My mom and uncle picked me up from Bush Intercontinental Airport in Houston early Friday morning, and not twelve hours later we were seated at Pappasito’s with the family eagerly awaiting a feast of Tex-Mex and margaritas. Oh, how I missed the delicious taste of fajita’s! We ate and drank all afternoon and then transitioned to a pool party at my sister Michelle’s house. I couldn’t have asked for a better homecoming: my loving family and the Texas staples of Tex-Mex, good drinks, and swimming. Perfect!

The rest of the weekend was entirely consumed by spending time with the family and visiting friends. Saturday night I went out and didn’t return till the next morning, only to jump in the shower and head to Austin. I would have liked to spend more time with everyone, but summer school would be starting bright and early Monday morning–and I had someone to see before then.

Two days later was July 15, aka the day of my birth. I gathered up a few friends for an impromptu dinner and we took over the PF Chang’s in downtown Austin. I had such a great time! The food was amazing and we ordered limousine style, which means that all at the table told the waiter their preferences and then he ordered a variety of entrees and all the dishes were passed around the table. That way you get to try four, five or six different dishes, instead of just one. Everyone had a great time, laughing and sharing stories from our time apart.

Both occasions reaffirmed something that I had let pass from my mind: my life is incredibly blessed. I have a wonderful family that loves and supports me, a family that has persevered and formed bonds that transcend the traditional definition of family and draw us even closer. I have amazing friends who bring joy and substance to my life, who have stood by my side when I needed them most. I have found someone who truly excites and challenges me, someone who gives me butterflies every time I see her. Even my academic and entrepreneurial endeavors seem to always find a way of succeeding. Daily I am awed by the good fortune and love I receive. I already live a prodigious life, but I also know that there is even more to be gained, more to accomplish, more love to spread. Who knows what wonders the future holds?!

It’s good to be back in Texas.

“Go confidently in the direction of your dreams! Live the life you’ve imagined.” - Henry David Thoreau

Today all public transit in Italy went on strike, so I was unable to attend school. Even though I badly wanted to take the hour bus ride–aka sweat bath–into downtown, I managed to fend off withdrawals by going jogging with a neighbor girl, hiking a hillside farm, and swimming at Lorenza’s private club. Not to mention the three gigantic meals that the grandparents cooked for the family. It’s a hard life, I know.

A week ago I traveled to Capri, but never got around to relaying the story. The total excursion included stops in Sorento, Napoli, and Pompeii, the latter of which I thought surreal to walk through. The ancient cities are like fairy tales to me; I’ve been told about them since childhood, and I find it incredible to finally see them in person. Even so, Capri proved to be my favorite city so far. The water around the island rivals that of the Bahamas (well, close) and was definitely the most beautiful that I’ve ever seen! Imagine swimming out as far as you dare, looking down, and being able to see fish darting about all the way to the sea floor. Be sure and look at my photos. I was only able to spend one full day in Capri, but it ranks as one of the best of my life. Italy continues to amaze.

In three days I will be returning to America. The space between will be filled with field trips, last minute studying, final exams, a performance in Italian, one more visit to the Colosseum, and dinner with all of the host families. I feel like I should only be halfway through my trip, but instead I’m preparing to leave behind all that Italia has become to me. Is the dream really almost over?

I experienced so much and exposed my mind to all sorts of new ideas while traveling and I am so grateful for all those who made it possible. My life has been enriched beyond measure. This trip proved priceless simply by allowing me to walk the life of someone completely different and see a perspective alien to my own. Throw in the cultural, artistic, historical, and yes, the juvenile encounters, and I must say that I’ve had quite the journey.

Next time you hear from me I will be in the states. Arrivederce!

I’m finally getting around to writing another entry. Se io fossi in Texas, I would probably be at a coffee shop or some other Austin locale, but instead I’m looking out at one of Rome’s many ancient wonders: il Circo Massimo. I struggle to fathom what this great arena looked like in its prime–marble pillars rising to the sun, the deafening roar of three hundred thousand spectators, the thrashing thunder of hooves as the pack of horses rounded the near corner. Even two millennium later, the distinctive ring of the track hearkens back to a time of great spectacle and indulgence. This is the backdrop I chose to be the catalyst for my thoughts.

You’ll have to excuse my slight indulgence there. Often I find it difficult to believe that I’m actually in Italy, because of all the awesome things that I see and experience, and this past weekend again pushed the limits. I originally planned on traveling to Firenze, then added Venezia, and finally added Milano and Bologna when I realized that it would be only 20euro more to visit them. I want to experience as much of Italy as possible while I’m here, so I’m traveling to as many cultural centers as I can. Maybe hitting four in one weekend isn’t ideal, but I don’t have much choice due to limited time and resources.

First up: Milano. My buddy Gabriel joined me for this trip and we departed from Roma Thursday afternoon circa 3:30pm. A least that’s what our ticket said; for this particular train ride, we sprung for the “luxury” Eurostar train–you know, the nicer one, the one that’s supposed to actually be on time–and it was an hour late. So much for Italian reliability. Anyways, the Italian countryside was absolutely stunning! I highly recommend traveling by train if you are ever in Italy, simply so that you can get a glimpse of the beauty of the country. We arrived in Milano about 10pm and met up with Roberto, our very hospitable host whom we met through couchsurfing.com.

Despite the late hour, Roberto took us on a quick foot tour of the city. Everything in Milano is so much cleaner than in Roma! No trash littering the streets, nor as much graffiti. It was a welcome change. I also didn’t mind that Roberto lived in the fashion district and took us to a few bars nearby that were filled with up-and-coming Italian models. Needless to say, their company made the rest of our tour a little more enjoyable.

Milano doesn’t have the ancient history that Rome does, but we did manage to see a few great sites. The city Duomo is one of Italy’s only true Gothic churches and creates quite an impression, as does the neighboring Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II, a 150 year old monument that has been transformed into Milano’s shopping center. (Michelle, eat your heart out!) All in all, Milano is a very modern city full of good-looking people, but I think it lacks that certain Italian charm.

Friday we awoke bright and early, grabbed the mandatory cappuccino and pastry, then raced to catch our train to Venezia. We purchased tickets for the “cheap” train this time, but it turned out to be more comfortable and quicker than the Eurostar, so we were thoroughly pleased with this decision. Besides, we slept the entire way.

Venice! Need I say more? No, but I might as well… Arriving in Venezia by train made me laugh; the train pulls up as far as possible to a specific side of the station, you depart from the train and walk through an archway, which opens up to a mass of water–the road literally ends here. From this point on, your only means of transportation will be aquatic or by foot via the paths and bridges that lace the city together. There exists no other city experience like it!

Maneuvering through the buildings feels like walking (or floating, depending on your mode of transport) through a movie set. Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful. There wasn’t one part of Venezia that failed to invoke a sense of surrealism; even the trouble that I got into didn’t seem real. Upon arrival, Gabriel and I sat down on the steps outside the train station to soak (pun intended) everything in. Not five minutes later two armed guards come up to us and demand to see our “papers” (you may remember a similar experience in Roma from before). Evidently I look like a terrorist to these people. It took all my self-control to not bust out with a Cheech and Chong impression and simply tell them to politely vaffanculo.

That night Gabriel and I met up with a bunch of other UT students and enjoyed an incredible dinner together. I ordered a dish that included veal, salmon, and beef like butter. Amazing. Afterwords we went in search of some nightlife to ease the “stress” of a full day of sightseeing. Twisting through the city, after consuming more than a few drinks, we discovered the famed Casinò di Venezia. Upon entry everyone was a little intimidated and decided to go somewhere else, but I had to stay. Something about this place attracted me.

Even if you’ve never been to an American casino, you probably have a good idea of what one would be like: colorful lights, people laughing, sexy cocktail girls, etc. Now throw out that idea completely. With the exception of the actual games being played, this casino bared little resemblance to any I had experienced previously. Upon entrance you are subject to more security than when entering the country. A suit jacket must be worn at all times. You have to present your passport and agree to a database search. Only after passing all these prerequisites can you walk over to a final inspection where you are photographed and allowed to follow a staircase upstairs to the gambling floor.

While waiting to go through the above, I overheard the distinctive sound of drunk American millionaires causing a scene and attempting to flirt with every girl in sight. I also perceived the impending arrival of two police officers who were walking quite briskly from across the room. Thinking quickly–perhaps stupidly–I stepped in to assist my fellow Americans and raddled off a barrage of Italian words in an attempt to pacify the authority figures. Something I said worked and they put away the tazers and let us be. My new friends were so thankful that they even paid the deposit for my jacket rental. On to the party! Right?

We all strolled upstairs, feeling quite confident after our recent brush with the law, and rounded the corner to the main hall of the casino. Remember those images of laughing people and half-naked servers? Replace those with a James Bond -esque, high-stakes intensity in an immaculate setting. No smiles, no shiny objects, not even drinks at the tables. Every player dressed to a T with a girl by his side, every door guarded by a man with sunglasses and a wire running from his ear to his shirt collar. The rumors, evidently, were true: Mafia.

Of the six of us, myself and two others decided to find the bar and scope the place out. We walked into the next room, a room split in half by iron bars: us on one side, and tellers with hundreds of thousands of dollars in cash on the other. I think I left a drool stain where my jaw hit the floor. We stumbled in a haze to the next room which thankfully contained the bar. I took a seat and accepted Brad’s generous offer of a free beer.

Turns out Brad, the CEO, and his associates had just brokered a $130million IPO deal for a well-known Venetian glass company and were taking a night out on the town before their flight home. Their stories fascinated me, and peculiarly, my stories fascinated them. Brad, Richie, and I continued our conversation and drinks until we were interrupted by a slight commotion coming from the main hall. Chris bursts in, rambling on about a dirty dealer and credit cards and, oh, he just took out another 4000euro. Say what?

We stayed late into the night, me making excuses and apologizing for them in Italian, getting free drinks, and gambling other people’s money. We parted ways upon the sunrise, happy to have made it out without ticking off the wrong person. I went to hail a cab and then remembered… no cabs. Right. Somehow I found the back alley where Gabriel was staying at a friend’s apartment and together we rushed to catch our train. With fifteen seconds to spare we jumped on board and I immediately passed out en route to our next destination.

Doubting that the third leg of our journey could contain as much excitement as Venezia, I still eagerly anticipated visiting Bologna. I posses a unique knowledge and appreciation for the city, as it is the original founding place of my old fraternity, Kappa Sigma, and home to one of my Italian professors at UT. I learned about it during my fraternity days and have always wanted to see the City of Letters, home to world’s largest and oldest university, and ranked to be among the highest quality-of-life cities in all of Italy. Unfortunately, due to an appointment at noon in Firenze, we were able to schedule only a brief two-hour stop in the city.

Bologna distinctively reminded me of Austin. Students were everywhere, the streets were wide and American-esque, the buildings bright and inviting. There seemed to be a perfect merger of the old with the new. We first took a quick cab to the Torre Degli Asinelli e Torre Garisendi, the most famous of the city’s remaining twenty (of almost 200) towers. Next we walked to the Basilica di San Petronio, one of the biggest in the world (during construction it was intended to be larger than St. Peter’s in Rome, but Pope Pius IV ordered that the church be kept in check).

The youthful energy of Bologna struck a chord. I didn’t expect the city to make such an impression on me, but now I strongly desire to come back and study at the university here. I wish that I had allotted more time to stay in Bologna. Ah, next time. On to Firenze!

A short train ride and we were in Florence. Gabriel and I quickly walked to meet up with our class for an appointment to enter the Accademia di Belle Arti. I still felt the haze of travel as we entered the building, went through security, and tried to keep the group together. I remember talking with someone, not focusing on my surroundings, when suddenly standing at the end of the corridor, there it stood: il David di Michelangelo.

I cannot describe the wonder at seeing the David in person. One is immediately struck by its shear size, a towering 17′, which dominates the entire museum space. Every vein, every curve of the body, every lock of hair bares exquisite detail. It’s magnificent. After circling it numerous times, taking photos despite the museum staff yelling at me to stop, I simply sat and stared at the statue for an extended period. This was worth my entire trip to Italy.

After seeing the David in person, everything else paled in comparison. I spent two hours browsing through the Uffizi, but somehow most of the art seemed… normal. The great Palazzo Vecchio, with the old palace of the Medici family, still wowed me, however. I’m fascinated by the history and control of the Medici, the richest and most powerful family in Europe from the 13th to 17th centuries, so that one had a bit of an advantage. (If you aren’t familiar with them, I suggest browsing the Medici Wikipedia article; highly interesting.) A quick stop by the Campanile di Maria del Fiore and my time had run out. Gabriel and I made our way to the train station, were lucky enough to secure a cabin just to ourselves, and promptly fell asleep.

There is so much more that I want to tell about my trip–from the profane to the profound–but the length of this post and my desire to continue writing are strong limiting factors. My hope is that you can get but a glimpse into my experiences, even though so much is left out. I’ll have to write an article summarizing the philosophical growth that I’ve been exposed to, my impressions of Italy on the whole, or even a simple post comparing the cultures of the various areas.

Or better yet, let’s just grab a beer and I’ll tell ya.

The past few days collectively upped the anty for my Italian experience. Since I will be traveling for each of the remaining weekends, I made a point of pushing my boundaries during this one. Good decision, I must say, although I’m finding it difficult to keep track of all the things I do!

The bus can actually be a great place to meet people. Interestingly enough, I’ve managed to use other people’s poor behavior to my benefit. Case in point: while on my way across town Friday night, I overheard the conversation of a strikingly attractive girl in front of me and her companion. The man turned out to be an unwelcome tag-along from a previous club so I politely interrupted their conversation, managed to supplant myself in the seat previously occupied by said offender, and found myself in the delightful situation of making a new Swedish friend.

Speaking of, I really enjoy the variety of people in Rome. Just this weekend I’ve had drinks with people from Senegal, the UK, Brazil, Spain, and all parts of Italy and even the good ‘ol US of A. Erica, a friend of the family, invited me to a party on Thursday where I met several persons involved in the Italian film industry, including a certain famous director that I am familiar with. We ate shawarma’s (one of my favorite foods), talked film and culture, and basically hob-knobbed the night away. I love it!

Most that I meet consider those from Texas to be exciting and almost exotic. Italians certainly light up when they learn that I’m from the Lone Star State and one even wanted me to sing Deep in the Heart of Texas for her! American might not be the most desired nationality in Europe, but Texan sure is. Even at the massive open-air markets, vendors will haggle a little less with me when I say that I’m Texan. The narcissist in me enjoys being the import.

From bars made fully of ice and being on set with Tom Hanks–did I forget to mention that? haha–to nargilah and absinthe, Rome never ceases to entertain. There’s nothing like finishing the night by sharing a bottle of wine and watching the sun rise on La Fontana di Trevi. Jealous Sound lyrics keep playing in the background: The sun’s coming up, as we’re coming down… For once in your life.

Today I took part in a protest against George Bush’s visit to Italy–if you call standing around for an hour and taking photos “protesting.” Otherwise I just wasted an hour of my life watching a very large group of people mill about and block traffic. What happened to the vigorous Roman spirit of insubordination? This new version is bor-ing. Besides, most involved were either punk kids or old lesbians; not that I hold anything against either group, but they just tend to lack a certain charisma that I like my protesters to have.

I did manage to do something useful with my time, however, and created this small list of interesting notes about Rome:

• Whoever said Italy is the fashion capital of the world was certainly NOT talking about Rome. Half the people look like early 90’s rejects from American fashion, the next 25% are tourists who just look cheap, and only the last quarter have managed to maintain my faith in Italy–because they all dress like Armani models.
• Speaking of models, Italy has kept up its end of the bargain and delivered on the gorgeous women. They’re funny about it, though: if you look for one, you can’t find her, but as soon as you give up a whole group of beautiful raggaze will appear out of nowhere. Wonderful.
• Situation dictates an incredible amount of Italian dialect; for instance, the word prego can mean “thank you,” “come again?,” “after you,” “what would you like?,” etc.
• Toilets here have the flush mechanism implanted into the wall behind the unit, and there are two buttons: one for light loads, and one for, uhmm, heavier ones. The walls and doors of public stalls are also floor-to-ceiling for complete privacy.
• If you’ve ever ridden the eBus coming back from 6th street–or any other bus completely overflowing with people–then you know what it’s like to ride the bus here every day. For an hour each way. Or more. With stinky people and annoying tourists. And no air conditioning. Perfect.
• Flip the light switches up to turn the lights off. Down to turn them on.
• Traffic here is amazing: any rules or regulations are more like guidelines, actually not even that, and it appears that just about anything goes on the road. Everyone seems to have a certain understanding, though, and it all works out. Riding a moto is incredibly fun, because you can go in the opposite lane, up on the sidewalk, in between stopped cars, etc, and nobody bats an eye. My kind of driving.
• Despite the thousands and thousands of vehicles on the road, pedestrians always have the right-of-way. You can walk across any crosswalk–or “magic zebras,” as I call them–and all traffic will immediately stop for you. I love to walk up to Piazza Venezia, seeing a group of tourists fearfully looking at the constant circle of six lanes of traffic, and just walking out into traffic and watching their eyes pop as all vehicles either completely stop or just simply avoid me. It’s great.
• One annoyance is the purchase of personal hygiene products. If you’re planning on traveling to Italy, I highly recommend that you bring everything you will desire, because they probably don’t have it here. Even if they do have your favorite brand of whatever, it will cost you two to four times as much, not counting the exchange rate.
• Guys are extremely obvious when checking out girls and couldn’t care less if they notice or overhear their rude remarks. I’ve been called a gentleman a half a dozen times simply because I’m not a creep. On the flip side, girls are much more forward, although no one seems to mind this (including myself).
• Nobody owns a drying machine. Hang-drying your jeans takes the laundry cycle from an hour to almost a full day.
• Restaurants charge extra to sit, but tips aren’t expected. They also won’t give you a cup of free water. This is ok, because there are ancient drinking fountains all over the city with continuous cold, clean, drinking water.
• A lot of the food here is exquisite, don’t get me wrong, but often I find myself craving some good ‘ol Texas grub. There is nothing here like American restaurants. If you see something that looks like American food or even has the same name, the taste is completely unsatisfying. Even items such as beef, ham, and chicken all taste different.
• Don’t even get started about pizza! It may have been invented in Italy, but America certainly perfected it. I have eaten a wide variety of pizza since I’ve been here and have yet to find one that tastes better than the local pizza shop in Austin. Deep dish is completely out of the question.
• Gelato, however, is another story. The flavors are sooo good and taste so real, that I feel like I’m in the Willy Wonka factory every time I go. The strawberries taste like strawberries. The snozzberries taste like snozzberries!

For any negatives that I’ve listed Italy provides a hundred wonderful things to make up for them. The countryside creates a sense of speechlessness and is every bit authentic to the postcard images that you may have seen. Historic Rome is impressive during the day and magical at night. The girls walk with a confidence that comes from their beauty as well as their spirit. I could go on forever. Italy needed barely two weeks to make me fall in love with it.

Oh, and Laura Bush is coming to my school tomorrow. Arrivederci!

The most difficult thing I encounter daily in Rome is not my attempts at communication with the Italians, but rather it is simply trying to keep up with all the things that keep happening to me! A few examples to illustrate my point.

Yesterday, after school, Gabrielle and I went out walking around the city. This is not an unusual thing and I have started to become pretty comfortable going anywhere that I please. We stumbled upon a group of kids playing soccer in a piazza, and the moment was ripe for a good photo, so I busted out the camera and started shooting. Out of nowhere two rather large, official-looking men came up to us and unloaded a barrage of questions in Italian. Who are you? Are you journalists? What are you doing here? You’re students, huh? Where?! Etc, etc. It was all we could do to spit out simple responses in an attempt to placate them. Suddenly one of the men grabbed my camera in an effort to take it away, but I yanked back and quickly stowed it in my backpack. Gabrielle and I exchanged a quick glance which confirmed our mutual feeling of uncertainty.

Our confrontation resulted only in my deleting of a single photo taken at the location. Only afterwards did we examine the various factors that could’ve been at play. Turns out that we were in the Jewish sector of town, right outside the Hebrew school actually, and the Jewish community has had to go to great lengths to insure their security as of late. We were also right around the corner from a building operated by the CIA which is famous for being the location of the mysterious death of a certain Italian official. On top of all this, Italy is hosting many heads of state at the moment and all police forces are on high alert. Thankfully we were able to explain ourselves and diffuse the situation.

That night my Italian family and I had a Bar-B-Q at our place. I had given them all kinds of food items from Texas upon my arrival–Stubb’s BBQ sauce, Texas wine, etc–and they were eager to try them all. Several friends of the family were invited over, including a fellow film director, an editor, a professional photographer, and even the brother of one of Rome’s soccer stars. Everyone loved the food and I put on some good American music in the background, which quickly became a favorite of those present. I enjoyed very much joking and laughing about the differences between our cultures as well as getting to talk shop with like-minded enthusiasts from another country. It was another great evening.

I haven’t even had time to write down my other excursions in the city, like stumbling upon a chase scene being filmed at the Piazza del Popolo, my visit to San Pietro e la Citta del Vaticano, or even finding a piece by my favorite poet frescoed onto the wall of a side-alley shop. I’ll try to fit everything in, but in the meantime you can view various photos that I’ve uploaded. Ciao!

As sleep fades to the dawn, I slowly become aware of my surroundings. The exquisite ambiance of my environment greets me: the sing-song play of young birds dancing on the terrace, the sweet aroma of flowers growing in harmony with the building that contains them, the happy chatter of children coming from the winding staircase that leads to the family room below me. I realize that this is not a dream, but my reality for the next six weeks. Sono in Italia, ed è incredibile.

***

I awoke on Sunday to an entirely different world than I had known previously. Everything about Rome I find intriguing: the epidemic of graffiti, the utter madness and clutter of the roadways, the gentle kindness that is shown to tourists who speak in Italian–and the harsh rebukes that are issued to those who don’t. Parts of Rome contain multitudes of high-rise apartments and residences which combine with a peculiar mix of foliage to create a world not unlike a softer version of Blade Runner. Other areas remind me of San Francisco and still others of New York, and all the buildings exude a certain quiet elegance.

Miranda’s family and mine joined together to celebrate Uogo’s birthday that afternoon. Michele cooked several different dishes for the festa, all of them absolutely delicious, and we met the others on the terrazzo of Uogo’s building. The children played while the college students and adults talked, ate, and–of course–drank wine. It was a wonderful celebration indeed.

I left to go explore the city around four in the afternoon and Miranda decided to join me. Together we covered a host of centuries in several hours time: il Foro Romano, il Pantheon, la Basilica di San Clemente, il Palazzo Venezia, il Monumento a Vittorio Emanuele II, e certamente il Coloseeo. After having our collective jaw hit the ground one too many times, we decided to call it a day. I still cannot completely comprehend what I’ve been able to see; the buildings of Rome are simply awe inspiring.

The next two days flew by with a constant sense of overwhelming appreciation. Everything turned into a chance for excitement: breaking into the Forum for free, climbing the Arch of Triumph, taking back allies and side streets, navigating the chaos that Romans call “traffic,” bartering with street vendors, discovering amazing restaurants, bars, and night clubs. Even interacting with strangers in Italian is a bit of a thrill. I’ve begun to take offense when tourists approach people, even myself, and don’t make an attempt to speak in the native tongue. I’ll pass for a local soon enough!

***

I must take this chance to thank those closest to me who made my trip possible: Mom, Michelle, Paul, Joe, Joshua, and Andrew. I would not be experiencing this magnificent adventure without all of you. Thank you so much; I love ya’ll!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

The bus pulled up to the station and I could see a line of people eagerly awaiting our arrival. All of the students streamed out and then our new “parents” mixed with the crowd, many holding photos of their student and calling out his or her name (poorly pronounced, of course). I stood in the middle of this chaos and allowed it to swirl around me. Then I saw the face of one man filtered through the rest and he immediately walked up to me. “Will?”

I soon learned that Michele was the father of the family I would be staying with. He had brought his son, Eduardo (seven), with him, but his wife, Lorenza, and daughter, Isabella (thirteen), were not able to come. Michele is friends with Uogo, another host family dad, and they rode together, bringing along Uogo’s daughter, Viola (fourteen). A fellow student of mine, Miranda, and I piled into Michele’s car with all the aforementioned people.

Eduardo and Viola asked question after question in Italian, and it was all Miranda and I could do to attempt enough replies to keep them satisfied. Eduardo is one of the cutest little boys that I have ever seen and his energetic and optimistic attitude reminds me of my own little brother, Andrew, so I immediately took a liking to him. Michele and Uogo simply smiled and interjected their own comments whenever appropriate.

Suddenly we rounded a corner and Michele made one single statement that silenced everyone in the car: “È il Colosseo!” How does one vocalize such an immediate introduction to one of the world’s most treasured monuments? I was not able to utter a single word, but rather I tried to let my mind comprehend what my eyes were just beginning to absorb. To see it in person is astounding.

Our car drove on, Michele announcing the names of various artifacts and ruins as we passed them, but Miranda and I were still dumbfounded by our brief viewing of the Colosseo. Michele asked if were were hungry and, upon receiving an answer in the affirmative, proceeded to take us to a local pizzeria. We walked up and discovered that this innocent sounding question was really a setup: both of our host families were waiting with authentic Italian pizza’s and wine. It was a surprise festa just for us!

What a true welcoming! All my nervousness about the trip and the people that I would be staying with instantly melted away and was replaced by a subtle–what’s the cliche?–warm, fuzzy feeling. My family had the waiter bring out a special pizza just for me. It was a mix of cheese, pepperoni, mushrooms, olives, tomatoes, a big slice of salmon, and a raw egg dropped right in the middle. Now, if you know anything about me, you know that I dislike just about all of those ingredients, but there was no way that I was going to let all these people down. So I just manned up, shoved the whole thing in my mouth and swallowed as quickly as possible! They loved it.

The eating and drinking continued for several hours–I would quickly learn that this is a normal occurrence in Italy–with the whole lot of us laughing and enjoying ourselves despite our many communication errors. Finally it was time to go, however, and Michele and Lorenza led the short walk to my home for the next five weeks. I was so tired after my journey and the huge meal that not five minutes after they showed me my room, I was fast asleep dreaming about all that I had experienced.

To be continued…

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Everything about my journey to Italy was perfect and I can’t believe that I’ve had such a great beginning to my adventure. Michelle, Paul, and Roman reminded me of the love that our family shares and gave me the perfect last morning state-side. My mom then drove me to the airport and although she almost got arrested trying to follow me to the plane, she made my departure memorable and I couldn’t have asked for a sweeter send off. (Love you!)

Even my pre-flight times were entertaining. At Bush Intercontinental Airport I met a Michael Jackson impersonator who wasn’t pretty damn good, and in Newark I neglected to make concessions for the time zone change and was forced to sprint down the concourse to catch my plane on time. I made it in true movie-style, scanning my ticket and walking down the jet way mere seconds before they closed the door.

I met several interesting people on my flights and exchanged contact information (gotta love the networking power of confined spaces). It was interesting to note that flying in and out of Houston I saw city through the plane windows, in Newark I saw New York and the Statue of Liberty, but arriving in Roma I was greeted by hay bails. That’s right, hay bails. they must have known a Texas boy was coming and threw some out there in an attempt to make me feel welcome.

At the Aeroporti di Roma I met up with Ryan and Miguel, two fellow University of Texas students. We had an enormous span of eleven hours before the rest of the group arrived, so we set out to find something to do. A few trips around the airport and much broken Italian later we discovered that there was a beach ten minutes from the airport. We paid a few Euros each to store our bags, bought bus tickets, and abbiamo andato alla spiaggia.

Our trip to Fiumicino proved to be most enjoyable. We found countless ristoranti, gelateria, and then came across a great man-made beach next to a fishing pier. There was a great bar with ice-cold beers and plenty of topless sun-bathing women. I immediately stripped off my shoes and ran into the refreshing waters of the Mediterranean. And the sky here is without description… I constantly found myself gazing aimlessly, awed by it’s beauty. Incredible!

We could have lazed around in the balmy 75 degree F weather all day long, eating our gelato and laughing at the Italian fashion, but we had to meet up with the group back at the airport. We inadvertently convinced a bus driver to allow us to ride for free and were quickly reunited with the other students. A charter bus arrived to take all of us into Roma to meet with our new families. Suddenly a wave of nervousness and excitement washed over me as I realized that I was too excited to recall even the simplest Italian expressions.

To be continued…

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

For those interested, I will be uploading photos and blog entries periodically. They could quite possibly feature all manner of hedonism and overindulgence… or there could simply be an abundance of photos of pretty buildings. Either way, come take a look and make me feel happy watching my page views rise.

Andrò a Roma!