Shadows Turned To Stone
Not yet spellbound and not quite thrilled, we follow our professor from bus stop to train station to street corner, en masse and looking like tourists. There is surge of Italians in the metro station and we are corned and cling to the worn metal poles with white knuckled grips as train stops with a jerk and begins with a tug. Termini. Republica. Finally Collesseo. We are moved by the tide of people, out of the train and up the dirty steps, one mob of walkers until we emerge from underground sweating and smelling like rubber. Outside the rabble of businessmen and tourists disperse, as a river runs into the sea.
We walk away, down the street and catch a bus outside the Coliseum. That is all the class we have today. Some other girls and I take some euros and go out into the city to buy pizza for lunch. After eating our fill in the lest touristy ristorante, we walk down the streets to the Piazza Venezia we have become so familiar with this past week. “Has it really only been a week?” I think to myself, as we effortlessly navigate the crowded streets and crazy traffic. “This feels so natural.” We climb to the top of the