Yesterday was probably one of the most eventful and culturally illuminating days of my time here. Just to inform those of you unfamiliar with the way my school works, Thursdays are the days that we have design. Wednesday night is often a mad dash to get work done in order to have some sort of proof that we, in fact, have been doing work on design. Thus, the knowledge that history occupies the morning slot before design was met with limited enthusiasm. Fortunately our history class takes place mostly on site in and around Rome.

Our first site was on the steps of the Monument to Victor Emanuel. From there, we proceeded through the Campidoglio, or Capitaline Hill and moved in the general direction of the Aventine Hill. We went to a number of sites which I won't get into, but this shot here is right when the rain let up next to the temple of Portunis, the god of ports.

I have a new found obsession here in Rome which is a double shot of espresso with a Snickers bar. I don't understand why its so good, but it's so good. I know I'll probably catch some kind of flack for not choosing some Italian brand of chocolate or whatever, but this works. It's a great way to give yourself a kick in the but when you need it, especially right before a review after a mostly sleepless night. (no all nighters... yet) This was the case yesterday.

The presentation my partner, Leslie, and I delivered was on the Campidoglio. I think we were both really satisfied with the amount of work we did. As for the critics, well, at least our professor had something nice to say.

That evening, Joaquin and I had our first truly Italian cultural experience. A friend of Joaquin and now a friend of mine took us to a wine bar for some food and, yes, wine. I kindly abstained from partaking in the wine portion of the evening and tried not to think about the numerous cultural feaux pas I was committing.

There we met someone who I can only describe as being a true character. He was the owner or manager of the bar. He looked around his sixties or seventies. He had white hair that cascaded down the back of his head with a short trimmed beard. He was wearing a navy pinstriped suit with a blue shirt, an ascot and a white scarf... and sunglasses. I later learned that he apologized and said that he couldn't find his regular glasses, but the sunglasses seemed so much more appropriate.

When he found out that I didn't drink, he was absolutely accommodating. I said I would have a Limonata or some equivalent. When I got my drink he said that he had to send someone down the street to pick up a tonic water and that they would juice a lemon for me in the kitchen. I was very gracious. In the meantime, Joaquin and Luis began their choice of wine which they both agreed was exquisite. We ate prosciutto and parmigiana cheese, both delicious. We were then joined by a friend of Luis who lives in the area. The evening went on mostly in Italian. I struggled, but there were moments when I felt like I was beginning to grasp some understanding.

In fact, at one point when the manager sat down with us and joined in the conversation, he said a sentence that I fully understood. Every word was a word that registered with a definition in my mind. At first I thought he was going to say something in English! Then I realized what was happening. At that specific moment, I understood that there was a raspiness in his voice that was only his. I began to hear inflections and stresses that he applied to the sentence. What was his and what was Italian became distinct to me and I fully comprehended it. And then it was gone.