On Sunday morning I was at the Rome airport, on my way back to the USA. I had checked my bags, gone through security and waited in line at passport control. After about a half-hour wait, I stepped up to the desk where the intimidating officer, clad in his shiny-buttoned uniform, glared at me through the glass between us.

"Buongiorno!" I greeted him enthusiastically. One of the best lessons I've learned in Rome is to suck up to the government officials and you'll never have any problems.

"Buongiorno," he began, and then continued in Italian, "How long have you been in Italy?"

"Since January," I said. "I study here."

"What do you study?"

"Communications," I replied. This is when the officer at the next desk chimed in:

"Where? La Sapienza?" He was referring to an Italian university.

"No," I said, "The American University of Rome."

"Ah, up on Gianicolo?" my officer asked. I nodded. These guys seemed pretty friendly for passport control.

"When are you coming back?" my officer continued.

"September."

"Will you go out for a pizza with me when you get back in September?"

This totally threw me off. I stared at him in shock. In fear of making him angry and potentially not letting me go back to the US, I nodded.

The other officer leaned over, "I'll come along, and make sure you bring a pretty American girl for me too!" Unbelievable.

My officer took some official document and tore off the bottom. He slip the paper under the glass window to me with a pen.

"Do you have a cell phone number? Write it down and I'll give you a call." I scribbled down a made-up number. He gave me back my passport.

"Have a nice summer and I'll see you in September," he said with a wink.

This summer, however, I won't be dealing with Italian pests or...well...any of the variety of Italian pests. Nor will I be enjoying a creamy gelato or picking up provisions at the open-air markets.

Next week I will be heading back to New England, not to return to Rome until September. I do admit: I'm a bit nervous. The pasta won't be as al dente, the coffee won't be as creamy, and greeting someone with "Hello" isn't half as fun as saying "Buongiorno!"

When I do come back in September, I hope to focus this blog on the English-speaking community in Rome (of course, I will never be able to resist the occasional post about food). If you have any requests on what you would like me to write about, please leave a comment saying what. If you are an English-speaker in Rome and have an idea for a post, please leave a comment as well.

Thanks for reading and have a great summer!

If one digs deep enough, however, he may find this little gem beneath the cobblestones (literally): The English Theatre of Rome.

Last week I attended the show Broad Cloth Trilogy, part 2 – Body Matters, directed by Dyanne White and part of the “WOW: Women on Wednesdays” series. It was my first time seeing a show by The English Theatre of Rome and I didn’t know exactly what to expect.

Upon arrival at the Teatro l’Arciliuto I settled into the comfortable lounge where spectators wait for one show to end and the next to begin. The maroon walls were adorned with antique instruments and frescos and provided a relaxing atmosphere for a drink before or after a show.

The theater itself is very intimate. A stairway takes you from the waiting room and underground to the theater. The space – probably once a wine cellar – holds an audience of approximately 50 people.

Despite my initial qualms about the size, the show – seven monologues written and performed by women – blew me away. My favorite performances included Gaby Ford’s excerpt from “A Broad Abroad” where she comically demonstrates how to dub a pornographic film while eating fruit into a microphone; “Coming. Ready Or Not” written by Dyanne White where Melissa Palleschi personifies a zit; and Terianne Falcone’s “Sh#t Happens” which demonstrates her ability as a hysterical storyteller.

All of the actors were exceedingly talented and the monologues had me nearly rolling on the floor. My Italian boyfriend was also amused, and insisted that we return for the English-Italian language play that the group performs every season.

For ticket information, click HERE

The city is famous for its medieval walled-in center. On weekends, tourists from Florence and Pisa take a day-trip to Lucca to ride bicycles along the ramparts or just get lost wandering through the streets. Other sites include its many towers, churches, a botanical garden and – my favorite – quaint Tuscan restaurants.

One of the sites I found more fascinating was the Volto Santo in that cathedral of San Martino. It is a wooden carving of a crucifix that is believed to depict what Jesus really looked like. One of the many stories says that Nicodemus planned on carving the wood after Jesus’ crucifixion, but when he finally went to work on it, the face was already there. Above is a fresco of the Volto Santo as seen in the church of San Frediano. This church also houses the remains of Saint Zita – whose mummified body is brought out once a year to be touched by the devout.

My second stop in northern Italy was Ravenna. Famous for its Byzantine mosaics, it's a perfect to pass through for a day or two.
One thing I love about small European cities is that many of them rely on bicycles for transportation. They zig-zag along the streets, cutting-off the pedestrian tourists and speeding by the few cars stopped at a red light. It definitely makes the city feel smaller and less intimidating.
When touring Ravenna, every sight was more impressive than the one before it: A cathedral with extensive mosaic floors. A small mausoleum with brightly colored mosaics in geometric shapes. A basilica, then a baptistery -- all displaying the art in nearly perfect condition.

Once I had enough of mosaics (though in this country there's no such thing as too many mosaics), I went to the Church of Saint Francis where there is a waterlogged crypt with -- come to think of it -- a mosaic floor. Of course, I had to wonder how the goldfish got in there...
For the English literature buffs, tourists can visit the house of Lord Byron near the church. I had to snap this picture for my literature professor, in hopes that he will add a few points to my last exams!

Spring Break is one of the most anticipated weeks on the college students' agenda. It gives them a rest from 9a.m. classes and midnight study groups so they can take what little money they've scraped together waiting tables and travel to a warmer destination. Or go home.

Spring Break for a student studying abroad, however, is just like an extended weekend. With beautiful, historic cities just a train ride away, it doesn't take much planning to grab a ticket in the morning and find yourself in another country by the afternoon.

This Spring Break, I decided to stay in Italy -- but get out of of Rome. My parents were on vacation in northern Italy so I hopped on a train up to Venice to meet them.

A gondola right down a quaint Venetian canal.

Venice is everything the movies make it seem (but a bit colder in March). From the gondoliers in striped shirts to the flocks of pigeons in Saint Mark's Square, the city is absolutely amazing.

One of the best things to do in Venice is get lost. The winding, pedestrian-only streets lead you over small bridges, past shop windows displaying carnival masks and blown glass figurines and open up into picturesque piazzas. Maps prove to be less helpful than in most cities since there's no direct street to any major site.

Saint Mark's Square is the must-see of the city. The cathedral alone displays breath-taking mosaic ceilings and floors, as well a view of the square. The cafes lining the square are known for their exaggerated prices, so tourists avoid the area at lunch time and head for the more quiet neighborhoods.

A trip to Venice is never complete without a ride on the canals in a gondola. The gondolier will take you away from the Grand Canal and into what I like to call the "alleys," (though they are accessible only by boat). It is here that you can experience the true beauty of Venice, and take pause to enjoy the sinking architecture.

But nothing is perfect.

My boyfriend and I went to an off-the-beaten-path fish restaurant last Wednesday. This was the type of place that didn't have menus, you just sat and got served. First came eight plates of antipasti: A variety of mussels, oysters, stuffed clams and baby octopus. Next came a small portion of risotto with scampi, followed by spaghetti with clams and then a pasta with red sauce. As if that wouldn't sufficiently stuff us, we were then faced with a platter of fried calamari and shrimp. The meal ended with lemon sorbet and a fruit platter. Despite the amount, it was so good that we practically licked our plates clean.

The next day my boyfriend woke up with a stomachache. After attempting to eat, he quickly realized that he couldn't hold anything down. When he broke out in a fever, it was obvious what was going on.

Food poisoning.

Travelers in Italy -- as in many countries -- have to be wary of what they eat. With Italy's badly enforced sanitation laws and abundance of small, family-run osterie, one has be be especially careful. Fish should only be eaten in restaurants near the sea. Restaurants in the city centers are less likely to serve fresh fish. And always ask the locals for suggestions on where to eat as opposed to finding a place on your own.

Luckily for my boyfriend, it passed pretty quickly.

When I first moved to Italy I had gotten food poisoning from fish in Venice. I was bedridden for four days and couldn't eat or drink the entire time. What a drag that was: Being in the land of amazing food and unable to eat.

Romans seem to all get sick at the same time. One little cough and the person next to you in the line at the pharmacy comments, “Ah, looks like you’ve got what’s going around.” I believe it. Humid weather, crowded public transportation and badly enforced restaurant sanitation laws (I have worked in them and I have seen the dark side) is the perfect combination for spreading germs.

The pharmacy is the best place to get medicine…and they’re not shy about handing it out. This morning I sent my brother, who is visiting from Boston, to the pharmacy with a note written in Italian. I wrote down my symptoms: dry cough, fever, stuffed sinuses, etc. on a piece of paper. He returned five minutes later with three small packages: a cough syrup, a fever-reducer and a decongestant all suggested by the pharmacist. I wondered why they couldn’t just give me an all-in-one cold medicine.

American students go nuts for over-the-counter medicines from the homeland. Maybe we don’t consider Italian drugs strong enough for our symptoms. This time of year, word spreads fast on who has the hook-ups: “I hear Joe’s got Tylenol Cold and Flu.” “Forget that, Liz has Sudafed.” “I saw Katherine drinking Airborne, maybe she has extra.” “I’ve got a hidden stash of Halls cough drops.”

Another perk to attending a university with such a diverse student body is the variety of home remedies. While my American friends swear by a bowl of chicken soup, my Japanese friend suggests boiling orange peels and drinking the water. It’s a bit bitter, so I put a twist on it by using the water for my tea and adding a generous amount of honey.

So on this Valentine’s Day, I believe the best way to say “I love you” is “STAI LONTANO!”

“Stay far away!”

The first week was great. I saw my family, met with friends over bowls of clam chowder and decompressed from the stress of school and city life.

Into my second week, I began to feel like I was 16 again. For one, my mom expected me home at a certain time for dinner -- something that is much appreciated (great pot roast, Mom!) but jarring after feeding myself for the past three years. My high school friends called and we arranged meeting points and plans of action to pass the time in our quiet town. I listened to my old CDs and fantasized about traveling to foreign countries.

My Italian boyfriend arrived during the third week. I nearly begged him to take me back to Italy on the day of his arrival. I missed the cobblestone piazzas and open-air markets. Shopping malls and supermarkets just didn't cut it.

By the fourth week, Philly cheese steaks and root beer had lost their charm. Being away from good pasta, Coca-Cola made with sugar (instead of high-fructose corn syrup) and cheap espresso was driving me nuts.

So here I am: Back to the Roman way and back to the books. Upon my return, the owner of the corner coffee bar greeted me with an enthusiastic "buongiorno." She noted that I had been gone a long time and asked if everything was OK.

I looked down at the cappuccino in front of me. There was nothing "grande" about it. No "double-mocha with whip" or paper cup with a logo. Justa simple cappuccino in a porcelain cup.

"Everything's perfect," I said.

My blog is currently undergoing some minor changes. I plan on returning to the blog with more news-oriented posts about Rome and the Roman lifestyle. As for now, I wish you all the happiest of holidays and please check back in late January!

-- Kelsea

As you've noticed, my posts have recently become fewer and farther between. Being a student is extremely time-consuming... but being a foreign student in a busy city is nuts!

Please feel free to post any questions you have about Rome, or suggestions for future posts. Let me know what you want to read.

Kindest Regards,
Kelsea

An alternative to taking a walk in a Roman park is a stroll through Mussolini’s former estate: Villa Torlonia. Although the buildings are currently under restoration, this is a perfect location for joggers, stray cats, and anyone looking to relax under the sun or in the shade of the trees.

A cat catching some rays.

The only building presently open to the public is the “House of the Owls.” Formerly the residence of Prince Giovanni Torlonia, the Swiss cabin-style structure displays the work of some of the most noted stained glass artists of the early 1900s.

Outside of the house.

"Lake with a swan"

"Swallows"

Pizza blotters are only found in America. I have met a few (mostly when I was in high school) and had always been both intrigued and a little disgusted by their practice. For those who are not familiar with this breed of diner, they are the ones who, upon ordering a slice of pizza, take a napkin and sop up the excess grease from the cheese. The napkin usually comes back soaking and orange.

An English friend of mine, also living in Rome, recently recounted her run-in with a pizza blotter at an Italian restaurant. She had watched as an American couple ordered two small pizzas. The American girl was given her pizza and began to take napkins and press them onto her pizza. My friend had watched as surrounding patrons (mostly Italian) eyed the girl with confusion. The girl continued, but had seemed frustrated that the napkins were coming back clear.

"What was she doing?" my English friend asked me. "Is this an American thing?"

I laughed, and educated her on the practices of the pizza blotter. My English friend was appalled.

"If Americans know that the food they order is so greasy that they have to wipe the grease off themselves, don't they understand that it's not healthy?"

It was pretty scary at first ...especially since the first thing I saw when walking into my school this morning was the Worldwide Caution Announcement posted on the bulletin board. A short time later, I received a phone call from a friend who was on his way to school and heard the news on the radio. I immediately went to an Italian newspaper website to see what was happening.

As an American abroad, one of the first things on my mind when I hear of accidents on the public transportation system is terrorism. It soon became clear that this was not the case in this situation. But they still don't know what caused the crash.

As for now, we're all settled on our couches, tuned into the local news.

Last weekend, I took a day-trip to the Tuscan town of Siena to do research for a travel article. My research included checking out inexpensive hotels, visiting the main sites and tasting some of the local cuisine (one of my favorite things to do)!

Along with the red wine, Chianti, the fennel flavored salami, finocchiona, and the fruit-cake-like sweet, panforte, this region is know for its wild boar, cinghiale. While wandering through the medieval streets, I happened upon a restaurant that was serving wild boar with mushrooms with grilled polenta as their specialty. The restaurant also advertised that it had been reviewed by the Rick Steves guidebooks in the past, so I figured it would be OK.

Well, I was in for a surprise.

Literally three minutes after I had ordered the potentially mouth-watering dish, it was placed in front of me. Now, I work in a restaurant that serves grilled polenta and I know that it takes longer than three minutes to cook – and even longer to get it as dry as the stuff on my plate. The entire dish was only lukewarm, and I had the sinking feeling that I was had been served yesterday’s leftovers straight from the microwave.

Real Italian restaurants take pride in their food and want nothing more than for the customers to enjoy a delicious meal…but this? As I looked around the dining room, I realized that over half of the patrons were foreigners; framed Rick Steves reviews loomed over their heads on the walls. I speculated that this restaurant once was a genuinely good-quality local hot spot, until it was written up in a guidebook. Now, it has become just another restaurant that caters to tourists, knowing perfectly well that the average American wouldn’t know the different between yesterday or today’s polenta.

In addition, my waiter spoke perfect English, and was figuratively jumping on me to translate the Italian menu before I had spoken a single word. I declined his offer in almost-perfect Italian, and should have taken it as a sign that customers were assumed to be foreigners.

A few snapshots of Siena:

Rooftops

The central piazza, il Campo.

A girl enjoys a book while sitting in the piazza.