Just Don’t Call Me Ishmael

Day two in Rome was much better, thanks to the purchase of much needed rain boots.  The snow had continued through the night and gotten icier.  Rome was closed.  Literally closed.  People were not allowed to drive, public transportation had stopped, and people couldn’t make it into the city limits.  This means that only the outside of some buildings were accessible.  The Coliseum was closed.  The Pantheon was closed.  The Trevi Fountain and the Spanish Steps were roped off.  The only things open to the public were churches, and even some of them were closed.  Still, pictures were taken and fun times were had.  Cold still permeated our multiple layers of clothing, but at least the snow had let up some.  There were two different walking tours that we took.  We walked most of the day but saw a ton of stuff.  The day was packed and honestly it was all quite a blur.  At the end of the day all I wanted was the blisters in my feet to stop hurting and a nice soft bed with two pillows for a change.  Despite my wish going unfulfilled, I still conked out as soon as my head hit the pillow.

The next day the Galleria Borghese was closed.  That led to a free morning and an early trip back to Florence to avoid ice.  Krystal, Steph and I headed out toward Piazza San Bernardo on the opposite side of the city.  There was a sculpture there called the Ecstasy of Saint Teresa that Steph wanted to see.  Unfortunately the church was at mass when we arrived the first time and then closed when we came back the second, so we didn’t have a chance to see it.  The morning wasn’t wasted, however.  We all had fun exploring and were ready for a nice long bus ride home come one o’clock.

It wasn’t until that evening when we arrived back at our host family’s house that we realized how much we missed it.  Afternoon tea has been something that we have come to love.  And dinner is a ritual we can hardly give up.  Gabriella served gnocchi, a dumpling/potato/thing that tasted like home.  There was also some ham with gravy and peas, yes, peas, and a Carnival special for dessert.  Another thing I had come to miss, however odd it may seem, being called by Italian name.  Don’t worry, I’ll explain.

Many people may not know that the vowel sound in my name is actually very unique to the English language.  People from other countries, namely Mexico and Italy (b/c that’s where I’ve traveled) have a difficult time pronouncing it.  This was proven my first day in my Italian class.  Elisabetta, our teacher, was struggling with comprehension until her face lit up in understanding.  “Oh, Alba,” she said in her exuberant way of speaking.  It being much easier for her, I consented to the name change.  Upon arrival at Gabriella and Nino’s it seemed the same problem with my name was occurring.  So, to simplify matters, my name for any Italian has simply become Alba.  I do believe it’s rather fetching.