Whipped into shape: Easter in Prague

It would have been hard to leave spectacular Switzerland if Prague hadn't been awaiting me, along with the fabulous Megan and Katie Woods, my friends from the Rome program. I'd received rave reviews about Prague from many others, several of whom had also loved Budapest (the two are often compared). Time to see what all the fuss was about.

After a bit of a delay coming from the airport, I arrived at Hotel Chopin around dinner time and met the twins for an evening stroll around the city, leaving New Town (Nove Mesto) for historic Old Town (Stare Mesto), one of the only Eastern European metropoles left intact after World War II. (Apparently Hitler had big plans for Prague, his favorite city, as a monument to the extinct Jewish race; fortunately, these plans did not achieve fruition but still kept the city beautiful amid the wreckage of Eastern Europe.) The Easter markets were in full swing, and we found a wide boulevard with restaurants and clubs and shops and hotels lined up and lit up in the dusk; it felt a little bit like Times Square. People were milling around, eating rolled dough coated in sugar (called trdelnik), drinking Czech liquor, playing live music, and selling honey and clocks and decorated Easter eggs and other traditional Czech items. It was very lively and bright. We wound our way to the Staromêstské námêstí, a the oldest square in historic Prague, which was hemmed in by the great Church of Our Lady Before Tyn, the world's oldest astronomical clock and tower, the Prague National Gallery, and overflowing restaurants and shops. It was certainly the tourist center of Prague, but for good reason; especially as it filled with Easter market shoppers and vendors, it was a very cheerful, Czech place to chill.

Staromêstské námêstí with the astronomical clock (the tower on the left) and the cathedral

Following our usual pattern, we looked for traditional Czech cuisine for our first meal and after a little wandering through the busy streets found a small restaurant serving the typical national dishes, including famous Czech beer, pork, goulash, and dumplings. The dishes were very like the Eastern European food we'd been able to try before, particularly Hungarian and Austrian, which makes sense given the area's geographic and historical background. After dinner we tried freshly baked trdelnik from an Easter market and traipsed back to our hotel to rest.

A Czech tradition

Pork dumplings and sauerkraut

The next morning, Easter Sunday, saw us up and out across the Vtlava River for an English Mass in the lower Castle district. It was standing room only with an American priest in a small but stately church, offering an interesting contrast to our Palm Sunday Mass just a week earlier in the Pantheon. We eagerly headed back to the Easter markets for lunch, indulging in Czech street food consisting mainly of various types of potatoes, ham, sausage, cheese, and sauerkraut. We all sampled a type of hot, sweet liquor with the consistency of melted pudding that was ultimately too sugary to finish. After lunch we joined a free tour through the Jewish Quarter and tried kofola, Czech soda somewhat similar to cola, before heading to the Rudolfinum concert hall for a brief classical quintet performance that evening.

The central square in the daylight

The clock tower and the cathedral

The Rudolfinum, Prague's second most important concert hall. (They say Hitler wanted the statue of Mendelssohn removed from the roof because he was Jewish, but the workers didn't know which one was Mendelssohn. They guessed incorrectly and ended up removing Wagner, Hitler's favorite composer.)

Antonin!

Prague has a rich history of music indeed; it has long been a major stop for classical and modern music giants and boasts some of the best concert halls in Europe, including the Rudolfinum. The Czech Republic's own Antonin Dvorák was of course a Prague favorite, and we enjoyed some of his music at our concert. And the City of Prague Philharmonic is world-renowned for producing the music you'll recognize in soundtracks from The Lord of the Rings, Battlestar Galactica, Citizen Kane, The Duchess, and more. But in addition to a strong and enduring music scene, the city pays homage to Franz Kafka, who was born in Prague and lived there for much of his life.

Tortured genius

On Easter Monday we crossed the Vtlava once again to explore Prague Castle, a stunning complex of government and historical buildings on a high outcrop above the river. From the top of the hill, one looks out across the orange and copper green rooftops of Prague and can fully appreciate just how beautiful the Czech capital has remained. Within the Castle area stood St. Vitus Cathedral, an enormous Gothic church with spectacular stained glass windows. As we drifted through the various buildings - including rows of tiny homes that used to house the Castle's servant staff (one of which was rented by Kafka for a time) - we learned the history of the area, which had first been inhabited in prehistoric times and was the seat of the local government for over a thousand years.

St. Vitus Cathedral, entirely enclosed within the Castle walls

The beautiful stained glass

The rooftops of Prague

Our trip to the Castle brought us a brush with Czech culture that wasn't entirely welcome but was nonetheless - after reflection - a story worth experiencing. I'd been warned about the bizarre and barbaric Easter tradition by my friend Tim, who had lived in the Czech Republic for a year in high school. In some echo of an ancient fertility rite, Czech men took braided willow branches and whipped women in the community in exchange for sweets, which one website assured us was "actually good for the girl" (go figure). After some feverish research, we determined that prime time for whipping was only Easter Monday morning, and that at any other time it was inappropriate. We ventured out nervously and, upon encountering no maniacs with branches, somewhat forgot about it once we reached the siren call of Easter markets. 

Looming above the Easter markets was the world's oldest astronomical clock

This was quickly remedied as we progressed toward the Castle when FWAP! I felt a sharp stinging sensation precisely on my posterior. Completely caught by surprise, I couldn't even warn my comrades to save themselves and run when FWIP! Megan was hit. THWOT! So was Katie. Summoning our best Saint Mary's abilities to take shit with some shred of sophistication, we steamrolled forward, trying (and failing) spectacularly to make it look like nothing had happened. We were Americans! We were strong, independent, partially-college-educated women! We could handle a little nip in the butt, right?

Enter, out of the corner of my eye, the culprit: Random Whip-Bearing Czech Man With Heavy Accent. "Ladies! Happy Special Day!"

At this moment, our pride was doomed to a slow, painful death by forced nervous laughter as we fled the scene with the best Roman-educated speedwalking we could muster. Once we were a safe distance away, we burst into real laughter over another cultural barrier smashed to a pulp by a skinny willow whip.

We spent more time in the Castle district afterwards and visited the John Lennon Wall, brightly colored with thousands of painted messages honoring the legend and promoting his campaign for peace. We added our own stamp with a nod, of course, to our adoptive home to the south. For dinner we paid more tribute to Prague's musical history by eating at Mozart's favorite Prague pub, still in business after several hundred years, before enjoying a nighttime cruise on the Vltava. 

 

John Lennon Wall

SPQR! (Just above the red paint on the plate)

Prague at night

As we prepared for our train to Berlin the next day, we enjoyed another nighttime walk through old and new Prague, well-lit and lively, still brimming with Easter cheer. Prague blends history and modernity with elegance and a lot of fun; it is beautiful, intelligent, and classic all at once, making it a good bet for any traveler. Since I have to compare them - everybody does - I'd still probably choose Budapest in a fistfight; to me, Prague seemed like the sophisticated yet slightly stiff sibling next to Budapest's good-natured, adventurous cheer. All that said, it was absolutely a delightful three days, worth every minute and every dollar, and a trip that I would wholeheartedly recommend to travelers ready to break into the beauty of Eastern Europe. 

Swiss bliss: Aareschlucht, Interlaken, and April snow

(Continued from last post)

The next day I slept in a little and enjoyed breakfast, feeling very glad indeed that I had seen the Falls the day before: It was cold, rainy, and foggy, which would have made the whole trek not only more miserable but also quite pointless. Still marveling at the idea that I had no school and zero obligations until my train to Zürich the next day, I browsed the pamphlets in the hotel lobby and picked some things to do. Since it was off season, the hotel was practically empty during the day (even the receptionist left...), so I headed out to see the Aareschlucht Gorge just a short jaunt down the river Aare, which glistened pearly green even in the cloudy daylight. With no idea what to expect, I was in for a stunning treat.

The Aareschlucht Gorge!

One of the wider parts.

I had to go underground a few times to see the river!

The gorge was carved over millions of years by a water trickle that became the river, and the layers in the great stone crevices tell interesting stories about the Swiss landscape through the millennia. It was a much more relaxing adventure than the day before, but fascinating and beautiful all the same, as I wandered through the gorge, following the river backwards and forwards as it coursed through wide gaps and tiny slivers a person could barely squeeze through. On my out I met a friendly Swiss woman who seemed downright delighted to learn I was American - there didn't seem to be a lot who ventured past Interlaken, especially in April - which helped solidify my previous opinion that Swiss people in general are a very pleasant lot.

A kind group of fellow gawkers took my photo.

After Aareschlucht I hopped on a quick train ride to Interlaken. In spite of the rain, I knew I couldn't pass my Swiss weekend away without seeing it (especially since most of Meiringen was completely shut down for off season). Even in bad weather, with no chance of paragliding or kayaking or skiing, the little city was worth all the hype. Packed with visitors (mostly from China), it still emanated a welcoming charm that kept me entertained as I quite literally wandered for hours, crossing back and forth over the river, passing from tourist-clogged streets to almost-empty back roads, window shopping and eavesdropping (even though I couldn't understand a word) and sightseeing. I caved and bought a Swiss army knife from a nice old shopkeeper near the train station, toyed with the idea of buying Swiss chocolate from a Spanish-speaking cashier, was amazed to find myself the only non-Asian person in an entire stretch of the main street, and stopped for cheap Chinese food for dinner. (For such a small place in the middle of a valley, Interlaken is wildly cosmopolitan.)

 

Interlaken is quite colorful, too.

Always in the shadow of the Alps.

Even on a cloudy day the river was a rich, deep turquoise.

My feet were soaked from the rain by the time I got back to Meiringen that evening, but it had been such a fantastic day - somehow both relaxing and totally active - that I barely cared. I curled up to watch a low-budget British nature show - one of the only English shows on TV - before waking up early to get ready for my train. It was foggy again in the morning, but as it began to clear I could see a distinct line on the slopes of the mountains as if somebody had drawn it on with a pen; below the line was springy green and brown, but above it was powdery white. It had snowed up in the mountains during the night!

Snow in spring!

Bidding a fond farewell to Martina the receptionist - who later found and messaged me on Facebook to make sure I'd arrived in Prague safely! - I left Das Hotel Sherlock Holmes and went for a quick selfie with the consulting detective himself...well, at least the statue of him. (After all, I had him to thank for bringing me to this lovely place!) The train ride to Zurich was a treat; as we zigzagged up into the mountains, we passed through the veil of fog and seemed to go back in time from spring to winter, into heaps of fresh sugary snow as thick as Christmas in Wisconsin. Train was definitely the way to travel in Switzerland; how else could you see so much of such a spectacular countryside? 

Christmas?

From snow-white mountain slopes to fields shimmering yellow with flowers to the sky-blue valley lakes, Switzerland is a country of colors and heights. Geneva is a lovely city, but don't stop there; everywhere you go is a different experience entirely. Rather like Italy.

Up next was an Easter in Prague and a reunion with the Woods women. Who knew what to expect?

Swiss bliss: Solving "The Final Problem" in Meiringen

Let me start out by saying that Geneva is a lovely city. I tasted the best hot chocolate of my life, bought a pretty sweet Swatch, and had a wonderful twentieth birthday there with some dear friends back in November. But when one thinks - or at least when I think - of "Switzerland," the image that comes to mind is typically snowy mountains, Alpine villages, and outdoor adventure. Geneva has some pretty mountain views and a gorgeous lake, but it was not the "Swissperience" I was expecting. (Again, not that it wasn't great in its own way, but I was still hoping for a taste of the Switzerland that was advertised, which I knew was out there somewhere.) I had a few days between leaving Rome and arriving in Prague to spend alone, so I picked an Alpine village called Meiringen to be my home base for two nights before Easter.

First glimpses of Meiringen after getting off the train.

The selection of Meiringen wasn't totally random. As many of you know, I'm a huge fan (to put it mildly) of Sherlock Holmes in his many manifestations, particularly the BBC series Sherlock and the original stories by Arthur Conan Doyle (though I wouldn't say no to one of the Guy Ritchie films with RDJ, either). Well, one of the more curious things Doyle did with his beloved and ever-famous detective was throw him off the Reichenbach Falls, a tremendous waterfall in the Swiss mountains. Incidentally, his death caused such an uproar among fans that Doyle was forced to resurrect him several years later and continue his adventures - much to the delight of millions of people in the decades that have followed. The Reichenbach Falls is a real waterfall, located just above the little Swiss village that Doyle loved as a personal getaway: Meiringen. There's a Sherlock Holmes museum, lots of Holmes-themed landmarks (including a pretty sweet statue), and a series of plaques...including one overlooking the Falls at the very ledge from which Holmes fictionally plunged to his death to defeat his nemesis, Professor Moriarty.

Home sweet Holmes.

View from my balcony.

Needless to say, I made it my mission to get up to that plaque and see the Falls. Bidding Rome one last fond farewell, I flew out to Geneva, and from there I took a series of trains through the spectacular Swiss countryside to the Jungfrau region, affectionately known as "Nature's Playground" for very good reason. For as the train came around the bend and I could see the beautiful valley just before Interlaken, the azure sky was a rainbow of parachutes and paragliders; the opalescent lake shimmered in the sun as boaters and kayakers traversed its mirror-like surface; and the streets of the villages were full of people out and about their adventures in this pristine, picturesque, mountain-enclosed haven. Interlaken itself is a little city right at the junction between two large lakes, and Meiringen is tucked in a little alcove between the mountains only a few kilometers away. By the time I arrived, it was about four o'clock, sunny, and warm. But once I checked in to my hotel, Martina the receptionist told me that the weather tomorrow would be cold and rainy: not ideal for a trek of indeterminate length up to see the Falls. So in spite of major sleep deprivation and travel fatigue, I strapped on my faithful travel boots and set off with a German map to find them.

The famous Alps.

All set for Reichenbach! (No idea what was in store, of course...)

A few minutes into my little journey, several things became apparent. One, my map was utterly useless and unreadable to boot. Two, contrary to tourist belief, not everyone in the world speaks English: The only person I could ask for directions spoke next to none, leaving me to piece together a grammatically-horrific mess of mispronounced German, misplaced Italian, and misinterpreted English. Three, the "easy" uphill trek promised to me by Martina was in fact a steep dirt path winding precariously over roots and stones (and did I mention very steep mountainsides?). Four, though sunset was technically over two hours away, I was suddenly not positive the hike would take less than two hours. Nevertheless, I couldn't give up yet, not after I'd come all this way, and the beauty of the afternoon made me want to get some hiking in regardless. So on I went.

You've got to be kidding me.

I was not a quiet traveler, exuding my own chorus of wheezing (I was still recovering from a chest cold), swearing, praying, words of encouragement, and "This was probably a bad idea" as I climbed. I threw a few dirty looks at the inactive funicular, which would open within two weeks and replace this laborious trek with a fifteen-minute scenic ride. Being so early in the season, the snow on the mountains had not fully melted and so the magnificent roiling falls of the Reichenbach were in fact little more than a few trickles of water. But after much effort - after pity looks from the only passerby who showed up, after climbing over a fence probably intended to keep lunatics like me out during offseason, after clambering up a cliff-side path overlooking the giant cleft where the Falls usually fell - I made it to the plaque and the star. Almost weeping with relief, I started taking pictures. I even read the excerpt of "The Final Problem" aloud, marveling at how the area was exactly as Doyle described it a century ago. It was the ultimate crazy nergasmic spectacular, with the almost ethereal valley spread out below me.

The Reichenbach Falls (just imagine the water)

Made it to the top!

The famous plaque.

Where Sherlock Holmes and James Moriarty resolved the Final Problem (and where Arthur Conan Doyle trekked during his vacations to Meiringen).

After a much easier trek down the mountain, I made it back to Das Hotel Sherlock Holmes in one piece and had a nice dinner at the hotel's entirely empty restaurant courtesy of an extremely attentive young waiter (I ate a bizarre concoction called the "Watson," which was basically eggs, cheese, and peaches broiled over bread). Exhausted and fulfilled, I curled up in my hotel room early and watched a gorgeous sunset from my balcony. It had been one of my fullest days yet: leaving my lovely Rome at the crack of dawn, flying to Geneva and hopping from train to train across Switzerland, trekking the Alps in a questionable judgment call that ultimately paid off...

Meiringen from the Falls.

But tomorrow, April 18, was a new day in the final travel marathon across Europe and eventually back across the Atlantic. The last adventure had begun.

Feeling pretty high on life.

Arrivederci, Roma

Salve, amici. Well, it's been almost three weeks since I left Rome. Can you believe it? (I certainly can't.) I haven't posted for a while because a) I've been traveling and it's been VERY busy and b) it's been hard to bring myself to write this farewell message. Farewell to Rome, not to you; I've got lots to write before I throw in the towel completely. But my time in Italy is over. (Actually, though: My visa has expired and I cannot return for another ninety days.)

On my last day in the city, I did what I'd avoided for the past several months of living there: I became a tourist again. Most of the SMC girls had left that morning for home or whatever their interim destinations were. The sun was shining and - as my friends are sick of hearing me say - there is nothing more beautiful than Rome when the sky is blue. A light seems to radiate from the buildings themselves, reflecting the sunshine with a kind of warmth that is so different from the cold, steely light of most modern cities. The organic stone of church domes and monuments against blue sky is breathtaking, and on this day - April 16 - Rome had never been lovelier. Even the pollution-clogged Tiber sparkled a pretty green as I set out across town to take some final photographs and visit one of the final archaeological sites on my to-do list: the Baths of Caracalla.

The Tiber and Castel Sant'Angelo

But first, I went over to Saint Peter's Square one last time to mail some postcards and take some photos of the magnificent cupola outlined against the sky. I visited my favorite café to say goodbye to Alam (the worker who was always there) and order one last juice. I ate a final supplì (a delicious fried rice ball filled with cheese and tomato sauce) and wandered through the Jewish Ghetto, the Forum Boarium, and the Circus Maximus on my way to the Baths. I'd written a report on these Baths during the fall semester, and I was determined to actually see them before leaving. When I got there, I was thrilled to see just how spectacular they are.

Last glance at Saint Peter's

The Baths are enormous, for one thing: They were two storeys and over thirty-eight meters tall (thats about 125 feet). In addition to enormous pools for bathing and wading, there were palaestrae (exercise courts), libraries, spas, shops, and changing rooms. The decorations would have been elaborate: Mosaic floors, massive sculptures (some of which survive), expensive marbles, and trickling fountains made this an experience of luxury for the everyman (and some women, too!) in ancient Rome. Today, you can still get a feel of their enormousness and opulence, and I felt like a little kid on a playground as I wandered open-mouthed through the halls.

The Baths at last

After visiting the Baths, I walked slowly back through the Ancient City one last time, skirting the Palatine, swinging past the Colosseum and the Arch of Constantine, passing through the ancient Fora and in front of the Vittorio Emanuele monument in Piazza Venezia, and taking a few last-minute pictures of the victory temples in Largo Argentina. Then I joined the other two remaining Smicks for a final Italian dinner, glass of wine, and scoop of gelato...and one last adoring look at the Pantheon, my favorite building in the world.

Early the next day, my cab driver took extra care to pass the Ancient City in the morning moonlight so I could see it one last time before I boarded a train and then a plane out of Italy.

Colosseum for the last time

For all my efforts, it is a hard place to describe and even harder to understand. Regarding Italy, my professor (who is himself Italian) once said, "It is an absurd country, in many respects." And it is. The ever-famous Rick Steves said that Rome is "brutal and beautiful." And it is. But my favorite quote describing Rome - because it is entirely true for me - is the following: "Rome will make you fall in love with itself slowly but forever."

I came to Rome expecting what I'd spent the last six years learning and dreaming about in Latin class: a magical, mythical mix of ancient and modern; a land flowing with olive oil and tomato sauce. I came expecting to be delighted by all there was to learn and thrilled by the exoticism of a foreign country. I expected Italian to come effortlessly after a few weeks of "immersion." I wasn't prepared for the noise, the traffic, the pollution, the crowds, the smoky air, the shattering bottles at two in the morning, the pushy salesmen, the blaring car horns...the fact that Rome was a city, a very living, very messy city with terrible WiFi and abysmal mail service. I wasn't expecting to be pushed and pulled and challenged and transformed so quickly or in the ways that I was. In the beginning, it was scary, and loud, and uncomfortable, and unfamiliar, and totally overwhelming. In the beginning, I wasn't sure I'd be able to handle seven months of it.

Last gelato, wearing the same jacket in the same gelateria as my first gelato

But then, ever so slowly, my expectations and preconceptions about Rome were peeled away, and I was able to see the city for what it was. I stopped waiting for something else to arrive and started noticing and accepting and enjoying what was actually around me. And when I was able to do that, I began to fall in love with it. And in addition to the city itself, the country as a whole, and its people. It was a love story that was bound to happen, just not the way I expected. 

So, in addition to all that I'm still learning, that is one of the major lessons I took from La Città Eterna: honesty. I had to learn to be honest with myself and abandon what I'd expected to be true for what actually was true. I had to learn to accept what was present instead of vaguely chasing the way I thought it would or should be. And in exchange, I found something so much deeper, so much more meaningful, and so much more beautiful in Rome - and maybe even within myself as well - than I would have if it had been what I'd expected. I found a world of wonderful people, beautiful vistas, delicious flavors, vibrant colors, passionate songs, and thrilling stories. Rome was where I came alive in a brand new way.

As I said through tears in my final Italian class, Roma era il mio sogno. Rome was my dream. Now it is a home as well, for in a way it has become a friend that engaged me and thrilled me with its adventures and comforted me during times of loneliness and loss. It is a place I had to learn to love, in spite of its disastrous government, disappointing public transport, and life-threatening Vespas. I made friends and memories and progress there. Signor Bruno and Signora Patrizia, who looked out for us; Patrizio, who teased us; Stefano, who held my hand when my grandma died; Aldo, who'd talk to us for hours; all of my professors, who taught us about things that mattered. They made Rome home. And that will always mean the world to me. 

I don't know when I will return to Rome, but I know now that I have to. It has too much of my heart for me to stay away, and I'm sure anyone who's spent any prolonged amount of time there can understand. And I am so, so grateful for the time I spent there, the lessons I learned, and the people I met. I'm grateful for everyone who made this dream come true for me, at home and abroad. And I'm grateful to you, for caring enough to go on this journey with me.

So in the words of Dean Martin: Arrivederci, Roma. Grazie per tutto, e ci vediamo...presto. :)

The view from my window

Gelato jubilee

Ciao, amici. It is impossible to believe, but I am officially days away from my departure from Rome. My mind truly cannot comprehend this fact - I think denial is one of the stages of grief, isn't it? - but nonetheless, I am making preparations for the fateful day. To be honest, I can't even begin to form words for the occasion. Leaving Rome still seems like the abstract, faraway concept it has been for the past several months.

HOWEVER, I do recognize that - as we conclude the feast of life that this study-abroad experience has been - there needs to be some reference to the all-important dessert. And when in Italy, one dessert is king: ice cream, or gelato.

Gelato is a gift to humanity that has become a necessity for living, rather like technology or modern medicine. The creaminess, the flavor combinations, the sweetness. Superior to regular ice cream in ways that can't be fully described or understood. It's creamier than regular ice cream, but it's not like custard or soft serv. It's not as icy - or healthy - as fro yo. Forgive me for failing to provide an accurate description, but just trust me: Gelato is king. 

Judging gelato is a journey, no joke. I have taken it as my personal duty to sample as many different gelati and gelaterie (gelato shops) as possible throughout Italy, but especially in Rome. It is impossible to find one universal favorite among locals, tourists, students, or even experts: Each gelateria has its own quirks, its own flare, and its own flavors. Therefore, in compiling my top ten, a great deal of the ordering is based purely on personal opinion, taking quality, originality, cost, and location into consideration. I have found that most people agree with my choices (if not necessarily the order itself). So HERE IT (FINALLY) IS:

JENNIFER'S TOP TEN GELATERIE:

1. Frigidarium

2. Giolitti

3. Fassi

4. Old Bridge

5. Flor

6. Della Palma

7. Sweety

8. Punto

9. San Crispino

10. Grom

THE CRITERIA:

1. Quality (ranges from "Good" to "High" to "Very high")

2. Originality

3. Cost

4. Location (how easy it is to include it in one's travels)

1. Frigidarium
Quality: High (good combination of regular and unique flavors; ultra-creamy)
Originality: Cones and cups come dipped in white chocolate, dark chocolate, or cream, and the signature flavor is out of this world; pleasant student-friendly ambience
Cost: Excellent - a small cup or cone (2 flavors) is EUR 2
Location: A bit hard to find but very centrally located near Piazza Navona and Corso Vittorio Emanuele

2. Giolitti
Quality: Very high (great assortment of flavors and whipped cream on top)
Originality: One of the most popular in Rome, pleasant old-fashioned style
Cost: Reasonable - a small cup or cone (2 flavors) is EUR 2.50
Location: A bit tucked away but centrally located near the Pantheon and the Column of Marcus Aurelius

3. Fassi
Quality: High (great flavors, good texture)
Originality: Supposedly the first in Rome, very popular with the locals
Cost: Unbeatable - a small cup or cone (3 flavors) is EUR 1.60
Location: Not centrally located - southwest of Termini Station - but worth the trip

4. Old Bridge
Quality: High (creamy texture, good combination of usual flavors and unique ones)
Originality: Nothing terribly new but just good, basic gelato
Cost: Excellent - a small cup or cone (2 flavors) is EUR 2
Location: Two nice locations, one in Trastevere and one near the Vatican Museums

5. Flor
Quality: High (good combination of classic and adventurous flavors)
Originality: It's a pretty well-regarded chain, but it also offers some other cool desserts
Cost: Reasonable - a small cup or cone (2 flavors) is EUR 2.50
Location: Excellent - the one closest to me is right on Campo de' Fiori

6. Della Palma
Quality: Good (lots of flavors, well-made)
Originality: Over a hundred flavors of gelato, sorbetto, and mousse, including dairy-free options
Cost: Reasonable - a small cup or cone (2 flavors ) is EUR 2.50
Location: Just behind the Pantheon square

7. Sweety
Quality: Good (different flavors of self-service with lots of toppings)
Originality: One of (if not THE) first fro-yo-like gelaterie in Rome (like Milwaukee's Yo Mama or South Bend's Let's Spoon); hugely popular with young Italians
Cost: Depends on how much you get; it's all by weight, so it's pretty reasonable
Location: Excellent - right by Campo de' Fiori

8. Punto
Quality: High (excellent white-chocolate raspberry flavor)
Originality: Lots of unique flavors (like "pine"), plus other desserts like semifreddo
Cost: Reasonable - a small cup or cone (2 flavors) is EUR 2.50
Location: Decent - close to the river, between Campo de' Fiori and Trastevere.

9. San Crispino
Quality: Very high (no artificial colors or anything, but I was very disappointed my vanilla bourbon flavor)
Originality: One of the more "artisan" gelaterie in Rome
Cost: Expensive - a small cup or cone (2 flavors) is EUR 3.50
Location: Just behind the Pantheon square

10. Grom
Quality: Good (popular chain all over Italy; a bit icy but reliably good)
Originality: Flavors of the month fluctuate, plus other standard flavors
Cost: Reasonable - a small cup or cone (2 flavors) is EUR 2.50
Location: They're everywhere

So the next time you're in Rome, looking to indulge in something dolce, I insist you check out at least one - preferably more - of these fabulous gelato stops. Think of me when getting the Frigidarium flavor at Frigidarium - and stop for a Magner's at The Abbey Theatre across the street. For everyone who's been to Rome, let me know what your favorite gelato experience was! 

Because gelato is more than a dessert. It's a way of life. And a pretty sweet one, too. 

My first gelato in Rome (sniff)

Split down the middle: A weekend in Europe's hidden masterpiece

Sixteen hours of busing. Three countries. Three days. Why? Our trip to Croatia, of course!

Five of my friends and I boarded a coach bus last Thursday evening with twenty-five other American students for a long weekend in one of Europe's least-discovered - but fast-growing - destinations: the beautiful city of Split on Croatia's pristine Dalmatian coast. It's almost a straight shot eastward from Rome, but due to the minor presence of the Adriatic Sea, we instead curved northward through Florence and Venice and skirted the coast through Slovenia and Croatia. We booked the trip with the student-oriented tour company Bus2Alps and drove through the night, which could have been more comfortable but ended up being worth the cramped necks and un-stretched legs. Our hostel was less than two minutes' walk from the waterfront and in the heart of the historic center, so our excitement got the best of us and after a quick breakfast and change of clothes we headed out to explore.

Like much of Eastern Europe, especially in the Balkans, Croatia has a checkered history of occupation, leading to a very strange concept of cultural identity that almost seems to be lacking altogether. Like the rest of the Mediterranean, it was once part of the Roman Empire; in fact, the city of Split was built in and around the remains of the Roman emperor Diocletian's palace, who apparently enjoyed the natural splendor of the area as much as modern tourists do. The Austro-Hungarian Habsburg dynasty ruled beginning in the 16th century; it then became part of the Kingdom of Yugoslavia during World War I, was established as a fascist puppet state during World War II, and eventually seceded from Second Yugoslavia, declaring independence in 1991. Therefore, it's a unique blend of Mediterranean culture - shared by countries like Italy and Spain - and Eastern European; we saw almost as much Italian as we saw English on menus and signs, and most restaurants offered seafood and Italian cuisine.

Friday, after our arrival, we headed to Diocletian's Palace and explored the unique conglomeration of ancient ruins and modern enterprise that it has become; truly, the city has developed itself within and around it. We explored nearby markets and enjoyed a delicious Italian-influenced lunch - reveling in the great exchange rate between the euro and the Croatian kuna - before exploring the remaining lower levels of the Palace. Mold and moss grew in abundance on the damp brick walls, but the structure remained remarkably intact; but for the presence of some suspiciously foreboding pigeons, it was a pleasant trip to the ancient Mediterranean outside the "usual" Roman fare.

The inside of Diocletian's Palace, which has been filled with shops and restaurants in addition to ruins

One of the ancient ceilings of the Palace's lower levels, covered in green moss!

We rested that afternoon, still recovering from our fractured night's sleep, and ventured out for more Italian-inspired food for dinner. The next morning we got up to explore the beautiful vista from atop the hill in a nearby park, where we enjoyed spectacular views of the city and the sea. Behind the flat coastal plain on which Split was sprawled, long ranges of rocky mountains stretched parallel to the shoreline; it was rugged and looked remarkably untouched, unlike the hills and mountains of Italy which - though lovely in their own right - are always dotted with towns and farms. We didn't have long to spend in the park, for we had to return to the city center to catch a ferry for our island hopping tour with Bus2Alps.

Beautiful Split, with the sea on one side and the mountains on the other

The Croatian seaboard is dotted with hundreds of islands, and we visited two villages on one of the largest: Brač (rhymes with "watch"). We were treated to a gorgeously sunny day, and the water glowed aquamarine as we sailed and beached on the Adriatic. The water was crystal clear - so transparent that we could count the rocks at the bottom and see the shadows of docked boats on the seafloor - but also outrageously cold. Nevertheless, with a little encouragement from my friends, I put on my swimsuit and waded in for a few frigid but exhilarating minutes. The view could not have been more spectacular, with the azure skies, rolling mountains, and charming village in the backdrop. The chaos of the past several weeks in Rome - preparing for finals and the approaching departure from Italy - melted away for a few delightful hours, leaving us refreshed and relaxed by the soothing beauty around us.

Split from offshore

The mainland from Brač

One of the villages on Brač

A harbor on Brač

Crystal clear water!

FREEZING (but worth it)

After another delicious Italian dinner, a brief nighttime stroll near the seashore, and some coffee and dessert near our hostel, we awoke the next morning and left Split with the rest of Bus2Alps for a few hours at Krka National Park. It is a protected stretch of mountains and woodlands surrounding the Krka River, famous for its magnificent waterfalls. Blessed with more sunshine, we spent our last kuna on figs - a traditional Croatian snack - and dipped our toes in the icy river water, trying (and failing) to take photographs that might have a hope of capturing the scope of the scene. Two of my friends decided to really get the full Croatian experience and fell spectacularly on the slippery river shore, which required a quick dip in the Krka to wash off the mud. We all wanted more time, but before we knew it we had to trek back up to the bus and begin the long drive back to Rome. Thankfully, it was largely uneventful except for a thrilling twenty-minute stop at border control between Croatia and Slovenia. We got our passports stamped and stood for fifteen glorious minutes on Slovenian soil before being shepherded back on board and continuing toward Rome, at which we arrived by 2:30 Monday morning.

Waterfalls at Krka National Park

Another set of falls on the River Krka

Excited to be in Slovenia!

It was a trip totally unlike the others I've taken this semester. It wasn't jam-packed with city exploration or sightseeing. There wasn't much of a new culture to embrace or new cuisine to try. (That's no insult against the Croatians, who are very pleasant people with a rich history and great food; there just wasn't much in terms of overt societal differences.) The magic and allure of Croatia is the land itself, which the people have been brilliant enough to leave largely in its natural state. The mountains, the beaches, the water, the greenery, the towns themselves were beyond photography (though I've included some here anyway). After so much intense learning and listening and seeing - all wonderful, all life-changing - Croatia was a place where we could just be, enjoy each other's company, and marvel at our surroundings without taking notes or memorizing dates. After visiting and being taught about some of the greatest triumphs to come from human hands, we now could witness just one of the beautiful corners of the world that no human could ever recreate.