Snow in Rome

For the past two weeks I had been basking in the sunlight and the spring air. I would walk around without my jacket and pridefully remind myself how cold it must be in Oregon. On Monday I received my due karma -- snow. The last time there was snow in Rome was 1988, but on Monday afternoon it snowed in Rome for two whole hours. The snowstorm was beautiful; thousands of large and detailed flakes floated to the ground covering everything. Needless to say, the girls were thrilled. Right after school they ran out of the car and we began building a snowman. The snow didn’t last through Monday night and our dear snowman was gone by morning, but we did take some fun pics:

Pompeii Trip Part 3

I pulled out my cell phone (can you believe I have a cell phone and that I know how to text?) and checked the time. Again. Now it was 11:00am. The bus that was supposed to take me to the top of Mt. Vesuvius was half an hour late. I was beginning to worry that I might now have time to see Herculaneum that afternoon. I turned to the two girls sitting next to me and said something about it being so late. They turned to me and said, “Get used to it, this is Napoli.”
I asked the man who was guiding the tours when the bus was going to arrive. His reply? ‘The bus is stuck in traffic.’ Yeah right. In Pompeii?

It was my first taste of southern Italy where nothing is one time. No one keeps schedules. And no one worries about it. This kind of attitude is extremely hard for tourists. I just about went crazy trying to calculate how much time I would have in Herculaneum. The two girls who were sitting with me, waiting to go on the tour, were from Switzerland. They were studying Italian in Sorrento which is just a bit south of Napoli. They recalled how the change from Switzerland, where everything is punctual and perfect, to Sorrento was mind boggling. It drove them crazy for the first few months. One of the girls almost went home but was persuaded by her friend to stay.

I had seen this kind of attitude in Rome. Our fridge has been broken for some time and the mechanics have no showed us three time. When Meirav showed them the receipt for the insurance on the fridge they said they couldn’t recognize it. She told me next time she is just going to buy a cheap fridge and then throw is out when it stops working. Our gardeners rarely show, and the construction workers for the new gazebo are always late. These glitches have never affected me personally. And now that I was beginning to experience it firsthand I was struggling.

Finally at 11:30 the bus showed. The girls and I climbed in and our journey actually began. The drive up the mountain was beautiful. I was constantly looking out the window down at Napoli and Capri. The huge bustling city on the edge of the Mediterranean. It was cloudy outside and instead of sparkling the sea looked slightly gray, but it was still beautiful.


On the side of the mountain you would still see where the lava had flowed down the sides in the eruption of 1944. Our tour guide parked the van and we were able to get out. Touch the lava. Walk on the side of Mt. Vesuvius.


At the top the girls and I got out of the car and began the 20 minute hike to the top. It was bitter cold and very windy, but I didn’t mind one bit because I couldn’t believe I was standing on an active volcano. The one I had read about in my history books. I can still remember the sound of the tail rocks crunching under my feet. You know that sound? It is even more beautiful when you know it is Mt. Vesuvius you're hiking. I felt giddy the whole time. I couldn't stop smiling.

My mind kept flashing back to a memory in our Elizabeth Street house. We were sitting on the green couch: Mom, Bryce, and I. The timeline was behind us on the wall. We were reading a book about Pompeii. Mom was telling us about the erruption in vivid and excited deatil. As that elementary school girl, I remember thinking 'I wish I could see that.' Who'd a thunk that ten years later I would?



At the top I was able to peek over the edge and see the crater, deep in the middle. It was astounding. The girls and I walked around the rim as far as the trail would let us. I was thrilled. Pinching myself the whole time.



Check out the trail I walked on:

Me trying to smile as the wind is hitting my face and tears are streaming down my cheeks. I really was happy.

It was a glorious morning.

Sunday at the Vatican

During General Conference weekend our Sunday Services were broadcast LIVE from Utah. The first session was from 6pm to 8pm and then the second session was from 10pm to midnight. (Imagine going to General Conference with your little children!) With my extra free time in the morning I decided to do as the Romans and watch the Vatican Mass (like most Romans actually go to church on Sunday….)

A couple blocks away from the Vatican I could already hear the bombing voices of an angelic choir filling the Piazza. It was beautiful. As I walked through the columns, which almost encircle the Vatican‘s Piazza, into the square I saw the Vatican Choir on the TV screen which was broadcasting Mass to the public. I stood in front of the screen with crowds of other people for quite some time. The Piazza was filled with richness. Brilliant colors shone on the TV screens. Vibrant greens, golds, reds, and purples made up the astonishing attire. The voices boomed and the interior walls were striking with their abundance of imbedded details. I was captivated with the meticulous procedures, costumes, gestures, and most of all the music.

After about 45 minutes my feet began to hurt so I walked over to the obelisk in the middle of the Piazza and sat against it. The sun was deliciously warm. I leaned my head back, closed my eyes, and let the warmth penetrate my skin while soaking in the harmony of the choir’s voices. It was a perfect moment.

That is how I spent my Sunday morning. I loved every minute of it.

Angles and Demons

I needed some variety in my day. I was spending my time studying Italian, Roman history, Michelangelo, Venice, and pushing through the wonderfully classic yet thick novel Anna Karenina. I found myself looking at my bookshelf perusing the titles for a novel that I could get lost in; I wanted a novel that was purely enjoyable. Meirav suggested Angles and Demons.

I sat down on the Spanish Steps, read the first page and was captivated. The story, set in Roma, takes the reader through a wild chase on Roman streets and piazzas in order to solve the overwhelming dilemma at hand.

The chase first took the couple to the Pantheon where numerable facts of its history were embedded in the pages. I was in awe by the bits of information I was gleaning and wanted to see for myself exactly what the author was describing. So I picked up by bag and walked to the Pantheon.

I learned against one of the Pantheon’s mammoth columns and read about the couples’ discoveries. Then I went in for a look. I gazed at the ceiling with the new knowledge that it was the tapering thickness of the dome which made it look weightless; I peered at Bernini’s tomb, and couldn’t believe I was meandering in the world’s largest free standing dome until the 1960s.

Next the couple went to Piazza del Popolo. And I followed them. I read the novel following the characters to each location. My chase took me to Piazza Bernini, the Vatican, Castel Sant’ Angelo, Piazza Navona, and multiple churches. I was able to read about the characters’ mission, discover numerous facts, and then see the building myself.

Now how many people get to do that?