The dream lives on

This is the last post of this blog.  There's been a lot of lasts for me in the past few days.  Last jury.  Last gelato.  Last group dinner.  Last walk to studio.  Last glimpse of the Pantheon.  I have left Rome.  I'm sitting in my room in Saint Paul as I write this.  It's been a very hard and strange experience.  It's given me a new outlook on life.  Re-entry into the U.S. wasn't what I thought it was going to be.  But nothing is.  I think it's pointless to try to describe reverse culture shock, so I'll just say what everyone says: it's weird coming back.

Now, I'd like to direct attention to people reading this blog who are interested in or are considering going to Rome with CUArch.  I know I read past blogs before I made my decision.  And I know what most of you will do.  You'll scroll down through the posts looking for pictures and completely skip the text.  That's fine, but if you do read anything, PLEASE, READ THIS:

DO YOUR RESEARCH.  Know what Rome is about.  Where it is, how it is, what sights to see, etc.  This is very important because you'll be living there for 4 months.

TAKE MONEY INTO CONSIDERATION.  Find out the exchange rate between the U.S. dollar and the euro.  The biggest blow that hit me was the expense of Italy.  Everything is at least twice as expensive in Italy, and the declining value of the dollar to the euro didn't help.  There is no meal plan, so plan to cook often.  Going out to eat, especially in Northern Italy, gets expensive.  I spent a little under $4000 in four months.  Although I traveled quite a lot, I was still on a budget.

TRAVEL.  A LOT.  They told us to stay in Rome during the meetings.  "There's no need to travel too much.  There's a lot to see in Rome."  While I agree that there is a lot to see in Rome, I couldn't emphasize more for you to travel and get out of Rome.  Because it was through visiting other cities that I came to see the true glory of Rome.  Every time I left, I missed it.  It made me love Rome that much more.

DON'T GO FOR THE PEOPLE.  Don't consider the other people going to Rome.  If you want to go to Rome, go to Rome.  Don't let who's on the list dictate where you go.  I would've made a grave mistake if I had done this.

DON'T EXPECT A VACATION.  You're not going on an extended holiday.  You'll be with the same 20 people every day for a long time.  People will start to go crazy.  Studio will become more intense.  You'll have a lot of work.  Expect to deal with stress and anger just like any other semester.

DON'T WASTE YOUR TIME.  When you're there, please do as much as you possibly can.  If' you're in a relationship with someone back home, work it out so that you're not always on the computer or the phone.  If you're feeling lazy and want to watch TV, get up and go do something.  I saw so many people wasting precious time abroad (including myself).  Experience the city while you can!

It was a great semester.  It was more amazing than I can describe.  All I can say is that I miss it already.  Some aspects of the program could have been better.  First, coordination between our courses would have been much appreciated.  There were several occasions where we visited a site (like Teatro Marcello) for both sketching/studio and history class.  Second, there were many times (especially in Northern Italy and Istanbul) where we would be let off at a random location and told we had free time.  This sounds like a good thing, but in reality, it wasn't.  None of us knew where we were most of the time and usually ended making our way back to the hotel.  Third, the trip's budget seemed very tight.  I always had the feeling that we couldn't get all that we wanted when we were provided with lunches or dinners.  These minor problems caused little trouble along the way.

Now I come to the conclusion.  They say all good things come to an end.  I would disagree.  The idea, the dream, that is Rome (at least for me) will never die.  I can see the cobblestone streets of Trastevere with my eyes closed.  I'll always have that.  It's become a part of me.  I'll carry the memories with me for the rest of my life.

ROME:    

The first day of sketching, at Sant'Ivo alla Sapienza

Kelly and CFT being vicious (one of a series)

On top of the heart of Rome, the Monumento Nazionale a Vittorio Emanuele II

Billy and Foz having fun park-finding

What I saw from my bed almost every day of this trip

Dr. McGonagall I mean Higgins during a typical history class

Yours truly with the she-wolf

Billy and Justin enjoying the Forum from the Capitoline Museum

Parco della Musica

On Bernini's staircase at the Vatican Museum (Corin looks excited!)

Emily and Campo de' Fiori from our studio window

Relaxing at the Olympic swimming complex

Senatus PoplusQue Romanus

Kelly can't believe she's walking up the Spanish Steps

The Lateran Library

The Boss, Sweaty Steve, and Marisa at the MACRO museum

Lisa asking if we can rent a boat in Villa Borghese

Reeking havoc on a 4 person bike

MAXXI

AS Roma soccer game

Steve was extra excited

Sketching at Trajan's Market

The Museum of the Roman Civilization

The struggle of Sweaty Steve for the final project

Cervantamama in Rome's most underrated park, Villa Ada

I took many pictures over the course of the semester.  Unlike most people, I try not to take pictures without anyone in them.  My reasoning is this: you can take as many pictures of St. Peter's as you want, but it will never change.  I understand that there are different lighting situations and things like that, but disregarding the artistic beauty of the picture, I find pictures without people in them very boring.  If you have to take a picture of every building you go in, you're missing something.  Because it's not about the buildings, it's about the experience.  The buildings people photograph will always be there.  The people themselves won't.  So this is what I documented.  Our time in Rome.  We were only 20 and 21 and in Rome once in our lives.

Requiem for a Dream

We were treated to a concert at Parco della Musica last night.  It was Mozart's Requiem in D Minor.  The night was one of the best I've had here.  To go to a concert at Renzo Piano's masterpiece of an auditorium was unreal.  But as I sat listening to the smooth and harmonious sound of the violins and cellos I could only think that this requiem was for my time here in Rome.  A requiem for a dream.  I have less than a week left here.  It's a fact that has excited and depressed me.  And as the choir burst in melodious discord, I couldn't help but think of it.  Of the little time I have left.  The things I'll do when I get home.  Leaving.  Seeing everyone.  The gigantic change that awaits me.  How much I'll miss this all.

I looked up what the word "requiem" means.  It refers to a "Requiem Mass" or a Mass for the dead, celebrated for the repose of a deceased soul.  I decided that it's fitting to call the Requiem one for my experience.  I think back to all of my memories here and I can't believe I did and saw so much.  I wondered earlier in the semester about my decision to come here.  I was searching for the reason.  Looking back, I can't believe I ever doubted myself.  I couldn't determine the reason because it isn't just one reason.  It's a million reasons.  It's the fact that I can see the Tiber from my apartment window.  It's catching a glimpse of the domes from Villa Borghese.  It's eating the best ice cream in the world.  It's people watching on Via del Corso.  It's walking to the Basilica of Saint Paul.  It's looking at Saint Peter's every day on the way to studio.  It's feeling the feeling of kinship that only Romans have.  It's sitting in a seat on the main floor looking at an undulating wooden ceiling listening to beautiful music.

The dream is over.  Time to wake up.  

"I have loved, because the Lord will hear the voice of my prayer.
Because he hath inclined his ear unto me: and in my days I will call upon him.
The sorrows of death have encompassed me: and the perils of hell have found me. I met with trouble and sorrow:
and I called upon the name of the Lord. O Lord, deliver my soul."


Psalm 115: 1-4

There's something that's come up that I'd like to address.  Reading this blog, you could notice an apparent lack of content that has anything to do with architecture.  You might wonder what I've been doing writing about things like my feelings and my religion.  I'll tell you.  At first, it was because I didn't really know what else to write.  I was told I had to blog, to document my experience here, so I did.  I didn't plan for it to come out the way it did, at least at first.  And when you notice that these posts don't have anything to do with architecture, I'll tell you to take a closer look.  If there's one thing I've learned in school and especially here, it's that architecture is everything.  Meaning, it has a hand in every aspect of life.  From the time the cavemen marked a piece of ground with significance by lighting a fire, architecture has been an integral part of humanity.  Architecture is derived directly from society and its needs, fears, hopes, and dreams.  I've been struggling with my faith here in Rome.  This struggle affects my designs.  Maybe not directly, but surely indirectly.  If something in my life isn't going right, that emotion seeps into what I do in studio.  Maybe I need to come to terms with God to move on with my architectural career.  All of this factors back into architecture.  I document my experiences as I experience them.  So if I feel homesick or frustrated I will try to document it accordingly.  I think this way is the most relevant form of documenting architecture that exists.  Rome is not a vacation.  It is a learning experience.  

I'm not trying to ignore or mock the grading requirements set down for this blog.  I realize that according to my definition, this blog could have anything on it and still be about architecture.  I don't believe that I have posted "just anything."  I'm merely stating my opinion.  But I suppose no one will believe that.         

"And now, Lord, what do I wait for?  My hope is in thee."

Psalm 39: 7

NAPLES:

The Spanish quarter

Aboard the funicular in Capri

Capri

CASTELLAMMARE:

Corin under the oculus of a dome in Stabia

The peak of Vesuvius

Emily on the roof of the hotel in Castellammare

Southern Italy (Sweaty Steve style) - words that come to mind: beautiful, hot, sunny, blue, nice, peaceful, gorgeous, breezy, bright, happy, carefree...

As you can see, I couldn't have enjoyed the trip south more.  It stood out among the three as the trip where I actually observed a real sense of fun and even "giddiness."  It is this feeling- the morale- that was missing partially or all together in the last two trips.  I could tell when we all arrived in Naples that this trip was going to be different.  The first indicator was the most obvious: the weather.  It was completely beautiful weather every day of the trip.  And this is where the trip south differs the most from the others.  Everyone is happier when it is nice out.  Even if it's dark and raining at the most famous building in the world, you're still not going to have as good of an experience as you would if it were warm and sunny.  And Southern Italy was both.  Naples felt like Florida (aka heaven on earth).  Once we got down to Capri and Castellammare, the weather was so nice that no one could feel even the most remote negative feeling.  It was one of the best experiences of my life.

Why?  Well, because of a lot things.  Too many things to write down here.  But I can give you some examples.  The first day in Naples we had a sketching assignment where we had to observe and document street sections in the Spanish quarter and the Naples Gallery.  Not only was this assignment fun to do, it was enlightening.  I forget to look up sometimes in dense cities.  Really paying attention to what's happening with facades and conversation between buildings makes a large difference.  It was interesting to study the difference between the exterior, small-scale street and the interior, large-scale one.  The second day we went to one of the most amazing houses I have ever seen.  Perched on a cliff on the island of Capri, Curzio Malaparte's house sits.  Before arriving, I had heard about the house and its panoramic views.  To be honest, I never really thought much about it.  I certainly wasn't expecting anything phenomenal.  Casa Malaparte is the sort of "poster" for Southern Italy and the Rome program.  I didn't think it was going to be that great.  But when I walked down the steps and through the front gate I was immediately entranced.  The house is just existing, at peace with the world, amongst heavenly landscape.  It is part of this landscape.  All around it the sea extended - one big horizon line with the most beautiful blue.  The place has a magical aura.  Three hours sketching there went by in what seemed like an instant.  And, for the first time on this trip, I seemed to reach a point where I was at peace with it.  Meaning, I was just sketching.  I was just putting lines down in my sketchbook and loving it.  And it came out great (maybe the best composition I have ever sketched).  Looking back, it may very well have been one of the happiest times in my life.  Just me, my friends, and the wide open sea.  The next day, we all went to Pompeii (which was also phenomenal) and afterwards, had the afternoon to do what we wanted.  I chose to climb Vesuvius with a few other people.  We had to take a bus to a point about 1000 meters up the side of it and then walk the rest of the way.  As the bus ascended, we were met with great views at every break in the trees.  But the walk up was the best.  Standing at the mouth of the crater, looking out over everything - the slightly smoking crater, the trees, the rock, the city, the people, the sea, the sky, the sun...  I felt that feeling that you only feel when you're truly happy.  I can't put it into words.  The islands in the distance looked like they were clouds because the sun was shining so brightly, the light overtook the horizon line.  The quiet was so peaceful that I could feel the distance between myself and the foot of the volcano.  I wrote my initials on a wooden sign and walked back down.

Coming back to Rome, I could only wish that I had a few more days in the wonderland that was Southern Italy.  The semester is almost over now and everyone feels it.  But it's not over yet.      

BERLIN:

The AEG Turbine Factory by Peter Behrens (it was a dream of mine to see this monster) 

A street performer at Kunsthaus Tacheles

Picturesque Wannsee lake

I went to Berlin this past weekend.  I had some expectations about the city, but all of them were shattered.  Berlin is one of the strangest cities I have ever seen.  It is eccentric.  And this eccentricity seems to be what makes it thrive.  People love being weird there.  Riding the U-Bahn and the S-Bahn (the most confusing but utterly best public transportation system in the world), I got to see some of the weirdest people.  For example, I saw one guy who was wearing a trench coat made entirely of denim pockets sewn together.  Another man had a pink mohawk and a pierced cheek.  Berlin seems to me like a city that is trying to move on from the past (the Berlin Wall, Hitler, etc.).  It has a feeling of youth and life that just can't be ignored.  There were so many young people out and about everywhere that I had to feel this energy.  Architecturally, this feeling comes through.  There were not many old buildings because of the bombings during World War II.  With so much newer construction, the city had a feel that I had never experienced before.  There were modern additions resting on top of or inside historic buildings.  There were gigantic glass complexes.  There were abstract public art exhibitions on the boulevards.  Berlin wants to be big.  Each wide avenue said so.  Spaces like Potzdamer Platz said so.  Berlin is a city that is living in the 21st century.

One of my favorite public spaces was the Sony Center at Potzdamer Platz.  It has a giant gallery surrounded by commercial space - offices, ground floor restaurants, and a movie theater.  The office space cantilevers boldly the entrances and giant steel trusses fly over the mass of the buildings.  Everyone who goes in that space has to look up at the system of sun shades enclosing the gallery.  The closest thing I could compare it to would be Milan's gallery.  I took it was a sort of modernized form of this.  Just down the street was another great public space.  Just south of Renzo Piano's Kollhoff Tower, there is a park.  This park is really just a manmade hill set at about a 30 degree slope.  But it is a great green space because it acts like a giant public bench in that people stop and rest there.  Nothing was more enjoyable then to lay down in some sweet-smelling grass after walking the city all day.  Another highlight of the trip was stumbling upon some of the coolest art exhibits I have ever seen.  I was fortunate enough to see Kunsthaus Tacheles, a World War II-damaged warehouse in the Mitte district.  Going in, I entered a different world.  The walls were covered in graffiti, some years old.  I walked up many flights of stairs, stopping at each floor to view works of collage, metal, and paint.  It was one of the coolest/strangest experiences of my life.

Ultimately, Berlin was a great experience that me see that even after a city is wiped out, it can back and become one of the most lively places on earth.

This is a photo slideshow Kelly and I did for Stanley "The Manly's" photography workshop. We shot over a period of 3 days and edited for about 16 hours.  The first movement is a sort of spatial analysis, while the second is more of an experiential one.

"Look thou upon me, and have mercy on me; for I am alone and poor.

The troubles of my heart are multiplied: deliver me from my necessities.

See my abjection and my labour; and forgive me all my sins.

Consider my enemies for they are multiplied, and have hated me with an unjust hatred.

Keep thou my soul, and deliver me: I shall not be ashamed, for I have hoped in thee."

Psalm 24: 16-20

I went to 5 pm mass at the Pantheon today.  I observed several things there.  When I arrived, the scene was a typical one: hundreds of tourists (mostly American) milling around, looking up.  It was loud, everyone was talking - I could make out several different languages as I made my way towards the few rows of pews.  I found a spot in the pews amongst the tourists resting there.  As I sat with Billy waiting for mass to begin, I looked at the bank of pews to my right.  There I saw a young girl (maybe 16 years old) and her friend.  She was brushing her hair.  At first I took it as just another strange occurrence (of which I have had many here in Rome).  After she finished brushing her hair, she knelt down on the kneeler and had her friend take a picture of her "praying" in the Pantheon.  Good picture, right?

A lot of people forget that the Pantheon is a church.  It was a temple to all the Roman Gods before it became a church, and it is a feat of structural engineering.  These things often overshadow the fact that it is considered holy ground.  But today, I saw it transformed from landmark to holy space.  A few minutes after the girl had taken her picture (received her false token), several women came through the crowd and started clearing the tourists out for mass.  They asked us three times if we were here for mass.  I was amazed at how quickly everyone was herded out and made to stand behind barriers directly outside the entrance.  I could hear the immense mob outside in the piazza, but it had become significantly more quiet inside.  It was then that I noticed two things: there were only 25 people or so there for mass, and the space is much more impressive when it is empty.  It was depressing to see that out of the 400 or so people packed into the Pantheon earlier, only a handful had stayed to celebrate mass.  But at the same time, I got to see one of the most dynamic spatial transitions in the world.  During the mass the Pantheon felt completely different.  The smell of incense gave me mystic feel while every once in a while I would look up to see the sky slowly darkening through the oculus.  The cantor didn't even need a microphone for his voice to be heard throughout the entire space.  And all the time the largest unreinforced concrete dome in the world loomed above, glorious.  The mass ended and I walked past the swarm of yelling tourists, a smirk on my face.      

"But I am a worm, and no man; a reproach of men, and despised of the people.
All they that see me laugh me to scorn: they shoot out the lip, they shake the head saying,
He trusted on the Lord that he would deliver him: let him deliver him, seeing he delighted in him.
But thou art he that took me out of the womb: thou didst make me hope when I was upon my mother's breasts."

Psalm 22: 6-9

It rained all day today.  It was the first time I've seen it do that here.  We went to the Tempietto.  "The Jewel of the Renaissance."  Let me describe it.  We had hiked up a huge hill, over ancient, slick steps - rain drizzling down on us the whole time.  I had no idea where we were going.  We turned a corner at the top and then we were in a courtyard and there it was: Bramante's masterpiece.  The rain had let up a little.  It stood there looking just like it did in all those slides, pictures, and drawings I have seen.  It occurred to me that I should be happy to be lucky enough to be there.  And I was.  Even with the rain and the walk.

We can only learn through experience.  The only way I would have known how the granite columns encircling the drum of the Tempietto felt was to feel them.  There was a grated hole in the middle of the first floor that looked down into the martyrium of Saint Peter.  I wouldn't have known that if I hadn't of stood on it.

I think I'm finally understanding the worth of studying here.  Sure, it's nice to see the Tempietto, but there is more going on.  In every building we visit, there are years of study, knowledge, and work manifested.  While I will never design another Tempietto, I take the experience and lessons it gives me home.  The ideas behind the material things.  I learned today the true meaning of precedence.  

I realized something at mass today: it’s Lent.  Sure, I got my ashes on Wednesday, but I didn’t really think about it that much.  But this is a holy season. 

I managed to make out this phrase during the gospel: quaranta giorni e quaranta notti.  Forty days and forty nights.  Jesus in the desert.  Is there a reason that I am in Rome for Lent this year?  Is it coincidence?

AMSTERDAM:

Atop Renzo Piano's Nemo Museum

Biking toward the IJ Tower in the East Harbor

All of the lights

ROTTERDAM:

The Erasmus Bridge

Museumpark

Blom's Cube House

PRAGUE:

Sunset on top of Gehry's Dancing House

Stained glass in the St. Vitus Cathedral

The Lennon Wall

I went to Amsterdam and Prague over Spring Break.  Coming off the Istanbul trip, I knew that these cities would seem extra different. 

Amsterdam is a very progressive city.  The first thing I noticed was its excellent transportation system.  Metro, trams, buses, and trains combine to make one of the most impressive public transportation infrastructures I have ever seen.  The city is so easy to move around in.  Bicyclists are everywhere.  There are bike lanes on every road.  In some instances there were actually separate roads and bridges for bikes.  It was amazing.  The first day we rented bikes and went riding around the modern section of the city near the IJ tower block by Neutelings Riedijk.  The pure simplicity of contemporary architecture there was a welcome change from the temple fronts of Rome.  The housing in the Eastern harbor of Amsterdam was great.  Each complex had its own unique view of the canals and its own well-designed green space.  Back toward the city center, the canals radiate around Centraal station.  The place had such a nice feel to it.  The apartments leaning suspiciously sideways, forwards, backwards, the wide, promenade-like streets, the little bridges traversing the canals, public squares with their massive churches and government buildings.  It was all wonderful.  I really enjoyed seeing different architectural styles so close to one another.  On one block you would see a late Gothic church next to a French chateau and a minimalist flat.  The mansard roof was also a welcome sight.  When we went to Vondelpark in the southern part of the city, I was really impressed with its layout.   There were very wide bike paths all around – the park was very much focused on the bicyclist.  But there were still a lot of people walking around as well.  It was just a good mix of public activity.  Amsterdam was the first city I have seen while abroad where I would actually consider living (the numerous McDonald’s and abundant nightlife helped a little).  Amsterdam is doing something right.

I also visited Rotterdam while I was in the Netherlands.  Rotterdam is also very ahead of its time.  It had the same network of bike paths and tram lines that Amsterdam has, except to a greater extent.  Rotterdam’s Museumpark, while under construction, was shaping up to be an exceptional green space.  The Dutch architects have incredible planning abilities.  We visited the Cube House by Piet Blom.  I had seen this complex in slides my freshmen year.  The slides were very misleading.  I remember doubting that a complex of swiveled cubes would ever work as housing.  But when I got there and explored it my thoughts changed completely.  The cubes are all set above a road on trunk-like cores.  The housing is right next to a train station, so public transportation is easily accessible.  It reminded me of tree houses.  There were shops and other services at the base of most of the trunks.  It was the coolest mixed-use development I have ever seen. 

From the Netherlands I traveled to Prague, Czech Republic.  Prague was an entirely different environment.  While I would say that Amsterdam is almost the complete opposite of Rome (lots of new construction, wide streets, McDonald’s everywhere), Prague is its distant cousin.  It is a charming city.   There is something about its dirt-blackened statues and castles.  It was interesting to see public spaces like Old Town square and compare them to Roman spaces like Campo dei Fiori.  I noticed a difference in scale and also number.  Prague is also all about the details.  I tried to pay attention to every building I was passing (accentuated corners with sculpture, over-fenestration), but there was just too much of it.  I think that’s part of the allure of Prague.  All the details coming together in a beautiful jumble.  The first day we were there, we had drinks in Gehry’s Dancing House and got to watch the sunset over the Vltava River from the terrace on the 7^th floor.  That was one of those moments where you go: “Wow.  What am I doing here?”  The Prague Castle and St. Vitus Cathedral were also amazing.  I have never seen stained glass so intricate.  Another highlight of the trip was stumbling upon a random park (which I later learned was Vojanovy sady), where we discovered a flock of peacocks.  It was so surprising to find this gem a few blocks away from the St. Charles Bridge.  But that embodies my experience of Prague.  Discovery of some of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen and not knowing what they’re called. 

Prague also had very efficient public transportation.  The best part of the system was the streetcars.  The streetcars immediately made me realize what my hometown is missing.  In Saint Paul, there used to be a similar network of streetcars, much like the ones in Prague today.  Around the 1950s, car companies came and ripped up all the tracks to make way for the motor vehicles.  It’s all very ironic because nowadays they are building a light rail system due to traffic/green initiatives.  I can’t help but wonder what my city would have been like if the streetcars had not gone extinct.  And when I saw Prague’s system, I was struck with a picture of what might have been.  I would love to not have to own a car.  I would love to not have to pay for gas.  I would love not to support companies like BP and Chevron.  Prague showed me what direction Saint Paul should go in. 

When it came time to return to Rome, I was relieved.  Travelling takes a lot out of you, especially when it is to countries where the languages spoken are languages like Dutch and Czech.  But Spring Break was also a learning experience.  I saw the advantages that the cities have over my own, mainly transportation and green space.  I’m excited to take my experiences home with me and maybe change things.                                  

ISTANBUL:

The crescent moon

Hagia Sophia

Cax and I with our Turkish bros

Istanbul.  I don’t know where to begin.  It’s been a week since we left.  This week has seemed like a month.  I guess that’s a good example of my perception of time while abroad.

Istanbul was an experience.  It was the most exotic city I’ve ever been to.  A lot of people got nervous when it was announced that the Rome program was going to Istanbul instead of the Barcelona program.  People get uneasy when talking about the Middle East, Americans in particular.  I know the word Istanbul connects indirectly with other words in the average American’s mind: 9/11, terrorism, instability, suicide bombers, jihad, bin Laden, etc.  While I didn’t really even consider these things before going, I was aware of them.  A lot of us were saying that it was good that we were going to Istanbul because none of us would ever go there on our own.  “A once-in-a-lifetime, unique experience.”  That’s how we dealt with it.  And it’s true.  I probably would have never gone to Istanbul on my own.  But why?  Having gone there, I see now.  Istanbul is no different from any other city - be it Paris or New York.  It’s ignorance and fear of the Islamic culture that soils our view of it.  I think it was terribly important for me to go to Istanbul.

The trip opened my eyes to several important issues/phenomena.  I noticed the difference between myself and the Turkish people (Western vs. Eastern tradition).  The most striking example of this was the call to prayer that happens five times a day.  Getting woken up by a strangely toned song is startling.  The role of women in society is also off-putting.  But for all the differences between myself and them, I couldn’t help but see similarity.  They pray to God five times a day.  I also pray to God.  The same God.  Their mosques are like our churches.  They go to service once a week too, just like me.  Catholicism and Islam share the same ideals.  We’re all in this together.  Even in Istanbul, I felt religious kinship with the people.  To truly know a city you must know its people.  I think I actually started to get know Istanbul’s people on this trip. 

I felt minute immersion during the day while walking around and sketching numerous mosques.  The time that I felt most immersed in the Turkish culture was at night.  At first I was a little hesitant about what I would do at night in Turkey.  I wasn’t sure about the nightlife, having been warned about shady clubs.  The first night I made a very important discovery: the Turkish hookah bar.  It was at hookah bars that I would have some of the most important experiences of my life.  One night, at a very local hookah bar, I met a few Turkish guys.  They shared a room with about four of us.  I got to know them as I returned to the bar the next few nights.  One of them was an aspiring guitarist named Saleh.  Another was a cellist named Cem.  These guys, along with the coal-filler Eyden, became my friends.  They were all devout Muslims.  I explained to them my traditions as a Catholic and they explained theirs to me. 

On the last night, I went out to the hookah bar one last time.  I saw my friends there.  They were with two new guys who spoke a little English.  I got to talking with them.  One of them was an Islamic radical from Vienna who had just come from Egypt.  The other was also from Vienna but lived in Istanbul.  Our conversation turned to politics and eventually religion.  I found myself considering that these men are taking my words as examples of American thought.  In fact I know they were because I was doing the same thing.  They disagreed with American presence in their own respective countries and around the world.  They thought Obama was a puppet.  While I don’t necessarily agree with everything they said (I did feel mildly insulted at points during the conversation), I couldn’t help but think this: I am talking to Islamic radicals.  These are the people that make Americans nervous.  They aren’t bad at all.  And they were really weren’t.  They wanted to know how the United States treated government with respect to religion.  When I explained the concept of separation of Church and State to them they were visibly puzzled because religion is deeply engrained in their government.  We talked about so many things that it is pointless to try to list them here.  All that I have to say is that these conversations I had with these Turkish guys were some of the most important and enlightening conversations of my life. 

Coming back to the hotel at 2 or 3 am, I found myself wondering about something.  This something had to do with my classmates, and to a greater extent, Americans in general.  I went out to the hookah bar every night of the Istanbul trip.  There were some people who didn’t go out anywhere at all.  This occurrence exemplifies an issue that I think plagues many Americans, including everyone on this trip.  I imagine it as a bubble.  This bubble exists for all of us.  It is our comfort zone.  It is our English-speaking, McDonald’s-filled, Mommy-kissing, Facebook-tagging cocoon.  It is carrying our American culture with us.  It is fear of the different.  It is misunderstanding and the lack of will of to understand.  When we’re in a foreign country, in a city like Istanbul, it’s very easy for us to shut ourselves out from our surroundings.  Turkish is easy to ignore.  But we can’t do that!  We must throw ourselves into their world - shock ourselves with their culture.  I kept thinking to myself: when else in my life will I be able to smoke a waterpipe with Turkish bros a few blocks away from the Hagia Sophia?  And at the same time I am doing this extremely extraordinary thing, there are people sleeping at the hotel.  What are you doing?  I’m not trying to promote unhealthy lifestyles, but you can sleep anytime!  What you can’t do any time is get physically purged in a Turkish bath.  We tend to Americanize things everywhere we go.  I’m trying not to force my culture on people.  I can be as American as I want when I get home.  The more you interact with other cultures, the more cultured you become.

I related much more to the Turkish culture at night much more than I did during the day.  The program surprisingly seemed to be geared more toward shopping in the Grand Bazaar and the spice market than architecture.  I would rather have learned the intricacies of the organization of the Bazaar than know where to get the best scarves.  As I have said before, I didn’t come on this trip to shop.  And it frustrated me when we were continually encouraged to spend an afternoon looking for carpets I can’t afford instead of exploring more of the city.  I appreciated all the mosques we saw, but I felt that they were all too similar in configuration.  I was getting bored sketching pendentives and domes.  I know that the mosque is central to Islamic architecture, but in a city of 13 million people, there has to be more than that.

All in all, Istanbul was an amazing experience.  I learned and saw so much.  It broke down a lot of barriers for me.  It made things clearer and brought up new questions.  To think that I never would have gone there is now a ridiculous thought.

I want to see as much as I can possibly can see on this trip.  I'll walk for miles through rain and sleet to sketch in the cold.  There is no other time in my life that I will be 20 years old in Europe.  Each moment is an elusive gift.  This time and this place have changed my perception of home and of all other places.  I look forward to living life going to Istanbul tomorrow.

Now we come to the heart of the matter.  The biggest issue that eats away at my relationship with the Church.  I'm hesitant to even write it down here now.  But the truth is, I have doubts about Jesus.  The man who is supposed to be my Savior.  The doubt springs from what I would think is logic.  Of course the argument starts with the fact that Jesus lived 2000 years ago.  How could anyone know that He performed miracles and rose from the dead?  Logic tells me that Jesus' divinity was invented by His apostles and their successors.  When dealing with things like religion, a leader needs to be delineated.  Many religions have a savior-like figure.  It seems too much like a trend.  What I'm saying is that it was only logical that Jesus became divine because He was seen as the strongest connection between God and humans.  I have to think that if Constantine hadn't converted to Christianity, I would be part of a different religion right now.  If Jesus were living today, would we still call Him Lord?  I have an inkling that He was just a normal man who was a good leader.

I don't want to have these doubts.  Having these doubts fundamentally cuts me off from the Catholic faith.  Catholicism is centered around Jesus and His divinity.  One day He will rise again and bring the world salvation.  If I don't believe He will rise, how am I a Catholic?

It's not that I don't believe in Jesus.  Part of me does.   But there's another part of me that continues to pester my mind with these kind of thoughts.  It says that maybe my belief is baseless since it was instated in me before I could walk.  It says that my faith is pointless because the Church is stuck in the 16th century.  It brings doubt and insecurity.

Yet, through all this, I still consider myself Catholic.  I believe in God.  I believe in the Bible.  I believe in Jesus' teachings.  I still go to church.  I think that, regardless of my doubts and disagreements, I must continue to push on.  The one thing that reassures me is this: the prayer.  I never understood why in times of trouble my mom was so adamant about going to mass.  I always got frustrated with it.  But lately, I have started to see why she does.  It's comforting.  She feels closer to God when she prays, and so do I.  Alone, in the dark, I can talk to God.  I can recite the prayers I have memorized.  It clears the mind.  It helps me figure out what I'm thankful for, what I want, and what I should do.  And it works.  Praying helps.  No matter how bad I feel or how terrible life is at the moment, I can pray and things will get better.  Praying doesn't physically change anything, but it does something beyond the physical or mental.  I used to doubt God's existence until I realized this.

So here I am persevering through it.  It's not so hard.  I'm still finding out things about my faith that I never knew existed.  This spiritual discovery adds another dimension to Rome.  I consider this city "my turf," not in the sense that I own it, but in the sense that it is at the head of my faith.  Every church I go into, I get this special feeling that I am part of something truly good.  It's hard to explain.

Going into Istanbul, a major Islamic center, I'm looking forward to gaining insight into both the Muslim faith and my own.          

My personal schisms with the Church continue deeper than just the mass.  And it's really these issues that are the hardest things to deal with - meaning, they make me wonder why I go to mass.

The Church stands firm against the use of contraceptives, except in specific situations that accord with natural family planning.  I think that this stance is ridiculous.  They say that all sex should be procreative and between man and wife.  I wonder how they can say this when they see how HIV and AIDS has killed millions of people around the world.  Catholic missionaries should be going to Africa and giving them cases of condoms, not preaching abstinence.  Maybe then the populations of third world countries wouldn't be skyrocketing.  Maybe then the poorest people in the world wouldn't be having children they could never afford.  Abstinence doesn't work.  The human sex drive (mainly the male's) is too powerful to be overcome by a priest saying "no sex before marriage."  I agree that sex is the ultimate act of love.  But I don't agree that that's all it is.  Consensual sex is holy.  Inside and outside of marriage.  I don't know where the idea of sex became taboo but I regret the occurrence.  

The Church also condemns homosexuality.  While I am not homosexual, I am still outraged.  This stance is really the most absurd of them all.  Homosexuals do no choose to be homosexual.  Sexual orientation is not a choice.  How does the Church just sit there and continue to refuse to acknowledge this?  I'm sure there are millions of gay people out there who would love to be part of the Catholic Church, but can't because they're treated like witches in Salem.  What's the difference between a woman marrying another woman and a woman marrying a man?  There's no difference.  They still love each other.  Could the Pope look a gay person in the eyes and tell them they're going to hell just for being gay?  If he could, I would say that the Pope's going to hell. 

The Church has always been pro-life.  While I agree that every unborn child deserves a chance to live, I am forced to think of the woman giving birth to that child.  I would like to say that I am pro-life, but I can't.  I need to hear the circumstances.  Abortion is different thing when your little sister gets raped (no, my little sister wasn't raped).  And I'm not sure that I agree that life begins at conception.  It's an issue that's muddled for me.

These issues are greatest dividing forces between the Church and I.  Additionally, my views on capital punishment and women in the Church don't exactly line up.  Even though I maintain these radically opposing views, I call myself Catholic.  I feel I am Catholic more in faith than in church.  But then, is that really Catholic at all?  I grew up Catholic.  The Church has given me countless gifts.  Among them: my conscience, my education, my morals.  I owe a lot to my faith.  Is it wrong that I don't think that debt needs to be paid to the Pope?  Or to the priest?