Homeward Bound

So, I had hoped for a bigger response from my small but faithful blog readers about my April fool’s joke from last week, but not so much… I mean, let’s be honest, can you ever see me really skipping classes so flippantly? Well, it was a nice thought, anyway.

It’s been a nice week, though. I did, in fact, go to Rome, and I had a great time. We saw Saint Peter’s Basilica, the Vatican Museums, the coliseum (oh no! I cannot spell anymore! I spent all weekend reading Italian, which actually came pretty easily with English, Spanish, Catalan and my limited French) and the Roman Forum. It was a pretty cool trip, if I do say so myself. And I can say sincerely this time that I did fall in love. I love Italy, and I especially love Rome. I am sure I’ll be back over the years. It’s a small world. And then I’ll get to explore some more and really get to know it. I was surprised, though, at how small Rome is. I could walk from the far eastern part of the city to the Vatican at the far west edge in like an hour (not even at missionary pace). The Roman metro system stinks. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen a more terrible metro in my life. Valencia had a better metro than theirs. Luckily Rome is awesome so it was fun to walk around. J

So, my terrible Italian language skills came in handy. We went to an (you guessed it) Italian restaurant for lunch, and we ordered. I asked for fettuccini alfredo. The server didn’t speak English or Spanish (I didn’t try French or Catalan, although perhaps I ought to have), and didn’t know what alfredo meant. So, I explained (in both English and Spanish, in hopes that there would be enough overlap) that it was a creamy sauce. She clearly didn’t understand, so she asked if I wanted it with champinones (Spanish for mushrooms) and I said no, and she asked if I wanted salami. I also declined, and said again “With a cream sauce,” she seemed to understand this time, and she moved on. Emma wanted pesto, which was easy enough, and Rochelle asked for the potato pizza on the menu. The woman asked something that none of us understood, so we said we just wanted the potato pizza. She asked if we wanted tomatoes on it, and we said yes, so she nodded and went off.

Now the adventure begins. They show up with pesto. That’s pretty hard to mess up. Alright, I admit, the fettuccini conversation was convoluted, so I wasn’t surprised that they got my order wrong. What did surprise me was that, of all things, it had mushrooms on it. That was the one thing that I was certain wouldn’t be on my pasta, especially because she had said “mushroom” in Spanish, and I had very clearly declined said condiment. Well, I wasn’t sure what to do about it (whether I ought to bring to their attention that they got my order wrong or just buck up and eat it), when they finally brought out Rochelle’s pizza. I wish I had a picture to illustrate, but Emma hasn’t given me her pictures yet. Anyway, it had just potatoes and tomato sauce on it. I cannot fathom how they imagined anyone would want a pizza without cheese on it, but somehow that’s what we ended up with. When I recovered from the shock, and then from the laughter, I tried to explain to the waiter what had happened, both with my not-creamy pasta and Rochelle’s not-cheesy pizza. After about five minutes (I know I exaggerate sometimes, but this time I really mean it) of trying to explain (he didn’t speak English or Italian either) the fellow at the table next to me came over and translated for us from English to Italian, and they quickly fixed the problem. It was an adventure. Very tiring, but very funny. Until they replaced our food, I was convinced that it ranked on my top five worst dining experiences ever. It was an adventure, to be sure.

Finally, when I came home last night (Sunday night) I got in around 10pm. I then had to… er… got to… take a bus, the metro, and a train to the town where I normally would have taken another bus home, but they don’t run on Sundays. I arrived in Bussy at 12:45am, when I had the marvelous opportunity of walking home. Normally the walk home is fun, a pleasant stroll through French countryside, but this time there were a few special treats awaiting me, including fierce winds, a blizzard like whiteout and several inches of snow.

Well, all of this is leading to the central issue; how has the Paris experience been? This is probably (not certainly, but most likely) my last entry before I head home. This Thursday I am going to Geneva, Switzerland, then on Saturday I go down to the south of France for a few days, till next Thursday, when I head off to Spain. I’ll be there until Tuesday the 22^nd, when I fly to Denver, where I’ll spend the night before I drive over on the 23^rd for graduation on the 24^th. Craziness! It will be fun.

So, how was it? It’s been fascinating. I’ve been able to visit in great depth France and Paris in particular, not to mention side trips to Belgium; Switzerland; Valencia, Spain; Shannon, Ireland; Venice, Italy and Rome, Italy. I’ve learned more about the art and political history of Europe, and I’ve seen the people of another country up close. The people are similar to Spaniards, but not exactly the same. It’s been a good life experience. I still think the British have it right; “France would be great but for the French.” My family here and a few of the church families are wonderful, but on the whole they elect to do some pretty… silly things. Well, luckily every country can do as it pleases. I am looking forward to returning home, enjoying my land and being with my friends (that’s probably you if you’re reading this). God bless America!