeared in true Susan-fashion and eventually we shall start preparing for our evening activities -- a return trip to our big sister hotel for dinner and the sunset with my mom's intern from work and her family (yeah, Susan has an intern; she's a big deal).

We have internet in Capri!

This should be obvious because otherwise, I wouldn't be blogging, but it's still quite exciting.

Our journey to the island of Capri was a long one and our trip to our hotel in Anacapri was an even longer one, so buckle up kids, it's story time.

After we moved Whit in, we were on the bus to the train station and then it was the train station to the boat. I'll skip the bus and train portions because everyone has been on a bus and/or a train and can imagine a rather dull ride for themselves. The only difference was that this bus ride took us past the Coloseum.

So the ferry... Ahhh. Yeah, about that. It's roughly 45 minutes from Naples to Capri and for whatever, reason, this ferry was full of people who made me want to jump overboard before we'd even left the port. We sat on the top level so we could enjoy the view and while there was lots to look at, we couldn't actually see anything because our fellow passengers were so determined to take photographs of everything! There was a woman with the iPad who seemed to be on a mission to videotape the whole ride. Why yes, ma'am, that is Mt. Vesuvius but do you really need to relive every second you spent looking at it, from a boat, for the rest of time? There was the other woman who wanted to take pictures of the scenery and then pictures of her family in front of the scenery and then pictures of her self in front of the scenery and didn't seem to mind elbowing me in the head to do it. She almost fell over at one point but don't worry, she used my backpack to save herself, crushing half of my things in the process. Didn't even stop to thank my backpack for performing a civil service either... Tsk tsk. Other than that, Suze just wanted to know why the water didn't look as blue as she thought it would (it looked blue once we got into shallow water and that satisfied her).

Getting off the boat was difficult, partially because we were still on the boat with the same horrible people but also because the people going back to the mainland were determined to get on the boat before we could get off and they outnumbered us about 20 to 1.

We came into Marina Grande and I'll admit that after the boat ride and dealing with the aforementioned people, I was a bit of a grump. The Marina Grande was a bit like Cape Cod on the 4th of July except that there was more gelato and people carrying umbrellas (seriously though, if you don't want a tan, why did you come to the beach?!). We had to call our hotel to pick us up which meant standing in Marina Grande for a lot longer than anyone would like to after they've been traveling for almost four hours, but we were finally able to escape away.

And I mean away. Anacapri is up in the mountains and absolutely unreal. The roads were paper-thin and swerved like something out of a car commercial. After the smog of fellow travelers, this was a real life Febreeze commercial with a gust of fresh air to sweep away our troubles. And now we're sitting in our room, which was upgraded for no apparent reason, with the window open, listening to various friendly birds and staring at copious amounts of green and blue (plants, ocean and sky). Plus, free wifi.

Whitney is basically moved in. She's a chatterbox so she already knows everyone's business and everyone knows hers. She picked the pink room with yellow curtains and her roommate is named Lauren. Her apartment is five minutes away from campus and although she got an orientation packet, orientation doesn't start until this afternoon so I cannot report on that.

In Thomson news, we'll be leaving for Naples/Capri shortly and this morning, I watched MTV's Awkward in Italian, except they call it Diario di una Nerd Superstar (Diary of a Nerd Superstar) which is a much better title in my opinion and since I hate the show in general, watching it here where I had no idea what was going on was certainly an improvement.

I realized that if I am able to blog in Capri, it will be picture free as my camera is not compatible with Susan's laptop. I might also just blog from my iPod which will most likely increase the number of endearing typos and spelling mistakes that usually fill my posts (I can spell, I promise, I just write this all up really quickly and don't proofread, but I know the mistakes are in there).