When in Vatican City, don't do as Jesus does.

So, train stories are always fun. This one is fun only in retrospect. I was actually scared for the first time on my trip while it was happening. I took the overnight train from Val Gardena to Roma. My cabin-mates were the Ghanaian version of the Ugly American. They were screaming and shouting and carrying on, at one point getting in a shouting match over whether midnight is night or morning. All this on a train full of people. So, you can't blame me for asking them to be quiet. Only, my spidey senses were tingling about them, what with them punching the windows of the cabin and all. So, I didn't want to get involved in discourse with them. Therefore, I pretended to be Spanish, ostensibly the one language they didn't speak, and could feign not understanding what they were saying to me (especially when one of them called me a particular curse word for wanting to sleep at 2 a.m.). I ended up having a quasi-conversation with one of them, me in Spanish, he in Italian. We ended up laughing, and then he said something about his friend (the one doing all the punching) not liking Americans.

So, I was happy when we finally arrived in Roma and I got off the train safe and sound. What was the first thing I chose to see in Roma at 7:30 a.m.? The Trevi Fountain, of course. I got to watch a half dozen men in galoshes squeegeeing it while I ate peaches from Ele. It was sublime. Then I made my way over to Vatican City (a whole other country!), and was denied access to the Basilica for having bare shoulders. Two days later when I got over it and went back, I was appalled to see Jesus in a loincloth and cherubs in less, yet I had to be almost fully mantilla-fied. Does God really care that much about my shoulders? Isn't God just happy to see me? It's been such a long time.... This is just one of many reasons I left the church. However, I felt a twist of happiness today when I saw the rainbow flag flying from a balcony only a few metres outside of the Vatican City walls. Small victories can be so sweet.

I have seen so many incredible sights here: the Colosseum, the Terme de Caracolla (the ancient bath house, with a full Olympic-sized pool), the Sistine Chapel (wowza!), the Forum, the Piazza Venezia, the changing of the guards at the parliament - I've seen almost every square inch of ancient Rome. My host Maria is wonderful. She's an anti-marriage, anime-loving, environmentalist who broke in her kitchen cooking dinner for Jordan and I. She spends her vacations volunteering with WWF, doing things like saving harbor seals in Greece. Maria is an inspiration, and makes me not only desperately miss doing international volunteering (was my last GCN trip really 3 years ago?!), but reinvigorates me. Our first night together, she took me out on the back of her moto for a sunset tour of the city (there's nothing like seeing the Colosseum and the Forum against the setting sun). We went to Trastevere, a neighborhood high on my list, for wine. I was invited to move to Egypt with our server. I turned him down.

Every trip I take abroad, I give myself license to buy something extravagant, since I make it a point not to splurge on myself at home. So, I decided, what better to do in Rome than get some gladiator sandals. After two afternoons of shopping, I hadn't found a pair that worked. They are deceptively uncomfortable - the soles are hard as a rock. Luckily, there is more than one option if I want uncomfortable Italian shoes. I ended up with a pair of suede stilettos, which are actually more comfortable than the sandals. And surprisingly business appropriate. Tutto bene!

I have also been treating myself to as much gelato and tiramisu as my body can handle. Pine nut gelato, bring it on! I've even had strawberry tiramisu. It's a good thing I've been doing so much walking. It doesn't help that the Italian boys like to give double portions to the blonde foreign girls. It also doesn't help that they're so cute I can't help but go back for more...gelato.