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?     

The question I have raised with myself is: am I really a Catholic?  I was baptized, received my First Communion, and have been confirmed.  But that all happened before I reached high school.  14.  That's how old I was when I became  a "full member" of the Church.  If I could go back in time, I would ask my 14-year-old self to do some research into what I was getting into.  I feel my whole initiation process into the Church happened too early and too quickly.  Most of the kids I went to school with were in a similar situation.  I think that this is where one of the major problems with the Catholic faith stems from.

My grade school classmates were "required" to go through all of these holy rites of passage.  Sure, they told us what was going on, but none of us really knew.  I know I didn't.  Take the bread, right hand under left, pick it up with the right one and eat.  Don't chew it.  For me, these rites were more like a part of school rather than something to do with my faith.  And so when we graduated 8th grade, we were all new members of the Church. And this is where the problem lies.  No one really cared because no one really knew what they got into.

My mom made me go to church all throughout my childhood.  It became such a intrinsic part of my life that nowadays I feel guilty for missing mass.  I always wondered why I never saw any of my friends in church on Sundays.  I still don't.  No one goes.  There is a severe lack of church attendance in the Catholic faith, especially for people my age.  And I think that this lack of attendance is caused by the initiation process.  For a lot of kids growing up back home, being Catholic was kind of a given.  We all went to Catholic school, we all had to go to mass every now and then, we all had Easter and Christmas off.  That was all it was.  But that's  not what it is.  So when we all grew up and were not forced to go through these motions (like church), we didn't go through them any more.  Church is boring anyway.  The Catholic mass has been boring since I was little.  My first memories of mass are terrible, which I think all contributes to the attendance problem.

It's hard to get excited about your faith when you're sitting with a few old people in an empty church listening to an even older priest talk about how much of a sinner you are.  I want to want to go to church.  Since I've been in college, church has gotten a little better.  But it's got a long way to go.  I want to relate to the mass.  It's not that mass is unrelatable, it's just too hard.  Whether it's better public speaking from the priests, or introduction of new media, the mass needs something more.

I have the sense that the Catholic faith is declining.  Maybe not for others, but for me it is.  All around my home there are Catholic churches closing down and merging with other parishes due to lack of numbers.  I thought a third of the entire world was Catholic?  I can't see that being true.  I don't want it to decline.  I want it to flourish.  I want it to adapt, to change, and to grow.  I want people to be as excited about being Catholic as I sometimes am.

I thought I could get this all out in one post, but it seems that this thing is much too large for just one.  I'll think about it.    

One major problem I have come across here in Italy is centered around the Catholic Church.  I experienced it the first day I came here.  My mom and I had flown over together, and of course she wanted to see Saint Peter's basilica.  As we walked up, we were met by a gigantic line of people winding across Saint Peter's square.  Since we were exhausted from jetlag and didn't have much time before we needed to catch our shuttle bus, we decided we couldn't go in.  My mom was pretty disappointed.  Being very religious and a devout Catholic, Saint Peter's was pretty much "the site" she wanted to see here in Rome.  But she couldn't go in.  She was saying on the way back that it's wrong to make people, even practicing Catholics, wait in line to get into the church that is said to be at the heart of the faith.  Now I'm not going to ignore the fact that there are safety precautions to consider - the sheer number of tourists that visit Saint Peter's is probably enough to require a line.

But then there's the other side of the issue.  When we went to Northern Italy, we actually had to pay to get into some of the churches.  I have never encountered a church that required an entrance fee in my life.  The idea of it irks me.  Sure the church has free entrance for mass, but that shouldn't matter.  Shouldn't I be able to walk into any Catholic church in any place in the world free of charge and pray?  When I start to feel unwelcome in what I deem my own church, I feel there's something intrinsically wrong.  I really don't think that the architects of these great churches wanted them used in this way.  A church isn't a museum.  It isn't the movies.  A church is a holy place.

I have to think that there is a disparity between the Church and the faith.  It was men that put these entrance fees in place.  It wasn't God.  They can say the money goes to restoration of the churches and missionaries, but isn't that what the money we give during the collection is for?  Men using some of the most beautiful and sacred churches as a way to profit monetarily.  It's things like this that stir up a sense of disgust in me for the Catholic Church.  I'll admit I am disillusioned with it all.  I call myself Catholic, but am I?  The Church seems to be going backward when the world is going forward.  I'm stuck trying to figure out how I fit into it.    

It's a wonder that any of us can get along.  There are so many things, so many variables, so many free radicals that influence us every day.  Emotions driven by basic primal instinct, prejudice born from upbringing, confusion caused by unclear definition, a word taken the wrong way, attachment to the familiar, rejection of the strange... The list goes on.  Does anyone in the world think like me?  Do I think like everyone else?  I often think about this.  Could someone somewhere be thinking the exact thought I am right now?  How do any of us know that our own mind's are unique?  I can't go into another's brain and experience what they do.  We all filter the information life throws at us in different ways.  I think this is why it's hard to truly know someone.  It's hard to judge (at least for me) in which ways someone is filtering something and how their filter compares to yours.

If you can reach the point of truly knowing someone, what happens when you find you don't like who they are?  They have a bright facade for the world that encompasses a dark inner sanctum.  I've seen many people playing these games.  Some friends really aren't friends at all.  But I know very few people this well.  It's all observation.

I could be posting how much I love the weather here in Rome or how great Italian class was last week.  But that's not the point.  

Reading this blog, someone might wonder about the title.  The dream that is Rome.  And I can say that my time here so far has been like a dream.  And sometimes it's like a nightmare.  But a nightmare's still a dream.  A lot of the negative aspects make it on this blog.  But my experience here hasn't been negative, it's been positive, its been surreal, dreamlike.  I catch myself realizing this at times.  

Today I was sitting at our common room dinner table, eating a pita bread sandwich that I made from groceries I had just purchased.  I was looking out our window, which I often do, at the adjacent building.  Then I thought to myself: "I just went down the street and bought groceries in Italy.  With no trouble.  Absolutely no hassle.  In a country where I don't even speak the language.  And now I'm sitting here eating a delicious sandwich that I made in Italy."  I like to ask the other people here this question: do you ever just stop and wonder how you got here?  I don't know how I did, but that's the thing.  It's like a dream.  This isn't real life.  I can't just get up, get in my car, drive to McDonald's and get some McNuggets.  I can't go to the movies and understand them.  

But thinking of what I can't do makes me realize the things I can do.  I can walk to Colosseum.  I can eat gelato in front of the Pantheon.  I can do so much it's painful. 

Then I take the thoughts a step up.  If I can do so much, mankind must be able to do more.  And if mankind can do so much, why do we even know the meaning of the words murder, rape, or suicide?  America is at war.  We're over there, killing needlessly.  People are murdered every day.  Lives snuffed out just like that.  What would happen if we put the money towards things like feeding Africa, curing cancer, or eliminating homelessness?  I know this sounds like one of those infomercials asking for money you see on T.V. all the time.  Or it could be a bad homily from a fat priest who "cares" about starving children about as much as he cares about keeping his homilies relevant to his parish.  Or it could be some billionaire celebrity, gushing about how Africa needs our help, then stepping into her Rolls Royce and snorting cocaine.  You always find yourself thinking: "yeah right, you can change the world."  

Regardless of where it comes from, the message is true.  The world is a dark place.  For me, Rome is the light.  It's helping me realize that there actually is a problem with the world.  It's preparing me to fight this abyss through architecture and design.  I learn so much every day.  Listening to Eric, Marina, and my fellow classmates I feel I am changing for the better.  I always saw myself as a good guy.  I'm figuring out what I need to do to make this vision a reality.           

I will truly miss this time in my life.  I already know that.

FLORENCE:

Marisa sleeping on the way to Florence. We were all pretty tired.

Christopher F. Testa under Il Duomo.

I found a little bit of home on the streets of Florence.

VENICE:

Joj, my rock, in chilly Venice.

Justin was really excited about our room in Venice.

Aboard the traghetto on Venice's Grand Canal.

VERONA:

I met a girl in Verona. She was a little cold.

Scarpa's Castelvecchio.

I posed in front of the Louis V. store because they probably wouldn't let me in.

VICENZA:

Photographing Palladio's masterpiece.

Vicenza.

Teatro Olimpico.

MILAN:

Atop Milan's gem of a Duomo.

The lovely Kimmy Miller in Milan's Parco Sempione.

My favorite times were at a table like this.

You think about things a lot before they happen.  Especially important things.  I mean planning, dwelling, scrutinizing... Yet no matter how much thought you give the future, it never turns out exactly the way you think.  That mental picture is always a little off.  The question this truth brings up for me is: what's the point?

I thought and planned for this trip for months in advance.  And when future becomes present these plans are made null and void.  There really is wisdom in the saying "go with the flow."  Many people struggle against this "flow," myself among them.  Letting go is a hard thing to do.  Let go and let God deal with it.  I heard this once.  Still can't do it.

Is this how it's supposed to be?

Coming back from Northern Italy I can only say that, in summary, it was disappointing.  You always hear about the gathering of great architectural minds found all over these cities.  And the architecture was amazing.  While I enjoyed this aspect of the trip, in everything else it fell short.  Sure it's cool to go up the Duomo in Florence, but what happens when you come back down?  For me, it was nothing.  Florence was full of young, good-looking Americans and other tourists.  And that's most of what I saw there.  Everyone seemed to be going to a place that I either couldn't find or couldn't afford.  Everything there was very expensive.  It seems that a lot of people go to Florence for the shopping.  With shopping at the bottom of my itinerary while abroad, the city seemed to have little to offer me.  Venice was very similar.  The network of canals and bridges was fascinating, but once the architecture was exhausted it was... dead.  I walked a good portion of the city - only to find few signs of life in tiny dark alleyways.  It was also very cold there, which didn't help my view of it.  Verona was a kind of joke to me.  The only thing we saw there was a balcony associated with a fictional character and an old castle outfitted by an over-hyped architect.  Vicenza (or I as I like to refer to it, Palladiopalooza) was just another lifeless town that no college kid my age would enjoy.  Unless you like to start race wars in front of McDonalds you won't have much to do.  My favorite city was the last one we visited: Milan.  From the moment I stepped off the train into the gigantic steel vaults of its station, I knew I would enjoy Milan the most.  From its Duomo (the coolest Gothic church I've ever seen) to its high fashion (beautiful, tall women), I enjoyed every minute of it.  The city had the life and the youth I was looking for.  I really understood its motivation.  Milan wants to be a city of the 21st century.  The rest of Italy, it seems, does not see it this way.  I enjoyed it because of this.  The rebel city.  Skyscrapers were a welcome sight.  Any project by Renzo Piano is also a treat (especially when there's an Aston Martin dealership in it).  I wish we had more time there.  I seemed that, in the 3.5 hour delay we had from Milan back to Rome, the world was trying to keep me in Milan.

I don't regret the trip.  I had some of the best times of my life on it.  I think the most fun I had was at our three group dinners.  I just like when we're all together eating and talking.  I'm just bitter because, once again, I had high expectations.  I'm interested to see what Venice would be like in the summer, when frigid temperatures aren't driving people inside.  Maybe Vicenza comes alive on weekends.  I don't know.  Although it was packed with beautiful architecture, the combination of the expense, cold, and lack of things to do in the north left much to be desired for me.  All I can say is that, based on my experience, I hope Istanbul is better than Northern Italy.