There's no place like Roma!

View from Villa Borghese

Thoughts on Rome. . .

Fulvio. . .Our Roman host, Fulvio, was by far one of the best parts of the trip. Animated and super easy going (handed us the keys to his house on day one) Fulvio was all smiles (thought “Joe Reed” a million times). He introduced us to the best tiramisu hideout in Rome, showed us how to make pasta the right (aka Italian) way, and drive in Rome’s mess of traffic to Italian electronica. And if we were lucky, he’d break into one of his hilarious Roman history lessons, abbreviating Rome’s history with anectdotes, rattling off random trivia. He’s had a lot of interesting experiences too. Next week he goes to Mali to continue the installation of wells driven by an organization he started with three friends. Good luck Fulvio and see you in the US!

Eric, Fulvio, Me

Fulvio, whipping up a traditional Sicilian almond milk

His house, our couch. . . part of Rome’s mid 1900’s fascist architecture, a project lead by Mussolini aimed to give free housing to people who worked in the government.

The Sistine Chapel. . .I wish I could have taken my camera inside the chapel. Not to take a picture of the chapel itself, but the hundreds of mesmerized faces you meet stepping under this moving work of art, depicting the story of salvation. (You get the feeling that many have long-awaited the opportunity, almost like the Mecca for renaissance art lovers. It also probably had to do with the chapel being premised with 50 signs saying “SISTINE CHAPEL THIS WAY” and an hour walk through the museum.) The way Michelangelo masterfully encompasses everything from the birth to the judgement of humankind made it a more of a spiritual experience than any other piece of artwork that I’ve encountered on this trip, and despite the confidence and grandeur of his artwork, Michelangelo had his own bouts with spiritual doubt (Fulvio called him the Britney Spears of his time. . .thats a thought). This, and taking into consideration the unforgiving and time-sensitive nature of frescos, and the fact that sand with a low pH ruined his first attempt ( having to redo half the chapel), and Michelangelo strikes pretty high on my list.

The Catacombs


Roman Forum

Up next, Morroco. . .

Un Brazo!

Joy

Ponte Guapa, Barcelona.

Barcelona, modern and bustling with activity was a fun change from the slower and more traditional Medditeranean lifestyle of Andalusia (the way it is developed reminded me more of the US than anywhere else I've visited in spain). Barcelona is a city in the autonomy of Catalunya, a region so notably different from the rest of Spain that it fights to be recognized as a completely separate country. Their language, Catalunyan, is another major factor that distinguishes this region, and although somewhat similar to Castillian Spanish, is remarkably difficult (for me) to understand! Cataluynan pride was very evident here. . .

Toss your belongings in the middle of the circle,
and join the "Sardana", where everyone gathers
every Sunday at 12:00 to DANCE!

Catalunyan (but-not-Catalunyan) Pride

Confession. Before Spain, Gaudi could have been Greco could have been Goya. My art knowledge, along with my ability to cross stitch was long lost after homeschool. But after the visit to Barcelona, I'm addicted to Gaudi. His art work evokes a surreal, fairytale like feeling, stepping into a different world where structure and style push limits: buildings melt like ice cream, hallways look more like caverns, and rooftops undulate against the clouds. Gaudi's artwork is ostentatious, and its seems like it should almost be illegal against the background of the standard classical architecture of the 1800s.

"My client is in no hurry,"
-Gaudi on building La Sagrada Familia. . .for God

Rooftop of la Pedrera (" the quarry")

Gaudi's nature-inspired work:

Railing, Carob


Tunnel, Waves. . .



. . . And of course, like many great artists, mushrooms.

Of Course.

Highlights of the trip were jumping into Sardana, the traditional Catalunyan pride dance that takes place in the square every Sunday, free tapas at Irati, and spending the last night with a group of Greek Erasmus students .

As they say it in Barca, Adeiu!