Convento di San Nicola

Centro di Conservazione Archelogica is located here: http://www.cca-roma.org/en/node/313

After the drive out of Rome, we spent about 20-30 more minutes going up a steep and winding country road.  Sometimes the road would turn into a narrow alley, going between centuries old houses.  It was a miracle I didn't get carsick.  After one last hairpin curve, we found a dirt road which led to a driveway.

Even though I had seen pictures from CCA's website, nothing prepared me for the beauty and isolation of San Nicola. There really isn't too much I can say about this place which doesn't sound cliched, so I'll just post the pictures I took.

Shannon enjoying the sun and the view.

This reminded me of Virginia, or even Vermont.

The terrace where we spent nearly all of our spare time.

Up above was Prof. Stevens's window.

The sweetest smelling rose.  I remember Roberto coming up to it, inhaling, and exclaiming "Ahhhhhhh." That sums up Roberto!

Part of the original convent.

This church between the ruins and the renovated house was still used several times a year, but we never got to go inside.

The courtyard from the roof.

The courtyard trellis had white roses about to bloom and more grapes.

My adorable bathroom window looked out onto the courtyard fig tree.

I was able to get my own room; now it really felt like a bed & breakfast.

Wild poppies are everywhere in Italy.

So are happy little lizards (and small scorpions, but I didn't get a picture of any -- a good thing!).

Dinner on the terrace.

The morning we left I climbed up the little iron staircase to the roof to get some final pictures.

Villa Adriana, Tivoli

We got stuck at the airport for a while, trying to determine if a classmate had missed her flight (she had, due to weather). After finding this out we were able to leave and Francesca led us out to meet our charming drivers, Giacobbe and Filippo. They loaded us into two minivans and we made the 30km side trip to Tivoli to visit Villa Adriana. We decided to scrap having an actual picnic lunch at the villa and to grab some pizza in Tivoli. We were behind schedule and starving, not to mention jet-lagged. Francesca brought us pizza marinara and pizza bianca (plain crust with olive oil and sea salt) from a local pizzeria. The pizza bianca was magical, and cured my jet-lag on the spot. We ate in a small park named after Hans Christian Andersen. I have no idea what he had to do with Tivoli because the sign was in Italian.

Hadrian's summer home is a UNESCO World Heritage site, though it is somewhat neglected.  The ruins are still awe-inspiring though, and the view immense. The Emperor Hadrian (#3 out of the 5 "Good Emperors") built his villa between 118 and 134 A.D. (C.E. to some).  The site seemed endless, especially after about three hours in the sun.  My body and mind remembered they had not slept much on the plane.  I was laggin'.

A group of schoolkids had just finished lunch here.

I strolled along the canopo.

And met a hungry fish.  *Gurp*

The complex at the end of the canopo.

Checking out the ancient drain.

And a lovely drain it was...

This structure reminded me of another place I had been: Double Arch in Arches National Park.

Of course, Hadrian's building was not as humbling or as beautiful, but it still was quiet, weathered, and old.

This building was probably the slaves quarters.

Ancient olive tree, still thriving!

Weeds are usually a sign of neglect at sites like this, and there were several places we could not explore because of danger signs or 'caution' tape. But I loved all the red poppies. Part of me enjoys seeing nature reclaim man-made sites (shout out to Caitlin!).

A view of the hills.  I didn't get a picture of Hadrian's prized view, but it looked toward Rome. After sitting to enjoy the sun and the breeze, we kept exploring, sometimes separating into two groups. Via pulled an Indiana Jones here and got a cleaner look at some of Hadrian's ancient opus sectile.

Columns still intact, the stories they could tell...

Here are more mosaic floors, in need of some TLC. These were bedrooms for visitors.

After several hours, we were fried. It was hard keeping my level of excitement up as the day wore on in the hot sun. After being thwarted a few times, we finally found the entrance to Hadrian's special "Island Palace" or Teatro Marittimo (Maritime Theater). This was for private use and entertaining. I guess these days in would be known as a "man-cave" (man-lagoon?). After this we walked down the long hill back to the parking lot, just as another bus filled with kids pulled up. We got into our minivans and headed to Roberto Nardi's renovated convent to settle in and enjoy a meal with our hosts.

Teatro Marittimo

Villa Adriana was my first peek at Roman ruins, and I took a ton of pictures. Of course, my numerous pictures are a little boring, and I've tried to post the nicest ones. Because the villa has been around for so long, it was only a matter of time before treasures were stolen or whisked away to museums. Sometimes removing mosaics, statues, and artifacts from a site is the only way to save them. When I walked through the Capitoline museum, I saw things which had been at Villa Adriana, and wished I had seen them at the Villa instead of in the sterile setting of a museum. It is hard to imagine the glory of such a building without some idea of what it looked like (more than a model, maybe a 'virtual' recreation?). This is something I would learn more about as we began our conservation lecture and lab with Roberto Nardi and his team.

Wings!

My flight left D.C. around 7pm on a Monday and I was due to arrive in Rome around 9:30am on Tuesday (Italy is 6 hours ahead). I couldn't sleep on the plane, even though I felt utterly exhausted most of the flight. At some point after watching "Finding Nemo" (the only decent choice for 'entertainment'), I pressed the map button to see where in the world I was. The graphic showed our happy little plane off the coast of Limerick, Ireland, so I opened my window to have a look. Of course it was mostly clouds since we were over 35,000 feet up, but I did catch the sunrise.

This picture freaks me out a bit since it looks like an engine fire or something, but at the time I thought it was one of the most amazing things I had seen. Later, I would stare out the window, until light turbulence kicked in -- it made me feel ill to see the wing kind of bending up and down so I would pull the window shade and either play my mp3 player (always Interpol's newest) or cry.

Even though it was daytime, looking at the wing also reminded me a bit of "Twilight Zone: The Movie." You know the part.

Watching this clip, I just had a revelation. THIS must be where my flying phobia came from! It still freaks me out -- after all these years. Enough of that!

I would go back to the map and was especially interested in the south of France, because I knew then it wasn't much farther. Here is a smaller jet speeding beneath us.

How relieved was I when we landed? Fiumicino (also known as Leonardo da Vinci airport) is located at the ancient Roman seaport of Ostia Antica. It's never fun preparing for a landing over water, in this case the Tyrhennian Sea. The water gets closer and closer as we drop in altitude, we bank in this direction-and-that, seem to stall in mid-air, and then hit the ground. Dr. Stevens led me through the Italian soldiers with German shepherds, passport control, and customs. We emerged to a crowd of well-dressed people holding signs with passenger's names/companies on them. Farthest away was Francesca with a Randolph College sign. We joined the group of students who had already landed and waited for stragglers. Randolph alum Via showed me the simple ins and outs of the airport cafe, paying and holding my receipt out for a shot of espresso (actually called caffe). With a packet of sugar and the tiniest of spoons, I was set!

Aero-hostile.

Anyone who knows me knows this: I have a flying phobia. I have found ways through the years to postpone flying or to avoid it all together. Part of the reason we moved back east was because I wasn't sure when I would see my parents again. The days leading up to a flight cause great distress, and usually involve me in the fetal position on our bed, going crazy with racing thoughts, panic, and nausea. I imagined never flying again but I wondered if I would ever get to Europe. My French roots were calling me & I felt obligated to visit Paris (and since I'm an art history major -- duh!). An unexpected school-organized trip to Italy seemed to appear out of nowhere (more on that later) & I felt destined to go.
I applied for this trip knowing I would have to fly. When I was accepted to go I immediately broke out in tears. Not out of joy but fear! I even tried to get out of the trip twice, knowing my plane ticket offered no refund. I thought maybe May 16th would not come and I could stop worrying. Why had I done this to myself?

So, I'm back and I'm still alive. My plane did not fall into the ocean; I was so sure it would. I read about the Air France flight falling at 11,000 feet per minute. At the 3 minute mark the plane hit the Atlantic, a giant belly flop. I didn't want to drift to the sea floor! I didn't want to get hijacked like the Alitalia flight to Rome and nearly diverted to Libya! I wondered if I would be the one to go for the emergency exit mid-flight ("GET ME OFF THIS PLANE! NOW!") and have to be subdued by flight attendants and brave passengers. Though I still was freaked out, a gentle sedative eased my panic enough to board the plane. I even had to admit to myself I was in a zone, not unlike before neurosurgery last year. Scared but peaceful.

Dulles Airport was a madhouse and I was devastated when it was time to say goodbye to Ethan and the girls. I thought they would sit with me until it was time to board (that shows you how much I know about flying). Instead I was shuffled down to the security check and found my way to the gate. Luckily my professor, Dr. Susan Stevens, was on the same flight & we chatted before boarding. She seemed to view flying as an everyday annoyance, a means to an end. I tried to carry that attitude but it didn't work. (I had no seatmate, which was great and awfully convenient for bathroom trips.) We were delayed by weather but eventually made it out to the runway.

There was a line of us waiting to take off. It was horrifying and fascinating. I remembered the pilot who I met at work who told me the most dangerous part of my trip would be the drive to the airport. Hmph. Taking off is exciting and dreadful. More dreadful if the woman sitting behind you (& whose husband died from Agent Orange) is joking with her seatmate about whether or not the plane will take off or fall back toward the earth.

Up.

Come on United 966, you can do it!

Over the suburbs! Getting higher and waiting to level out.

Through the clouds.

Cloud-watching to pass the time. And I didn't even throw up on myself! Only 8 more hours to go!

Christening of the Maiden Voyage: Marcello!