Ever since I was a little girl I have been obsessed with Roman and Greek cultures. Hercules is still one of my favorite Disney movies, and while I’m pretty sure that movie was supposed to be based on the Greek Hercules, he was still a big hero to the Romans. Gladiator is still one of my favorite movies to watch with my dad. As I got older, I have to admit that I started to romanticize Italy. Everything I had heard about Italy was a grown woman’s fairy tale. Grape vineyards, beautiful countryside, good-looking Italian men, breathtaking architecture, and an incredible history were just a few of the things calling my name before I had even left the States. I mean, Shakespeare was even inspired enough to chose Italian cities as the backdrop of some of his most famous plays. Saying that, I don’t feel like the hype which Italy received was all on me. Which is why I am not taking the blame for the somewhat mediocre time I had there. Maybe I did have Rome put up on a pedestal and if that’s the reason why I found it somewhat lacking then let me make myself clear when I say that I have learned my lesson. I no longer have any expectations for the cities I visit. Maybe if I had felt that way before Rome, it would have been a little better.
In short, the city was kind of dirty and there were homeless people everywhere. The architecture was only pretty around touristy sights. Even though the city in its majority was a little lacking, I can say that the Trevi Fountain was breathtaking. I threw two coins in. Tradition says that you can throw three in but that can be bad luck. I’ll explain. One is so that you’ll come back. Another is to meet someone new (that’s not ambiguous at all) and the last is to either get married or divorced. How I understood it was that if you were already married it meant that you already had that special someone and the only thing you could possibly want is to return to Rome one day, but if you threw in an extra it meant that maybe you weren’t so happy and the wishes would take care of that for you by giving you a divorce (haha). So like I said, I threw in two coins. One, so I would return to Rome one day (and hopefully have a better experience) and another in hopes of meeting someone new. I currently had no desire to throw in a coin for that last wish and thought it best not to tempt fate : )
I have to admit that the Pantheon was very cool. You definitely felt like you were in a different time when you walked in. People don’t just makes building like that for the heck of it these days. The Coliseum also gave off that affect. Times ten. We walked out of the metro thinking it would take us a minute to find it and walk to it but we were mistaken. As soon as we excited the metro and walked onto the street, there it was staring us in the face. It was incredible! Just imagining the things that took place there and the people that witnessed it was enough to give me chills. It was sad to think about how such a great monument had somehow become a ruin. Half of the top layer of walls had fallen down and all of the columns were eroded. Still, the only things that took away from the experience were the cars passing literally 30 yards away and the metal bars surrounding it. We didn’t get to go in but I’m sort of glad we didn’t. It keeps some of the mystery alive for me.
The coolest thing about Rome wasn’t even technically Roman. It was the Vatican City. Fun fact: The Vatican City is the smallest country in the world. It is also the country where the Pope resides which is surrounded by Rome on all sides. Rocio, Jensen, and I took a tour of the museum which was incredible. I’ve never seen so many works of art and important pieces of history in one place. Michael Angelo is definitely my top respected artist. He had multiple Popes wrapped around his finger. He was just that good. I mean, the man drew naked people on the ceilings of this sacred place and they paid him for it! That’s impressive. When I was younger, pictures of the Sistine Chapel just looked like this ugly jumbled mess to me. Now, after seeing it, I can see just what a genius Angelo was. Every single object, person, and color represents something. Our tour guide told us an interesting story. He said that an adviser to the Pope, who had commissioned Angelo to do the Sistine Chapel, complained about the nudity and tried to have Angelo fired. When Angelo found out, he painted the adviser's face on one of the people he had placed in his depiction of Hell. I have a feeling Angelo was a funny guy = P
Saint Peter’s Basilica was stunning to say the least. However, I did feel a little sacrilegious going inside and taking photos. I’m not Catholic or anything but it still seemed a little weird. The basilica was really high on my list of things to see while we were in Rome, or should I say the Vatican, but after I found out what it was made of I was a little heartbroken. Our tour guide informed us that when Pope something something decided to have the basilica built, he ran out of money. That was when priests began charging money in exchange for forgiveness. Then to lighten the costs even further, the Pope ordered that they were to remove all of the marble from the Coliseum and use it to make cement for the marble columns that were to go inside the basilica. So when you watch Gladiator and you see that the Coliseum is all pretty and white, don’t think it’s a lie. It really was that stunning when the gladiators fought and the Romans watched. Just know that you can thank Pope What’s His Face for the reason it doesn’t look like that anymore.
The most important and best thing about Rome was the food. It was great everywhere we went. It was better than great, it was amazing! And if I never have crappy Pizza Hut pizza again for as long as I live, I’ll be okay because at least I can say I’ve had the best and that’s Italian pizza.
All in all, my trip was worth it because I got to see some of the greatest monuments of all time. I just wish the Italian men hadn’t been so creepy, that the homeless hadn’t been so scary, and that the old men had kept their hands to themselves. That’s all I’m going to say. Ciao!
Kaitlin
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Space
It's been about a month since I've posted on this thing. Since I've been getting more than a few requests to start filling you guys in on my life again, I figured I better start now. It's not that I didn't want to write. Okay, yes it is. But I have several reasons for not wanting jot down my every experience. I realized a month ago, when I was in Rome, that there is absolutely no way that I can help you guys understand how incredible this journey has been for me. So I gave up. My poorly written descriptions of the places I've been, the things I've seen, and the people I've met are sad in comparison to the real thing. It's like trying to describe color to a blind man. Okay, so maybe not that drastic, but I still feel like I'm not giving any of these things the justice they're due. On top of that, I wanted to be enjoying things to their fullest, not thinking about how I was going to jot down the details accurately later.
The other reason I was feeling reluctant to write is because I'm in Spain, people! I have 5 and a half weeks (to the day) left in this amazing place. I cringed as a wrote that. I hate admitting that time is running away from me here and this blog is kind of a reminder. Ever since my mother, grandmother, and aunt came to visit, I have had this internal countdown going in my head. When I wake up in the morning, still on the verge of unconsciousness, the thought "You have __ weeks and __ days left" manages to jolt me awake. It's enough to make me sick, and of course it manages to get my day off to a bad start instantly. At first I thought I was having trouble forgetting my looming departure because I was homesick. Then I took a minute to laugh and admitted that it's because I have a hard time dealing with deadlines. They make me antsy. Also, just knowing that I'm leaving soon is so unsettling. Partly because I feel so at home in this city and partly because it feels like I just got here. I'm not sure where the time has gone. It's also unsettling because I don't know when I'll get to come back to this place. And I hate not knowing.
I realized today that this blog is what is going to keep me sane. I’m going to try to fit as many new adventures and experiences as I can into this thing before I have to leave. Basically I just needed some space but now I'm back : )Just to let you know, I won’t be updating my Facebook every time I write a new post, so you’ll have to keep up with me on your own.
Mejor,
Kaitlin
The other reason I was feeling reluctant to write is because I'm in Spain, people! I have 5 and a half weeks (to the day) left in this amazing place. I cringed as a wrote that. I hate admitting that time is running away from me here and this blog is kind of a reminder. Ever since my mother, grandmother, and aunt came to visit, I have had this internal countdown going in my head. When I wake up in the morning, still on the verge of unconsciousness, the thought "You have __ weeks and __ days left" manages to jolt me awake. It's enough to make me sick, and of course it manages to get my day off to a bad start instantly. At first I thought I was having trouble forgetting my looming departure because I was homesick. Then I took a minute to laugh and admitted that it's because I have a hard time dealing with deadlines. They make me antsy. Also, just knowing that I'm leaving soon is so unsettling. Partly because I feel so at home in this city and partly because it feels like I just got here. I'm not sure where the time has gone. It's also unsettling because I don't know when I'll get to come back to this place. And I hate not knowing.
I realized today that this blog is what is going to keep me sane. I’m going to try to fit as many new adventures and experiences as I can into this thing before I have to leave. Basically I just needed some space but now I'm back : )Just to let you know, I won’t be updating my Facebook every time I write a new post, so you’ll have to keep up with me on your own.
Mejor,
Kaitlin
Monday, September 26, 2011
¡Ole!
It’s been 15 days or so since I’ve posted. I’ve just been busy/tired/not in the mood. But I figure it’s time to post something. Last week was a pretty chill week and this past weekend I got to experience a huge part of Spanish culture. I went to a bullfight! (CAUTION: I am about to go into detail. If you don’t want to read it, don’t go on)
Before going, I had heard awful, atrocious things. Most of them were true. I have to admit, though, that I stayed until the end and was fascinated. Did I enjoy the part where I watched 8 bulls die? Absolutely, positively not! But I had never seen anything like it before in my life. Before going, I had heard a dozen stories and opinions about the bullfight. Some said it was disgusting and some said it was like a dance. I can honestly say that I think it’s both. The hardest part for me (other than the part where the bull bleeds out) was how unfair I thought it was. For some reason I thought it would be this “man vs beast” thing. But no, it was definitely a “half of a dozen men with spears vs tired out beast” thing. I was without a doubt cheering for the bull every time with the exception of one bullfighter. But before I tell you why I was impressed I need to explain some things.
There are three stages of a bullfight. In the first, a bunch of matadors enter the ring with the bull, spread out and have the bull chase them which is essentially done to tire the bull out. Then 2 men on horseback, called picadores, come in with a type of lance and stab the bull in between the shoulder blades, trying to anger and weaken it. This, to me, makes it a sissy man’s game. It’s not impressive to kill something that’s already about to fall over from blood loss. The second stage has some of the matadors running up to the bull, jumping up over it’s back and throwing barbed sticks into its shoulders. This also causes minor blood loss and helps slow the bull down, because the sticks are weighted. This part wasn’t too hard for me to handle because it was nothing compared to the damage caused by the first stage. I won’t lie, I even thought it was impressive that those men were brave enough to run towards the bull like that. During the last stage, the main matador takes on the bull by himself. First, he taunts the bull with his cape and usually uses a long, thin sword to inflict small cuts as it runs by the matador. Luckily, I was far enough up in the stands that I couldn’t see any of the wounds but the one from the picador. Lastly, the matador trades swords, taking a somewhat shorter but thicker one, and proceeds to thrust it into the bull, tip to hilt. Most of them died within a minute but there were a few that stayed up and walked around for a bit. If you’re assuming that there were massive amounts of blood, you’d be correct. That was the worst part. I had to close my eyes every time one died.
Okay, now that you have an idea of what happens I can elaborate on why I was impressed with one of the matadors. This particular matador was by far the youngest and the skinniest of the five matadors that killed a bull. He also had 2 fights. But that isn’t what I found impressive, though it did add to my impression. He was the only matador that killed the bull without having it injured first. He declined the picadores. To me, I thought it made the fight a little fairer, and less like cruel and unusual punishment. This man won the best performer of the night and I’m sure that’s why. Also, I have never seen a man move so gracefully in my life. Now I know why Spaniards call it an art form and not a sport, though I’m not sure I would call it either. I still have very mixed emotions about the whole thing.
This probably sounds like a traumatic experience to some of you. Maybe most of you. But there were a few good things that happened. First, the second bull of the night was pardoned because its foot was injured prior to entering the ring and the crowd called for it to be released because it wasn’t a fair fight (at least Spaniards draw the line somewhere). This is great because, according to one of our CEA directors, bulls that are pardoned get to “live like kings” for the rest of their lives. I’m just not sure it applies in this situation because, typically, when a bull is pardoned it is because it was so impressive that the judges reward it by sparing its life. I hope that was what happened.
When I describe the second good thing, know that I use the term "good" loosely. There was a matador who was extremely cocky. Not in a “I’m a performer” way but rather in a “I’m a douche” way. I didn’t like this man. Lucky for me, I got to see him punished for his attitude. Harsh, I know. Unlucky for him, he got stuck with the meanest bull. This thing was ferocious. It was faster, stronger, and smarter than all of the 6 bulls we had watched before it. It tipped over a horse! I was not happy about that. But the horses wear protective padding and special gear so, luckily, it wasn’t injured. During the final stage, the matador turned his back to the bull to face the crowd and do something cocky (I don’t remember what exactly). Normally, when a matador turns his back, the bull is tired and won’t charge because the man isn’t shaking the cape. This bull did not care. It ran at the man, lifted him up on his head, threw him to the ground, and proceeded to try to gore him with his horns. At this point, all of the matadors are rushing the ring trying to save the guy, who turned out to be fine. Luckily, the bull’s horns were pointed in a position that kept them from actually injuring the matador. After being rescued, the guy starts shoving the other matadors off, picks up the sword and kills the bull. I was mad for multiple reasons. I thought that the guy should have been made to go to the hospital, and not allowed to finish the job. I was also mad because out of all the bulls I felt that this one was by far the best and deserved to be pardoned. I know what you’re probably thinking, “I can’t believe she was rooting for the bull!” But that man got cocky and got bested because of it. On top of that he was acting offended that the bull dare touch him (After all, the guy was just cutting him over and over). I'm just glad the bull got to get a hit in. I still don't think he should have been allowed to kill it.
I can say that I’m glad that I went to watch the bullfight. It was a cultural experience that is a rare opportunity. It’s becoming a very controversial thing here so it may not be around much longer. I’m also happy to say that I can form my own opinion about bullfights and don’t have to base my opinion on what others tell me. However, I have no intention of going to another one. The first one was educational, a second would make me feel a little sociopathic.
I hope I didn’t disgust you too much. If I did, I apologize. And I can guarantee you that none of my other posts will be this graphic. If I ever tell you a story about bulls again, it’ll most likely be about a good ol’ Oklahoma rodeo where the bull lives... Thankfully!
Kait
Before going, I had heard awful, atrocious things. Most of them were true. I have to admit, though, that I stayed until the end and was fascinated. Did I enjoy the part where I watched 8 bulls die? Absolutely, positively not! But I had never seen anything like it before in my life. Before going, I had heard a dozen stories and opinions about the bullfight. Some said it was disgusting and some said it was like a dance. I can honestly say that I think it’s both. The hardest part for me (other than the part where the bull bleeds out) was how unfair I thought it was. For some reason I thought it would be this “man vs beast” thing. But no, it was definitely a “half of a dozen men with spears vs tired out beast” thing. I was without a doubt cheering for the bull every time with the exception of one bullfighter. But before I tell you why I was impressed I need to explain some things.
There are three stages of a bullfight. In the first, a bunch of matadors enter the ring with the bull, spread out and have the bull chase them which is essentially done to tire the bull out. Then 2 men on horseback, called picadores, come in with a type of lance and stab the bull in between the shoulder blades, trying to anger and weaken it. This, to me, makes it a sissy man’s game. It’s not impressive to kill something that’s already about to fall over from blood loss. The second stage has some of the matadors running up to the bull, jumping up over it’s back and throwing barbed sticks into its shoulders. This also causes minor blood loss and helps slow the bull down, because the sticks are weighted. This part wasn’t too hard for me to handle because it was nothing compared to the damage caused by the first stage. I won’t lie, I even thought it was impressive that those men were brave enough to run towards the bull like that. During the last stage, the main matador takes on the bull by himself. First, he taunts the bull with his cape and usually uses a long, thin sword to inflict small cuts as it runs by the matador. Luckily, I was far enough up in the stands that I couldn’t see any of the wounds but the one from the picador. Lastly, the matador trades swords, taking a somewhat shorter but thicker one, and proceeds to thrust it into the bull, tip to hilt. Most of them died within a minute but there were a few that stayed up and walked around for a bit. If you’re assuming that there were massive amounts of blood, you’d be correct. That was the worst part. I had to close my eyes every time one died.
Okay, now that you have an idea of what happens I can elaborate on why I was impressed with one of the matadors. This particular matador was by far the youngest and the skinniest of the five matadors that killed a bull. He also had 2 fights. But that isn’t what I found impressive, though it did add to my impression. He was the only matador that killed the bull without having it injured first. He declined the picadores. To me, I thought it made the fight a little fairer, and less like cruel and unusual punishment. This man won the best performer of the night and I’m sure that’s why. Also, I have never seen a man move so gracefully in my life. Now I know why Spaniards call it an art form and not a sport, though I’m not sure I would call it either. I still have very mixed emotions about the whole thing.
This probably sounds like a traumatic experience to some of you. Maybe most of you. But there were a few good things that happened. First, the second bull of the night was pardoned because its foot was injured prior to entering the ring and the crowd called for it to be released because it wasn’t a fair fight (at least Spaniards draw the line somewhere). This is great because, according to one of our CEA directors, bulls that are pardoned get to “live like kings” for the rest of their lives. I’m just not sure it applies in this situation because, typically, when a bull is pardoned it is because it was so impressive that the judges reward it by sparing its life. I hope that was what happened.
When I describe the second good thing, know that I use the term "good" loosely. There was a matador who was extremely cocky. Not in a “I’m a performer” way but rather in a “I’m a douche” way. I didn’t like this man. Lucky for me, I got to see him punished for his attitude. Harsh, I know. Unlucky for him, he got stuck with the meanest bull. This thing was ferocious. It was faster, stronger, and smarter than all of the 6 bulls we had watched before it. It tipped over a horse! I was not happy about that. But the horses wear protective padding and special gear so, luckily, it wasn’t injured. During the final stage, the matador turned his back to the bull to face the crowd and do something cocky (I don’t remember what exactly). Normally, when a matador turns his back, the bull is tired and won’t charge because the man isn’t shaking the cape. This bull did not care. It ran at the man, lifted him up on his head, threw him to the ground, and proceeded to try to gore him with his horns. At this point, all of the matadors are rushing the ring trying to save the guy, who turned out to be fine. Luckily, the bull’s horns were pointed in a position that kept them from actually injuring the matador. After being rescued, the guy starts shoving the other matadors off, picks up the sword and kills the bull. I was mad for multiple reasons. I thought that the guy should have been made to go to the hospital, and not allowed to finish the job. I was also mad because out of all the bulls I felt that this one was by far the best and deserved to be pardoned. I know what you’re probably thinking, “I can’t believe she was rooting for the bull!” But that man got cocky and got bested because of it. On top of that he was acting offended that the bull dare touch him (After all, the guy was just cutting him over and over). I'm just glad the bull got to get a hit in. I still don't think he should have been allowed to kill it.
I can say that I’m glad that I went to watch the bullfight. It was a cultural experience that is a rare opportunity. It’s becoming a very controversial thing here so it may not be around much longer. I’m also happy to say that I can form my own opinion about bullfights and don’t have to base my opinion on what others tell me. However, I have no intention of going to another one. The first one was educational, a second would make me feel a little sociopathic.
I hope I didn’t disgust you too much. If I did, I apologize. And I can guarantee you that none of my other posts will be this graphic. If I ever tell you a story about bulls again, it’ll most likely be about a good ol’ Oklahoma rodeo where the bull lives... Thankfully!
Kait
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