An Alternative Easter Break

Due to my injury, Mary and I had to abandon our ambitious plans to spend break in Bern and Paris. I flew home on Sunday morning, had a long layover in Philadelphia, and after the drive home from Chicago I arrived home by 1:00 am. Traveling was stressful and exhausting. I was wheeled around at every airport, and this was necessary since I was crutching and had 2 bags to carry. My week at home was quiet and relaxing, and I healed a lot. I went to the doctor on Monday morning where they x-rayed me again and replaced my splint with a heavy boot. I continued to use crutches all week, and then I went back to the doctor and then to the physical therapist yesterday. They told me that I can walk in my boot, and I am starting physical therapy exercises. I will not be able to have the normal PT appointments since I am back in Europe for a month, but I will start with certain exercises and increase the intensity and add more exercises in 1-2 weeks or when I feel I am ready. Now back to studying Classics and spending two weeks in Rome!

Saturday Night at the Beehive

On Saturday we drove from Cuma to Rome where we all scattered for our ten-day Easter Break. I flew out on Sunday morning to head home, and I spent Saturday night at the Beehive Hotel with Sarabeth. We then went to the airport together on Sunday morning so I could catch my flight and she meet her parents. The Beehive is about two blocks from Termini, the central train station in Rome. We stayed in a dorm room with four bunk beds and eight beds. This was my first time staying in a co-ed room. Our room was full, though we did not meet everybody. I was surprised and impressed with how cordial everyone was with each other and how interested they were in everyone else’s travels. These are the types of conversations that I don’t think I would start in a dorm room in Rome, but our roommates were all very nice and I was happy to listen in and learn as Sarabeth told them about our trip. In our room was a veterinary student from New York. She is nearing graduation, and this trip was her celebration. She was really really excited about getting Italian pizza. On the bed above mine was a young woman, probably in her mid-30s, from Washington (the state). She was visiting Sicily with friends and then spending a few days in Rome before flying home. She is a product developer at Nike, and she was very proud of her Nike sneakers. My only complaint about her was her loud snoring right above me. We also roomed with a young man from Greece who was very interested in our travels there. The last person we met was a young German man. He was a bizarre character, and he certainly thought the same of Sarabeth and I. Sarabeth is loquacious, and she talks very fast. Despite his excellent English he did not understand her explanation of our trip. She kept repeating “study” and “vacation” and he protested “Study, vacation? Which one? You can’t do both!” He finally understood that we were on vacation from studying, and then he teased us for spending this Saturday night “vacation” so quietly in the hotel. He joked saying he hoped he wouldn’t make too much of a ruckus when he came back late. I was certainly unaware if he did.

For dinner, Sarabeth and I ate downstairs at the vegetarian restaurant in the Beehive. We each got vegetarian lasagna, and it was delicious. Our waitress also brought us toasted bread and sun dried tomato hummus. The restaurant seemed very progressive, and it seemed even more progressive when we asked for the check and our waitress told us that we pay what we feel we should pay. There was a card on our table with suggested prices, most with a $2 range, so we based our bill off of that.

Since Sparta

From Sparta we drove to Pylos and then to Olympia. Olympia is a fascinating site, where the first Olympic games took place in 776 BC. Crutching to the site, through it, and through the two museums there, was exhausting. I was unable to get around the on my own with all of this walking. The group was very sensitive to my needs, and they helped me along by carrying me some of the way. I was tossed around but mostly carried by Reed, the varsity football player in our group, and Sarabeth, our volleyball star. We were surely a site to see with me on piggyback with a bandaged yet clearly swollen leg and someone else following close behind with the crutches. I was still able to enjoy this day. What I found most interesting about the ancient Olympics is that there were no team sports. Individuals competed for every prize, and with a victory they often achieved the status of a hero. I thought this reflected on the priorities in ancient Greece and especially on the individuality and competitiveness of their human-like gods.

From the Peloponnese we took an overnight ferry to Italy. Then we spent an entire week in Cuma at the Villa Vergiliana outside of Naples. Staying at the Villa was such a treat and the perfect timing considering my limited mobility. Every meal was served to us at the Villa or packed in bag lunches for our days on the sites. So I did not have to worry about getting food or going out to eat. The food was delicious too. We were all shocked at our first dinner when we were served full bowls of pasta only to find out afterwards that this was the first of four courses. Dinners were served by Mina and her family, who own the villa. Her seven-year-old son Marco helped at dinner, and he may have stolen the hearts of every girl on the trip. We were blown away by his perfect manners, bilingualism, and enthusiasm in serving us. Every night after dinner he played cards with the boys, and they all had a great time.

While staying at the Villa, we saw archaeological sites at Paestum (ancient Poseidonia), Herculaneum, and Pompeii. I was helped around by piggyback at Paestum and Herculaneum, but I was unable to go to Pompeii because exploring the site requires hours of walking. The decision to not see Pompeii was facilitated by the fact that I spent many hours there a few weeks earlier over Spring Break.

The ankle

I expected challenges on this trip, but this one was unforeseen. I will certainly have long-lasting memories from Sparta because I sprained my ankle. Louisa, Allie, Sarabeth and I decided to go for a run in Sparta. We were jogging down the sidewalk towards the stadium and running track when I badly turned my left ankle. It immediately swelled, and I had quite an impressive egg. The girls helped me hobble back to the hotel, and as soon as we got there, Dr. Krentz was in my room calling Spiros and making preparations for us to go to the hospital. We thought my ankle could be broken, and it certainly needed to be protected. Spiros arrived in his car almost immediately. We then headed off for the hospital, and despite my pain the ride was almost amusing. Dr. Krentz (who is tall) was cramped in the back seat, and I winced in the passenger’s seat while Spiros flew through the streets of Sparta, honking his horn at any barrier along the way. At one point Dr. Krentz told him he could slow down and that my life was not in danger. Once at the hospital, Spiros wheeled me in on a wheelchair, and we were treated immediately. This was a public hospital and certainly different than any American hospital I have ever been to. My entire treatment cost 3 euros (about $5). My ankle was x-rayed, and we were very glad to hear that it wasn’t broken. Only one of the doctors spoke (very crude) English, and he said “ligaments” and indicated with his hands that they were stretched. So I have a sprained ankle, they put me in a splint, I got crutches at the only open pharmacy, and the Spartan medical advice is to not put any weight on my bad ankle and to go back to another doctor in two weeks.

The Peloponnese...

is so beautiful! The snow-covered mountains and shoreline are unbelievable. We had a very interesting visit to Corinth where we were led by Corinth’s director of excavation, Guy Sanders. In Sanders’ approach to archaeology, he does not focus nearly as much on major events and productions. Our tour with Sanders at Corinth contrasted sharply with that at the Athenian Agora with John Camp. During our tour of the Agora, Camp focused on the architecture of the Agora and major events which occurred there, such as the trial of Socrates. Instead of discussing these famous events and productions, Sanders told us extensively about individual skeletons he has found and analyzed and what can be inferred about these individuals’ lives, deaths, and diets from their muscle and bone formations. He hardly mentioned the Temple of Apollo or Corinth’s prominence in the history of Christianity.

Athens

We reconvened in Athens on the Monday after Spring Break for a hike up the Lykavittos hill. This gave us a great view of the Acropolis and the city, and Dr. Krentz showed us everything we would see. On Tuesday we visited the Hypasteion, the most complete extent Doric temple. We also climbed the Acropolis and saw the Parthenon. The Parthenon is often thought to be the most beautiful Greek temple, and people even say this since most of its sculpture has been removed. It exhibits the finest features of Doric and Ionic architecture, and all of the columns lean in slightly so that it does not contain a single straight line. I found its location above Athens to be dominating and inspiring.

We had the privilege in Athens of receiving guided tours from the excavators at various sites. Jutta Stroszeck guided us at Kerameikos, and John Camp led us around the Athenian Agora. John Camp was a particularly fascinating guide, and he emphasized the importance of the Greeks in history because of their lasting influence in the Olympics, coinage, philosophy, and democracy, among other things. Camp showed us archaeological storerooms at the Agora where we saw rows upon rows of pottery as well as ancient skeletons. The amount of pottery we have seen on this trip makes it easy to overlook it as mundane. Camp spoke to us about the importance of pottery in learning about history, and he certainly renewed in me an interest in and an appreciation for pottery. Pottery is breakable but indestructible, and since styles are in constant change, a trained eye can immediately tell what time period a piece is from.

Jennifer Neils, a professor at Kenyon College and expert on Greek art, guided us at the National Archaeological Museum in Athens, and Molly Richardson, who works at the American School in Athens, guided us through the Epigraphy Museum. Dr. Toumazou (Davidson Classics professor) joined us at the National Archaeological Museum, and it was a joy and surprise to see him. He is currently on Sabbatical, and he happened to be in Athens when we were. On the 14th, we took a ferry from Athens to the island Aegina, which, like most places we have seen, is absolutely beautiful. There we visited the Temple of Aphaia.

We stayed at the AthenStyle Hostel while in Athens, and this was the group’s first hostel experience. I was in the room with four girls (another room had the other three), and the room was tiny. There was barely room to walk between the two bunk beds, and the beds were very close to the walls at the head and foot of them. The breakfasts at the AthenStyle were simple, consisting of bread, jam, water and orange juice. The bread though was delicious and may have been the best bread I’ve had all trip.

Spring Break - Italy

I flew from Athens to Rome on Monday morning where I met Dad at the airport. I had not seen him since before the trip started, and now we were able to spend almost seven days together. He had flown into Rome about an hour before me, so the timing was almost perfect.

From the Rome airport, we took a train to Naples then caught another to Sorrento. In Naples we were both starving for lunch, so we set off in search of a particular pizzeria that Dad had read about in his guidebook. We thought we followed the directions, but we could not find this particular pizzeria. With our suitcases in tow we walked for blocks in search of this restaurant before finally conceding. We stopped at another restaurant, and the pizza was delicious. After this we realized that the many restaurants written up in guide books are often tourist attractions and cannot be better than any authentic Italian pizzeria. This was my first Italian pizza, and it was amazing. Dad and I talked about how pretentious we may be at the end of the trip so that we will never allow ourselves to eat American pizza again. I hope this isn’t true because I do love pizza, and I would like to be able to return to my favorite restaurant in Milwaukee, the Pizza Man. ☺ After our next train from Naples to Sorrento, we had an extended stop in Sorrento waiting for the public SITA bus to take us to our final stop, Positano. Little did we know that holdups at SITA bus stops would become a recurring theme. The bus did finally come, and we arrived safely in Positano and found our hotel, the Savoia.

Dad and I have a particularly great memory starting at the SITA bus stop in Positano, from which we hitched a ride into Sorrento. We were waiting at the stop in the pouring rain. Two scheduled buses never came, and it was nearing the time when the third bus should arrive, but we were losing hope. While we waited, a very nice Italian lady lent us her umbrella, and the three of us cowered under it. Then a passing car stopped to talk to her and ask if she wanted a ride. They were going to Sorrento, and she needed to go in the other direction, but she told them that we were going to Sorrento. The driver then offered to take us, and our friend pushed us toward the car, saying that they are her friends, her friends, her friends!, and we should ride with them. I looked at Dad, and he shrugged, so we hopped in the backseat. We were able to talk some to the relatively young man and his wife, and especially memorable about this ride was the moment when we almost hit an oncoming SITA bus. The road between Sorrento and Positano is very narrow and tortuous, and it always presents a problem when a SITA bus encounters another car. The bus honks its horn before it goes around every curve since because of its size it must cross the center line on these curves, and cars around the bend cannot see it coming. So approaching the curve, we distinctly heard the call of the SITA bus, but our driver pressed forward. Then he rounded the curve just as the SITA bus did, far on our side of the road. Our driver slammed on his brakes, and all was fine, but his wife got very upset with him. Dad and I cannot understand a word of Italian, but we knew exactly what she was saying. She raised her voice, gesticulated wildly, and even made the honking sound in imitation of the SITA bus. Perhaps shamefully, Dad and I really enjoyed this experience.

On Wednesday we visited Pompeii, which was fascinating. I will return to Pompeii with the classics group shortly before Easter, but it was the first time each of us visited. We had no conception of the size of Pompeii, and we spent over four hours at the site but still did not see everything. Most of the Pompeii mosaics have been removed to the National Archaeological Museum in Naples, which we visited on Thursday. We were able to learn and understand a lot more about Pompeii by seeing many of the best-preserved artifacts at the museum. We spent hours here too and did not get through everything. We were scholarly for all but about five minutes of this visit, and during these five minutes Dad and I just had to get some silliness out of our systems. We goofed off a little bit and took some very funny pictures of us imitating sculptures. After the Archaeological Museum, we visited the Diocesan Museum, which was also wonderful. The Diocesan Museum showcases Christian art of the region which consists mostly of paintings, altars, and sculptures depicting biblical characters or scenes. Dad and I were especially stunned by the graphic paintings of martyrdom. My life has been unbelievably painless, and I only caught a glimpse of that by looking at those paintings.

During our walk from the National Archaeological Museum to the Diocesan Museum, we were caught in a sudden and vicious thunder, lightning and hail storm. It may have been a slightly gloomy day, but the storm seemed to come out of nowhere. The hail that fell was the most intense hail I have ever seen. The hailstones were huge, and they bounced back up as they hit the ground, but soon the sidewalk was covered. This scene reminded me of the scene from Home Alone 2 when the robbers slip on the pearls that Kevin drops in their path. The hail on the sidewalk in Naples created a similarly perilous situation, and Dad and I hid under an awning as we watched the storm strike.

After an excellent five nights in Positano and many adventures in Positano, Sorrento, Naples and Pompeii, we rode the train back to Rome on Saturday. We then spent a day and a half exploring in Rome. Among other things, we went to All Saints Anglican Church, visited the Vatican, saw the Fountain of Trevi and the Spanish Steps, and searched for towels (to be explained later). The visit to the Vatican and St. Peter’s Basilica was especially overwhelming, and I will definitely return for longer when the group goes to Rome. Over ninety popes are buried in the basilica, and the basilica seemed to focus even more on the popes than on Christ. While we were there, the guards came in to stop anyone from traversing the nave. We watched a procession in which a few priests led at least 100 people chanting something very beautiful. They chanted the entire way from the entrance to the left altar where they held some sort of mass. We were glad to see this take place, especially since we had just been wondering how often the basilica was actually used for organized worship.

Now to explain the towels. It is reasonably expected that I lose something on this trip since we are staying in so many hotels and traveling constantly for four months. Well, I had been doing very well and had not lost anything until Positano. Then, probably because it was Spring Break and I was with Dad, I finally let my guard down, and I left two things there. One was my towel and the other my iPod charger. I had only used the towel at the hostel in Athens, but I would need it after break because the group would be staying in another hostel for six nights. We thought that the next hostel might have towels at reception for borrowing, but we did not think it wise to risk that, so Dad and I scoured Rome for a towel. We saw monuments and enjoyed the scenery as we searched, but we nonetheless searched for a towel for hours. Dad kept expecting tourist shops to have them, but he finally accepted that Rome is not the North Carolina beach we are so used to. It was getting very late and we were getting desperate, so we practically gave up on the towel search and Dad said I could just take one from the hotel. Then on our way back we passed a towel store! We looked at each other with glee and jumped in. The store had many varieties and colors, free engraving, and it wasn’t even expensive. I chose a red towel with gold engraving, and I got my name engraved in black, to resemble Davidson colors. We had found me a towel, it was of my choosing, and even had my name stitched in it. But, to make the story even better, I used the towel for the first time at the hostel last night, and it doesn’t fit around me! It is definitely a kid’s towel, or just not a shower towel, because it is absolutely tiny. And the hostel does lend out towels for 2 euros, so I bought one this morning. Mary said such a story would only happen to me because “my life is an adventure.” Perhaps.

During our time in Italy, as a result of people-watching and conversation, Dad and I made many observations about the Italians. First of all, we were surprised by their short stature. I am not particularly tall, but I was taller than maybe every other or every third Italian man I saw. Second, the Italians are very passionate talkers, and they gesticulate constantly and loudly. During the hours that we spent at SITA bus stops, we made many such observations. Printed very clearly at the front of every SITA bus was a sign to not talk to the driver. However, almost every driver engaged in very passionate conversations with his passengers. As he drove and chattered, he still did not fail to use dramatic hand motions. I hope it does not sound like I am making fun of the Italians, because I do not at all intend to. I admire such passion and engagement in life.

All of this observation of the Italians and their gesticulation reminded me of my high school freshman English teacher, Mrs. Cicero. Mrs. Cicero had a profound effect on me for many reasons, and she is one of those people who I have always aspired to be like. Though this is probably one of the least significant things I learned from her, I distinctly remember her talking about the Italians’ hand gestures during the first few weeks of freshman year. Because of her almost overwhelming personality, I can now imagine that during these first weeks our class probably seemed overwhelmed and utterly confounded by her. One day as she spoke very passionately (and I don’t remember what about), she paused to explain one of the reasons why she uses so many hand gestures. She said that, though she was born and raised in Wisconsin, her family is Italian, and the Italians talk as much with their hands as with their mouths. She also said to not be intimidated by that. I don’t know why I have remembered this insignificant detail for so long. Nevertheless, I thought about it on my way to Italy, and I tested this theory during my stay there. As you can tell already from my writing, it is very true. The Italians gesticulate constantly, loudly and passionately, but I love it. ☺