Day 1 - the Pantheon and assorted Roman roamings

When I look back on how I rang in 2012 (supposedly the last New Years I will celebrate according to the Mayans), I'll remember that I celebrated it:

a) on a plane
b) twice, and in two different time zones.

(My classmates and I joked about receiving complimentary champagne from the airline when we hit midnight, which led to a discussion about whether the American drinking age still applied or whether it was based on our destination or current airborne location, etc. etc. No champagne was served, but we did receive blueberry yogurt and an indestructible airline muffin.)

Of course, it's a bummer to miss out on the typical New Year festivities/debauchery, but hey! Totally worth it. Besides, in Rome, the center of Catholicism, New Year's isn't even that big of a deal. The Feast of Epiphany, January 6th, is when the city goes wild and the tourists flood into the streets so you can barely walk. Looking back, I can confirm this.

The first day was a bit of a blur. I remember getting off the plane and nursing my sore back. I remember getting onto a bus and commenting on how green Rome looked, even in January. Since we arrived at around 6:30 AM on New Year's Day, and the city was literally empty. Even Dr. C was astonished how vacant the streets were - roads that were typically pedestrian suicide traps were virtually deserted. The city was quiet, and we silently took it all in.

Our hotel was located literally around the corner from the Pantheon, pretty much right in the center of the city. For the next three weeks, the sight of the great round dome of the Pantheon was an indicator that we were home.

Obelisk and fountain in front of the Pantheon

Pantheon!

The hotel was a small, family-owned establishment, more of a bed-and-breakfast than anything. I admit, I had my concerns when the class was told that we were staying in a 1-star hotel for three weeks, but it was rated that way because it was simple, clean, and modest. No flat screen TVs or room service to boast, but it was clean and cozy, just as advertised.

After refueling our feeble, jetlagged bodies with coffee and Rosetta bread, we walked around the Pantheon neighborhood. Now, more people were beginning to venture out into the streets, but it was far from crowded. Everything was a blur, but we went to some key places that we would revisit later, including the Piazza Navona and the Campo di Fiori (or "Field of Flowers", where there is an open market every morning. Rome is famous for its piazzas, or city squares. They can range from the size of a college dorm room (such as the Piazza di St. Chiara near our hotel) or the size of a football field (like the Piazza del Popolo).

There were many stands set up in the Piazza Navona in preparation for Epiphany. I wish had tried a ciambelle, which are those Italian donuts on the left.

The layout of Rome is entirely different from the neat, organized United States metropolises that we are used to. Instead of neat parallel blocks intersecting at right angles, the roads of Rome twist and turn - sometimes you'll be walking on one road (or via) when it swerves sharply to the right, and bam, you're on a completely different street. The roads are also paved with cobblestone, which is possibly the most uncomfortable construction material I have ever set foot on. Ladies of Rome clinking around with high heels - I don't know how you do it.

After a brief power nap, we reconvened to see the city at night for the first time. Now, Rome at night is exquisite. There are twinkling holiday lights strung between small alleys, where natives and tourists stroll hand-in-hand, roaming the streets eating cones of gelato and enjoying the holiday sights. All the famous monuments are lit up with a soft glow (enough light to enchant you, but not enough light to properly capture the scene with my camera, unfortunately). And this is when we met our best friend Giolitti, one of Rome's best known gelato and pastry shops. Had my first taste of gelato, fell in love, considered relocating to Italy forever, etc. etc.. From that moment on, everyone on the trip learned to know the phrase "uno piccolo cono" ("one small cone") very very well.