Well, I’ve made it Fiorenze (aka Florence) after a series of long plane and train rides, not to mention some pig-sweating, squelching heat and apparently deodorant that was meant for the states and not for Italy. It was a bit lonely, I must admit and not the kind of lonely that happens when I go home for breaks and every one is at work but me. No, this is totally different. The phrase “stranger in a strange land” has all new meaning for me. Luckily the language barrier is not too bad, at least when it comes to getting around places (although road signs are confusing and street names are often posted on buildings and are a bit obscure). However, small talk with the locals is quite a challenge given my limited Italian vocabulary. I can say things like “Hello, sir/ma’am” or where I am headed or where I’m from as well as the typical “thank you,” etc. When it comes to sentences that make sense, no one has any idea what I am saying…even though I was always told by my professor that if I could at least say some verbs or something close to it, then people would understand. Things seem to be quite the contrary to that at times.

Any how, when I arrived in Rome, I made my way via taxi to a hostel near the train station called Funny Palace. Upon arrival I was welcomed with a bottle of wine and given a map and directions by a funny young Italian man by the name of Mabri (Ma [like mama] -bree)…who, let’s just say is quite friendly…maybe a little too friendly.

As for sight seeing in Rome, didn’t really happen. To be honest, I didn’t really feel like it. I slept, read, and casually strolled about the city before heading off to Florence. For one thing, things are very expensive in Italy…think New York price range, and then maybe add about $10 to that (of course that is clearly estimated since I’m still not sure what the currency exchange rate is right now…)

Italy is beautiful!! Beautiful place, beautiful people, beautiful food…I mean what more could you ask for?

For me, It has been a bit of a shock, though. In my mind I had always imagined Italy to be this glorious little place full of villages and cute little grandmas carrying grapes in the market and little short fat men drinking tons of wine, yelling and laughing on patios late at night as they enjoyed their dinner with everyone else in their entire extended family. And maybe I will see some of that, but thus far, I have seen the city and found it interesting how the Rome collided with modern city life. Down the street of expensive and elite couture shops you can find centries old churches and basilicas nestled between Prada and the Snak Shop. I was slapped back into reality amidst all this as I stared at the georgeous architecture and stumbled upon a one-legged-starving-homeless man, his ribs bulging under the tight surface of his skin. Business men and beautiful women walked by in their designer suits and dresses and exquisite leather boots and highheals on the cobble stone, and all I could think is how do these people not see this man? Furthermore, what is the basillica (that doubles as a museum) just a block away doing for this man?

It’s now strange to me this movement that I am seeing in America where churches are trying to incorporate art into worship. Many many years ago, art was a striking part of worship, Rome proves it. There are paintings, scultures, architecture, so much it is almost impossible to enjoy one single painting because there are so many more to see. But my guess is at one point, people with no hope would come into these shining, glorious buildings and be at completely awe at what then the majesty of the Almighty God, Creator and Ruler of the Universe must be like.

Unfortunately, it didn’t last. Somewhere along the way people kept painting pictures of what they thought the Son of God looked like and forgot who Jesus was.