Hi there! Thanks for reading my blog! I wanted to give you a brief introduction about myself as I start the year in Rome.

I’m a junior political science major from the western suburbs of Chicago and I want to go to law school after undergrad studies (maybe I’ll wind up at Loyola!). Back on the Lakeshore campus I was involved with student government and between my freshman and sophomore year I co-authored a book with a friend regarding the cost of education at Loyola.

I decided to go to Rome for several reasons, primarily because both my parents went to the JFRC when they were in college. Many of my aunts and uncles have also been to the JFRC and they highly recommended it. Prior to coming here I had never been outside the contiguous 48 States and the JFRC offered a great opportunity to expand my horizons. I decided to go abroad for the year because… well, why not? It is truly a once in a lifetime experience.

Enough about me. I’m sure you’re curious about my first impressions of Europe and Rome!

I arrived in Europe/Rome yesterday, the 28th of August. I flew on the group flight with about 70-80 other JFRC students. The flight offered a chance to meet some of the other students I’ll be studying with for the semester. It also made the flights easier because I wasn’t going it alone and it helped me to realize that there are a lot of other students who are in the exact same boat I am.

We first flew from Chicago to Frankfurt, Germany, where we had a three and a half hour layover. We couldn’t leave the airport, of course, but we got to experience a small taste (pun intended) of German culture when we found an airport bar and drank some German beer. I enjoyed myself and met some new people whom I didn’t sit by on my flight.

Our flight from Frankfurt to Rome, at about 2 hours long, was much shorter than our transatlantic flight. I found it difficult to sleep on the first flight but eventually my fatigue caught up with me and I slept for the entire second flight. My brief nap paid off later in the day by staving off the jet lag, though I certainly still experienced it (and still am experiencing it!). To get from the airport back to campus the JFRC provided coach buses for us. I fell asleep on the bus as well but it was a nice service that the JFRC provided.

Immediately upon arriving on campus we ate lunch. The food was classic Italian with pasta (red and white), cheese, and fruit for dessert. After lunch we had to take care of some paper work and after that the SLA’s (Student Life Assistants) provided walking tours of the neighborhood so we could get our bearings. After that, though, we were pretty much on our own for the rest of the night. And that’s where the real fun began.

I got together with a group of about ten people. We left campus at 8:30 and walked down to the Vatican which is about a 45 minute walk. From there we walked to the nearby Castel S’Angelo, an old fortress built to protect the Pope. Lastly, we walked over to Piazza Navona and explored the neighborhood surrounding it.

The culture shock isn’t bad- yet. Of course I’m a tad homesick; it’s hard not to be when you’ve never left your home country. It’s difficult to cross the language barrier, but it’s not impossible. And the jetlag is still weighing on me, but I know that’s fleeting. Despite this, Rome is a great place to stay and the JFRC staff go out of their way to make you feel at home. It feels like they’ve thought of everything and every answer to your questions: how does the bus system work? How does tipping in restaurants work? What is siesta? What’s the alcohol policy on campus? What are the best ways to travel and the best places to visit? How do you get to downtown Rome? To all these questions and more the staff has more than adequate answers.

So thus far, the adjustment isn’t difficult. In a sense, it’s like freshman year again: you have to branch out, make friends, and explore a city you don’t know. There’s a learning curve with everything, just like there is when you’re a freshman, but there’s also a reward to be had: great friends, a great city, a great culture, and a once in a lifetime experience.

I’m excited to keep exploring Rome and writing about it here. Check back later for more about my experiences!

Hello everyone! or better yet, Ciao Tutti (!) I’m Esther and I’ll be keeping you updated on all things Roma during this Fall 2013 semester. I will also be writing a regular column on the Loyola Phoenix so check it out!

As I said on my bio, I’m a journalism student at Loyola with a particular interest in cultural anthropology and international studies. Translation: I LOVE observing, talking to, and writing about people, culture and city life. As a dear professor of mine once said, I get my best stories from taxi drivers, people at the bus, and street vendors, and I really hope you find them as exciting as I do! (they are really cool people and always have the coolest stories to tell, you’d be surprised).

So let’s get down to business and tell you a little more about my background.

I was born and raised in Maracaibo, Venezuela, a coastal city in the north west of the country–or, as I usually describe it, the place next to the lake where most of Venezuelan oil is. I moved to the US in 2011 and since then have been trying to keep my tropical blood warm in the cold Chicago weather. I love it though!

Having been fortunate enough to travel around  from an early age, I caught the traveling bug a while ago. As my parents like to say, you need to see the world and its different cultures, peoples and places, to understand your place in the global society. In other words, the most you see, the most you learn, the most you know and become to respect other people (and who doesn’t like to travel to cool places anyway).

Bottom line, I like moving around, explore and get to know new places, so it was about time to leave Chicago for a while and experience a new culture here in Italy. I’ve been in Europe for three weeks now (first with my family and now at the JFRC), and have had a blast walking around and getting lost in the cities I’ve visited–from taking a gondola ride around Venice to almost falling off the Swiss Alps inside a tour bus on my way to Furka Pass (I’m not even kidding). It has been quite an adventure!

Well, that’s enough about me. I hope to be blogging soon with more details of my time here. Ci vediamo dopo amici! (See you later guys!).

Baci,

Esther

Because of the difficulty of accessing internet and the traveling I still have to do, I do not know when this post will be uploaded. However, it was written on Sunday, August 25th 2012. The day I arrived in Uganda.

Air travel has never been a problem for me; I grew up flying back and forth between Mexico and the US, which made me very used to airports, airplanes, and the like. The breathtaking view of factories and smog that you can see landing in both Newark Liberty Airport and the Aereopuerto Internacional de la Ciudad de Mexico make me feel right at home every time. Still, I have to admit that I felt way in over my head going from Mexico City to Uganda. I took four flights, across three days, on three different airlines, with a twelve hour layover in between on my way to Entebbe Airport in Uganda.
I’m happy to say that everything went well, except for a lost suitcase that I hope will turn up soon. In fact, I must have been wearing my lucky underwear and not realized it, because my trip ventured from one happy coincidence to another. First of all, I originally had to fly through Cairo on my way here. After watching the news for a couple of minutes last week, I thought that might not be my best option. I called the airline ready to fight until the end to change my flight at the cheapest rate possible. Instead it took all of two minutes, cost me absolutely nothing, and I even had a pleasant conversation with the agent on the phone. Happy coincidence number one.
Then, the day of my flight, I decided to take an earlier bus to Mexico City just in case I hit the insufferable traffic that the city is famous for. I didn’t. At first I was a little annoyed that I had to wait three hours at the airport before my flight. Then I realized that the terminal was empty and heard from my parents that all accesses to the airport had been seized by protestors from Mexico’s teachers union. Hundreds of people missed their flights, and they were even threatening to shut down the airport entirely for the day. I slipped in about twenty minutes before that all started and made it perfectly to my flight. Happy coincidence number two. When I talked to my dad on the phone, he joked that peace and conflict studies, which I will be studying here in Uganda, are going to come in handy, given the revolution I dodged in Cairo and the never-ending strikes and protests I skipped in Mexico City.
Later on, when I boarded my second flight from Houston to Istanbul, my good luck kept on coming. I made my way to the very back of the enormous Boeing 777 and looked for my seat in what seemed like row 768. Right next to my aisle seat was every honest traveler’s worst nightmare: a very small, energetic child. I reluctantly started to take my seat when the child’s father said: “I’m going to make you an offer you can’t refuse.” He explained that he had one seat in business class and another back in economy for his son, and said that he would trade me his business class seat for mine way back by the bathrooms. I thanked him profusely, snatched the ticket stub from his hand before he could change his mind and bulldozed through the huddled masses walking to the back of the plane. From there, I had 12 hours of free champagne, a three course dinner and enough legroom for Shaquille O’Neal. By far, the happiest coincidence of all.
Everything was pretty normal after that. I jumped on a plane from Istanbul to Addis Ababa, Ethiopia where I had to wait twelve hours. I had planned on walking around the city, but quickly changed my mind when I realized that I landed at midnight and that apparently I speak zero Amharic. Instead I slept at the airport, woke up and left for Entebbe. I landed in Entebbe, which is a city about 45 minutes away from Uganda’s capital Kampala, at around 1 pm today. Like I said at the beginning, one of my bags was lost, but I was so desperately excited to leave the airport and see the city that I didn’t care. I reported everything in it, was told that it should arrive later today or tomorrow, and bolted.
Outside, the driver who picked me up, Joseph, laughed at my excitement and at the fact that I got in on the drivers side of the car. Who knew Ugandans drive on the left? I have only been here for a few hours, but so far I am loving it. Kampala looks enormous when you are landing, and the green landscape is never ending. On my way to the hotel where I will be staying until I leave for Gulu with the group, we passed Lake Victoria, the world’s largest saltwater lake, and the presidential residence (not as big as the lake, but also pretty huge). I apologize if this first post dragged on a bit, but the truth is I am the first of my group to arrive and had a long time to write.

So here’s the thing. I’m in Uganda right now. This might sound a little strange, but that simple realization hadn’t hit me until I moved into my homestay family’s house last night. This past week has been absolute madness. Supposedly, it was our orientation week, but everything is so new, confusing, and exciting that I can’t really remember anything from our ten million sessions about how to be culturally appropriate among the Acholi people. Here are a few things I do remember: Don’t let anyone see your underwear (whether you’re wearing it or not), never say you’re going to the bathroom (make up an excuse like taking a phone call or checking the tires if you’re in the car), do not smell your food before tasting it (I forgot about this one until I sniffed my g-nut porridge last night and got unrequited laughs from my homestay siblings), and guys can hold hands in public (If you’re thinking “wait, I thought Uganda was super homophobic!”. I know, but apparently it’s not a gay thing, it’s a bro thing.)
For those of you who aren’t up to date with your East African ethnic groups, the Acholi are an ethnic group that is mainly spread over Northern Africa and South Sudan. There has been Acholi migration elsewhere, but Gulu (where I’m apparently living now) is the center of activity in Acholiland. The Acholi also have a language; surprisingly enough, it is called Acholi. We will be taking Acholi classes this semester, and everyone keeps saying we’ll pick it up fast; I’m not so sure. Some of the sounds in the language seem impossible to say. The other day, we were practicing the sound “ng” which is very nasal and kind of sounds like Chewbacca having a bad day, and I thought the people in the next compound over must have thought we had gone mad. That’s right, I said compound. We take classes on a compound, outside, in the shade of giant fruit trees, in Africa, where I am. There’s also a rooster that interrupts our lectures with COCKADOODLEDO every five minutes. We’re trying to find the Acholi word for annoying so we can give our dear friend a name.
My study abroad group is comprised of six girls and myself. At first I was a little unsure of what that would be like, but I’m warming up to it pretty fast. First of all, they all seem like great people so far. This week has been very much like the first week of freshman year, where everyone talks about themselves a lot and tries way too hard to seem cool (Myself very much included). But still, I think it takes a special kind of person to study abroad here in Gulu, and want to learn about subjects that are as difficult as the LRA conflict and Rwandan genocide. (That’s right, I just called myself special. It’s my blog and I’ll do what I want). The second reason why I am coming to terms with being the only guy on the trip is the attention it has been getting me. I was at a bar with all the girls the other day and a guy came up to me and said “Hey man! You’re like P Diddy surrounded with all the ladies! Get that dirt off your shoulder, yeah?!”. I think he got his Diddys and his Jay Zs mixed up, but the point got across. Another guy on the street was a bit more forward about it and yelled “Hey mzungu, why so many ladies?” when I responded that I was just very lucky, he asked if I could leave one with him. I said maybe later, which made all the Boda-Boda drivers on the corner laugh, but not the girls on the trip. I apologized partly because I felt bad, and partly because I am outnumbered six to one.
Boda-Bodas by the way, are motorcycle taxis. When people told me about Boda-Bodas before I came here, I pictured Tuk Tuks in Kenya or India, where the motorcycle is adapted to seat two in the back and has some sort of structure; Not up in here. Boda Bodas here are just guys who own motorcycles, and put you on the back where you hang on for dear life. I mean dear life: hospitals in Gulu have entire wards dedicated specifically to Boda accidents. Naturally we are not allowed to get on them, which pretty much limits our transport options to walking. Walking in Gulu is also an adventure. The main streets are paved, and have potholes scattered about. Every other road is a pothole, and has pavement scattered about. It doesn’t help that it’s the rainy season, which makes everything muddy, and that people are completely misinformed about driving, which causes them to drive on the left, and causes me to be not-so-pleasantly surprised when I look the wrong way before crossing a street and then get way too close to an incoming Boda.
Every day is an adventure is here; whether it is eating chicken that looks like pork and tastes like peanuts, or going to the bathroom in a pit-toilet letrine (I’ll post a picture of one once I figure out how to use them), or even just talking to people on the street. Speaking of which, I have never been in a place where people are so nice and willing to talk and help. I think I will start referring to Gulu as the Anti-New York. The other day, we had an assignment which consisted of walking around Gulu and getting information about certain things. Two girls and I asked a man on a bench if he could point us in the direction of the bus park. He proceeded to grab his crutches (which we hadn’t seen) and hobble himself for four blocks just to show us in the right direction. You’ve probably heard of “Minnesota Nice”, right? Well Gulu’s got them beat by a landslide. Your move Minneapolis.
Writing this blog is extremely difficult, because I want to share everything that I’ve seen, but can’t possibly begin. Also, Gulu is right outside the window, and I have a lot to see. My time with you has meant a lot, dear reader, but Uganda is calling. Really, it’s not you, it’s me. In all seriousness, It has only been a week and I’ve already learned, experienced, and seen way more than I would in a regular year. The gist of it is this: Uganda is amazing, I am having a great time, this trip is everything I hoped for and more, and I will be updating this blog soon.

Is this really happening?
Am I seeing what I think I’m seeing?
Did I die and go to Heaven?
Is this real life?

This may only be my fifth day in Rome, but I have heard, and asked, those questions a countless number of times since I arrived here. Orientation has taken us all over Rome and its surrounding area, making us meet fellow students and native Italians, and exposing us to Italian culture. Yes, this is real life.

Orientation ends today (with the exception of two major events: a trip to Umbria from the 6th-8th and the closing of orientation on the 11th with the Mass of the Holy Spirit). I wanted to go over some of the best parts of orientation and what I expect to come when classes start.

Because we arrived in the afternoon of the 28th, there weren’t many activities planned for us. I was able to get together with some friends and head into the city, despite not speaking Italian. Fortunately for us, one of the people in the group had been to Rome previously and knew his way to the Vatican; there were also one or two people who could speak broken Italian. That was all we needed to get around. So, on my first night in Rome- and my first night out of the country ever– I saw the Vatican. From there we went to Piazza Navona, got a little lost (it’s better than it sounds!), and wound up getting drinks at a local pub. The jetlag eventually caught up with us and we headed home. That all occurred in a 12 hour time-span, and it only got better from there.

Over the next few days, I saw the Vatican twice, the Pantheon three times, the Trevi Fountain once, the Spanish Steps twice, the Colosseum once, the Forum once, and too many Piazzas to count. The sheer amount of history contained in this city, and in those places especially, is mind boggling. The Pantheon, for instance, is 2,000 years old and still standing. The Colosseum is in many places intact, and completely structurally sound, despite being 2,000 years old as well. The Forum isn’t in the best shape but it allows you to use your imagination to see ancient Romans (both Emperors and commoners) walking the same streets you are. Being from the other side of the world, and from a country whose life is still young, makes it difficult to comprehend the significance of what you’re seeing. Is this real life? Yes, it is. Better take it in.

History hasn’t been the sole focus of orientation though. Many of the activities planned for us were essential to attend. We learned about safety in Rome, healthcare in Rome, and basic Italian words and phrases so we don’t get completely lost. These activities took up almost the entire day, so we could only venture into the city at night. This gave us a great opportunity to see Roman nightlife and what Romans do for relaxation after a day a work. We also avoided siesta, or the several hour break in work after lunch (usually from 1-4), which was convenient. The orientation activities themselves were important but the real fun was venturing into the city to do your own thing with a group of friends. Food, wine, Piazzas, and exploring were all on the table. My feet were incredibly sore by the time I got home every night, but it was a good kind of sore: the soreness from exploring a foreign city with friends, taking in the sights, sounds, and smells.

Thus far, the JFRC has been a great experience. Classes begin tomorrow right on campus. I’m looking forward both to the subject material (like on-site Art in Rome!) and the structure that a regular schedule provides. And although I won’t have the complete freedom I had during orientation, I’ll nonetheless be in the Eternal City, always ready for an adventure with friends or a quiet evening alone. Inoltro!

Anyone traveling in Europe will quickly discover the beauty of train rides. Trains go pretty much anywhere and are fairly inexpensive. After learning this fun fact, my friends and I decided to take a day trip to Florence, Italy. We took an early train from Rome and came back late that same day (so we didn’t have to pay for a hotel or anything). And even though it was a quick trip, we were able to see a lot of the city and experience a lot of the famous attractions that Florence has to offer.

The number one thing out our “To Do List” was to climb to the top of Basilica di Santa Maria del Fiore, otherwise known as the Duomo. This church is the main church in Florence and one of Italy’s largest churches with the largest brick dome ever constructed. It was beautiful inside and out and was unlike any church I have ever seen before. The design of the outside was so different and colorful and was nothing like any other church in Italy. Climbing the Duomo was definitely an experience, and after the bruise on my head that lasted a week I can say it was quite an journey to the top. The stairways were so steep and narrow that barely one person could get through them, but the climb was worth the claustrophobic breakdowns and head injury. Once we were at the top we could see the entire city and marvel over the sights. It was a beautiful day to just look out over the city and soak everything in.

After the Duomo we enjoyed walking the city and walking through all of the markets. Florence is known for its Italian leather so we spent over an hour bargaining over bags and wallets, which turned out to be quite worth it. We also walked to Piazza Michelangelo which over looked the entire city and also had a couple of gelato stands, which we couldn’t pass up 😉 At the end of the day we were exhausted and in much need of a meal, so on our way back to the train station we stopped at a restaurant and all ordered the most amazing pesto we have ever had. (We were running late so we had to scarf it down, but it was so amazing that we probably wouldn’t have eaten it any other way even if we had all the time in the world.) We headed back to the train and ventured back to Roma with our leather souvenirs and another hot, beautiful day in Italy behind us.