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THIS TOOK ME TWO DAYS TO UPLOAD FROM MY CAMERA TO COMPUTER TO YOUTUBE TO HERE PLEASE STOP ASKING ME WHATS WRONG WITH MY BLOG THIS MEANS YOU MOM

que pasa

Hello world and all who inhabit it!

I know my frequency of blog entries has decreased immensely compared to the frequency I maintained in America, but something happened called "I got a life". Sorta. So, here is what is coming up soon that you should know about and why I probably won't make another post for awhile.

1. LA SETTIMANA DI SCAMBIO (Exchange Week). There's a week in certain regions of AFS Italy that you can choose to go to a different part of Italy for a week, to live with another family, normally you get to see one of the bigger cities, etc. So, from March 23rd to 30th, I am going to Bergamo, Italy. I will be with a group of kids I don't know (or at least haven't seen in a long time) and I will take a day trip to either Milan or Verona (if I am allowed to choose, I will choose Verona.

Bergamo

ISOLE EOLIE In the beginning of April, I will go on a 3 day, 2 night trip with my amazing Italian class to the Aeolian Islands off the coast of Northern Sicily (they're a part of Italy). It's a group of 7 islands, one of which is named Stromboli. There is yet another active volcano within these islands, and even though it's technically a scholastic trip I am praying that we will be able to at least walk on the beaches.

ROMA!!!!11!!!1!!!1 Since I am one ragazza fortunata with an amazing chapter, me and 6 of the other 7 AFSers in my chapter are going to Rome in May from the 15th to the 17th. Do I really have to put in google pictures of Rome? I will anyways.

So that's what's up. See you at the end of May!

I may or may not be joking.

SHARKBAIT! HOO HAA HAA (for the future exchange students out there, especially Robby and Katelin)

So let's face it. It's a big world that revolves around our personal perception of the world. Also things like money and fame and international relations but who's counting. Our perception of the world around us is based off of what we know, what we've been told, what we've seen, and what we've done. Obviously, the more you see/do/know, the broader your perception of the world around you is, and the wiser and more earthly you feel. It's a win-win situation that I am happy to be a part of (*cough cough* exchange)

This post goes out to all of the future exchange students out there who have not a single clue in their heads about what they're hopping into. But I'm not gonna rat you all out about how different the world really is or how you should open your eyes and look at the world differently like I am basically known for. This is basically the survival blog entry and not one of my crazy, off-topic philosophical rants.

So let's go from day numero uno. You wake up in an ungodly cold hotel room, take a shower, and head down to the lobby with your life in 60 pounds on your shoulders and in your arms, ready to be wrangled by the airport security. You're wearing your AFS shirt, or Rotary uniform, sneakers, hair nice, make up on, and ready for the day ahead of you. You eat breakfast, and then boom. 10 hours later you're done sitting around waiting and you're on the plane across an ocean.

This point in time I would like to refer as "the last hoorah". The Last Horrah is probably going to be the last time in a long time you will feel you are completely sanitary, healthy, and sane. You will slowly feel The Last Horrah slip away from you as you sit in this metal tube of air 37,000 feet above sea level with air that is as dry as the Sahara and no flight attendants to spare. As you try to fall asleep with your complimentary blanket from whatever airline you got stuck with or try to get interested in one of the 20 movies you've been provided with, you get the feeling of "I haven't slept in a day, I need a shower". When the lights in the cabin flick on and you hear the captain crackle about morning breaking over the horizion, you can see the beginnings of the continent you are traveling to. It's like a broadway musical, probably "Good Morning Baltimore" from Hairspray will do you the trick if you are interested in really seeing what I am talking about.

Because layovers are twice the fun and half the expense, you get to your layover country. oh god your knees oh god it's daytime oh god its 3 AM at home oh god wheres the toilet oh god can I speak my language here oh god this doesn't feel any different oh god what do i do oh god this is it oh god oh god oh god. At this point, you and the rest of your caravan meander off of the plane and into a nearly abandoned lobby of an airport. After all, it's like 7 AM. You're early. For the last time in 10 months. You scurry your way through customs and nearly punch the kid in the face that talks about joking about carrying an AK47 across the Atlantic Ocean, and you make your way to the gate. This, this is the wall. Your adrenaline is dead, everyone else is dead, you're hungry, you're tired, the angry cleaning ladies of the airport keep waking you up as you try to sleep on the floor... welcome to the jungle.

Finally you board your plane to your host country, and this is even more of a casino than the first time. Babies crying, everyone looks like they got into a fight with a lawn mower, different languages, god am I seriously sweating this hard?!.... The plane ride is decades shorter than the first one. You touch down in your host country and the feeling is basically described in one way:

You hop off the plane, sweatier than before and try to receive your luggage in the warzone baggage claim along with 40 other kids and a dozen foreigners that have the same motives as you do. You get your bags, and if you're like me, stand for nearly two hours waiting for a bus inside a crowded, hot airport in early September in the middle of Rome. 

The first sleep you get is on a rickety bus with your head pounding against a window, and it's only because your body is shutting down. The hotel is up a giant hill and you stand in the sun to check in. You corral your bags into a box on the floor marked with tape and get your roommate from the same country as you. 

FINALLY SHOWERS AND SLEEP!

ALMOST!

Your first meal in your host country is weird. You don't know how to do jack squat and neither does anyone around you, so you just kind of.....eat. 

And eventually, you end up in your bed and fall asleep in your clothes with the lights on and no sheets while in the midst of conversation with your roommate because you are just that exhausted.

I went through this vivid description because this is the start of your new, not-so-glamorous life as an exchange student.

LYFE.

Not trying to burst any bubbles, but the thing is, you are going to show up in your host country and realize that you brought none of the correct clothing. At first, this is a horrifying thing as you show up at school in bootcut jeans, nike slides, and a Washington Nationals shirt because it's really all you got. This is where (parents of exchange students, here's your explanation) the initial clothing binge comes in. Because I am both a cheapskate and oblivious to the opinions of people around me, I initially didn't care about what I wore. But now, since I've lost like 2 and a half pants sizes and every part of my body has gotten weird, only about 40% of my American clothes are socially acceptable without looking like a homeless mother of 4. Sharkbait(s), be prepared to show up to black tie events in the middle of December in a blue sun dress with black tights and orange heels. Be prepared to have only 5 nice outfits for 6 days of school, so there will be a day where you will look better on an episode of Drugs Inc. than in one of the most fashionable countries on the planet. You will ration your socks, underpants, and crucial things like tank tops and cardigans. If need be for more explanation, just listen to Garth Brook's Friends in Low Places and you will receive your personal anthem for the next ten months.

Also, as I've touched on many times before through blog entries, host families can get awkward in the blink of an eye. Whether you are in Morocco and wipe your muddy feet on your dad's prayer rug, go to a private Christian school in the US as an exchange student and ask for a "rubber" as an eraser, because it's the word you learned, or you're me and have had your host brother the same age as you walk in on you in the shower, things will get weird and awkward and you just have to deal with it. You have to learn to live with the uncomfortability that will take up a good 95% of your life, and that's just the flat out truth.

You will be treated like a 5 year old and there's no way of stopping it. It sucks but when you can't order at McDonalds for yourself without stuttering and forcing the employee to speak English after 2 or 3 months, you are gonna have to cut down your ego a little and let someone else step in. It will take you about 5 months to boost the courage to even enter a shop on your own, let alone answer a "how may I help you?" type question, God forbid. You will read children's books because anything else will make you literally break down into hysterics at the sight of the first paragraph. You will use the equivalents of the words "nice", "good", "bad", and "pretty" more than any other adjective on the planet because they are the easiest and most general ones to use. Your friends will do everything for you and will double check that you understand everything. Some will go as far as to hold your hand as you cross the street, even in your seventh month abroad (yes, I have one that does that). If you cry at school, there will be 3 people with tissues, one wiping your makeup off, one holding your hand, three wrapped around your torso, and a dozen comforting you. You are 5 years old. 

You will lose a bit of dignity going abroad, yet another thing you can't help. You will become the overly-attached best friend at some points because if you aren't, you ain't got no social life. You will wear the same pair of pants, 3, 4, 5 days without washing them because all the rest have been escorted out of your closet and are being taken captive by the grueling 2-week laundry cycle. Your socks will not match. You will run out of things from your home country (mostly toiletries) and then have to experience the horror of finding replacements. 

And then you have my least favorite word in the world. Communication. Try keeping your preoccupied mother, friends at home, church/school body, rest of your family, and your academics under one roof while maintaining your host family, friends, school, and other groups. Throw the time zones in and boom, it's a lose-lose situation! But really, don't expect to keep a load of contact. And you will get emails and messages from your mother about I let you go on this trip so I think I deserve to know A LITTLE more of what you are doing and what is happening to you, Kara Rose Richards. 

Moral of the story: Exchange is the most stressful, frustrating, straining, challenging, energy-draining task you have faced yet and maybe ever will. But it will also be the most knowledgeable, fun, exciting, adventurous, eye-opening, memorable, and fastest year of your life.

Believe me.

"The States put what in Italy's where?!1?1!!?!"

GOOOOOOOODDAY MY FELLOW AMERICANS.

This entry, though probably short and sweet, was brought to my attention earlier today at a school assembly and after 3 different people tried explaining it simply to me in Italian, and I still couldn't wrap my head around it, I ended up going home and researching it through the sides of both the United States and Italy.

The matter of this research is MUOS, which stands for Mobile Use Objective System. These devices are a complex group of 5 satellites in outer space and 4 ground stations, serving for the purpose of enhancing the capability, speed, accessibility, and quality of service for the United States Armed Forces abroad. The 4 ground stations being in Hawaii, southeast Virginia, Australia, and one near and dear to my heart, Niscemi, Sicily.

How this system functions is by ultra-high frequency waves sent through the satellites, the satellites being replacements for cell phone towers, with the system having the same capabilities of a cell phone. The advantage of these satellites are being able to have more contact with "disadvantaged environments", being places with dense forests and limited coverage within the canopy of the trees. This will provide point-to-point and netted communication to the American military, which means access to voice, data, and videos spanning the globe.

I'm gonna guess none of you knew about this, right America?

This 2.11 billion dollar project has been in existence through our Department of Defense since 2004, and is expected to be in full out orbit by 2015.

But what's the problem with it?

If you scan through some articles written by Americans, you will only hear the good things about MUOS and how it will expand the connectivity of our military, yadayadayada. But here in Sicily where this is an everyday issue that is discussed at school, at home, at the public rallies that are held about it, and this is why.

Straight from a page in Italian, www.nomuos.org, MUOS is considered a danger by the people here, because of the high electromagnetic frequency produced by the radiowaves. The health of those who have pace-makers installed in there bodies are also at concern here, because of the electromagnetic field produced could easily be sufficient enough to disturb the progress made by these mechanisms of the people in neighboring communities. The reason this is an issue in Sicily and not in Hawaii, Virginia, or Australia, is because the land base in Niscemi is the only one of these four that is installed close to the public.

So, if we wanna get down to the bare bone of this, we are microwaving people with our high-tech military installations.

As you can see, this is a current event here, not in the States, even though we are the ones doing it. Isn't that kind of messed up? Not accusing anyone here, but I'm just proving how uninformed we are. Me, being a fairly well informed American student that has a pretty large knowledge of the world around her, came here not knowing diddly squat of MUOS. I find it very intriguing.

So, the question is now, MUOS, or no MUOS?

To be continued by 2015.

nel mezzo del cammino di mia vita

MOTHER OF GOD I DID IT.

HALF OF IT.



Attention all blog readers (aka everyone who has gotten so sick of my mother's links to this blog on facebook that they just ended up clicking on one to see what it's all about), I have MADE IT. HALFWAY. Actually a little over half because halfway was 2 or 3 days ago depending on how you count it. But I have around 150 days left.

Let's recap (BECAUSE IT'S FEBRUARY AND NOTHING HAPPENS IN FEBRUARY)

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1. September 4th, 2013. I left my house with a half gallon of Turkey Hill iced tea and a scarf to knit for the drive to New York City with my mom and her friend. 

   

   The view from our far corner table of the orientation in New York with all the kids going to: Spain, France, Italy, Ghana, the Netherlands, Bosnia, and Belgium.

2. September 5th, 2013. I left the country in Doctor Who leggings and 90 other kids where I flew over and out of the country for the first time, saw France, Germany, and slept on the airport floor in Switzerland. 

   

   One of my last glimpses at America.

3. September 6th, 2013. Arrived in Rome and died of air poisoning from the terrible smell at the airport, got to camp and took a shower (the last shower I would ever walk around after with wet hair in public), and started a bajillion new friendships

   

   The night I hung out on the roof of our hotel with mah girls.

   
   

   

   Anna from Austria.

4. September 9th, 2013. My first day in Catania.

   

   Leaving Rome.

   
   

   

   My first of many terrible pictures with Roosa.

5. September 21st, 2013. Switched host families. 
6. October 19th, 2013. Palermo Orientation Camp!

   

   MY HOODRATZ.

   
   

   

   My view from my hotel room when I decided to wake up before dawn to take a long shower.

   
   

   

   Oh god, I've been meaning to share this. This....this is China. And the vocalist is Momo, the coolest Chinese girl you will ever meet.

7. November 3rd, 2013 Gita to Siracusa
   
   
   
   
8. November (in general): I actually skyped with my family back home, cried about missing Thanksgiving (not really), finally took my camera to school, started speaking Italian for the major part of my life. 
9. December: Mattia came home from Belgium, my school was occupied, my little sister's birthday, got into my first fender bender with my family, Hektor's return to Sicily,La Festa Della Luce, my first Italian Christmas, field trip to Mineo, Sicily.
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
10. New Years: Here's a little story I didn't tell you all about. New years was spent playing Sicilian cards (which I only lost every time), Fifa, and insane hide and seek outside. I was at a party with my two brothers and we didn't get home until 6:30 in the morning New Year's Day. But, at midnight we all went outside to set off fireworks, and so did everyone else in Sicily. I was able to stand up on the wall of their garden, and look off into the horizon and see 25+ different sets of fireworks going off at the same time. It was surreal. Then we set off one of those lanterns like in that scene from Tangled, which almost set a cactus on fire. (and let the chorus chime in) I LOVE MY LIFE.
11. January, 2014: field trip to Taormina, I become fully functional in school, field trip with the family to central Sicily at the Roman bathhouse thing, a tour with my sisters school of the same place my host parents got married at, getting my residence perrmit from Hell, Nano coming to visit.

    

    Roman Dining Hall

    
    

    

    Host mom's birthday lunch.

    
    

    

    First course at host mom's birthday lunch (not only for me as much as I wanted it to be)

    
    

    

    On the tour, this was the ceiling of the room my host parents got married in. Where you can kind of see the hole in the roof is where the opera singers would be. 

    
    

    

    My baby from Japan, Ko!

    
    

    

    Oh look it's another (we both are Roosa's models)

12. February, 2014: halfway point, Sant'Agata holiday, ?????

And here we are! February 2014. Santa Agata, the patron saint of Catania, was just celebrated this past week. This festival is the 3rd biggest religious festival IN THE WORLD, the first being Rio de Janiero's Carnival. I went to a friends house for the first night with some others, where we could watch the fireworks from the town square from her balcony, and then I went to see the actual Saint two nights after. Have you ever been smothered by a flood of Catholics? I have. Pictures are to come of this.

So, who knows where I will end up this month. Or the next month. Or the next. We'll just have to wait and see.

immigrant song. (aaaaaaahhhhh AH!)

Ciao ragazzi!

Coming up to my 5th month marker in Italy (and my English is slowly creeping away from me day by day), I am using this famous Led Zeppelin reference to describe a three day experience I had at the godforsaken immigration office of Catania. It really opened my eyes to how immigrants are treated, because for 3 days in a row I was treated exactly as an immigrant would be treated, if not a little more fair.

Monday, I missed school to go to the immigration office for the first time in my life (because I'm not technically an immigrant but I still kind of count as one). At 11, my mom picked me up from the house to go home. The immigration office is sideways to the police station of Catania, so we entered the police station first and then to the immigration office.

The immigration office was a room about the size of a large living room packed to the brim with immigrants, and 2 windows: one packed with people, one slightly open but yet there was still a line. I luckily was part of the one slightly open with a line. This day really doesn't matter because we were turned away because we didn't have the correct paperwork since I switched families, so, we returned the next day.

Tuesday, we woke up at the same time as my brothers woke up for school to go to the immigration office as soon as it opened at 9ish. Yet again, the office was packed in the same formation as the day before; to the left was a mob, to the right was a line. We had to wait for a little while (which was a terrible thing for the immigration office to make me do) because I observe when I have nothing to do. So, this is what I observed.

Most of the immigrants that I was sharing the living space with were African or Southern Asian, with a few eastern Europeans thrown into the mix. At the window to the left were mostly Africans and on the other side of the window was a single woman handling every one of them.

Heeeere comes Point A.

This lady who was obviously monolingual (in reality it's pretty rational to think that people working at an immigration office would speak more than just Italian which is only spoken in like, 2 countries on the planet) was yelling through a glass window at them, who some understood, some could not. But for the record (just mentally picture me agressively typing this on my living room couch) SCREAMING IN YOUR OWN LANGUAGE WILL NOT HELP PEOPLE UNDERSTAND YOU JIMINY FLIPPING CHRISTMAS. Yes, they are crowding the window. Yes, they don't speak perfect Italian. Yes, they may miss a paper or two, but for the love of all that is holy on this planet at least try to help them for goodness sake. It's like you are trying to be a gigantic coglione. It takes effort to be that rude.

Point B.

Everyone has their own story, and whether you want to know it or be a part of it, you have to respect it. Let this be a reminder that homeless, immigrants, criminals, and everyone in between are actual human beings and not a different species of their own. Also they didn't just pop up one day to quote-on-quote "terrorize" the world as we basically expect them to. They have mouths to feed, they've got ends to meet, they've got people that may be depending on them. I'm guilty of turning my head away from beggars on the street and merchants selling knockoff Nike sneakers or sunglasses but they are human, people. We are literally dehumanizing them by the way we live around them instead of with them. It's the way they live and you know what? It may seem like an act of desperation when they stick out a cup and ask for pocket change but I can guarantee you that if you dropped everything you owned tomorrow and took up the lifestyle of one of them, you wouldn't be able to handle it. They are strong people. They know how to live life in a way that is like another species to us, but to them, it's reality.

I abuse the italics button.

LET'S GET HAPPAY!

On a much lighter note, that same day as I encountered that mess and had that conversation in my head, I walked a lot. One of the reasons being that after the appointment at the office my host mom had to go to work, and she just kind of said "okay see ya byez" and left me to find my way back home. I didn't know where I was, so I just kind of.....walked.

1.5 hours, an outdoor market, and a humongous wrong turn later, I arrived at my home after walking what I know AT LEAST was 5 or 6 kilometers (2.5-3 miles), to change clothes, scarf down some lunch, and walk a little over 3 more kilometers to the train station of Catania to pick up.......NANO! In case we have some new readers (welcome by the way), Nano is my friend from Argentina who lives a town over that I have become besties with, who looks like this:

A nice transformation Thursday for ya.

At 2 I picked him up at the station and we started off for the center of the city, eating at McDonalds (the kid loves that place). Through the center of the city, we swung through Villa Bellini, and saw a couple monuments of Catania, which then after we still had a crap ton of time to use. So, little did I know before hand, but he actually loves to go shopping. And I love to pick stuff out for people to wear. He ended up buying something I picked out for him (successssssssss)! 

Little teeny tiny tidbit and a promo for AFS: THIS IS WHY YOU ALL NEED TO HAVE SOMETHING TO DO WITH EXCHANGE. HOST A KID. SEND YOUR KIDS ABROAD. GO ABROAD YOURSELF. BECOME A VOLUNTEER. This is only one of the lifelong friendships I've made in only about 5 months in Sicily. I can't think of a reason to not be an exchange student with all of the reasons I'm giving you. So seriously, don't EVEREVEREVEREVEREVEREVEREVEREVER pass up on the chance if you get it to become involved with AFS, or just take the chance yourself.

Booyah. 

on the third week of christmas (break) AFS gave to me.....

That last entry made my computer bug out, I think out of the longevity, possibly. (It was kind of making me bug out as well). Before it did, I began telling a story of one of the day trips that AFS and my family took over the course of a week. From December 29th to January 7th, here's what went down.

Gita #1: Mineo, Sicily.

On December 29th (amazing how I actually have gotten so behind that I have to use actual dates now. It's only out of business.....maybe.), AFS planned a day trip (almost) to the town of Mineo, an hour and a half's drive southwest of Catania. Being completely lost in life, generally speaking, I woke up 45 minutes too early, so I sat in my room and basically fell back asleep until we were all ready to go. All seven of us, since Hektor was still with us (if you haven't read about that Swiss kid and you honestly want to know who he was, click this thaaaaang).

Before leaving Catania and entering "la campagna" (the countryside), we had to drop my nonna (grandmother) off at her house and meet up with the friends of my brother, because we were following each other in a different car (there were originally 9 of us in one van, it wasn't going to happen). So, we met up and my host parents got a coffee outside of the apartment of my brothers friend, and then separated into our cars, my brother (who was in the other car) gave us the finger as they drove past, and we were off to Mineo for the day!

What made Mineo so special was the Christmas presepe (nativities) set up around the town that we were going to be touring that day. There were two types of these nativities, one being permanently a part of the town and the others being artistic, or only there for one year. To give you an idea of one of these, here is one that took 2 months to construct:

These nativities were set up in little nooks and crannies all over the city. There were arrows with numbers leading our way, but our way was very schizophrenic. At one point, our whole group had to go through this. THIS IS A STREET. A BLOODY STREET. I HAD TO WALK SIDEWAYS TO GET MY BUTT TO FIT THROUGH IT. THIS IS WHY I WALK 4 KILOMETERS A DAY FOR SCHOOL, PEOPLE.

This was really just what our day way, presepe and a beautiful view of Sicily from the town. There's not much else to it. 

Notice Etna in the left side of the picture. She's covered in snow.

Siblings.

The only picture I personally have of me with a family member. This is my brother, Mattia.

It's impossible for Roosa and I to take a picture without looking like we just woke up.

These random people are Gabriele, an AFS volunteer that was Hektor's liaison last year, my host sister Celeste, and Hektor, the Swiss kid, himself.

Gita #2: Taormina, Sicily.

On the fourth of January, the chapters of Catania, Ragusa, Giarre, Siracusa, and Messina all went to the town of Taormina, nearing Calabria (the toe of the boot of the Italian penninsula) but still on Sicily. Taormina is about a 2 1/2 hour bus ride from Catania, and we were literally the only people on the bus. Roosa and I just sat and listened to a collection of our weird/crappy/old music on our phones and talked for most of the bus ride (who knew Finns like Zac Brown Band?) But anyways this was the view from the piazza in Taormina.

Annnnnnd this sums up my friendship with Ari (Danish Faroe Islands) perfectly. 

Taormina is a very touristic city that is beautiful, yet pretty tacky. Being in the way that the whole set up of the city and the streets is so iconic Italy-esque, but those buildings are filled with tourist shops and expensive crap that you could get so much cheaper and in better quality in any other town. The way it is set up is all of the city is in the north (the city is on a hill), and in the south is where an island is, called La Isola Bella (the beautiful island). We were only in the north this day. So as usual, I ganged up with Roosa, Nano, Hiroshi, and as a step-in for Lucy who had to return to Guatemala in the beginning of December (she was here for the same time frame that Mattia was in Belgium), was Veera, another girl from Finland. We were given freetime to roam, as usual. Which didn't result in much, just pictures and nothing else. We met back in the piazza to go to the Greek/Roman theater that afternoon.

I had already been to this theater with my first host family, so I knew what to expect (slightly). To go into detail, the theater was made my both Greeks and Romans (the Romans came into the picture slightly later). This can be told by the types of stones that are seen in use. The Greeks didn't use square or rectangular bricks in building. They used more crude stones, so they weren't perfectly angled. The difference in the seats also changes, as well as the fact that the columns at the front of the theater were added by the Romans. 

The typical Kara and Gabriele picture.

The typical Kara and Nano picture.

After the theater we had the option to either go to the Villa (city park) or roam around some more. I really just wanted to have something organized for me to do so I chose to go to the Villa. Maeve, also from America, went to the Villa as well. We walked together and basically had all of those deep, philosopher thoughts come out in rivers as we don't talk much in English anymore so they were bottled up. We also sat on the bus together going home where even more of these thoughts were released. It felt good to have someone just understand me completely. 

Gita #3: Villa Romana del Casale

On the 6th, it was my host mom's birthday and Befana (kind of like a version of Santa, only with stockings and it's really an old woman with a broom and black cape and glowing red eyes who is not a witch). But anyways, after waking up to my host dad's sock hanging on my door handle filled with candy, my family set off for Villa Romana del Casale, about a mile outside of a town called Piazza Armerina, in the middle of Sicily. What made this our destination was that Villa Romana del Casale was a gigantic Roman Villa, with the floors completely done in all in hand-laid mosaics. 

Remember in the 6th grade, when you learned about Pompeii or the Roman empire, when there were the public bath houses and toilets and saunas all in one building? This was what one of them was. Because my computer/blogger hates me (plus pictures were forbidden there anyways so I shouldn't be showing them to you), it will take too frustratingly long to upload pictures now. But from google, this is what it looks like. 

 

This was a bath. The door on the left was used for common people, the door on the right was used for the higher class and the family that owned the Villa.

This was the dining room. It was so big because the Romans laid down as they ate. The picture depicted in the mosaic is the triumphs of Hercules and the fall of the mythical creatures he defeated (I remember the very top is red giants). 

And this is the most spectacular mosaic of them all. It is called "Great Hunt", and depicts the capturing and shipping of animals in Egypt and shipment to Europe, which happened through Sicily. Elephants, buffalos, ostriches, lions, are all shown being pulled by men onto the boat, while others are being hunted. It's truly a miraculous mosaic. All done by hand. All of them. And each piece is about the size of your pinky nail. Let that sink in.

I'm sorry for the lateness of this post that I said was going to be so soon after my last one. But hey, I uploaded a ton of pictures even though blogger was being mean! Hope you enjoyed this last one. I don't know of anything else exciting coming up that you should look forward to, so.....

ci vediamo!