Envoi: I left my heart in Rome

I'm sitting in my very first Northwoods Apartment, not knowing how I got here. Just two days ago I was up at 5:00 am in my room at St. John's, where I had waited until the morning to pack my things, too exhausted from 16 magical days of Roman touring (and a three hour farewell dinner the night before). Just three days ago I was maximizing my last full day in the Eternal City, taking in the shopping, food, sites, and perhaps one of my favorite things about Rome, odd as it is, the public transportation system. Now I'm back at Skidmore College in Saratoga Springs with a mixed bag of feelings.

I am still processing the fact that I spent roughly 17 days in Rome. It was my first time in the city, let alone in Europe, let alone outside of North America (I once spent less than 24 hours in Montréal). I didn't go with my family, and I didn't go with a group of friends, even though every single person involved in the travel seminar ended up being a dear friend of mine, even if just for the time being. Maybe it's difficult for me to wrap my head around the time I spent in Rome because everything was back-to-back. I had a semester at Skidmore, a week at home, and two plus weeks in Rome, only to return promptly back to Skidmore. How can I hang onto the precious memories that I made in what feels like a whirlwind of time? As soon as I got on the plane to come home I had the awful feeling that my memories were already slipping through my fingers. Was it even real? And yet I know that there's no way that I'll ever forget my time in Rome.

I think that ultimately it's hard for me to make sense of the trip because I am devastated that it's over. I cried as me and my squad hugged before going our separate ways at JFK. I cried for a short period of time on the drive up to Saratoga Springs. I almost bawled during my first shift in the Admissions Office yesterday. I had to stop writing this envoi just a moment ago to excuse myself and sob some more. I've felt very happy when talking about the trip to the few people that I've shared details with. But when I am alone and think about Writing Rome, I feel an insatiable sense of longing.

I became so comfortable being in Rome and I fell in love with the city so deeply. The travel seminar was a beautiful ending and a beginning at the same time. There's no question that this past semester was my most difficult and uninspired one yet. At one point during Reading Rome I questioned whether or not I had made the right choice to enroll in the class. I am glad that that was only a passing thought, for I can confidently say that I would retake the class and travel seminar 1,000 times over. It is undoubtedly one of the best decisions I have made, and one of the greatest times of my life. To end the semester in Rome was incredibly positive and a dream come true. It has been my life's goal to see the world and be enriched by traveling, and thus it felt so right to be there. It is an incredible feeling to be living one's dream.

The seminar was not the beginning of an awesome summer, but the beginning of a new me. I was happy in Rome. I felt on top of my game. I navigated the city with ease (a few of my friends referred to me as "Ulmon," the app containing a map of Rome that we all used religiously); I ate incredible food all day long; I was learning in action, having witnessed so many amazing sites and works of art; I didn't let the dauntingly long line or the harsh rain at St. Peter's get me down, demonstrating my exceptionally sunny disposition; I delivered a presentation that I was proud of and actually quite interested in; I made close friends (I wish they were here with me now--or better yet that we were all still in Rome together), which is a huge deal for me in and of itself, but I also made friends with people that I did not expect to even talk to; I laughed wholeheartedly; I stepped out of my comfort zone and allowed myself to be a little nervous, a little embarrassed, and a little scared; I felt affirmation that I am an independent person who is made to adventure on her own, but also with the company of some of the finest people I have met; and finally, I got to walk the streets, piazzas, and hills of Rome everyday, never wasting a second to take in the sights and sounds and smells that surrounded me. I relished in the opportunity that I was so kindly granted, and I believe that I thrived. I was my best self, or at least a preview of that best self, and what's to come.

None of this would be possible without the instructional team: Professor Curley, Professor Spinner, and Sarah Breitenfeld. Thank you all for your care, insight, and time spent on this class. I am eternally grateful for your outstanding leadership and knowledge. Please know that I will forever cherish Reading and Writing Rome.

Giornale no. 4: Santa Maria della Concezione + Capuchin Crypt

Ekphrasis no. 2

Tucked away among the ruins of Ostia Antica appears none other than a glorious human derriere. So fine, it is unrivaled (in my humble opinion) by the many nude backsides that live in the Galleria Borghese, the Capitoline Museum, the Vatican Museum, or perhaps any other dwelling of fine Roman art from antiquity. It is not a real one in the flesh, as you might have guessed, but one made of rock--white in color, presumably marble, but something about the material's color and texture suggest otherwise. It is visibly weathered, but considering the age of the ancient city it is not nearly as weathered as it could be. Aside from the weathering there is a dimple, or rather a small but sizable chunk missing, in the upper right cheek. The figure's torso is hunched over, almost as if the body is curled up. Its right leg is firmly planted, its left leg lifted forward. From a side view appears what looks like a tree stump, or perhaps a random cylinder, on which the left foot, partially broken off, is resting. A partially chipped off Latin inscription is on the front of the stump. The right arm and head have been removed. A long piece of fabric with a decorative edge is draped over the left thigh, hanging off of either side, keeping both the knee and calf exposed. The left calf muscle in particular is very defined and prominent, especially when compared to the more restful right leg. Moving around to the front of the statue, we see that the fabric covers the left arm from below the shoulder down to the wrist.

(title unknown, artist unknown, Ostia Antica)