Rome: You can't go back again

Procrastination guilt.  I have it.

Have you ever put something off for so long that you're actually embarrassed to start it, even though the task really does need to get done eventually and you'll feel better after it's done, because actually doing the task means you have to face the fact that you are a tremendous lazy slacker who will never amount to anything in this world?

Yeah.  That.

Coming back from Europe, I plunged right into one task and event after another.  Some was pretty fun (Christmas), and some really wasn't (my Grandma).  But it meant that as soon as I landed, I was a billion trillion mental and emotional miles away from anything Europe.  It made it hard to look back and focus on the details of that time, when it was so completely disparate from the now and also just sort of unavoidably over.  I was sad that it was over, and looking through all my pictures and journal entries, writing a blow-by-blow blog post of my awesome days would just make me sadder.  So I didn't.  But hell, nothing like a total uprooting life change to provide metaphorical boot to metaphorical ass.

The poetic justice here is that NOW, by writing about Europe I can procrastinate on the thing that is currently running the hamster wheel of my terrified mind:  moving to Istanbul in just over a week.

Okay.  Without further ado, here is the long-awaited final Rome post.  Set the way-back machine to November 14, 2012.  The day after my 33rd birthday.

Before my first Rome adventure in 2009, I made up this itinerary.  It listed, by day, every single thing I wanted to see, do, or accomplish, complete with time estimates for each activity.  I hope you are laughing.  Needless to say, I did not complete everything on my self-imposed schedule by about half.  However, it made planning for this Rome adventure pretty damn easy.  I would catch the things I had missed the first time, such as Keats House and the Protestant Cemetery  revisit things that made a particular impression, such as the Palatine; and make sure to leave time for one or two unexpected adventures, such as the Capuchim Monk Bone Art.

One of those things that I had missed was St. Peter's Basilica in the Vatican.  Yes, I know, how could I miss that??  Well, easily.  It was hot and bright, I was strung out and claustrophobic from my Vatican tour, and the line stretched around the square.  I said "no thank you", and went to have lunch in Trastevere.  But I was pretty sure I wouldn't be able to get away with visiting Rome two times and never seeing St. Peter's.  And this time I had line buddies!  Hostel friends Arity, Brian, and Beth were letting me tag along.

Holy crap, I never in my LIFE saw so many sharks as on the walk from the metro stop to the basilica!  They were everywhere, and all in your face, each hawking the Very Best Vatican Tour Around.  I feel like I got hustled about a hundred times in the span of ten minutes.  They really got on my nerves, but when I finally snapped at one to leave me alone, I got yelled at.  Argh!  I absolutely cannot respect people who make money taking advantage of others who just don't know any better.

When we finally got there, the line was epic again, but at least I had conversation buddies.  It actually moved pretty fast; the hold-up was the metal detector we all had to walk through.  But then we were in, and... wow.

Outside

Inside.

 The thing I was most excited about seeing was The Pieta.  Safe behind glass and obscured by throngs, it was still completely worth it.

We saw St. Peter's tomb and ventured down into the Vatican Crypts where the Popes are buried, but I wasn't allowed to take photos, and they really, really mean that.

I'm happy I got to see St. Peter's finally, and glad that it was free!  After, Arity and Brian went back to the hostel but Beth and I checked out the Castel Sant Angelo, which was another thing I had tried to see last time but had been thwarted by a Monday closure.

Weeping Angel serious business

The castle was cool but it cost ten freaking euros to get in, and I don't think it was quite worth all that.  Still, if your budget isn't as tight as mine, the views from the top are neat and you get to see a Pope's bedroom.

St. Peter's from the top of Castel Sant Angelo

In the afternoon, Beth and I walked around Trastevere and found a park with some great views of the city, but of course my camera had died again.  At least I got proof of St. Peter's!  Long walk home to Termini from the far side of Trastevere!  I went shopping at a market and had a quiet dinner of salad and free hostel pizza.

The next day was time for something I had done before, but loved it so much I'd always wanted to go back. The Forum and Palatine Hill had been one of the uncontested highlights of my '09 trip, and I was really looking forward to seeing it again.  The weather was perfect but unfortunately my experience wasn't comparable to last time.  There seemed to be a lot more of the Palatine closed off this time, and by sheer awesome timing, my visit coincided with three massive groups of color-coded French teenagers being assholes.  Oh well.  At least the site was still beautiful.

Three years ago, I'd spent so much time exploring the Palatine that I ended up being herded out of the Forum by grouchy Italians armed with whistles.  Never, ever, fuck with an Italian when it is time for him to get off of work.  So this time, I gave myself a whole hour and it turned out I didn't need nearly that much time.  My stupid heels were acting up terribly, and it meant my desire for hiking around and poking into hidden corners was about zero.  And then there were the French teenagers, ruining everything.  Grump.

In the late afternoon and evening, I took a bunch of advil, told my heels to fuck off, and wandered aimlessly and (mostly) happily around much of the old city.  I went inside Sant Ignazio's which I'd never seen at night before, said Hi to the Pantheon again, walked around the Piazza Navona and paid a visit to the beautiful Sant Agnese in Agone.

Vittoriano at sunset

Trajan's Column

Inside Sant Ignazio's

Inside the Pantheon, occulus at night

Fontana dei Quattro Fiumi, with Sant Agnese in the background

I did some Christmas shopping, and also ducked into countless random tiny churches I found along the way, because churches in Rome are invariably beautiful and full of surprises.  At one, I found a tiny crypt that is allegedly the home of St. Peter and also the prison of St. Paul.  I imagine not at the same time.

And then home for another hostel dinner, because I am a responsible little backpacker!  Not sitting down in one of those fabulous restaurants on the Piazza Navona took some willpower!

My original plan for this second Rome visit had not included the Colosseum, but my Forum/Palatine ticket covered the Colosseum entry fee as well, so the next day I packed up and headed over to mosh through some more tourists.

It was interesting to see again, but my patience for crowds has become almost nonexistent.  And I wasn't the only one who thought so.  I heard a tourist exclaim upon exiting "Hooray, we saw it!  We're free!"  I knew exactly how she felt.

I walked past the razed Circus Maximus over to Santa Maria in Cosmedin to put my hand in the Mouth of Truth, one more thing I'd missed the last time.  Unfortunately a bus of Chinese tourists got there just ahead of me, so there was a bit of a wait.  Eventually I got up there.

Not a liar!

I looked around the church itself afterward, and found a very neat tiny ancient chapel in the basement.

From there, I walked over the Isola Tiberina and into Trastevere.  Then back over another bridge and past the Campo di Fiori (of course checking out churches along the way!), and eventually to the Jewish Ghetto to try some of their famous fried artichokes!

I liked the artichokes but they really were kind of bland, as well as greasy which I should have expected from the whole "fried" part.  I kind of liked my toast with black truffle spread better!

And finally, sadly, I woke up to my last day in Rome!  I got a late start due to prep for the next step (Greece!), then headed out to see the Capuchin Crypt.

Holy crap.  These rooms are about the creepiest thing I hope I ever see, ever.  Just take a sec and read about it.  I wasn't allowed to take photos again, but again, I did anyway.  There was no way I wasn't going to have proof of this!!

Bone Art, for Jesus.  Okay.

After that cheerful start to the day, I walked up  to the Piazza del Popolo to visit the twin churches there, but one was undergoing heavy restoration and the other was closed!  So I headed down the crazy Via del Corso as fast as I could because I remembered I'd not seen Sant Ignazio's in daylight yet, and I really wanted to.

Piazza del Popolo

Ceiling in Sant Ignazio's

And then it was time to say my goodbyes to my city.  I walked around, popped into other random churches, got a beer in a quiet cafe to do some writing, and said my final (for now!) farewell to the Pantheon.

And then it was time to walk back (stupid heels!) and meet Beth for dinner.  We went to a place near Termini that was pretty decent and had pasta and bruchetta.  Last meal in Rome!  We walked home through the rain and made plans to meet up again in Athens, where we both were going next.

And that, my friends, was Rome.

Walking around the city, coming face to face with so many things that had surprised and enchanted me three years ago, I had to wonder if so much of Rome felt different because I was different.  Older, grouchier, more jaded and less apt to be easily charmed.  I had so many random encounters during my last visit -- and there were so many that I naturally assumed that was just how Rome was.  From the old man with the adorable shi tzu with a hot pink collar and fluffy ball on a string; to the Colombian who bought me dinner (without my knowledge) in the Piazza Navona; to Vanessa the charming Korean-Italian who shepherded me around a gourmet shop for 40 minutes, encouraging me to eat and drink everything around; to the shopkeepers who leaned on their doorways, called me beautiful and wished me a pleasant stay.  The cart vendor who personally escorted me to San Crispino's gelateria when I couldn't find it on my own, and then suggested a walk to the Spanish Steps.  The independent film maker who invited me to a party on the Isola Tiberina (I did not go).  And Monya, of course.  The Sodium Light Bar.

It's not that I took any of these encounters for granted; in fact, it was these experiences that caused me to fall so desperately in love with Rome in the first place.  And of course I did not expect a frame-by-frame repeat of three years ago, but the fact is that this trip to Rome ended up looking very different from my initial visit here.  I had a wonderful time; it was so amazing to be able to see this city again, my city.  But so much of the magic that I'd thought came hand-in-hand with Bella Roma just did not find me this time.  And I had to wonder -- was I to blame?  Was my general jaded, grouchy outlook bleeding out and actually affecting the things I saw around me?

I found Vanessa's gourmet shop again, just off of the Piazza Navona.  I went in, and wandered around largely unbothered while an Italian in the back poured liqueur tastings for two pretty college girls.  It would appear my Roman Season has passed in favor of new ingenues.  So... maybe I am partly to blame, yes.  But also I would say, now, that Rome saves her very best for the young and the beautiful.  And hey, no harm no foul, Bella Roma.  I had a great time, if a very different one.  You can't go back again, I suppose.

For years, I'd met people here and there who had been to Rome and could not understand why I loved it so fiercely.  And I have to wonder -- if this trip had been the first trip, would I love Rome so much?

It's foolish to expect that the heady blush of honeymoon love will last forever, anyway.  Maybe it's time for Rome and I to get to know each other on a more practical level. :)

The time that is given to you

Well.  So how have you all been?  I can safely say you haven't missed much over here.  Every day is just kind of like the next.  I sleep late, I read, I make something complicated and interesting for dinner to pass the time.  I watch Downton Abbey or House Hunters International with my Mom.

Oh, and I also got accepted to teach in a private school in Istanbul.

Not Constantinople, because I'm just going to put the kibosh on that joke right here.

I leave February 6th, for a four-month contract.

If it seems like I am rather shell-shocked, it is because I am.  I had not been looking diligently for jobs overseas.  I was depressed, I felt cut adrift.  I just didn't know how realistic it was to try for an ESL job when it was already halfway through January, and the constant oppressive fear of disappointment squashed me so flat I was thinking about calling a local ad for a part-time receptionist, or putting in an application at Trader Joe's.

But then I found this job on Dave's ESL Cafe.  I applied, just for a lark, because it was in one of my top five cities to work in and it seemed like they might need someone quick.  Two skype interviews, a couple emails and some minor contract negotiation later...

And that's it.  The whole thing has happened so damn fast I can't even process.  And now, there's no time to prepare, to obsessively read guidebooks and brush up on my regional political history.  I sent in my signed contract yesterday afternoon and booked my one-way flight.  And promptly popped a cork on some cheap champagne and poured myself a very liberal mimosa.

Am I excited?  Of course I'm excited!  I'm so freaking thrilled I can't even believe this is happening -- that I got to slip the noose one more time, and jet off to set up shop in one of the greatest cities in the world.  I'm also utterly terrified, because it did happen so fast, because I don't have my ducks in a row, because there's still a lot I don't know about my school or my general situation.  And sure, something could always happen.  One thing I've learned these past few years is that nothing is certain.  I could arrive in Istanbul and discover that what I've actually done is purchase myself a very short and unexpected vacation.  But I'm gritting my teeth and going anyway, trusting that somehow it will all work out, or at least give me enough to fudge my way through.  Four months is going to go by in a flash.

"Do you want to go?" Mom asked me.  I thought about it and I said: "Yeah, I do.  Because seriously, why would anyone not want to run off and live in Istanbul?  Except for fear."

I don't know what's going to happen.  But I do know that it will be more exciting than answering phones in a real estate office.  I'm sure there will be days I question and regret my decision.  But I also know there will be many more moments when I pause to look around, and just shake my head and laugh because this is my life.  It happened more times than I could count in Georgia.  It happened every damn day in Europe.  And I am just so freaking grateful that once again I am given this chance.

(Of course, this does mean I really do need to stop procrastinating and finish my Europe blog posts!)

At the end of the day, I think the entire moral of my life story can be summed up with:  you just never know.  You never know what life will bring.  And all you have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to you.  Thanks, Gandalf.  I'll try to keep it in mind.

2013: Only way out is through

Hello Blogosphere.  I hope you all had a very Merry Christmas, if such a holiday falls in your purview, and a very Happy New Year.  My folks and I enjoyed a very quiet day full of bacon, French toast, many wonderful surprises, naps, mimosas, and cabernet sauvingon.  New Year's Eve was spent in the company of friends, at a rather amazing and enormous party that was the brainchild and creation of my good friend Tara. I'm proud to say that I played my Most Embarrassing Game of Beer Pong Ever, and also proud that I managed not to wipe out even once while wearing my heels, after not wearing any for an entire year.

As 2013 has started its inexorable roll forward, I suppose now is as good a time as any to break my latest Big News, which unfortunately is less awesome than past Big Newses.  For reasons entirely out of my control, it appears I will not be going back to Georgia after all.  From what I've been able to discern, the changes within TLG are largely a result of their new government, which happens to be much less Western-friendly.  Their funding has been cut.  I haven't been given any details, but after a year in Georgia have sort of accepted that as being too much to ask.  I'm disappointed  but quite honestly also a little relieved that I won't have to face another Georgian winter after all, which is something that last February I swore I would NEVER do again.   I had, sort of perversely, been looking forward to diving headfirst back into the challenge of it all, but as my Mom gently reminded me, that's a peak I've already summited.

But in that same vein, with Georgia at least I knew what I was doing next.  It's what I told everyone I did, and was going to go back to doing, during my three months of travel.  Now, I have literally no idea, and uncomfortably have to face the fact that my worst fears about making this lifestyle change have in fact come to pass.  I'm jobless, carless, health insuranceless, and largely savingsless.  Yet again I find myself back where I always end up when my life unexpectedly tanks, at my parents' house.  I love it here, love the people that live here, but at the end of the day it's just a lot less cool to be living at your parents' house whilst jobless, than living at your parents' house for a month before going back to your awesome (and challenging) life overseas.

But, at this point there's nothing I can do about all that.  I am where I am, and no matter what I'll never regret the past year and a half.  It's been incredible, and if the choices I've made have led me here, then so be it.  The only thing I can do is anything and everything feasibly possible to get myself back over the Atlantic again, or at least over the border.  It's rather a daunting prospect.

The silly, fatalistic part of me is doing her best to get attention right now, saying things like:  "You've had a pretty damn good run for almost two years.  Just how long were you expecting this ride to last?"  And to be honest I have been listening to her some.  I'd rather not, but that's easier said than done.  I want to go back abroad, any way I can.  I have plenty of nebulous ideas and options, but nothing strong or solid.  My TLG application and hiring process took bleeding forever.  And while of course I know that anything worth having is worth working for, thinking about starting all that up again makes me want to curl up and play Angry Birds for a while.

And in the meantime, I really should think about getting a part-time job (cringe), so I can afford my Charles Schwab and calls out to Papa John's.  My criteria for this semi-gainful employment includes:  Nothing disgusting, nothing stressful, and nothing far.  It would also be kind of neat to not be too demeaning. And I really would prefer to stay out of an office environment.  The scars still haven't fully healed up from last time, and I don't know that they ever will.  Pretty sure I'd wait tables before willingly heading back into any office again.  And I am one shitty waitress.

So yeah.  When all is said and done I suppose this is not exactly my Finest Hour.  I feel discouraged, and let down, and pissed at TLG for waiting until mid-December to finally tell me, despite a full month of unanswered emails.  Georgia was far from perfect, but at least it was something.  And now I am back to Square One.

Mom says:  "The only way out is through."  And as always, I'm well aware that things could be a lot worse.  Every challenge is an opportunity.

But first -- Angry Birds.  And maybe some Jewel Mania.