Rome

The train ride to Rome foreshadowed much of what we would experience in the ancient city. We passed remarkable scenes (the coastline and fields of wild sunflowers) and encountered remarkable heat (not as beautiful). We arrived in the afternoon so we dropped off our backpacks and went exploring. No map. No agenda. Just started to walk around. We laughed when we turned the corner from our hostel and ended up here:

Truthfully, it doesn't take much to entertain us because we laughed just as hard when we ended up in front of this poster:

We did some more of our "exploring" which really just involved turning corners and stumbling upon ancient site after ancient site. As a history major, I'd love to say that I was telling Trent all about the historical significance of these ruins from thousands of years prior. But really I was just saying, "This looks famous. Let's take a picture here."

We had a very analytical discussion at these ancient ruins:

as we tried to count all the stray cats roaming around. It got up into the forties. If you ever go to Rome, you really must see these cats. Fascinating stuff.

We got lost trying to find our way back to our hostel (foreshadowed much of what was to come in the winding streets of Rome). And as we turned down random street after random street, searching for something that looked familiar, we ended up here:

No clue what this was at the time but again, figured it was famous so we took a picture with it to impress our friends back home. Aren't we cultured and sophisticated?

When we finally did make it back to the hostel, we were reminded of why I chose this particular hostel: free pasta on the roof for dinner. Cha-ching. Score!

It was delicious and if I liked alcohol, I'm sure the free Sangria would have been nice too. We ate platefuls of this delicious pasta while on the roof, watching the sun sink behind the Colosseum.

Truth be told, the view wasn't what had our attention- it was the free pasta. Trent is a sucker for anything free and I am a sucker for all good food.

The next morning we set out early to beat the heat and the hungover night owls. We had more purpose to our wanderings on this day and Trent even let us purchase the audi-tour at the Colosseum so we could learn cool facts about how they would flood it and have boat battles inside. Or something like that. Maybe I dreamt it. Google it if you really care.

I was going for the "evil rodent" look. Nailed it. Trent was sticking with upside down smile for all of Italy despite my pleading to change it up. Maybe that was why I was so peeved with him in this picture.

Here's an inside secret: when I look super irritated with Trent in pictures, I actually was. I don't remember why. This was about week 3 with only my brother though, so I think it was pretty much inevitable that I'd want to strangle him a few times.

We searched high and low for the "forum" and then discovered that we had been walking through it all day.

We felt like "eeediots."

Ren n Stimpy anyone?

Then we did something rare and unique and our mom will be so proud.

We smiled.

We went on a tour of some ancient site (mainly because we had to use the bathroom and saw some in the area) and after taking these self-portraits:

a kind stranger offered to take our picture. Like Taylor Swift warned us, "we should have said no." But we didn't. Probably because we couldn't think of a polite way to say, "actually, we prefer to have these pictures of mainly us being ugly with something kinda cool in the background that you can't totally see." It seemed vain and immature so we let them take our picture.

In the Czech Republic, we had continued to be ugly when strangers offered to take our picture, but it always turned into an awkward moment because they would say, "1-2-..." and then looked up with an expression like, "Seriously?" and we'd have to be like, "Dude, just take the picture." So we avoided that awkward moment and smiled. Normally.

Mom, you're welcome. You can frame this one if you want but the scenery in the background isn't even that famous, just really really old. We just wanted to use the toilets, people!

We stopped to rest on some shady stairs because it was dang hot and everybody else was doing it:

This is my "I'm so tired and have sweat dripping down my butt" expression. A classic.

Can you find Trent in this picture?

We found food and I was much happier. Butt sweat and all.

Our next stop was the Pantheon. Apparently this is where Raphael's body is held. No, not the ninja turtle.

And then we went to this famous fountain:

but truthfully, the main thing I remember about this afternoon was getting horribly lost and being horribly hot. Trent decided I needed to "pull my weight" and start reading the map. Let the record show that I made it clear to him that I AM AWFUL AT READING MAPS. He insisted though. So we wandered. And wandered. And wandered some more. All in 102 degree temperatures in the middle of the day. We eventually made it back to the hostel after just 2 hours of aimless wandering. I think this is what I remember most vividly when I think of Rome.

That night we went out to eat and somehow ended up at a fancy restaurant. We splurged and had probably some of the best pasta I've ever eaten and found out when the bill came that our cokes cost $ 6 each. I remember zero facts about that fountain or the Pantheon, but I remembered exactly how much these cokes cost.

After a stroll through Rome and happening upon this:

we called it a night.

The next day we had a flight to Paris but decided to cram as much in as possible. We got lost yet again during our travels to St. Peters but it was well worth the struggle.

We waited in ridiculously long lines to get into the Vatican, but I've waited longer to ride Space Mountain, so I'm not complaining.

Once inside, we saw the most phenomenal art we'll probably ever see. Our jaws dropped inside the Sistine Chapel and we snickered at the professional "shhushers" who are paid to try to make a giant group of obnoxious tourists be quiet and respectful and not take any pictures.

At least they tried.

We had a plane to catch so we hustled back to the train station. But then Trent remembered he forgot to buy a souvenir for a friend that he had seen and was certain he would love. For whatever reason, he held my backpack while I sprinted back to the stand to buy it for him. Thus, my last memories of Rome are not of the Sistine Chapel. No, my last memories involve me running through the streets of Rome in the scorching heat in order to purchase a pair of silk boxers with an image of Michelangelo's famous David statue on them. You can guess what the image was. Classy.