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June 16 I remember that one week of class at the beginning of May. Other than the pairs of friends who decided to take the course together, Brooklyn's hedgehog was probably the most sociable creature to walk through IC. I had signed up because it sounded cool, but I was among strangers. I was nervous the week leading up to our departure - partly because my luck is terrible whenever I leave the country (I got stranded in Hong Kong for 10 hours once), and partly because I had no idea what our group would be like.

We were cool.

We came from such different academic backgrounds. There was another person doing an English/Classics major, but a lot of people weren't even in classics. There were artists and drama majors and history majors - and it somehow made sense. The Eternal City alone was so rich with culture, I could imagine walking through dozens of centuries just outside of our hotel. I was so excited to visit the basilicas and so much of them were prime examples of the Roman palimpsest; former pagan temples that got absorbed into the Church and its many periods of artistic development.

Waiting at the airport was our first chance to get to know each other. Obviously, we discussed, in great detail, the nuances of High Empire urban planning in the provinces rather than kill time playing Smash on someone's Switch. We did, in fact, sift through the group's limited Italian vocabulary, trying to figure out how much English we could get away with. I had spent the past month on Duolingo. I could comfortably state that "the boy eats the apple" ("Il raggazo mangia la mela"...the little green owl is still very disappointed in me). It was nice to know that we'd be struggling through broken Italian as a group over the next couple weeks.

June 17 A lot of us couldn't wait to see the city. We were in Rome, and we just had to explore - what we weren't expecting was how close these monuments were to our hotel. Seeing Trajan's column on a map was different from wandering aimlessly for 15 minutes and just...stumbling on it. Seeing it in context was jarring, and it took us a moment to be sure we were actually looking at Trajan's column. The continuous frieze should have given it away, but the white marble behemoth right behind it threw us off. We were reeling from how bright the Altar of the Fatherland was in comparison to everything else, and it became clear why Rome was called the Eternal City. The giant, neoclassical monument, barely a century old, sat next to an ancient forum and column from the second century; one was a monument to King Vittorio Emanuele II, Italy's first King, the other a monument to Rome's 13th Emperor, Trajan. Churches were everywhere, just adding another layer to a city that predates our calendar.

It would have been amazing to see all the monuments at their prime, and as I climbed up Altare della Patria, I could almost imagine the city of marble Augustus left behind. The view from the upper levels was amazing - you could see the Colosseum, nestled among the cityscape.

The day had been exhausting. The nine-hour flight wasn't enough to curb our enthusiasm, nor was climbing up to the sixth floor of our hotel with our luggage. By the time we got back from the Altar of the Fatherland, only the promise of dinner kept us going.

The food at La Gallina Bianca was delicious, though I have no idea what was in the pasta - I'm guessing cured pork? It might have been the sheer novelty of being in another country, but everything tasted exotic. I usually pass on the bruschetta when it's served in Canada, but the tomatoes actually had flavor here. Our table ordered a bottle of wine and acting as though we knew now to drink wine really added to the ambiance of the dinner. We flexed our limited Italian skills in ordering a bottle ("Una bottiglia de vino bianco della casa per favore"). I had a final chance to get in some Italian practice before the night was done - ordering gelato. A bunch of us tried a shop close to the hotel - but the couple in front of me ordered in English, and I caved.

I don't remember what flavors I ordered because I walked onto the street, and into a friendly mugging.

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June 20 Ostia Antica was easily my favorite part of the trip. It helped that there weren't a lot of tourists and that the weather was great. What I loved was that the structures we visited weren't designed to be epic displays of wealth and power - they were more domestic and unpretentious. Temples and monuments are great, but they're so loud in their attempt to convey their importance. The Ostian necropolis was such a great intersection between conspicuous consumption and domestic life. I wish we had the change to go to Isola Sacra, but being able to walk among the tombs was just as good.

As Dr. O'Donoghue said, the value of Ostia is in its full life as a port city. The baths of Bouticosus and the insulae were some of my favorite sites because of their expression of a typical Roman life. The mosaics in the bathhouse fascinate me because they're not meant to interact in the same way as a mosaic on a wall or ceiling, and the motif's comparative simplicity demonstrates that. The depictions of Triton and the Nereid give the city a unique sense of identity that we don't get through other forms of art. I'm speculating, but I can imagine how marine motifs might adorn the city in its prime - SPQR and the Lupa are everywhere in Rome, I wonder what icons would have been ubiquitous in Ostia. Brick was everywhere, but I don't imagine that would have been a key point of identity for the average Roman. The Roman bathing practices, on the other hand, were key in the formation of a city and the structures themselves express such a unique aspect of Roman life; the engineering behind the caldarium is impressive enough, and it was designed to accommodate bathing practices.

Anything related to food-culture is immediately on my radar as something I need to see, so the insulae and their shops were my favorite parts of a town. The inability to cook food within the insulae resulted in unique dining culture, and I'm definitely going to look into Ostian food and dining culture throughout the summer. I loved that there were frescos that displayed the vendors' goods, and I wonder how competitive the market was during the height of Ostia's activity. I also wonder about what the staple dishes of the region would have been - I'd imagine dried and preserved seafood was available and sold among the vendors.

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June 21 Villa Giulia's collection of Etruscan art was a nice way to end our time in Rome as a break from all the marble and monuments. The highlight was, of course, the Sarcophagus of the Lovers. The random movie soundtracks were a bit distracting, but seeing the Sarcophagus in person was another surreal experience since any course on Etruscan art uses this as the example of Etruscan idealistic forms. A lot of the art was very detailed and realistic - the statue of Heracles for example- so I get a little irritated when people speak of Etruscan ideas as simply a lack of artistic capabilities. Their representations are very deliberate, and I'd assume that the lover-typology is likewise ideal rather than veristic. Also, I'll forever be bemused with the Etruscan love of ducks. I was surprised by how advanced the Etruscans were in working with gold - there were sheets so thin I would have assumed it was impossible without modern equipment.

Of course, the highlight of the day as a whole was the train-ride to Naples. Italy is such a beautiful country, and snaking through the countryside, by the sea, and among forests, was unforgettable. Arriving in Naples, was just as impressive - Rome felt timeless, Naples felt like a modern city in the wrong period. Everything was a different kind of old - from the architecture of the buildings to the paved and busy roads.

Naturally, our first order of business was pizza - and also not getting mugged since we were unmistakenly tourists, accidentally walking through rougher parts of town. It lived up to its reputation (though I didn't have pizza in Rome, and Pizza Pizza is my standard for decent pizza).

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June 22  Butts. Since nudity was such a heroic trait, butts were just...everywhere. The National Archeological Museum of Naples did not disappoint. Modern sensibilities tend to over-emphasize the voyeuristic quality when considering nudity, and Venus Callipyge certainly expresses that, and I wonder how the people of Rome would have interacted with these pieces. "Artistic" nudity vis-a-vis- contemporary hyper-sexualization of the human form invites consideration of how visual culture affects our interactions with other embodied people. Consider the photos below - the whole exhibit was an emphasis on the torso. In comparison, ancient representations of people expressed the person as a whole. Nudity is not immediately a signifier of eroticisms, like in the Farnese Heracles.

The Farnese Bull and its depiction of the Antiope myth was the most impressive sculpture I had seen so far - the exhibit right behind it was confusing, on the other hand. The museum seemed to be putting on an exhibit juxtaposing classical art with modern reinterpretations; in this case, there was a wall of paintings with modern images superimposed onto pictures of classic sculptures. I'll never quite understand the obsession with imposing modern reinterpretations onto classical pieces - then again, I approach art trying to understand its historical context, rather than only appreciate the piece in itself.

The frescos in the museum, for example, I appreciate for their expression of their era. The progression from the structural first style frescos in the second century BC, to the intricate fourth styles in the latter half of the first century AD, explores the means by which each generation distinguishes themselves from their predecessors.

I wish we had more time in the museums. I get stuck pretty easily, so it was hard to move on with the group, especially with the Farnese collection.

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June 23 It might be mundane as hell, but the roads in Pompeii were interesting as hell. I remember Dr. Von Stackelberg mentioning how gross they were, and how the recessions in the road were meant to keep people out of the horse crap. How many centuries of carriages must have passed through the city to leave those depressions in the road?

I'm realizing that I'm far more interested in cultural history than political/militaristic history. The Macellum was one of the highlights of the day, with the tholos surrounded by market buildings. Speaking with Dr. Murray about the intersections between religion and the meat industry and distribution was an unexpected rabbit-hole that I ended up going down, especially concerning the meat's preparation for sacrifice.

The Villas were a close runner-up, though, and I was mentally comparing each house to each other. The size and intricacy of the compluvium seem to be a clear expression of the person's wealth, on top of having that practical aspect of collecting grey water. The Villa of the Mysteries wins as my favorite among them, partially because the name is so cool. Also, obviously, because the frescos in the triclinium were so impressive. That the Dionysiac Frieze survived the eruption in 79 AD is impressive enough, but the vibrancy of the scene and the mysterious nature of the rituals make it worth navigating the slopes and roads. There is so much movement between the figures, as their rituals take them between the red panels.

As it to contrast that the artistry of the frescos, seeing the impressions people left behind in the ash is a little unsettling. There's something jarring about seeing the casts of people's remains, especially since we've spent the last few days looking at artistic representations of people through sculptures. Fiorelli's casting method almost feels inappropriate since it almost exposes a person rather than reproduce an image. Seeing the cast in the bathhouse changed how I interacted with Pompeii. suddenly, the whole site was a necropolis

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June 24 I expected Herculaneum to be another Pompeii - just another city covered by ashes. What I didn't expect was to find an entire city literally sitting on top of the site. I also didn't expect to see skeletons, so up close. Dr. O'Donoghue explained that their posture was caused by the heat causing their bodies to tense up as they died. He also tried to show us the remains of a mother and her baby - I was the weirdest combination of relieved and disappointed when he couldn't point them out. The casts were uncomfortable to look at, but something about these people huddled by the port forces the person to look at them. Maybe its the fact that we can see them as a group, rather than as individuals that make it such a compelling sight. There is a group context to their death that doesn't often come up.

Thankfully, that was one of the last things we saw since it would have affected how I saw the site. The food vendors were still as interesting here as they were in Ostia; I wished that there was a modern replica of the thermopolium, with modern goods filling the dolia, just to get a better sense of how the spaces worked. There were so many features that expressed the average lives of the Romans. The millstones could probably still be used, and I imagine

The Hall of the Augustales housed one my of favorite frescos of the trip. The vibrancy of the Lapis paint was a nice addition to the worship of Augustus; the space was all the more impressive when considering it was a space for the liberti's cult of the Augustales.

The cisterns in Naples were the most memorable part of Naples, and I wish I could have taken better photos. The monuments and relics of the second world war were juxtaposed to an underground farm - all located in a cistern dating back to the Greeks that was a refuge for people before becoming infected with the disease. I kind of wish we could have used real candles to traverse the tunnels, for full effect - but I was too busy being terrified of cave-ins at the time to really care. The tufa walls were giving me serious claustrophobia, but I would rather walk back to Rome than miss a chance to walk through the cistern/air-raid shelter/underground farm. It's difficult not to keep talking about Italy as a palimpsest, and the rest of the underground tour in Naples only reinforced that characterization. An entire theater, with a capacity of several thousand, was buried under the apartment complexes and connected to a wine cellar hidden under a bed. The intersection between World War Two and ancient Rome was not something I really thought about, but the infrastructure was already there to be used as shelters and bunkers.

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June 25 We need to bring mosaics back into the mainstream - if I had to choose between a fresco or a mosaic to adorn my walls, I would choose the mosaic. I was binge-watching painting restoration videos before coming to Rome, and seeing any kind of restoration work is just as interesting as the piece of art itself. I would love to assist in any restoration project; talking to Dr. Murray about the process makes me want to assist in a restoration project. So much of Poppaea's villa maritima was intact and in excellent condition, I kind of wanted to see just one restored room to know what it might have looked like in its prime - done in a way that was easily reversible, of course. The professor brought up a good point: not every bit of antiquity needs to be salvaged and preserved, and the process of decay is part of a site's importance. The corridor going from the peristyle to the pool would have been my choice: the ceiling was patchy, and the geometric patterns were only lightly drawn in. The patterns surrounding the animal figure seemed simple enough (I'm assuming the one below is a kind of dragon?). Just restoring the many ducks would suffice (I have a new appreciation for the fowl beast after this trip). 3D modeling was brought up in our discussion, but virtual spaces don't capture all the little details of the villa. There was so much emphasis on open spaces (or the illusion thereof), and the ebb of natural light throughout the day would have been something I'd have liked to see. The imagery on the frescos seemed to bring the lush gardens into the rooms. The Villa was so lovely, I forgot its association to Emperor "Neckbeard" Nero through Poppaea.

It was a nice way to end our time in Naples.

Pozzuoli was my favorite town on the trip. The food was the best I had the entire time I was in Italy, and it was one of the rare times I could enjoy seafood without the fear of death (though someone did order clams, and I eyed them with unrestrained envy). I had never had swordfish before then, and it was as meaty as beef steak. We also had a weird craving for Chinese food. As it turns out, you can switch lo mein for spaghetti.

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We passed by the door to the underworld. No big deal.

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We passed by the door to the underworld. No big deal.

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June 26 I am an English major. There might be a push away from the English literary Canon, but ancient stories are part of the reason I'm taking Classics as a second major. So standing in front of Lake Avernus was a surreal experience. The lake was dotted with vineyards and homes that could boast about having the gate to the Underworld in their back yard. I spent the last school year trying to get through the Latin version of Book One of the Aeneid, and it was a struggle. It was an edifying experience overlooking a scene from book six. I would have given all the denarii in my pocket (exactly one denarii) to trek down and visit the caves we saw in the distance. I suppose visiting the cave of the Sybil was a decent alternative.

Cumae felt ancient. I suppose it's natural I'm a city that predates the Roman civilization, but the Temple/Christian Church was in ruins. I could almost imagine the temple in its prime - auspicious in its place overlooking the sea. It was the perfect place to put one of the first Greek Temples in Italy.

I enjoyed the amphitheater in Pozzuoli more than the Colosseum because we actually got to see the hypogeum. It honestly felt like we unlocked a secret level by squaring up with the seagulls. One moment, I'm taking a selfie at the opposite end from the entrance, the next, a strange old man is taking us underground. I honestly thought he was a random dude that happened to know his history until I saw his ID badge. Seeing the underground structure was everything I wanted from the Roman amphitheater. The sounds and smells of animals and slaves must have been overpowering but seeing the remains of the old mechanisms reminded me of all my theater friends and their dedication to the performance (though, slaves wouldn't be "dedicated" per se). I still can't really believe that they were able to flood the arena - Dr. Murray noted that opus signinum was water-tight, but the engineering and manpower needed to make it work is still unimaginable to me. Fighting blood-thirsty animals I can understand - the hateful sky-devils had infested the area above- though I suppose carting a lion from Africa wasn't any more difficult than flooding an arena. Our guide was amazingly knowledgable and touring the amphitheater's underground is in my top 5 favorite experiences of the trip.

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June 27 It was the size of a man's face.

Scenes from the Oddesy once again captured my literary mind. Odysseus' trick against Polyphemus was as crafty as it was snarky, and I'm sure Nobody could have thought of a better ploy. However, the replicas were interesting because of there context. The highlight of the museum was definitely Tiberius' grotto. It was as secluded as one might expect from a man who almost spent more time in retirement/seclusion than rule Rome. The Doctors told us about Sejanus' heroism at this site, and it's interesting to see where he began to earn Tiberius' favor, and through such dramatic means. I imagine saving Tiberius from a cave-in would be enough to prove his loyalty. Sejanus really cemented the Praetorian Guard's place in political power dynamics in my eyes. The grotto was impressive in its use of the natural space. Rather than the overly processed emulations of the natural world which we've seen in other villas, the backdrop of the triclinium was natural stone. I'm certain that in it's prime

Outdoor triclinium was a running motif of the day since Hadrian's villa had one as well - and that is the extent that the sites were similar. Hadrian's villa looked like an eccentric sandbox for his passing fancies, though as a Classics student, I would definitely do the same if I had the money. It was perfect for the Emperor who was famous for almost never being in Rome. The triclinium was a nice contrast to Tiberius's grotto, and both say a lot about each Emperor. One is a bit of a recluse, more eager to cross the sea than deal with the bureaucracy of an Empire; the other would rather force the Empire to meet him on his own terms, which are distinctively un-Roman. I can imagine the effect it might have on Roman elites to dine with a bearded Emperor in a space dedicated to a Greek/Egyptian god while overlooking a series of caryatid statues. I suppose in lieu of the random trinkets we've been picking up during our travels, Hadrian opted to pick up architectural styles from Greece and Egypt. I can imagine Apollodorus of Damascus grumbling ominously between his criticisms of the Villa. The Maritime Theater was cool, and I loved how the perfectly circular portico was the closest thing to a boxy Roman domus in the entire Villa.

Hotel Corallo was the closest thing to a beachside resort I've stayed at, and I wish we skipped dinner and just went to the beach. The restaurant we went to was severely ok, and my baked fish tasted like licorice.

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June 28 Banditaccia was my second favorite site of the trip, behind Ostia. Necropolises are the perfect blend of mildly morbid and just a bit esoteric. The tumulus crypts felt like something out a fantasy novel, and the tuff drums were as impressive as brick and cement to me. I loved the false architectural elements in the tombs, and taking the time to chisel rock to look like columns and support beams just screams "conspicuous consumption". As much as I enjoyed wandering through Vitelleschi Palace, I wish we cut time at the museum to just be in the necropolises (I enjoyed the building more than the actual museum - though coming from two Etruscan sites certainly lent a sense of appreciation to the artifacts). The sense of wear on the site seemed different from places like Cumae - the vegetation was so dense that the mounds looked like they could be part of the landscape. Yet the inside could have been domestic spaces, meant to house the formally living.

The necropolis at Monterozzi was a different kind of interesting. The tombs would have been invisible if not for the markers erected long after the fact. The Tomba dei Caronti was my favorite of them all. The frescos depicted a false door to the underworld, and a transposition of the Greek Charon - here, Charun. Dr. Murray noted the blue demon, maybe showing signs of decay, and noted that we can't necessarily ascribe modern ideas onto ancient forms - here, the demon might not be a symbol of evil or even necessarily tragedy. The differences in how societies view, understand and interact with death are one of my favorite topics in Classics, so it's no surprise that a necropolis might be the first item on my list of places to visit. The museum was great to get a general understanding of individual artifacts, but seeing the frescos in context gave a completely different perspective. The boards at the entrance gave the details: it mentioned that Charun was typically depicted as an old man with a hammer, snake, or sword. What it didn't mention was the sense of depth, as though the demons were physically in front of the door. The panels of the door seemed to resemble bars, as though it were more of a see-through gate than a solid door - though that is pure speculation. There's a sense that the other world is a physical destination rather than some separate space like a Christian understanding of heaven and hell. I wonder about the characterization of "guardian" when we consider these tombs. Considering the other frescos in the site, where more casual and celebratory scenes are being depicted, it might be worth considering the gods as "guests" walking among a domestic space.

Dinner that night was bitter-sweet since I'm not used to the flavor of an aperol spritz. It was nice seeing everyone dressed up to commemorate our last night together, and dinner at the hotel was great. I'll miss Italy.

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June 18 I knew the dimensions of the Flavian Amphitheater. I knew it's history, its purpose, its legacy. Nothing prepared me for walking down Via degli Annibaldi, Colosseum's arcades and my sense of wonder growing in the distance....as we walked past it to get to the Via Sacra.

Seeing the Arch of Titus and the rest of the monuments on the Via Sacra was just as awe-inspiring, though. The spoils being taken from Jerusalem has come up in every course I've had dealing with Judaism; being able to see the menorah among the symbols venerating Titus' accomplishments really highlighted the state of the Jewish diaspora during the Roman occupation of the Holy Land. Religious dynamics in Rome has always been an interest of mine, and the Via Sacra was a showcase of everything I loved about studying Rome.

Then came the Colesseum. It would have been a much more surreal experience if I hadn't been the one to present on it - it would have been great to see the Amphitheater with the velarium out, both for historical purposes, and because it was hot as hell. The Flavian dynasty was an interesting time for religious dynamics in the Empire since the Jewish Revolt became a key military victory for Vespasian and Titus and means of funding their building campaigns. At the same time, Christianity was in its earliest years, and only beginning to pick up steam.

To my mind, the Temple to Faustina and Antoninus is a great example of what makes Rome amazing. Here was a temple, dedicated to a powerful – deified- Roman woman of the second century – buried by centuries of silt and re-proposed as a Christian church. I have a bit of a personal connection to the temple to Faustina and Antoninus through its Christian name, Chiesa San Lorenzo di Miranda. St. Lawrence was a third-century deacon, persecuted and martyred by Emperor Valerian in 258. As the story goes, he was ordered to offer the riches of the Church to the Roman government – upon presenting the sick and infirm as the Church’s riches, he was executed by death on a gridiron. His legendary final words were “flip me over, I’m done on this side”. Patron of fire, cooks, and comedians, ora pro nobis.

Speaking of personal connections to churches, Santa Prudenziana was my favorite Basilica on the trip. The late Roman mosaics within the apse were beautiful and looked more like the Byzantine Christ Pantocrator than the Crucified Christ that I'm used to in the Latin Church. Santa Prudenziana, to my mind, shows the history of the Church: its iconography shows the Church near its inception before the Schism, the structure was a former house of the Popes before the Lateran Palace, and somehow it became the National Church of the Philippines (see below).

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June 19 It’s nice to know that public transit sucks everywhere in the world. The busses were packed. I was sweaty as heck and I'm 100% sure that it wasn't all my own sweat. It was worth sacrificing all my personal space, though, to get to the Capitoline Museum. I can’t even believe that we saw the remains of the Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus – even if it was just the foundations. So much of Rome is ancient, but the Etruscan style temple was, in part, a symbol of the Republic's beginning. The Capitoline Wolf might not be so ancient, but it's certainly the more famous symbol of Rome as a whole. I liked the mix of the stylized Etruscan wolf and the Renaissance depictions of Romulus and Remus since it highlights the extent of Rome's influence and persistence in the western identity. It was also nice to see an addition to a sculpture that didn't involve chopping off a penis or slapping a cross on it. The statue of Marcus Aurelius might have been spared from Christianity only because it was misidentified as Constantine (I can't judge, I thought it was Hadrian - though, in my defense, his beard was such a mold-breaker for early emperors, my gut reaction is to label any beard "Hadrian")

I had mixed feelings about the Pantheon since it was such a tourist trap - also because it's such an explicit pagan temple that is being used as a Christian Church. The Obelisk in front is such a confusing monument as a mix between ancient Egypt religion and baroque Christian iconography. The Pantheon, with its Corinthian elements, slapped onto a tholos. Even the materials were so unorthodox, using travertine, granite, concrete, and pumice, rather than just using marble. I could barely take my eyes off the dome’s coffered concrete. I wish I could have taken part in the construction since it's such a marvel of engineering and architecture. On paper, the dome's composition of pumice on the top of the dome makes sense. In person, it seems incredible that any ancient society could create it without modern equipment. The benefit of such an architectural marvel is that people don't need to know the history per se to be moved by it.

The Ara Pacis, on the other hand, was a monument you really needed to know beforehand to really appreciate. I had written a paper on Augustus' propaganda and the Ara Pacis featured prominently in it. Augustus' conflation of the Empire's fecundity with his own Imperial house and auspices was brilliant (though I agree with Dr. O'Donoghue's comment that much of the iconography is more decorative than explicitly symbolic). I wonder how much of an impact it would have to see the altar in its original context in the Campus Martius, with the solarium in sight.

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Top Five: Ostia Antica, Banditaccia, Santa Prudenziana, Pozzuoli Amphitheater, Naples Cisterns.

Those two weeks will be some of the most memorable moments of my life. We were friendly-mugged out of a gelato shop. I accidentally swore at a priest. We almost got mauled by angry Italians on Vespas on a near daily basis, and we got to wander through streets so ancient, they predate our calendar. We were a class of strangers as we departed Toronto, and if we're honest, we'll be kind of strangers again if we meet in the halls at Brock. But for two weeks, we were travel companions, brought together by marble and cement. We scaled so many steps, and climbed so many hills. I'll remember the queue around every fountain as we stopped to refill our too-small water bottles. I'll remember how SPQR was slapped on any random surface. I'll remember how cheap a two liter bottle of wine was, and how long it lasted through a night. I'll always remember our vein attempts to order food in Italian, only to find out they spoke English and ditching the attempt altogether. All the little side-streets and alleys we wandered through in Rome and Naples were as mesmerizing to me as the remains of ancient temples and churches, and the sight of a classical fountain next to a group of Asian-tourists will always be my first thought when I think of a palimpsest. Two weeks was not nearly enough to see Italy. So it's a good think I was there for another week.

Next stop: Venice.