War, Famine, Pestilence, and... Birds?

The sight of a flock of birds turning and wheeling in perfect formation is not an uncommon one, but a sky completely blanketed with such flocks can strike fear into the stoutest of dwarves (man and beast too, of course). The sight of these flocks is a daily occurrence here in Rome; they can be seen around sunset every day going absolutely crazy, generally over the Tiber and the land on either bank. For a solid hour each day, these birds – no one is entirely sure the species or the precise reason for their emergent maneuvering – fly maddening circles around the sky.

Just today we were crossing the river on the Ponte Sisto returning from class, and overhead we were met with a blue and red sky partially blotted out by these birds. I couldn’t help thinking of the Hitchcock film (and thus ran from every tall blonde in the vicinity), and some of us were concerned that this sight may herald the end of the world as we know it. Since they’ve been doing this every day for a month or so, I think the threat of the apocalypse is pretty remote, but their appearance is nonetheless quite disconcerting. It seems unnatural for animals to cut and turn with such precision. Only imperial storm troopers are so precise, I thought.

This is a video from the Ponte Sisto, looking north. At one point you can see the dome of St. Peter’s in the distance. As strange as this sight looks on the video, trust me when I say that it is ten to the nth power more impressive and scarier in real life.

For your viewing enjoyment, scroll down a bit...

Also, what are birds? (+5 pts for a positive ID of this reference)

Monkeys stand for honesty; Giraffes are insincere.

This past weekend, we wanted to do things that real Romans do. Forget all that tourist business. So on Saturday, off we went to the Bioparco di Roma, the Roman zoo. We were partially expecting to find rows of cages with pacing exotic beasts in the style of certain past Roman entertainments, but fortunately we were met with an awesome wonderland in the American style with enclosures and proper habitats for a wide variety of animals. We saw:

As adorable as these animals are, they were no match for the tiny Italian children running around everywhere. The zoo was pretty empty, save us and Italian parents and their kids. We were certainly the only Americans [slash] English speakers there, and since our Italian comprehension level is not exactly the best, we loved being around the kids because they spoke simply enough for us to understand. If there was ever any doubt, small children speaking a language other than English – especially if they’re speaking Italian – are the cutest sentient beings ever made. They would shout excitedly to their parents or cry out in sudden fear – absolutely amazing. One little boy just could not figure out how to say the word “ippopotomo,” which admittedly is difficult to say, in English or Italian. In response to the intense ticking of our collective biological clock, we resolved to simply steal a little kid and take it home with us. I knew that spare room would come in handy!

LEMURS ARE REALLY COOL. So are we.

Speaking of cool…

Sunday we ventured to Mussolini’s grand Stadio Olimpico to see some footballers. Unfortunately we couldn’t get tickets to see Roma play, so instead we saw this area’s other home team, S.S. Lazio. The region that Rome is in is called Lazio, literally the land of the Latins (taken from antiquity), and is very analogous to an American state. They were playing the rival city team of Udinese. Neither team is very good (though both are in Serie A) and this game was fairly unimportant and on a Sunday afternoon, so the stadium was pretty deserted. However, it was still really awesome to see what all the fuss is about. Even the few people who were there went crazy at the (legitimately) bad calls by the referee as Lazio ultimately lost 1-0. The curses we heard ran the gauntlet of Italian curse words, ranging from “bufone,” meaning clown or buffoon, to things much, much worse.

Seeing all the scarves waving and hearing Lazio’s fight song, one could imagine what this massive stadium would be like when it’s full. We’re going to try to get tickets to a cross-town shootout between Roma and Lazio, but it will probably be sold out. Check out my pics!

Who built this stadium again? Oh yeah…

Just in case we get a little out of hand, cops with riot gear.

Too bad Lazio sucks. It’s like rooting for the Royals (they have the same colors, actually). I guess somebody has to do it.

News on the March

From the United States Department of State, the U.S. Consulate in Rome, the Central Intelligence Agency, the American Embassy in Italy, and His Eminence the United States Ambassador to Italy:

"Run for your lives. They sky is not falling. There isn't even any sky to fall. We'd be lucky if the sky was falling. Seriously, if you're not terrified, you better GET THERE, for your safety and the safety of your children. And freedom. You should be terrified for the safety of your freedom. Or something. Abstract phrase without substantive meaning.

"If you're an American citizen and value your freedom (which is your birthright) and should, for whatever ungodly reason find yourself outside the borders of glorious America, return as quickly as possible. If you are unable to immediately re-enter our fields of amber grain, please please PLEASE try to stay alive. It won't be easy, especially if you're in a city full of evil Gypsies like Rome. Avoid crowded areas like Stazione Termini, the Campo dei Fiori, and the Piazza Navona. And the Coliseum, Forum, Pantheon, St. Peter's (the square and basilica), Largo Argentina, Piazza Venezia, the Campidoglio, the Palatine, the Aventine, Piazza di Spagna, Trevi Fountain, Piazza del Popolo, the Villa Borghese, the Via del Corso, the Corso del Vittorio Emanuele II, all Musei di Roma, the Capitoline Museums, the Galleria Borghese, the Piazza Trilussa, and the river roads. As well as all major and minor churches and monuments.

"If these guidelines are strictly adhered to in the (ideally short) amount of time that you choose to remain outside the boundaries of our purple mountains' majesty, then you might possibly escape mortal harm. But ONLY if they are strictly adhered to. If, for reasons passing understanding, you choose to ignore these carefully researched and crafted rules, you will inevitably be robbed, drugged, raped, and then thrown into the River Tiber. And it will only happen in that order if you're lucky.

Stay in your places of residence. Eat at your hotel's restaurant. If your hotel doesn't have a restaurant, you should fast. Leave only to go to the airport and return to the United States. And oh DEAR GOD do not get on a bus or a train to get to the airport. Hire a taxi. It's worth the 100 Euro to arrive at the airport alive, unraped, undrugged, unrobbed, and not thrown in the Tiber. Keep your wits about you at all times, trust no one, and return to America as quickly as possible. This is the only way to stay safe and happy. And free.

"That is all."

You've just committed one of the classic blunders!

The most famous of which is never get involved in a land war in Asia, but only slightly less well known is this:

Never do what I did two days ago.

In order to comprehend exactly the depth of sordidness that this tale approaches, some exposition is necessary. I was lying in bed, having already brushed my teeth and taken my contacts out, about to fall asleep. On the long, winding road to set my cell phone alarm, I momentarily stopped on a most important mission. Since my phone is not equipped for European networks, its clock retains American central time. Needless to say, this is a bit annoying, especially when trying to set the alarm (adding seven to anything, after all, is an unnecessarily complicated mathematical proposition). I endeavored, therefore, to discover a way to change the clock manually.

It is very important to understand, as this story progresses, that my brain at this point was not what you might call “functional.” In that lovely place between sleeping and waking, where the line between good ideas and bad ideas is fuzzy at best, I was suddenly and disastrously overcome by a wave of stupidity that approached galactic proportions. What DOES “Master Clear” do, I asked myself, quite puzzled.

Absent mindedly, I selected this most mysterious option, truly curious as to its function. As you might expect with a function as ominous as Master Clear, the phone prompted me for a password. A person more classically trained in rhetoric or philosophy may have taken this prompt as a signal to perhaps turn back from the brink of utter destruction, put the phone away, and retire. Unfortunately for me, a dastardly combination of stupidity and curiosity pushed me forward.

Unsure of the password, I tried several things. “123456” was denied. As was my telephone number. Hardly thinking at all (as has been the case the entire time), I entered “000000” and was permitted to proceed. Even at this point, my phone continued to throw up roadblocks to my unwavering, seemingly unstoppable idiocy. “Are you SURE you want to Master Clear?” it so politely asked my sleep-addled brain. “Sure,” I casually replied.

“Are you REALLY REALLY SURE?”

Of course I’m sure, you silly phone. I know what I’m doing. I’m the human after all. It was my people who designed and created you, and I think I know when I’m sure I want to do something, so just back off.

Do you know that immediate, sudden, and utter turnabout your brain does right after you’ve done something monumentally stupid? As if you were watching yourself acting from afar, knowing that you should stop yourself but being absolutely powerless to do so. After the deed is done though, the two brains again are one and the breathtaking magnitude of the error is realized. This is what happened after I pressed “Yes.” As though struck by a burlap sack filled with bricks and swung by a Mendicant giant, I was pummeled back to consciousness.

Oh dear. Oh dear. What have I done. What have I done.

Frantically pressing “No” afterwards apparently does no good. Nor does ripping out the battery and throwing it across the room. The function, it turns out, was quite aptly named, for my phone was then and now remains Master Cleared. Nearly 150 phone numbers, some photos, and various other things were wiped out in one fell swoop.

As if millions of voices suddenly cried out, and were suddenly silenced.

Woe is me.

One cannot simply WALK into Con. Law

Is it bad that I could self-indulgently read the University of Chicago College Catalog for hours at a time? Or that I'm counting the days until I can register for next quarter's classes, simply because they are SO AWESOME. Should I be concerned about the state of my mental health that I catch a glimpse of Gerald Rosenberg's Con. Law class and have to forcibly stifle a leap of joy? And don't get my started on LLSO 24711: Lincoln: Slavery, War, and the Constitution, taught by His Royal Highness Dennis J. Hutchinson.

Deep breath at the mere thought of such an academic endeavor.

Slowly let it out...

As much as I'm loving Rome - the lack of homework, papers, projects, etc. and the overabundance of ruins, churches, artistic masterpieces, and WARMTH - I find myself craving a class that has something to do with the law. I haven't had a quarter sans law in a long time now, and I'm missing it desperately. After this quarter, I will have killed the Core dead, and can then start to focus more intensely on the things that I really want to research and study, but for the time being, I'm craving some Antonin Scalia.

OMGod, I just had a brilliant idea. Everyone reading this should do likewise as soon as they get the chance. To sate my ostensibly unquenchable desire for everyone's favorite conservative, Italian, spectacled Supreme Court justice, I'm going to read Scalia's dissent in PGA Tour v. Martin. It's the best court opinion ever; he will totally have you rolling in the aisles. Side-splitting, must-read, action-packed!

Perhaps afterward I will be able to turn my thoughts back to early Christianity, the fall of the Western Empire, the accession of Charlemagne, and the Visigoths - oh yes, the Visigoths. Until then, however, my mind rests with words and thoughts much newer and much more personal. Life, liberty, and due process of law, they say? I can't say for sure right now whether or not those words mean anything at all, but I'd really like to look into it more.

Next quarter.

If Florence > Venice, how tall is Imhotep?

Pictures are not worth a thousand words. That's a stupid sentiment, but they're still really cool, so check these out.

This is the Duomo in Florence, quite possibly the most beautiful building ever made by God. And by God of course I mean Brunelleschi.

Speaking of whom...
On top of it = EVEN BETTER!

In Venice, all roads lead to... everywhere?

Is anyone around here artistic? Anyone? Oh wait... it's me.

Cold Turkey

Our relationship first budded some ten years ago, I suppose, and has been going strong ever since those magical first words, but in the past year, our love blossomed into something that few couples even dream about: a connection that is practically symbiotic in its unity, filled with passion and trust, excitement and comfort. Yes, I think it’s fair to say that over these past twelve months, the Internets and I had created an unbreakable bond; we relied on each other for everything. We told each other our innermost desires and deepest fears but also shared many a time of hearty laughter – the kind that makes your chest hurt and your eyes water. There was nary a moment that we were apart.

The Internets, however, is a fickle mistress.

I came to Rome and she abandoned me, like a puppy on the side of the road. Just up and left. I can only begin to express the feeling of losing someone so dear; it’s like a part of me was amputated, and then they took the amputated part and hit me over the head with it until I was dazed, confused, and left for dead with no access to Wikipedia or the Google. The horror.

Now whenever I want to spend even a little time with her, she makes me pay. It’s humiliating. This makes the little time I do have with her virtually unbearable, for I must go on with the knowledge that my pocket is being fleeced by the one I love. I stare longingly at her, and she just stares right back, mocking my sorrow and my pain by simply continuing on without me. I didn’t think it possible, but there she goes, as if nothing had happened! Her YouTube continues to have new videos, her blogs hum right along, and her the Facebook is constantly updated. All without my help or moral support!

I guess she never needed me. But I need her.

NO! Enough is enough! She can have her IMDb and eat it too. I’m finished. The Internets won’t have me to push around any more. I’m going cold turkey, starting right now. Except for email. And news. And blogs, if I have time. Ooh, sports scores. Them too. And only the occasional Wikipedia. But that’s it! Just those things, and the Facebook.

Now let’s see who’s jealous!

We who are about to die...

Roma Victor!

Enough with the quotes already!

We've returned to Roma now, after our three-day excursion to the Bay of Naples. Pompeii was even more incredible than I could've ever anticipated. Unlike any of the other ruined cities that we've visited, Pompeii is so perfectly preserved that you can easily imagine Roman life there. Walking through the streets over the original paving stones with the wagon ruts still worn into them, seeing original Roman wall painting, chills ran up and down our collective spine because of the overwhelming REALITY of the place.

The highlight was most definitely the amphitheater, which was almost perfectly preserved, save for some grass growing on the bleachers in some places. You enter at a steep angle from a darkened tunnel, only illuminated by the bright floor of the stadium itself. Descending, the power of the building is palpable and I'm almost positive that I heard a crowd roaring, somewhere. Imagine...

When we walked out onto the floor, each of us was totally blown away by the sight. It's one of those things that is very hard to properly explain. We were struck speechless for a time, and I could feel the pace of my breathing increase. The simplest explanation I can come up with is that we were THERE, in the very place almost exactly as it was some two thousand years ago. Check out this vid...



All right, I'm off... Hopefully I didn't clog the tubes too much with that video. Those VHS's get stuck so easily!

Pizza, Pompeii, Piles of Trash

A quick post from our INCREDIBLE hotel on the Bay of Naples. We arrived this afternoon, after a quick jaunt at Paestum, one of the finest examples of the Greek colonization of southern Italy (check it out here!). The building where we're staying is about 400 years old and is situated on a hill overlooking the Mediterranean. As with most places in Italy, it is overrun with stray cats - who of course are tiny and adorable - as well as a variety of other farm animals. We saw goats, sheep, chickens, and even bats. Yes, I know that bats are not typically considered farm animals, but screw you.

We got to the hotel in the ancient Roman boom-town of Cuma and promptly watched the sun set below the sea, falling behind the ruins of the Cumean ampitheater, which is about 100 feet behind the hotel, right in our backyard for all intents and purposes. This sight was gorgeous; the sun and the sky were dyed countless shades of countless colors.

Tomorrow we're off to Pompeii, which promises to be amazing. A perfectly preserved Roman city on the shores of the sea almost exactly as it was in 79 AD makes me twitch a bit with exitement. After that it's to the National Museum of Antiquities in Napoli, a city which apparently is STILL in the midst of a garbage workers' strike that is many months old by this point. Driving through the city today, we saw piles of trash everywhere - lining the sides of the road and piled on street corners. Fires burned in the countryside becase there's literally nowhere else for all the trash to go. They should just pay the guys more! If there's any occupation that should be decently compensated, it should be garbage collectors. Somebody call the AFL-CIO.

Time for wine (I guess we're celebrating my birthday or something...) and revelry. GO CUBS.