16A: Queima das Fitas - Video

And, as promised, here is my video account of Queima das Fitas:

http://vimeo.com/23986361

Hope you enjoy!

16: Queima das Fitas

I'm finally back with a much more upbeat blog post (because God knows we all need to be more positive nowadays).


Queima das Fitas, or "The Burning of the Ribbons," is the biggest student celebration in Europe... and it happens right in my little city of Coimbra, Portugal.  As I'm sure I've mentioned before, Coimbra is Portugal's first and oldest university and it has quite a few very old traditions.  Queima isn't a tradition that stretches back to the university's founding in the 13th century but it is at least one hundred years old and celebrates the senior's (or finalistas) graduation and the burning of their school ribbons as a symbol of such commencement.  The 8-day celebration (a day for each department at the University) starts on the Friday of May with a midnight Serenata in the wee small hours of the morning.  From then on it is complete madness in the city: mayhem, drunkenness, debauchery, and all that follows.  I sincerely doubt several of my friends here would remember the week if they didn't have incriminating photos to help them piece together the events of each day. :)

Tacos for Cinco de Mayo!

 The Thursday before Queima was actually Cinco de Mayo, so with the Midnight Serenata that night it felt as though the two party traditions of my heritages were coming together for a truly epic night.  After a "Mexican dinner" (thanks to an overpriced El Paso taco kit), Tatiana, Amy and I joined forces with Barbara and Ashleigh, split a bottle of wine, and headed to the Midnight Serenata.

Fadistas singing on the steps of Sé Velha

The square was packed at 11 PM, though we weren't surprised in the slightest.  Students in full Coimbra uniform had been waiting since the afternoon on the steps of Sé Velha, and Amy had seen them receive a pizza from a delivery boy sometime around 3 PM.  We stopped and bought individual half-bottles of Barbara and Ashleigh's favorite Portuguese wine, Mateus.  I've decided that I have family connections to this winery.

Mateus wine for everyone!

After dodging far too many drunk Coimbra students (the guys were very excited to see us and the girls glared as if their looks could kill), we found a pocket were a few recognizable Erasmus faces were stationed and enjoyed the concert when it began at, you guessed it, midnight.  We weren't sure exactly how long the concert was going to be, but with the help of Mateus we ended up enjoying the somber fado celebration quite a lot.  After stopping back at our apartment, Tatiana and I headed back out at 2 AM for the first real Queima das Fitas festivities: a party underneath the Quimica (Chemistry) and Física (Physics) departments.  The rest of the night got a little crazy... all I will tell you is that I met Tatiana back at the apartment at 6:30 AM and enjoyed delicious grilled cheeses before falling asleep and definitely missing my 9 AM class the next morning.

The Gates of Heaven.

The Stage

Ashleigh and THE CANDY

Friday night marked the first night of the "Noites do Parque," which took place across the river in a huge area.  Each night there was a giant concert, where the opening act usually began around midnight and the headliner graced the stage around 1 or 2 AM.  The first night featured The Editors as the headliner, and while they were great we didn't stay at the concert the entire time.   The facility was huge: near the stage was a giant complex for food, souvenirs, and beer.  Behind the food were three enormous tents, each with its own DJ blasting dance music.  And of course, port-a-potties and public urinals tucked out of sight.  That night Amy, myself, Barbara, and Ashleigh got giant bags of candy.  There were people all over the place handing out random things for free, and we ended up with pink balloons and condoms whose wrappers called attention to human trafficking.  We also bought delicious sangria from a booth sponsored by Bigorna, a favorite bar close to our apartment.

A shining beacon in the night.

The next day I went to visit my family with Amy, but I'll talk about my adventures with my family both that Saturday and this past weekend in my next blog.  When we returned, Tatiana and I headed out to the Noites do Parque again, where we watched Brazilian musicans Marcelinho da Lua and Marcelo D2, who were both fantastic and high-energy.

Concert-goers.

The next day was what most would call the highlight of Queima das Fitas: o Cortejo.  O Cortejo is a huge parade where students from all of the different departments create giant floats that traditionally feature some sort of political, social, or cultural satire about contemporary Portugal.  From these floats, each the color representing the department (yellow for Medicine, dark blue for Humanities, red for Law, etc), students already drenched in beer, liquor, water, and juice pour these things from the sides into other student's open mouths or drop cans and bottles into their waiting hands.  The parade starts at the Old University, continues down the hill, turns around Praça de Republica, and continues through the city.  We practically traced its path, as we saw many of the floats waiting up at the university.  There the students first got drenched by their friends and colleagues, who poured and sprayed whole cans on one another.

Classy.

While we were no stranger to the Coimbra University uniform, this was the first day that we saw the finalistas decked out in their dress uniform: sans cape, both the boys and girls had black jackets with lapels covered in colored satin (the color depended on your department) with a flower for emphasis button on their chest.  They also had colored top hats and colored walking sticks.  It is tradition to hit each senior's top hat three times (and hard!) with the walking stick (for good luck?), so most of the students had huge dents in the top front of their hats.  I was pretty jealous of their uniforms, though not so much of the hat abuse.

I didn't have any good up-close pictures myself.  How great are these uniforms though?

We walked down the Escadas Monumentais and met up with Ashleigh and Barbara to watch the parade in motion.  Absolute chaos.  If I had a Euro for the amount of times I watched someone fall down in the street right in front of me, I would be rich.  Everyone was drenched in alcohol, completely drunk, and dancing through the streets.  And this wasn't just students!  Young people (and quite a lot of older people too!) from all over the world were on the street, dancing in the parade or dodging the sprays of beer on the side lines.  As the floats passed, students tossed cans of beer to the people below.  Every once and while they would also throw bags of chips or homemade sandwiches.  One float passed by handing out little pieces of cake.  Don't worry, I fought the people at the base of that particular float and got two.  Of course I did get sprayed while trying to get a can of beer, but the mood of the entire parade was infectious and I didn't mind at all.  Unfortunately my camera got a little sticky and the zoom button still sticks a little bit, but otherwise I had a fantastic time.

Before the mayhem.

This float gave us cake.

 

Sprayed with beer. Super Bock!

Pouring vodka right into students' mouths

That night we headed to the Noites do Parque once again and saw Quim Barreiros in concert.  I'll insert a video of Quim Barreiros for you below so you can comprehend why we were at first astonished that he was headlining and then had the greatest time ever dancing to his songs.

Quim Barreiros and his accordion!

Once the weekend was over, we were a little partied out and didn't return to the Noites do Parque until Wednesday night.  Each night, though, we could hear the concerts from our apartment and, later, the music of parties going on in the different student houses around us and the bars near Sé Velha.  But attendance at the Noites do Parque on Wednesday was completely necessary: Yolanda Be Cool, who are behind one of my favorite songs of all time "We No Speak Americano" (the song I used in my Queima das Fitas video) where playing and I was determined to worship them in person.

Having too much of a good time.

In all, this week was absolutely insane.  To give you an idea of the amount of people here in Coimbra and the amount of drunkness that they carried with them, it has been reported that more beer is drank during these eight days of Quiema das Fitas than during Oktoberfest.  I really hope I can return again while I'm still young and experience this celebration again!  Later, when my video finally uploads, I'll post a link to my video about Queima das Fitas on here. 

But for now I will leave you with this, a recent vocabulary discovery I found that I don't think is entirely by accident and may be completely inspired by the Queima das Fitas festivities:

Licenciado, -a graduate

Licenciar to graduate

Licenciatura degree

Licencioso licentious

Hmm. Coincidence?  I think not.

15: Portugal, a rant.

I'm back in Portugal for good, but as I haven't been going on too many long adventures, I thought I might update you all on a few of the not so positive things that have been going on lately. 

I will start with the lesser of the annoyances: the shorts.  Or that is, the response to the shorts.  Like every American out there, I wear shorts when it is hot out.  This, I thought, was a normal practice.  Apparently this is not the case.  I look at Portuguese people in their jeans on an 80 degree day and I wonder how they can bear to be dressed like that in such weather.  Barely anyone wears shorts here, and because of this I can count on getting looks ranging from confused stares to openly belligerent glares from people in regard to my bare legs.  Old men in particular are not shy about giving me the evil eye when I pass by.  Once one of them growled. 

Now, I know I own some very short shorts (once they were so short that the counselors at Jesus Camp made me change), but after all this attention I figured I would try to limit my shorts wearing to my longer pairs.  While wearing one of these longer pairs, a random old woman actually yelled at me "Onde está o resto de seus calções?!" WHERE ARE THE REST OF YOUR SHORTS? 

An old photo of the shorts in question.

Really, lady?  Really?  Do you make a habit of yelling at young girls in shorts?  Where my legs really that offensive to you that you had to yell at me across the street?  A few blocks later I saw a young Portuguese woman in shorts even shorter than mine walking in the opposite direction.  I almost wanted to warn her about the shorts Nazi she would soon be approaching.

I would say something about the excessive cat calling that my friends and I receive (my theory is that it is not because we look American, but because we do not look Portuguese.  That and my shorts) but after surviving Italy, such behavior is almost cute. 

Almost.
 
But getting hooted at is the least of our problems here.  I can safely say that the majority of said problems are mostly the result of the Portuguese being the most stubborn and drastically self-assured people on the planet.  Of course, I already had a hint of this knowledge with my own family (and especially myself to be completely honest), but these opinions have officially become fact.  The best example of this way of life would be The Termite Fiasco. 

The Termite Fiasco has been an ongoing battle with our landlord.  Since before Spring Break, tiny ant-like bugs with long white wings have been committing mass suicides in our shower and kitchen for no reason whatsoever.  I emailed our landlord, Nuno, before I left for Italy about the problem.  His response?  Buy insecticide.  With the little money that I had, I wasn't about to spend money on insecticide when Raid seemed to kill them well enough, so I continued to clean up the mess each day until I left for Florence.  One week later, we returned from our various adventures to find the same bugs continuing to swarm and die randomly.  We researched the bugs and discovered that they were probably termites, or more specifically, swarmer termites, whose sole purpose in life is to sprout wings, fly somewhere, reproduce, and then die. 

Hello, lovelies.

We again contacted Nuno, who again advised us to buy insecticide despite the fact that insecticide does not kill termites.  We talked to the senhora of the building who told us they were probably ants.  Despite the great amount of time we spent convincing her that we knew the difference between "formigas" (ants) and "térmites" (termites), that ants do not have long white wings, and that ants and termites have a completely different bodily structure, she decided that they still weren't termites because Portuguese homes were not made of wood and therefore Portugal doesn't have a big problem with these particular kind of bugs.  This is, of course, despite the fact that the bugs were appearing out of holes in wooden beams in the kitchen.  She told us to buy insecticide and to wrap our food better, even thought the bugs were nowhere near our perfectly contained food.

Throughout this entire ordeal, our roommates were entirely unhelpful.  Santi was away in Seville and Helder seemed perfectly resigned to live in an infested apartment.  In fact, when we asked him about the bugs he said that they came every year and eventually stopped swarming around June.  Um.  Okay.  It would have been helpful to have some support on the issue, as the landlords had categorized us as stupid whiny American girls who didn't know a thing about bugs or cleaning or "the real world."

We emailed Nuno yet again, who sent over his father, the adorable Senhor Senhorio.  He brought with him insecticide, which he sprayed into the holes.  Of course, within a day or two the bugs were back. 

Angry and frustrated, I was reduced to blackmail.  I attached a photo of the bugs and emailed Nuno that we would refuse to pay rent if he did not call the exterminator.  With the refusal of rent came the decline of stubborn pride.  By the end of that week an exterminator visited our home and told us we clearly had termites.  Sigh.  He is returning on Friday to get rid of the bugs.  We'll have to be out of the apartment for 24 hours, but at least they finally called them and we can finally have a clean apartment.

The stubbornness astounds me.  Many of the people here like to tell us that we just don't know how things work because we are American.  This is concerning things like businesses opening on time ("Oh they are always late!  You're just impatient because you are American) or the hanging in of paperwork making sense ("Oh you need to go over there and wait in another line and pay to make me photocopies of these pages even though I have a copier right here") or the mail room misplaces your packages ("Its for Alexandra."  "There aren't any packages here for someone named Alexandra."  "That package right there has my name on it."  "Oh.").  Once the senhora's boyfriend, the building's handyman, lectured Tatiana and I for at least half an hour about the cleanliness in our apartment.  The conversation went something like this:


Handyman: You need to clean more.  The bathroom is really dirty.
Us: Okay we will clean it better.
HM: What you should do is this and this and this.
Us: Okay.
HM: Because when you don't it gets dirty.
Us: Right.
HM: So just clean here and here.
Us: Look, we do clean.  The guys in the apartment don't clean at all.  We clean all the time.  You should talk to them.
HM: Right.  But you should all start a cleaning schedule and clean like this and this...
Us: We DO clean all those things.  The boys never clean.  Please speak to them.
HM: Right but you should clean this like this...
Us: Sir, that is the boys' mess. 
HM: Okay I'll talk to them.  But you should clean this in this way...

For half an hour.  This man is also unshaven and basically has dreadlocks.  I'm sure his quarters upstairs are spotless.

I love this place but sometimes I just want to scream "THIS IS WHY YOU NEED BAIL OUTS.  YOUR ECONOMY IS TERRIBLE BECAUSE NO ONE WORKS AND NOTHING IS ORGANIZED."  And we are scoffed at for being impatient, overly organized, and expecting too much. 

There is a reason why there aren't very many Germans studying here.  They would probably all go insane.

Whew.  Sorry about that rant.  Traveling and studying abroad isn't always fun travels to different countries, that's for sure.


Unfortunately school work calls, but I promise you that far happier blog posts are on the way concerning the ongoing Queima das Fitas festivities, my recent trip to Leiria to see my family, and the Quinta das Lágrimas, where the heroine of one of my favorite romances of all time was killed.  This weekend I am going to see my aunt again and hopefully see my family in Tojal so those will definitely be included! 


My optimistic blogging will continue once again!

14: Spring Break Part 2 - ROME

While this is technically still the same trip, I think Rome definitely deserves its own blog post... It actually probably deserves two...  You might want to take a break before I get to my tour of Ancient Rome.

Castelo Sant'Angelo

I arrived in Rome on the Saturday before Easter.  After checking in at our hostel, I tried to get in contact with my friend Dan, who had arrived that morning in the city from his travels in Berlin and Athens.  The last I heard from him was from the Vatican Museum, where he had managed to get a tour.  As I found out later, his phone was out of credits but, in the absence of any contact, I decided to try and find the Trevi Fountain.  My efforts proved futile and creepy Italian men were starting to notice my being alone with a travel book when finally Dan called me from a payphone.  I met him in St. Peter's Square (which I tried to ignore in an effort to make the next day's adventures as fantastic as they could be) and we set off to find a restaurant for dinner and ate some delicious lasagna.  By that time it was starting to get dark, so we decided to do Rick Steves' Night Walk Across Rome: Campo de' Fiori to the Spanish Steps.  On our way to Campo de' Fiori, we passed the Castelo Sant'Angelo and the Ponte Vittorio Emanuele II, which I had to take a picture of in honor of my father, Victor Emmanuel Jr.  This began my rabid photo-taking of anything related to Italy's kings named Vittorio Emanuele II in honor of Papa Bernson.

Ponte Vittorio Emanuele II

Statue of Giordano Bruno at Campo de' Fiori

We eventually found our way to Campo de' Fiori (and by "eventually" I mean we got rather lost before stumbling upon it by accident), where this crazy band were playing and we experienced our first avid street vendors (which, unfortunately, mildly plagued the rest of our time in Rome).  It had started to drizzle a little bit but it was nothing we couldn't handle.  The rain merely gave the pages of my tour book a little more character.  From there we continued to the Four Rivers Fountain, which was fantastic.  I'm going to nerd out a little and just include what Rick Steves said about this fountain right here in this blog.  Perhaps from this execerpt you can tell why I follow and love this man so much:

Four Rivers Fountain

"The Four Rivers Fountain in the center is the most famous fountain by the man who remade Rome in Baroque style, Gian Lorenzo Bernini.  Four burly river gods (representing the four continents that were known in 1650) support an Egyptian obelisk that once stood on the ancient Appian Way.  The water of the world gushes everywhere.  The Nile has his head covered, since the head-waters were unknown then.  The Ganges holds an oar.  The Danube turns to admire the obelisk, which Bernini had moved here... And the Rio de la Plata from Uruguay tumbles backward in shock, wondering how he ever made the top four.  Bernini enlives the fountain with horses plunging through the rocks and exotic flora and fauna from these newly discovered lands...  The Plata river god is gazing upward at the church of St. Agnes, worked on by Bernini's former-student-turned-rival, Francesco Borromini.  Borromini's concave facade helps reveal the dome and epitomizes the curved symmetry of Baroque.  Tour guides say that Bernini designed his river god to look horrified at Borromini's work.  Or maybe he's shielding his eyes from St. Agnes' nakedness, as she was stripped before being martyred.  But either explanation is unlikely, since the fountain was completed two years before Borromini even started work on the church."

St. Agnes behind the Fountain

Oh Rick, you are so delightfully clever and informative.

The Pantheon at night

Chocolate and Cinnamon.  Mmm.

After oogling the beautiful Four Rivers Fountain, Dan and I wound through several hard-to-distinguish streets and suddenly found ourselves face-to-face with the Pantheon, which we discovered was now the St. Maria and the Martyrs Church with great confusion.  The inside was closed at night, but we managed to get inside the next day (more on that later).  After a few more Egyptian obelisks we found the recommended Giolitti's and got the best gelato of my life.

Still devouring our ice cream, we walked through the Piazza Colonna, down Via del Corso a little ways, and finally found the Trevi Fountain.  It was absolutely breath-taking at night, and just as packed as it was the next day during the afternoon.  Unfortunately my camera wasn't too thrilled about taking pictures of the fountain so late, but hopefully you can get an idea of the sight.  Dan even washed his gelato-covered hands there.  And that, my friends, is true American class.

The Trevi Fountain at night

Spanish Steps at night

After the Trevi Fountain, we found the Spanish Steps on the Piazza de Spagna.  Somehow we managed to stumble upon them from the top, so we had to weave our way down and dodge the excessive amounts of rose vendors before seeing them in their flower-covered entirety.  I could definitely tell why they were such a romantic spot.  Dan and I then went in search of what Rick Steves refered to as the largest and most lavish McDonalds in Europe but finally gave up and returned to our hostel, where we passed out in preparation for Easter the next day.

Crazy elated in St. Peter's Square.

While Dan had already seen the Vatican, he still wanted to accompany me early that Easter morning.  The metro was jam-packed and the streets between our stop and St. Peter's Square were crazy busy.  Somehow we managed to get in line, get through security, and land in St. Peter's Square by 10 AM.  Mass started at 10:30 AM and, somehow, I can convinced myself that the Mass was inside St. Peter's Basilica and was prepared for a mere sighting of the Pope beforehand.  Then I realized that there was an altar set up on the steps and cardinals and bishops sitting with other clergy to the side.  The Pope drove in on his Popemoble and walked up the steps and seated himself on a little red throne.  Then I realized that I had somehow managed to arrive in the midst of the Vatican on Easter and witness the Pope's Easter Mass.

The Pope arrives!

The altar on the steps of St. Peter's Basilica

Obviously I was beyond elated.  The weather had been rather cloudy and gross but as soon as the Mass started, the sun came pouring in and it became absolutely beautiful.  We technically weren't officially attending, as we had to stand the entire time and didn't receive the Eucharist, but I watched both with my naked eye and with the help huge jumbo screens the Pope preside over Easter Mass.  He always spoke in Latin, opened the Mass, and then an Italian woman read the First Reading.  An American clergyman read the Second Reading was in English and the Gospel in perfect Latin.  Later, for the "Let Us Pray" portion (Sorry, St. Mary's... I can't remember that particular part's name!), readers spoke in Italian, English, Swahili, Chinese, Spanish, and Portuguese (pride!).  There are not words to express how amazing it felt being there.  I recorded huge sections of the proceedings and probably annoyed a few people around me by the constant presence of my extended arm and video camera.  At the end of the Mass, the Pope retired into the Basilica.  The crowd began to disperse, and, still completely elated, Dan and I fought through the crowd, took pictures with the Swiss Guard in the background, and then tried to figure out what we were going to do with the rest of the day. 

After a quick but delicious lunch, we decided to do Rick Steves' Dolce Vita Stroll, which started at the Piazza del Popolo, where I found another lion friend.

Lion friend at the Piazza del Popolo

The Mausoleum of Augustus

We passed by the Ara Pacis and the Mausoleum of Augustus (you know, that kinda famous Roman emperor) before revisiting the Spanish Steps and Trevi Fountain during the day.  I couldn't decide whether either of these sights were more beautiful at night or during the day.  We ended up at the end of Via del Curso at the Victor Emmanuel Monument, a huge and gaudy building built to reassure a newly united Italy.  The statue of Italy's first king, the aforementioned Victor Emmanuel, is so huge that his mustache is five feet long.  Dan and I climbed up the steps and took the elevator to the top, from which you can enjoy an amazing panoramic view of Rome.

Trevi Fountain, daylight.

Statue of King Victor Emmanuel II and his 5-foot mustache

We were a little worried that the Colosseum, Roman Forum and Palatine Hill would be closed the next day (like everything else), so we left the monument and walked down the Via Dei Fori Imperiali, made sure it was going to be open for the next day, and then admired the bronze statues of Roman emperors and then walked over to the Pantheon again.

We have a copy of this statue at Brown!

Inside the Pantheon was absolutely beautiful, with the graves of Victor Emanuel II and Umberto I (Italy's first two kings) and Raphael (not the ninja turtle).  Earlier that day at the Spanish Steps, a rose seller had given me a free rose "because you are so beautiful!" and then tried to bully Dan into buying me another one.  There was a rose laying on Raphael's grave, so I added mine there.

Raphael's grave

By that time we were both getting a little hungry, so we decided to look for dinner in Rome's Trastevere neighborhood.  While I loved Rome as a whole, Trastevere was definitely my favorite area.  It was so unlike the rest of Rome, a modern city, and more like that idealized vision everyone has of Italy.  There were vines all over the buildings and churches.

Santa Maria

We actually visited the first church dedicated to Mary, Santa Maria, which was absolutely beautiful inside, with really neat mosaics and a fantastic ceiling.  Some strange concert was going on inside though, so we didn't stay inside too long.










We tried to visit Villa Farnesina, which has a whole bunch of Raphael's art, but it was sadly closed.  Instead we climbed up to Giancolo Hill, admired the view, and then returned back downhill and found Dar Poeta Pizzeria, whose menu declares its pizza to be "neither thin or crispy nor thick and softy."  This pizza definitely rivaled the pizza in Florence.  After consuming another entire pizza each, Dan and I also got Nutella calzones, which Dan had to bully me into finishing.  After dinner, we returned to our hostel, took a disco nap, and then returned to Trastevere to experience a little bit of Rome's night scene.  After visiting a few little pubs and visiting a bar with Michael Jackson, Biggie, and Tupac framed on its walls, Dan and I returned to our hostel, excited for our tour of Ancient Rome the next day.

You better think twice before messing with this lady's Nutella calzone.

Ignoring the rain at the Colosseum

Monday began with a little cold and drizzly, but even in shorts I managed to absolutely love the Colosseum.  It is truly amazing that a structure like that has managed to exist like that for so long.  Dan and I decided to pay for a guided tour, so we were able to bypass the line and, with the help of the fantastic RomaPass, got into the Colosseum and Palatine Hill/Roman Forum for free.  Our tour guide was a very sweet Italian woman who pronounced words like "holes" in such a wonderful way.  She told us that the reconstruction of marble steps in the Colosseum were entirely wrong, as senators and other important people would have sat around the emperor and certainly would never have sat on such uncomfortable stone seats.  Little things like that are the reason why I love guided tours.  We also made friends with two Australians, who graciously allowed me to stand under their umbrella when it began to pour.  After the tour and wandering through an exhibit on Emperor Nero, I ran back to our hostel, put on some proper pants and grabbed my umbrella, and returned in time for the second leg of the tour on Palatine Hill.

There our tourguide was absolutely amazing.  He spoke perfect British English but referred to Italians as "we," so I'm guessing he has some sort of English parent.  He was full of fantastic little tidbits and factoids.  Here are some of my favorites:

An example of why our tour guide loved Palatine Hill when it rained.

1. We get the words "palace" from Palatine Hill, where many affluent royal Romans had their residences.
2. Palatine Hill is also where the mythical twins Remus and Romulus decided to start their settlement, though, of course, Romulus was forced to kill his brother in order that his settlement might survive and thrive and become Rome.
3. The Romans were such great fans of a purple marble named porpora that they mined it into extinction.  There are three baths made of this marble in the Vatican Museum and their combined worth it over one billion dollars.
4. The reason that Roman statues don't have any hair on their bodies is because the Romans washed  by rubbing themselves with sand and olive oil and scrapping it off, which eventually prevented hair growth.  I always wondered about this, as modern Italians aren't exactly lacking in body hair.
5. Rome's population literally doubles during the Easter week.  This year even more people have flocked to Rome at this time to celebrate the beatification of Pope John Paul II.
5. The Roman metro has been in the works for about 50 years now, but it is so difficult to expand because every time they go about digging underneath the city they find a new site or new artifacts and have to stop to excavate.  As our tour guide said, "It's taken so long because we Italians don't know what to do and end up just drinking a lot of wine instead of making any decisions."

After our tour was sadly over, we headed down to the Roman Forum, which was amazing.  We saw the Arch of Constantine (kind of an important guy)...

... the Basilica Aemilia (of which only one third exists from the original.  During the Middle Ages, scholars lost the knowledge to make such vast domes until they figured it out again right before the Renaissance.  Insane)...

... the Arch of Septimius Severus (though I was instantly distracted with thoughts of Severus Snape and Harry Potter)...

... The Temple of Saturn (the Forum's oldest temple and the ancient state treasury of Rome)...

... The Temple of Julius Caesar (where a pile of flowers decorates the spot where his body was burned following his assassination)...

... and the House of the Vestal Virgins, which was my favorite ruin.  The statues of famous Vestal Virgins lined a courtyard with two brick pools.  On the ruins of the brick walls were these overgrown vines and roses.  It was just a beautiful little area.  I'll quote Rick Steves one more time (I swear this is the last time I will mention him) about the Vestal Virgins: "Chosen from noble families before they reached the age of 10, the six Vestal Virgins served a 30-year term.  Honored and revered by the Romans, they Vestals even had their own box opposite the emperor in the Colosseum.  As the name implies, a Vestal took a vow of chastity.  If she served her term faithfully--abstaining for 30 years--she was given a huge dowry, and allowed to marry.  But if they found any Virgin who wasn't, she was strapped to a funeral car, paraded through the streets of the Forum, taken to a crypt, given a loaf of bread and a lamp...and buried alive.  Many woman suffered the latter fate."

House of the Vestal Virgins

Constantine

After exploring the Roman Forum, we left buzzed on Roman history and visited the Capitoline Museum, which we also got into for free and where the original She-Wolf with Romulus and Remus statue is housed as well as parts of the giant bronze statue of Constantine that was housed in the Basilica Aemilia.  They also have one of his giant feet, but I technically wasn't allowed to take this picture so...

If they hadn't let me take a picture of this statue, I would have done some damage.

After checking my guide book, I realized that I hadn't hit a necessary spot for any classic film or Audrey Hepburn lover: the Bocca della Veritá.  I made Dan stand in a very long line but after we finally got to the Bocca and I stuck my hand into the fateful mouth, the picture was blurry.  Arg!  Oh well.  Just another reason why I need to return to Rome :)

Plus I'm missing my Gregory Peck!  Need a retake!

Yeah, I only ate one of these.

We returned to Trastevere for dinner yet again, though we stopped in a few tourist shops so that Dan could buy a miniature Colosseum and I could buy a miniature of the She-Wolf (which proudly sits on the small stool near my bed at present).  We ate more delicious food at a restaurant with the worst service in the world, then ran through the rain to drink delicious coffee and then get onto a bus back to our hostel.  We stopped in a café, where Dan impressed the waiter by consuming three whole desserts.  Full and a little sugar-high, we returned to the hostel and tried to go to sleep early, though several drunk American girls stationed themselves in our bathroom, unaware of how loudly they were talking about things they did not want anyone else to hear.

And you better think twice before messing with this man's pastries.

That morning Dan caught an early flight and, after checking out, I made my way to the Vatican to see if I could convince the guard to let me into the shop and buy a rosary.  Of course that didn't work out too well, so I ended up getting coffee and a chocolate croissant and then heading to the airport.  After a full day of traveling and a lay over in Madrid, I ended up running into Amy at the Lisbon train station and was never happier to arrive at my apartment as I was that night.

What a fantastic trip.  Even with the poor weather, the lack of the Vatican official tour, and the creepy Italian men, it was still the experience of a lifetime.  I will definitely be returning to Italy someday.

However, I think I'm all traveled out for now.  If I do travel, it will definitely be within Portugal.  I will be quite happy to avoid airports for a little while.  I was looking over this blog and I realized that there was very little about Portugal and much  more about all my travels... and this needs to be remedied.  At least you can look forward to a very Coimbra-centric blog post in a few weeks with the arrival of the infamous and ridiculous week-long party that is the Quiema das Fitas celebration.  I promise you that that week will either be very memorable in one way or another.  As my cousin, who will be returning to Coimbra for the festivities, told me: "Vai ser uma aventura."