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.