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THREE MONTHS IN ROME LAST WEEK IN ROME Poignant times here in this ancient land. Months turned into weeks and weeks turned into days. And, then I bade farewell to Rome. For now. WEEK TWELVE The week of Thanksgiving in the U.S. was the week of my own Festa del Ringraziamento in Roma. It was the last week of classes, and my thoughts turned to returning home. WEEK ELEVEN Another week of sempre diritto, but this time I had a revelation. Getting lost is a metaphor of life. We don't get lost, instead we find ourselves somewhere we hadn't planned on being. WEEK TEN Due Ragazze da Strada di Marion. My best friend from childhood came with her family to visit me in Rome. It was my best week in Italy. WEEK NINE I spent the beginning of my ninth week in Italy in La Serenissima--the dark and watery city of Venice. It was a week of grand sights and great perspective. WEEK EIGHT Week Eight, which ended with a trip to Venice, was a week to reflect on the quirks of the Italians. Observed, of course, with love. WEEK SEVEN I began to feel the effects of hitting the halfway mark in my stay in Italy. Sharp and poignant, I embraced all my experiences with the knowledge that I would ultimately return home. WEEK SIX This was a week of Ballare sul Tavolo--dancing on the table. I decided that I was not going to lose the war with Bin Laden by living in terror. It was also the halfway mark of my stay in Rome. WEEK FIVE During my fifth week in Italy, I visited the small town in Southern Italy where my grandparents came from. I think I now understand why they left. WEEK FOUR A blur of a week. I finished my first month of school and played tour guide for family. Rome continued to delight and elude me. WEEK THREE My third week in Rome was a week of survivor's guilt, reflection, healing, and a new world view. Oh, and a Day in the Life. WEEK TWO This was, of course, the week of the attack. I came to Rome to learn the language and to live a little like an Italian. Instead, I learned words and phrases that I never thought I would have to know. WEEK ONE My first week in Rome was remarkable because it was even more than I expected it to be. My room was sweet, albeit little. Every morning I began my day by opening up my windows and looking out at the Tiber.                                                                                             Return to top