I think I have only 10 days left here. Most days, I'm in class from about 8:30am to 7:30pm or so, and by that point I don't feel like blogging. I want to put up a lot of pictures and also write more about being here, but that will have to wait until I get back to Rome, it would seem.
This Saturday and Sunday I'll be in Naples, and I'm happy because at least we're going to the archeological museum, and my last visit of it was one of the higher points in my life, it's that good. I'm also pretty curious to see how a bunch of greenhorn Americans who don't speak Italian will be in an absolutely terrifying city: Naples is fun, but especially if you can also speak Italian.
On Sunday, Italy won the World Cup
! I'm exceptionally happy, and there is nowhere I'd rather be right now than in Italy, it's a fantastic thing. For those readers of this blog who are also trekkies, you will know what I mean when I say that the entire country regressed into pon farr
the second Italy made the final penalty kick. Awesome. The Zidane red card was also exceptional, evidently this is at least the second time he has done that to someone in his career, and now that's exactly how he'll be remembered. I watched the game in the lower level of Pub Fusion, the town spot. I was packed in there with about 100 other people, and it was awesome because we were all doing all of the soccer chants and songs together, people were praying the rosary (I'm not kidding), and there was much happiness at the end.
Catharsis was necessary, because the game went into overtime and then penalty kicks, with which up until now Italy did not have a good history. Then we all went out into the street, and the closest thing to a traffic jam San Demetrio Corone has ever seen happened, because the rest of the town got in their cars and drove around with flags and people hanging outside of the window. I can pretty much guarantee that this happened everywhere else in Italy at the exact same time. It's what they do, and it's the only thing they do together as a nation.
This guy called Mimmo (he introduced himself to me as Mimmo, come il paese
) was setting off fireworks and then walking around the piazza nonchalantly like he didn't do it. Most of the other Americans were exceptionally drunk, and acting like it, as were the Italians, except they weren't drunk. At any rate, I'm happy about it.
To conclude though, I'm getting tired. My brain is tired, and I'm tired of these insane people, and of this town, as nice as both can be. I'm tired.