April 27th: My half birthday.

Exactly 6 months ago was when I booked this Rome trip. Everyone always said I was crazy and they are 100% correct. I decided today that I am going to write a book on things NOT to do in life.
Examples of things NOT to do in life:
1. Wear a white sweater while eating gelato.
2. Ask other tourists for directions.
3. Pay more attention to the drink in your hand than your jacket that you left laying on the table.
4. Leave your place without an umbrella knowing that it’s going to rain.
5. Email companies to see if they hire interns for one day.
6. Go on a 3-month trip without planning anything.

Culture shock and doubt hit me hard this morning so I reached out for help via Facebook. Thank God for the kind strangers in the world. Stephanie responded quickly with a lunch invite.

But first! I had a destination in mind for today. I successfully illegally used the public transportation of the tram and the bus and made it to the Vatican City where me and my thousands of other tourists made our way to the greatest museum in Rome, featuring the famous Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel ceiling. I waited in line for about an hour where I was pushed and manhandled in, what was like a heard of farm animals, by angry, old German men and young, wild French schoolgirls. How can such “cultured” museum-going people of the world act so uncivil? If I wanted to be groped, I would go find a willing Italian boy on the street, thank you very much!
The line of people did not stop once I purchased my museum ticket and got into the actual museum. The giant crowd walked at a steady pace through the different sections: the hall of ancient statues, tapestries, maps, modern Christian painting. Through each gallery were these taunting signs reading, “Sistine Chapel” with an arrow. Each new section I entered was building up the anticipation for what was to come. Maybe if I had a map of the museum, I would have actually known that the chapel was at the end of the museum. But of course, I’m Callie Brennan and don’t need a map. (YEAH RIGHT) A particular highlight throughout the museum for me was seeing Raphael’s famous frescoes. (You would probably recognize The School of Athens)

The chapel is darker than I had imagined and packed from wall to wall with people who are equally as stunned as I am. Looking up at the ceiling I thought, “Well Callie, you certainly don’t see THAT everyday.” For all of the moments when I’ve been a mess and lost in the last 5 days, it was made up for 10 fold being underneath what many believe to be the greatest art masterpiece of all time. Everyone is taking pictures even though it’s not allowed and the guards aren’t even trying to stop them. It’s loud and the noise echoes through the hall. Your neck goes into a 90-degree angle and it certainly hurts after a while. I heard a rumor that if you arrive at the museum before 6am, they allow you to lay on the floor and stare at the ceiling. Probably not true but wishful thinking. I try to find my own world there among the tourists and I would be lying if I said I didn’t get a bit emotional and a tinge of holiness standing in there. I know it sounds stupid.
Being raised Roman Catholic, I haven’t really practiced it since high school. Before I left Stony Brook, I brought something with me that I had in my pockets there within the Vatican walls. St. James Roman Catholic church sends out care packages to it’s members who are in college every semester. I was always WAY more concerned about the tin of baked goods than about anything else that came in that box but they always would put a nice hand written note and included a small holy token, like a tiny coin with a quote from the bible or a crucifixion. I kept mostly all of them and brought them to Rome with me. For faith? For protection? For hope? To pretend like I’m really a good Catholic? I’m still not sure but having them there in my pockets gave me some strength and I felt a little bit more brave, if even while I was just inside those walls.


Then, I met Marcus. In looking for directions to the Laocoon sculpture, Marcus the Museum Guard told me all about his trip to New York City a few years back and when I told him my story, he said, “So you are free! Free like butterfly!” This friendly interaction made me smile. I guess I can see myself like that. I’m a butterfly.

I headed to the Spanish steps, another must-see in Roma, and was ecstatic to find it successfully. I can now say that I have climbed the Spanish Steps in Rome!



I met Stephanie at Pepy’s and she brought a couple of friends as backup. (Hey! I could have been a rapist myself!) Over margarita pizzas, verbal vomit left my mouth while they spoke of their MBA program and gave advice to me, the lost puppy.
Step 1: Get a cell phone. (Life is about small steps!) Stephanie and Mazen took me to the “Tim” store. (Damn! Cell phone numbers are cheaper in Italy! 10 euros!) Getting lost with them was comforting because they have been here for months and still don't exactly know their way around! They were my lifesavers that day and a million thanks goes out to them. Stephanie left me at the bus stop after I promised her that I would be fine getting back. It was 2 hours later after realizing that particular bus stopped running, trying to find a new bus stop, asking Italians for directions, getting on the wrong bus that took me even FURTHER from my destination, seeing a man peeing in a corner, waiting for a new bus, trying to find the right bus stop, having young locals laugh at me, tearing up on the side of the street, chasing after moving vehicles and knocking on the bus door. It was THEN that I SWORE I was booking a flight back home.

But I made it back eventually and survived. I cried to Savannah via skype (even abroad she is my safe haven and I love her for putting up with my ridiculous self) The world was okay again after a brownie, some live jazz music, and good conversation with Maria and Veronica, our Russian flatmate for the week. Filled with highs and lows: another day typical day for Callie in Roma.

Four Days in Roma

Let's Play: What did Callie do today?

I realized that, despite being lost for 2 hours in the morning, life isn't so bad when you're eating a panino (NOT paninI) of mozzarella and tomato while sitting next to the Colosseum. (A+ for Roma street food!)



I stolled along the Roman Forum, soaking up the history that once was there.


Saw this guy doing some really awesome street art with chalk.


Went food shopping for the first time to get some "essential" items and got into a fight with the salesclerk who didn't speak English because I did not have smaller bills.


I stumbled upon an Impressionism exhibit and I may or may not have by accidentally passed gas in the middle of a dead quiet museum.


After dying a little inside of embarrassment, I found out that there was a terrace and I fell in love with this view of Rome. It was peaceful and calming to have this different perspective of Rome compared to the hustle and bustle of the tourist filled streets below.


I also found out that my apartment building has a terrace, where I watched the sunset.

Day Tre: Liberation Day

April 25th is Liberation Day in Italy, I suppose the equivalent of our 4th of July. I was disappointed that I did not see any fireworks! Or very much celebration at all but I'm sure it's because AGAIN I slept in. It has taken me all of 3 days to get on "Roman time". I showered then Maria, Vanessa, and I went to Porta Portasie which is a gigantic Italian market behind our apartment that goes on every Sunday. It stretches for miles and consists of places selling whatever you could imagine. It resembles a giant thrift store and Maria wasn't kidding when she said that everything was "dirt cheap". I was warned that this was where the gypsies would be trying to steal things so I was on guard ready to attack anyone or anything that came near me. I've been looking for an excuse to try out my defense moves! I feel sorry for the sorry sucker that tries to attack me because it is for sure that my thumbs will be entering his eye sockets.

It was HOT and sunny, exactly the weather I hoped for in Rome. Jack, one of the "BC"ers who I had met the night before, was my tour guide to the Vatican City, something I just happened to miss while wandering the previous day. He said that I'm still in the "honeymoon phase" and he's right. St. Peter's Basilica: Let's breakdown the word "breathtaking", that which LITERALLY takes your breath away. Jack commented on the look on my face. Seeing the Pieta, a sculpture by Michelangelo, was probably my favorite part as I wrote a paper on it for my Art Renaissance class. Side Note! You aren't allowed in the Vatican unless you are fully covered. I luckily knew this before hand and was prepared with a long sleeve shirt to through over my tank top, despite the hot weather. We got gelato for lunch and I must admit that eating it with company was embarassing because my sloppy experience with quickly melting gelato is something that I usually don't have a witness to.


Jack and I parted and I made my way towards the Ara Pacis, another ancient Roman building that I studied. The one thing I regret leaving behind in Stony Brook, other than the people I wish I could have brought with me, is my notebook from my Roman Art class. Laura Philips! You were the greatest teacher and I think part of what drew me to Rome in the first place. Ever have a professor that was so passionate about what they were teaching that it made you want to be a better learner? Yep, that was Laura. (P.S. One of my fondest memories from that class was when Laura excused herself in the middle of a slide lecture and then reappeared. We later found out that she was pregnant and may or may not have been experiencing morning sickness...) Laura, the notes from your class would have been the PERFECT guide to the eternal city.

I ended up at an Edward Hopper exhibit at the Museum del Corso di Roma which was extremely interactive. For all you NON-Art History nerds, Hopper was the artist who did the famous painting of the "Night Hawks". They had a whole 3d model of the painting that you could actually go into the diner and sit down with the people. There was also a room where they projected sketches of his paintings onto paper and invited you to draw your own sketch and take it with you. When I was doing this, someone thought that the projection was my actual sketch. Ha! Something I like to do in museums is pretend that I don't know that you are NOT supposed to take photographs in special exhibits. I look to see if the museum guard is watching and once they turn around or enter a different room, I quickly take out my camera, shoot a quick photo, then try to hide it back in my pocket. Well, let's just say I was caught by a very unhappy Italian woman! "YOU MUST DELETE." I played the "Oops! I'm a stupid American" Card (something I don't have to try very hard at).




On the way back to my apartment, I started a conversation with a girl who was a student and she recommended a restaurant in Trastevere called Tony's. She gave me directions to where it is. Being only day three, I can't begin to tell you the amount of times I've been lost, frustrated, wishing I had a magic wand to zap me to where I wanted to be. Starving and yearning for a glass of wine and some pasta is NOT my idea of a good time to be lost. After 100% convincing myself that Tony's simply did not exist, I settled on a cute looking restaurant on a corner where it appeared to be busy inside, what I thought to be a good sign. "Table for one, per favore!" I ordered white wine and watched the local italians who themselves were entranced with the soccer game that was playing on a few different televisions. They were loud in interacting with the game, cheering and booing. There was a couple sitting close to me and they ordered and received their meals before I could even decide what I wanted. I ended up choosing the Pasta Carbanera because I looked at what the man was eating and thought, "Whatever he has, I want that!" I had never had this pasta dish which consists of an egg, cream based sauce with chunks of bacon. It was very satisfying, not too creamy, not too dry. Exactly what I wanted for the evening. I sat with my journal, who acts as my best friend along with my camera that Jack named "O" because of it's orange color...not because taking pictures for me is the equivalent of having an orgasm.

Walking back to my apartment, I stopped at a local Patisserie where I let a man choose the "Tiramasu" for me. Note to self: You don't like Tiramasu, Callie (even if it is in Roma). I had to get Gelato to drown out the bad taste in my mouth.

Day Due

I guess I would be lying if I said I didn't really have expectations for this trip but my first real day in Rome was precisely exactly what I expected: full of unexpected events and wandering. After not one but two expressos, I set out towards the Pantheon, which was quite a bit of a walk from the apartment but I completely didn't mind despite the fact that it was raining and I forgot my umbrella again. On the streets in the center of Rome, tourists are EVERYWHERE and let's face it, I 100% fit in with them with my mini backpack, my map in one hand, and my travel book in my other hand. I stumbled across the giant building of the Pantheon and found that most of it was in scaffolding. The Pantheon is something I've studied in slides in several of my art history courses but nothing could have prepared me for the emotions that came over me as I walked inside and looked up at the occulus. The center of the floor was roped off because the rain was falling through the building right from the sky, forming puddles on the floor.


I left the Pantheon and tried to find Piazza Navono but realized I went the opposite direction because I found the Trevi Fountain. Che Bella!


After leaving the Trevi Fountain, I backtracked to Piazza Navona. It was also covered in looking like it was under construction
For me in Rome, time disappears and responsibility doesn't exist here. It's freedom.

I also had my first pizza that night! I went to Pizzeriza de Ivo with Maria and Vanessa. Maria, in her fluent sounding Italian ordered us a bottle of the house red. I ordered a "Buffalo Bill" pizza which consisted of Tomato, Mozzarella, Buffalo Mozzarella, Parmesan Cheese, Sauce, and Basil. The crust is thin and although the pizza is slightly large in circumfrince, it's not filling but just the perfect size. The crust is slightly burnt, just enough crunch. I would like to add now that my starting weight for this vacation is 48.5kg according to the scale in the bathroom. A weight gain is in order, let's be serious! I'm looking forward to some Italian junk in the trunk!








Other things I liked this day...

The little girl in the Museum de Trastevere that ran up to this painting, pointed at it, and laughed out loud. I'm sure you can guess the translation.

This band playing in front of the fountain in the piazza outside of Santa Maria in Trastavere.

My new best friend...

This sculpture of what I will look like when I leave Europe...

The way I felt walking down this street...

After dinner we grabbed a drink at the famous "Drunken Ship", which is a bar in Campo di Fiori (the literal translation being "Field of Flowers"). I saw zero flowers but many bars. It's a place swarming with Americans and other English speaking people, essentially your definition of a Spring Break type location. Before my trip I had heard about it from numerous people, young and old, that I had to make a pit stop there. There's a full bar inside with beers on tap but also a type of "drive through" window that you can walk up to and order drinks that you can sit with outside in the square (it's legal to drink openly on the streets in Rome). Inside, there were people doing body shots and they had advertised that a flash equaled a free drink of a "Flaming Orgasm" (yeah...I asked the bartender what was in one of those and HE didn't even know). Let's just say that this place did NOT impress me. In fact, I would say that I was a little repulsed. I felt bad for the drunk looking girls and had a real hard time seeing that there were people who were actually enjoying themselves. The bartenders were all these sleazy looking "frat" guys, one of which was sending these "kissy" faces my direction while I was up at the bar ordering my drink. Ew. The margarita I ended up ordering was too expensive, too strong, and the only enjoyable thing about it was that I got to drink it sitting on the fountain in the piazza. I was never "that" kind of girl and I was not about to start in my after college 22 year old self was certainly not about to start. In no way was I impressed. In this city full of so much beauty in the forms. A girls gone wild vacation is not why I came to Rome, thank you.

It was good conversation of home and families and life that made being in Campo di Fiori (field of drunks). Although it was not from the first guy I talked to who I called out on because I could tell after a few sentences that he was bullshitting me and making up everything that he was telling me about himself. I thought to my friend's roommate who traveled to Ireland and told girls he would meet that he was the boy from Free Willy. I told my parents before I left not to worry because I am a good judge of character. After trying to steal my drink, he told me that he hated small talk and he hated people and that he was going into the Navy so that he could shoot people in the face. I threw up my hand in disgust and told him that the conversation was ending there.

In life, I play the game, "I don't know what I want, but I certainly know what I DON'T want". I did NOT come to Rome to get drunk OR to find love.

Day Uno

After a long nap, despite the screaming boys playing soccer on the field outside my window and a good shower. Sal gave me an official tour of the flat, starting with his chipmunk. Sal is my current landlord, an older man who shares my love for life and people. He taught me how to use the expresso machine and we sat talking with our expressos.


Before I met Sal, Maria said that he was a “character” and that I would see and after sitting with him, I certainly agreed. He is sweet and said things like, “Two hours of reading is like missing two hours of living your life!” He also said, “Finding a good book is like finding a good boyfriend…if you don’t like it from the first page, what’s the point?”

Sure enough, my first night in Rome played out to be wonderful. Good conversation over wine, a home cooked Italian meal, and even gelato! I met the other girl living in the flat, Sara, who is every boy's fantasy of an Italian girls. Her friend Georgia also joined us for dinner, who will be living in the flat in a couple of weeks. I even got to help prepare the meal. I chopped the onion (thank you Stephen Gonzalez for teaching me to keep the tip of the knife down) but was labeled "too slow!" at cutting the apples. Dinner consisted of Gnocchi (NOT pronounced GA-NOCH-EE like I thought, which is a type of pasta-substitute potato) with proossutto, sauteed onions, basil, and apples. Both Roso and Biana wine were poured and we cheers-ed to Sarah's preparty of her 30th birthday, although her beautiful looks and liveliness couldn't put her a day older than me. The dish was extremely flavorful and although I hope to become better at describing food but for now, let's just say that it was a WHOLE lot better than the disgusting food that I had on the plane. Conversation played a huge role at the table and a lot of Italian was spoken! (Cue me kicking myself in the butt for not learning more...) They joked about the Italian accent..TER-ME-NAY-TORE and TREE-LER. (Terminator and Thriller)



After dinner I was exhausted but Sara convinced me to go out…”You are young!” The “no matter how you feel….get up, dress up, and show up” game is a game I will be playing every day. So I went out with the girls. My first time really walking down the streets and although it was dark and rainy, it was the first time I was like, “I think I’m in Rome….?” We walked Georgia back to near her apartment. Her parting words to us were, “Open your eyes….but don’t open anything else!”

And then I was in Scholars, an Irish pub, drinking a Peroni (out of a giant bottle!) having an in depth conversation about Harry Potter and how the Ginny in the movies is NOT as hot as she should be. Our entertainment was the couple sitting next to us HEAVILY making out. I mean....GOING AT IT in the middle of the bar. I was told that I would see a lot of this in Rome. At first I looked at is as "passion" but it quickly turned to disgust. TOO MUCH heavy petting for my first night in Rome.

The Day of the Flight

My family came over the night before my flight for dinner and a sendoff swaree, along with a couple of neighbors and close family friends. In hindsight, maybe drinking heavily the night before my Italian voyage was not the best decision I have ever made. I struggled on my way down to my bedroom after being at the Bench (where some friends of mine met me to say goodbyes that were never actually said). True Story: I fell down an entire flight of stairs.I’m about 110% positive that there is currently a broken bone in my lower back. Even still, nothing was going to stop this trip to Italy. If I could walk, I was going!

I tried not to get emotional during that night of the going away party but it was hard being surrounded by people that I loved and people that were genuinely concerned about my well-being and happiness. I received cards and gifts that I was not expecting and I was so grateful. Several well wishing and advice for my travels caused me to get more emotional than I expected. It's obvious that everyone is scared to death about my safety and I promise to come home in one piece! Messages came from the heart...unlike my little sister's parting words to me at the airport: "Don't get raped!" Thanks Cassidy.

Procrastinating and being the kind of person who packs too many things into too little time, I woke up the next morning hung over, all sorts of pain but mostly from my back, with an unpacked suitcase and piles of Callie belongings everywhere. Think about how hard it is to function after a night of drinking, now picture me trying to pack 3 months of my life in a span of a couple of hours. Let’s just say I was on Struggle Street. A street that I tend to visit often. Thank you Mom and Cassidy for helping me because if it weren't for your help, I would still be sitting dumbfounded next to an empty suitcase. After a solid singing of "all my bags are packed....I'm ready to go"....this picture happened...

My parents and Cassidy drove me to the airport and it felt like they were dropping me off at New Paltz for the first day of my Freshmen year. I had my very last Long Island bagel for breakfast and my Dad drove us to Newark via the city. My mind was calm (or exhausted) and I was excited but not nervous. Just steady and ready.

I changed the seat on my flight the night before because I wanted a window seat, instead of sitting in the middle of the 2 aisled plane. Happily seated next to the window, a large Italian woman kindly asked me to change seats so that she could sit with her daughter. "Of course!" I said. With eager, I awaited to see who my partner on this 8 and a half hour flight would be. A young Spanish looking girl sat next to me and we sat in silence while we got ourselves situated in the seats. I was going to ask her if she wanted a piece of gum as an "icebreaker", (no, not ICEBREAKER gum) but soon after started crying. I felt bad and before I could stop myself, I kindly told her that everything was going to be okay. Then she showed me her passport...which was in 2 pieces. If you know anything about passports, you know that this is very illegal and she had to decide right before the flight whether she was going to come to Italy or not because she might not be allowed back in the U.S. I tried to get her to laugh as we joked about her broken passport and my broken back. "Laughter is the best medicine." She seemed like the equivalent Spanish version of the mess that I am!

Elisabet was on her way to a week meditation in Italy but she had been studying English in Washington D.C. because one day she was on a beach, met an American who told her about English classes in the U.S. and she said "Why not?!" (cue the Lizzie McGuire song playing in my head....) We talked about all different things but I fell in love with her when she grabbed my arm in excitement talking about a pasta dish with pesto that she once had in Rome. My kind of girl! We talked about the illumination and the sensations of traveling. She called me "enlightened" for doing what I was doing and I laughed out loud. I'm not trying to change the world here people. I'm just trying to change my own world. I got Italian language lessons from a Spanish girl. Not trying to play the "everything happens for a reason" game but sitting next to her assured me that I was, in fact, doing the right thing. She was able to communicate things in a way that I couldn't. She used the example of waking up in a hotel and going to the buffet for breakfast. You see a banana and your heart says "Banana!" but your mind says Should I eat that banana...should I eat something else? would an orange be healthier because of the vitamin C? Think with your heart and not your mind. Elisabet told me that day in Spain it was the holiday of St. George, similar to our St. Valentine's Day, where men give women roses and they in turn give men books. We parted shortly after getting off the plane and I hope to see her again one day.

I was happy that the flight went by quick and was on time and also that I had no problems with my luggage. So many horror stories keep me happy about the little things. I had specific directions to the location of my apartment in Trastevere (the Greenich Village of Rome). I was successful in buying a ticket but I almost got on the wrong train. PRETENDING that you know EXACTLY what you are doing has nothing to do with what you ACTUALLY knowing what you are doing. Several kind people tried to help me with my luggage but I just heard everyone in the back of my mind telling me to be careful....so I did what I always do and showed my muscles and told them I could manage on my own. After the train, I took a tram but couldn't find 143 on Viale Trastevere. Through the rain with my umbrella tucked deep somewhere inside my suitcase that I was carrying, along with my heavy carry on bags, I walked up and down the street 3 times searching for the apartment. My hair was soaked and I looked like a mess. I can only imagine the crazy tourist that I looked like. I finally found it and was greeted by the intercom with the voice of Maria, a girl studying abroad from Boston College. A full FOUR flights of stairs? I paused to catch my breath at each step and got to around the 2nd floor when a kind Italian woman, who also lived in the building, showed me the elevator. Duh, Callie. They briefly showed me around the place but what I needed was a direction to anything resembling a bed.