Auschwitz + Divine Mercy

Spring Break 2016 consisted of Easter in Rome, and a week long trip to Krakow, Poland. While I was there, I made the trip out to the Nazi Concentration Camp, Auschwitz, as most people do when they visit Krakow. Here are some of my reflections from the day, and the Divine Mercy Shrine which I visited immediately afterwards. To begin, it was an eye-opening, educational experience to be, but it was very difficult to stomach.

Before the start of World War II, there were 38,000 Jews in Kraków, Poland. By the end, there were 6,000. Most of these men, women and children were sent off to the infamous concentration camp: Auschwitz. We’ve all heard of Auschwitz in some capacity; whether from the movie Schindler’s List, The Diary of Anne Frank, or from various history lessons, museum exhibits, or word of mouth. It is the most infamous of all the camps, because it was the largest and the most deadly.

For me, well, I don’t remember when I first learned about this particular concentration camp. At least once every year in grade school, in some way, shape, or form, there would be a lesson on the Holocaust. Living in D.C., and from previous visits, I had been to the Holocaust Museum many times. I was no stranger to the history, the events and the suffering– so when I booked my trip to Kraków, I decided to go visit the place that I had learned about for years. It was fairly empty when I arrived in the morning, with the exception of a couple high school tour groups. Entrance to the camps/museum/memorial is free, so I picked up my entrance pass, went through security, and entered. When you come out of security, you walk into a large courtyard, clearly a meeting space for groups, the bathrooms located just around the corner. As you make your way to the end of the courtyard, signs point you to the one entrance, greeted by the infamous metal banner “Arbeit Macht Frei” or “Work will set you free”. You walk through that dirt path, right underneath the banner as so many people did not even 80 years ago, and you are officially inside of Auschwitz I.

There are technically many Auschwitz camps; The only two the public have access to is I and II, I being the work camp, and II being the death camp. I is where most of museum is, and most of the “things to see” are. Camp II is largely a pile of rubble, since the Germans burnt many of the gas chambers as they fled, once the war was officially lost.

In the beginning, it felt like the other Holocaust Museums I had been to. It may be a sign of how good the museums in the States are, but it may also be a sign of how hard it is to wrap your head around what happened here. There are many signs, in Polish, English, and Hebrew, to describe what everything was. Some of the buildings are opened, with exhibits inside. All of the buildings look the same: Long, brick, all numbered, all in a row, exactly like in the movies. There had to be about 40 buildings or so. Around the entire complex was barbed wire, complete with watch towers and spotlights, to ensure no escape. Even now, there is still a feeling of being trapped.

You weave in and out of the open buildings, looking at exhibits on how Hitler’s extermination plan came to be, how it was carried out, daily life within the camp, and then, how/how many people died. For example, one of the first buildings I went into was the “infirmary”, a fancy word for where they brought sick prisoners, either to leave them in the basement to suffocate, or to perform medical experiments on them. Sometimes, if they were feeling merciful, they were inject the prisoner with a type of poison, which would kill them immediately. The amount of artifacts they still have from the camps is astounding; they set up each room to look like it would have during operation.

You can see the beds, all bunked in a row, like we’ve all seen in pictures. You can see the doctors’ medical “tools”, their desks, their operating tables. All of it was left behind in panic, as the Germans attempted to flee. They’ve set up the wash rooms so that prisoner’s uniforms are lying in the sink, ready for a wash. It’s as if you just accidentally stumbled into the room, while everyone was away at lunch.

In this particularly “infirmary” building, there are a series of cells in the basement. I ventured down there only for a moment or so, since I was alone and you can’t really spend much time in a dimly lit, musty smelling basement of a concentration camp by yourself for very long. I knew there was something I wanted to see here; one of these cells was Saint Maximillion Kolbe’s. For those of you who have never heard the name before, Father Kolbe was a Catholic priest, one of the many priests (and Catholics in general) taken away to concentration camps. He was a Polish man, a Franciscan who worked and studied in Rome for a while, (I’ve had the privilege of seeing his office in Rome), who took another man’s place in Auschwitz. He saved his life, but was condemned to that dark, basement cell. It is where he starved to death. Father Kolbe is now a Catholic saint, and there is a small memorial to him within that cell, including a couple of candles, a sign explaining who he was, and a wreath. It was a beautiful light in darkness of that horrible place. It was a beautiful testimony.

There was an exhibit on all of the items stolen by the Naxis, as their prisoners entered the camps. There were piles, and piles, and piles of shoes, glasses, crutches, hairbrushes, bowls, etc. etc., all taken from each person and thrown into a closet, where they would remain until the Auschwitz memorial center collected them and put them behind glass, where you can see them today. Each building has lines and lines of picture frames hanging from the walls–prisoners’ mugshots after they were branded with a number and given that blue and white striped uniform.

Outside from the buildings, you can see a few gallows, where prisoners were hung in public, to be made examples of. You can see the “shooting wall”, where prisoners were lined up and shot, again to be made examples of, to be punished, or simply just because. After seeing all these things, there is really only one thing left in Auschwitz I, possibly the worst part: The crematorium and gas chamber. It’s a little cement bunker, slightly hidden as a grass mound. There are a pair of huge, iron doors, and then you entire into a plain, gray, cement room. The gas chamber. There is no way to even fathom what took place here–or that you are standing in the very room where thousands of people lost their lives. And even though you can’t wrap your head around what and why, you still can’t spend very long there. Something just feels wrong. So you follow the arrows and keep going. The next and final room is the crematorium itself, with the furnaces still intact, untouched, as if it was 1945. I looked at it all for a brief moment, then left the building, and walked out of the camp. You hit a certain point, and you cannot look anymore.

After Auschwitz I, the typical thing to do is to hop on the shuttle, and go to Auschwitz II, which is about 15 minutes down the road. The bus drives you right the gates, stopping on the train track lines. This train line carried people into the camps from all over Europe, and to and from Auschwitz I and II. If you were brought here, to the second camp, you were going to die. Again, the camp is surrounded by barbed wire. It is a series of wooden buildings, all used as dormitories, waiting spaces before they brought you to a gas chamber. The chambers were located just behind the buildings, but the only thing that survives today is a pile of bricks, with all of the chimneys remained standing. There isn’t much to “see” in Auschwitz II; its up to you to reflect and mediate on everything you’ve seen. The Germans tried to cover up their war crimes on their way out, as they fled Poland in fear of the Allies, who were on their way in. While they succeeded in burning the gas chambers, they left the survivors behind, and piles of bodies not yet buried, along with various files, equipment, and items that now are used in museums today. The Soviet Union was marching its way across Eastern Europe, in what would become the beginnings of the Cold War, but according to many sources, even they did not know what they were about to walk into. We know that the Allies knew the Germans were rounding up Jews, homosexuals, gypsies, Catholics, and the physically and mentally handicapped. But, it was only in 1945, during the liberation, that they discovered the truth. In the end, Auschwitz was the cause of 1.1 million deaths. 

All in all, I’m glad I went. I’m glad I got to learn more and see a piece of history with my own eyes. Don’t be mistaken, though; it was awful. It will stick with me, vividly, for a long time. It was so easy to leave there and feel powerless. It was easy to get stuck in the suffering and in the sorrow and ask the question: “Why?”

This is where the light comes in.

I had been told by many friends that I should visit the Divine Mercy Sanctuary in Krakow right after visiting Auschwitz, since I would be feeling pretty unsettled. I took their advice.

The Divine Mercy Sanctuary is Catholic pilgrimage site; It’s where Saint Faustina, a lived during her time as a sister, and where Christ appeared to her many times, particularly in the form of the Divine Mercy. It is where Christ told her to paint this image of him, the Divine Mercy of Christ and distribute it throughout the entire world. Saint Faustina did just that; It is an incredibly popular image of Christ for all Christians. Perhaps you have seen it before.

He taught her how to pray the Divine Mercy Chaplet, a series of prayers that takes no more than 10 minutes, to pray for His mercy and forgiveness. Saint Faustina lived from 1905 to 1938, dying just before the war. Christ warned her that dark times were coming for the world, especially for Poland. He implored her to spread this image, these prayers, and to establish a Holy Day– A day of Divine Mercy– on the Sunday after Easter. In 2000, Pope John Paul II officially made the Sunday after Easter ‘Divine Mercy Sunday’. Pope John Paul II, being Polish and having been the Archbishop stationed in Kraków, had a very special devotion to Saint Faustina, her cause, and the Divine Mercy, encouraging all Catholics to do the same. He canonized her as a saint that same year. Saint Faustina wrote down all her experiences with Christ in her diary, which can be read today. (I’m in the process of reading it now–fascinating stuff.)

So that’s where I was headed. At the shrine you can view the original Divine Mercy painting of Christ, which is displayed in the chapel, just above Saint Faustina’s resting place. The chapel was packed, mostly with Polish men and women, but I heard some English thrown in there. The shrine and the chapel were getting ready for Divine Mercy Sunday–which is THIS Sunday!- so it was probably busier than usual, and nicely decorated.

The image was stunning. Not only was is very visually pleasing, but it brought such peace after such a difficult morning. The faithful were saying the Divine Mercy Chaplet all around, from children to the elderly. Masses were said, readings were read. I expected to spend about a half hour there. I spent hours.

(Above: The new, modern Basilica )

(Parts of the original convent)

Because Divine Mercy Sunday is this Sunday, and after mediating on the horrors of the Holocaust for so long, the image of the Divine Mercy, of Christ in His resurrected glory was a stark reminder of how temporary the suffering on this Earth it. It is easy to fall into despair, focusing on the evil.  Even today, we live in a world that is consistently in fear. And why shouldn’t we be? The troubles in the Middle East that have now made their way to Europe, there is a terrorist group targeting Christians and Capitalists, and the amount of massacres and kidnappings in Africa is devastating. Even the American election is a cause of concern; What was once the leader of the free world has fallen into two deeply polarized sections, unable to think past their noses for the good of the country and the good of the world.

It is now more important than ever to recognize hope. And its not just any ol’ hope. It is the hope of Christ. It is the hope of His Divine Mercy. Time and time again, humans have been reminded that the hope of Christ is the only thing that we have. It is the only thing that matters. Poland, after surviving the Naxis and a communist regime, learned this first hand. I was astounded at how devote Poland was; Churches at every corner, with full congregations during daily mass, random statues of Mary in the middle of fields, little children who actually knew the responses to prayers, and big families who actually looked happy to be spending time together, heading to church. Poland gets it. You GO Poland.

At the end of the day, this world is temporary. This suffering is temporary. I read somewhere once that the phrase “Do Not Be Afraid” occurs 365 times in the Bible. 365 times, for every single day in a year. Whether or not that is true, I don’t know, but I believe it anyway–Because that phrase, “Do Not Be Afraid”, sums it all up.

Well, that was super deep. Thanks for hanging in their while I dump out all of my thoughts on the Internet. Food for thought!!

Have an awesome Divine Mercy Sunday. After all this, I know I will! 🙂

Best,

Clare

FIONA E. HART CAME TO ROME

Once upon a time, I joking said to Fiona Hart, “Well, why don’t you just come visit me in Rome?” And she in turn said to her parents, in jest “Well, why don’t I just go visit Clare in Rome?”

And her parents said, not in jest, “Well, Christmas is coming.”

And suddenly it was no longer a joke, but Fiona Hart had made it to the Eternal City. Toto, I don’t think we’re in Union Vale Middle School anymore.

In lieu of a long list of things we did, here’s a bunch of pictures instead. Mostly because I don’t feel like typing it all out.

• Fi Fi Tries her hand at a Roman fountain
• 
• We stumbled upon a parade on Saint Patrick’s Day but it wasn’t for Saint Patrick (surprise surprise) but apparently Italian unification day??
• 

And then it was Palm Sunday and Fiona really wanted to see Frank:

And then we had a photo shoot:

So, in summary, it was a freaking awesome week, even if it felt like it didn’t even happen. Started from the bottom, now we’re here. (The bottom being Arlington, of course. Sorry not Sorry Arlington.)

Who wants to come visit me next?! No? No?? Alright.

Until next time,

Clare

Holy Week– Roman Style

Buona Pasqua!

Holy Week in Rome– aka: Catholicism on steroids.

Before I start with Holy Week, we need to go back to the beginning. Like the beginning of Lent, good ol’ Ash Wednesday.

There is a tradition in Rome dating back to the 800s AD, in which for every day of Lent, a special mass would be said at a different church in Rome, usually a church of some certain significance. This tradition became so important, in fact, that the readings for every day in Lent were chosen to reflect the Station Church mass was being said at in Rome, all over the world! When I heard of the opportunity to see about 40 new Churches in Rome, all of historical and religious significance, and the opportunity to take part in an ancient Tradition, AND the opportunity to have the best Lent ever, I jumped on it. The only catch, you ask? Mass was at 7:00am. Every morning. Sharp.

And we walked. Everyday.

I know, I know, my life is SO hard right?

Lent began strong at Santa Sabina on Ash Wednesday, with a FULL house of dedicated Catholics ready to fight the good fight for 40 days. Naturally, the group did not stay as large as it did the very first day BUT I was at that mass every single day I was in Rome, and I would do it again in a heartbeat.

The Seminarians at the NAC are so freaking good to us, they even would pick us up and walk with us in the morning. By ‘us’ I mean the two or three brave souls who trekked with me in the morning. A very good friend of mine, Maria, also did every day with me, and I cannot express how beautiful it was to see her dedicated throughout a three-week long cold, midterms, and a severe lack of sleep. You ROCK!

So that was the beginning and the entirety of Lent, leading up to the Wednesday of Holy Week. For some reason we still had classes that day and Holy Thursday (@CUA, get yourself together) so it wasn’t as relaxing as one may have hoped.

Holy Thursday. (PSA: Holy Thursday is my favorite liturgy of the entire year so I am gonna get HELLA PUMPED in these next few paragraphs, so just bear with me and my overwhelming nerdiness)

The gang and I headed to Santa Maria in Trastevere for mass in the evening, which was super awesome because it’s a parish and there were little Italian children every where and families and it was just nice to be part a community for such a holy day. The little old Italian grandmas are always so amazed to see young people in church so they pat our heads and smile at us and then give us big hugs during the sign of peace. No complaints. Actually, far from complaints. It’s awesome.

Surprisingly, the mass was a standard Holy Thursday mass. (Why Surprisingly?? I am glad you asked!) ITalian liturgies tend to get a little funky, sometimes including elements that aren’t exactly appropriate or new types of music or art that’s…..interesting. I was just thankful there was no experimental rock music…..they do that sometimes.

My favorite part of all of Holy Thursday starts after mass. Because the host cannot be consecrated on Good Friday, the priest consecrates enough hosts on Thursday to be reserved and used on Friday instead. He collects all the left over hosts on Thursday, and leaves them on the altar for adoration all night long. This is called an “Altar of Repose” and usually every church decorates and adorns their altar with flowers, candles and maybe pieces of art. Long story short, it is a truly beautiful display, even in a physical, secular sense. As we are all reading our hearts for the Passion of Good Friday, there is a particularly type of reverence that comes with these altars on Holy Thursday.

Holy Thursday is also Catholic Halloween. Hear me out! Because every single church has the Holy Sacrament on the altar, and because it would be such a shame to miss the beauty that is each, individual altar, you are supposed to wander in and out of multiple churches, spending a couple minutes at each place. Thus, you are literally trick or treating. But for Jesus. sorta. (Is this too much of a stretch?? Is this blasphemy?? To be determined). Here’s a few:

After deciding to head home (and taking a quick stop at Frigidarium, naturally), Holy Thursday was over and Good Friday began. A couple of my girlfriends and I headed over to the English College (the seminary with the Brits and Irish) for Good Friday service, because it was about time we heard some native English speakers again. Also– who isn’t obsessed with British accents?! The service last 2.5 hours, which was long even to us, but it was our fault for forgetting that they were going to chant the entire Passion reading. Like the entire thing. Like it last 40 minutes. It was awesome, but it was also 40 minutes. See where I’m going with this?

Friday evening the same gang and I headed to Stations of the Cross.

At the Colosseum.

With Pope Francis.

It was a very intimate affair, just a couple hundred of our closest friends, the Pope, dozens of journalists and a 2,000 year old stone monument, built because Nero had just slaughtered tons and tons of Christians, including Peter and Paul, built with all the money Rome acquired after they sacked Jerusalem. Ha. I’ll just end this here.

Holy Saturday was very low-key in comparison. I had a couple of friends who headed to the Easter Vigil at Saint Peter’s, but after having a lovely dinner with some friends from home, I got some work done and got ready for Easter.

Easter: The main event, right? Getting to go to a mass in Saint Peter’s Square with the Pope is incredibly awesome, because hey! It’s the Pope! And the Capitol of Catholicism! And Saint Peter! Waho! What is not awesome is the 3-4 hour wait, the pushing and shoving (ESPECIALLY THE NUNS WHAT THE HECK) and the multiple security checks (Which really, I am very thankful for, because safety is everything). Of course, in the end, this is all worth it when you get a seat right at the barricade wall, which means you can basically touch the Pope if you wanted to, while he drives around on his lil’pope Mobile. Pro-tip: Do NOT touch the Pope. Even if you want to. You’ll probably get arrested.

The steps of Saint Peter’s was all decorated in flowers and such and there were Cardinals everywhere and little babies in their Easter bonnets and girls in their Easter dresses (I.e. Me. On both accounts) and the sun was shining and life was all around 10/10. Papa Frank gave his special Easter blessing from the window of Saint Peter’s and he reminded us to have a good Easter lunch before he left. I think that sums up Italy in a nutshell. You’ve been in Italy too long, Frankie.

It was a good week to be Catholic. Then again, it’s a good life to be Catholic!

I hope and pray you all had a spectacular Easter and remember: It is STILL Easter! So Buona Pasqua! don’t feel bad about eating all that chocolate! Just do it! (I sure will!)

Until next time, (In Poland!)

Clare

2 Months worth of events. Opps .

I’ve officially given up on the whole “I’ll blog every other week!” thing. Sorry, past me, but this semester has been quite turbulent and some things just have to be placed on the back burner.

So we’re gonna do this last month and half in flashback style: Aka: I’m gonna stop ranting about nonsense and start putting some pictures in.

1.) We went to Bologna on a class trip to “learn” about Music and Cinema history of Italy (yes yes this is a real class, yes the humanities are useful, not I’m not wasting my time, thank you thank you).

Much bologna and bolognese pasta was eaten, as to be expected.

2.) We went to Florence on a field trip, to see some art and climb up a dome and life the stereotypical Italian dream. So, yes, there were a lot of tiny houses with red brick roofs. This is Tuscany after all!

It was quite a windy day.

Big fan of Il Duomo: Florence’s famous cathedral.

And The David. Not a fan of the lewd and inappro-pro pictures every person was taking in his presence, though. Gosh David, at least put a towel on.

And the food. Ohhhh so much food.

Not a fan of the downpour that broke our umbrellas and soaked us to the bone, just before we got on a 1.5 hour train ride. I had the cold to prove it.

3.) Beware the Ides of March. Yes, Rome is still bitter about Julius Caesar’s assassination. Can you blame them?? Gosh, it was only 2,060 years ago!!

Yes, there were many Mean Girls references and yes there was a reenactment.

Fun fact: The only excavated part of where Caesar was assassination is now a cat sanctuary. The more you know, amiright?

There may or may not have been an assassination attempt during that night’s dorm meeting.

4.) Erin Reckner and the Oxford team came to Roma! After the amazing hospitality they gave me in Oxford, it was only natural to return the favor and show them as much of Rome as we could in two days. And WOW, did we see Rome. 14 miles of walking every day, but we sure as heck got it all done.

5.) Saint Patrick’s Day….in….Italy?? So this one was a little ( a lot ) strange because on the one hand, I’ve got my Italian heritage screaming at me to ignore this day and go get a cannoli, but then I’ve got my Irish heritage screaming at me to go put on my favorite green sweater and embrace my Hermione Granger hair, at least for the day. My Irish side won, as it usually does (sorry, Mom).

HEY: In my defense, even the COLOSSEUM was celebrating St. Paddy’s. Who can argue with the Colosseum??

6.) Saint Joseph’s Day– NOW we can celebrated Italia. St. Joseph’s Day also doubles as Italian Father’s Day here, so there were all of people out and about that Saturday. Also– the San Guiseppe Bigne (pastry) ONLY appears on Saint Joseph’s day and it was #worthit. There was even a special gelato flavor, one day only! Had to take advantage of that. I can’t find my pictures for this, so use that imagination of yours. 

(If you haven’t figured it out already, Catholics really like feast days. Even if they aren’t our own feast days. Feasts are feasts.)

Phew. That’s all I got for you this round.

Until next time,

Clare

(^About sums it all up^)

Harry Potter Weekend

Probably the best thing about studying abroad is the fact that some of your best friends are studying abroad at the SAME time and therefore: you get to go on vacation, without planning a single thing.

Thats exactly what happened this past weekend, when Caroline and I booked a last minute flight to England to see two of our best friends, Frances and Erin, both of who are studying at Oxford University. Like THE Oxford University.

Like where they filmed these really insignificant movies, I doubt you’ve ever even heard of them.

“Draco Malfoy’s butt was in this tree once.” -Caroline

Caroline and I pulled into Oxford Train Station in the afternoon Friday, but first started our Harry Potter Weekend at Kings Cross:

(We may or may not have waited 45minutes in line just to get this picture. Also, fun fact: Theres a guy who stands there ALL DAY and holds the scarf up just to throw it up in the air so you can get a good picture. Like thats his job. It was incredibly weird.)

If you didn’t think Oxford was posh and pretentious before, listen to this nonsense:

Friday night was Trinity College’s “Guest Night”— aka, Caroline and I got to eat in one of Oxford’s flippin’ fancy dinning hall, with a bunch of British students in their robes, casually being waited on waiters in Tuxes. When the heck is this gonna happen to me again?? Never. Never is the answer.

Dinner was in a large hall, with three mahogany tables up the room. It’s customary to cross your knife and fork on your plate to signify the seat is taken, and then go downstairs to the cellar where everyone gathers for drinks first. Then we popped back upstairs, took our seats and then suddenly one of the waiters BANGS a gavel on the table. The students stand up immediately, and a bunch of professors processed in wearing these thick, long black robes. Professor Snape was not among them One of them quickly says a prayer in Latin, they sit, and then we sat. (Rich people man)

We had four courses, mostly of fish and cheese, and it was all around a freakin’ spectacular time. We chose to come on the right night!

Saturday: Warwick Castle and Stratford Upon Avon.

If any of you have been to Medieval Times, that was essentially what Warwick castle was, except it wasn’t fake. It was all real. Putting this all in perspective, Erin said: “This doorknob is older than our country!”. That about sums it up.

Featuring:

Clare needs to stop using her selfie stick:

7th grade mirror selfies:

And: Clare HATES Wax figures and this insanely creepy version of King Henry VIII and his six wives wasn’t helping anything:

You’ve probably heard of Stratford Upon Avon for one reason: William Shakespeare. Here’s his birth house:

Here’s the church where Shakespeare is buried but as conveniently CLOSED WHEN WE GOT THERE. I don’t even want to talk about it.

Here’s some corny gift shops:

Guess what? It was another cute English town in the country side. Never gets old, amiright? Also, New Yorkers: I GOT A BAGEL WITH EGGS AND BACON GOD BLESS 

Saturday night we ran over to mass, one of the few Catholic services in town (us crazy Catholics, what a bunch of papists!), with the Dominican Friars.

After dinner: 2nd coolest thing of the weekend: The Eagle and Child. At first glance, its just another english pub, serving burgers, fish and chips. But NO! This pub was a favorite of C.S. Lewis and J.R.R Tolkein. Like they ate here, and talked here and probably wrote here and shared manuscripts with each other because why not?? There were tons of Narnia and LOTR references everywhere and there was tiny sign telling us where CS Lewis specifically sat once a week with his brother to talk about life. Like what even?? Also we found Narnia. Don’t you just hate it when you walk through a wardrobe and suddenly you’re in the midst of a deadly conflict in a mystical land? I do. 10 Year old me was freaking out.

Sunday: Let them eat cake. Specifically, for breakfast.

What even is England anyway?? Where you just have tea and chocolate cake for breakfast??? America get it together, man.

Anyway to sum it all up: THANK YOU so much to Frances and Erin for taking care of us for a whole weekend. And to you, Oxford, keep on being pretentious. You deserve it.

Happy SAINT Valentine’s Day, guys. Don’t forget to thank the priest who was beaten and beheaded for his faith for all your chocolates and flowers today 🙂 ❤ 🙂

Best,

Clare

Update: Rome is still here, and I am still loving it

Goooooood morning family and friends! This morning I realized I hadn’t updated the blog in a while, although I’m sure you all know by now that I am back in the Eternal city, and once again loving every second of it. I apologize for the Instagram spam (alright not really. Sorry not sorry).

WHERE to begin?? I landed back in Rome and was immediately thrown back into the swing of things. RA training, welcoming the new students, door decorations, planning events, coordinating with the seminarians and those random things called…classes. All good things, all good things! I was also reunited with the love of my life, as pictured below:

I had the pleasure of going back to my favorite place on earth: Assisi. Specifically, I was able to spend time at San Damiano, the monastery where Saint Clare lived, prayed and worked for the main portion of her life. It was where Christ told Saint Francis to “rebuild His church”, so Francis literally took a hammer and nails to the run-down chapel he was in. Little did he know God had other plans for him–something we can all relate to!

It was a truly wonderful week, getting to know almost 70 new people, desperately trying to remember everyone’s name (still not there yet. opps). What a welcome to Italy it was for them! To be “stuck” in a small town in the Umbrian hillside, going to a wine tasting, enjoying the best meats Italy has to offered and wandering through the very same streets one of the most popular saints of all time walked on. We are just so. spoiled.

I even got this^ group of crazy kids to hike an hour up a flippin’ mountain with me to spend some time at St. Francis’ Sanctuary!

I got a selfie stick for Christmas and I HATE myself for using it but look how nice it is to have longer arms!!!!

From there, its been one big whirlwind. We returned to Rome and for the first weekend, some of the Loyola students and I had to stay in a hotel until they were all placed with host families. We spent the weekend getting everyone accustomed to Roman public transportation….or rather, getting used to the unreliability of said transportation. Waiting for a bus for 30 minutes just to see it come around the corner after you’ve decided to take the metro instead, never gets old. Never.

We’ve had a private mass in Saint Peter’s, in a chapel very close to the tomb of Saint Peter’s himself.

We’ve had dinner at the North American College with the four seminarians who will be taking care of ministry with us this semester:

I had a cousin in town for a couple days for work, but when in Rome!

Rome had a very special visit from Padre Pio–well, his incorruptible body, that is. To start of Lent this year, Pope Francis specifically asked that the body of Padre Pio be brought to Rome, specifically for this year of mercy. Fun Fact: Even the most secular Italians ADORE Padre Pio, as we all found out when we went to mass Thursday night at 10pm, and the church had been packed since 6pm. Sweet deal. In true Italian style, his incorruptible body was two hours late. The car hadn’t been able to drive through the streets, because so many pilgrims had been following the car around. Padre Pio, man. What a guy!

OH OH OH CARNEVALE! You know that holiday called Mardi Gras that basically only New Orleans celebrates?? Well Rome celebrates it to–almost for a whole month! The celebrations came to a head this weekend, with parades and festivals and young children in halloween costumes throwing confetti at you. It was fine, they were cute.

Even Caesar and Cleopatra showed up–it was good seeing them!

 

 

I even had my first experience at an Italian supermarket in which I found out I had no idea what I was doing:

Annnnnnnd finally I turned 20 and I feel the same because nothing exciting happens at twenty. Except I’m no longer a crazy, angsty teenager. Thank God I’m out of that phase!!!! Right Mom?????

(PS: Shout out to the best residents ever for making my day very, very special and to Deacon Mike and Grace for making sure I actually went out for my birthday and didn’t just eat junk food and watch movies all night.)

When your birthday lands on Mardi Gras, its just THAT much more of an excuse to find the largest gelato possible. Which… I did. (I know I know the face is weird just ignore it ok???)

Whew. I think that’s it for now. This weekend I’m peacing out of Italy for a while–time to visit the friends studying at Oxford!

Peace, love, and God Bless. Happy Ash Wednesday! Happy start of Lent! May it be a season of repentance and mediation and prayer and love and preparation! Make it your best Lent yet!

Best,

Clare

 

PS: I miss the original fam like crazy. Come back plz and tx.

All Roads Lead To Rome

HELLO AGAIN! Yes, it is finally time for Rome Round Two. Christmas break was a joy, but simply never long enough. As I currently type from my layover in Dublin (I have been to this airport more times than I ever imagined I would), I decided to dedicate this post to all of those I know studying abroad, but specifically those who will be joining me in Rome in just a few days! AH!

Surprise Announcement!

So, I’ve never been one for big dramatic announcements (surprising, for the girl who just spent four months documenting her entire life on a public forum, I am aware), but I’ve got rather exciting news that I’m just going to go ahead and post on here.

To get right to the point: I am so happy to tell you all that I will be staying in Rome for the spring semester , as CUA in Rome’s RA! (AH!)

Thanksgiving Abroad

Happy Thanksgiving America!! I hope each and every one of you took a moment to be thankful for the U.S.A.- and you were especially thankful that you were IN the USA so you could actually CELEBRATE thanksgiving! Yeah. It was weird living the fourth Thursday of November like it just was another day. But hey, we ‘celebrated’ Black Friday, so thats got to count for something right??

  

“Go some place that will NOT remind you of Thanksgiving.” That was the advice that Dr. Dawson, our program director, gave us two months ago, while we all were in the planning phase of our Thanksgiving Break. Naturally, we ignored this advice and decided to go somewhere that would serve us meat, vegetables and (most importantly) potatoes, so that we could get as close to Thanksgiving Dinner as we possible could. Naturally, the first place on our list was Ireland- mostly because I was imagining mashed potatoes. I was not wrong.
That’s how we ended up in Dublin, Ireland for the first leg of our Thanksgiving Break. Given that RyanAir is based in Ireland, the flights were even cheaper than usual, and we were off to {my} the Fatherland. It was just me and four other girls; aka- Girl’s Weekend in Dublin!

  
Let me just start with this: Like every other place I have gone to, I fell IN LOVE with Dublin. Actually no-thats a lie- I fell in love with ALL of Ireland. (Dad was especially proud to hear that, as you can imagine. I haven’t heard from Grandma Whitton, but I’m sure she will be equally as thrilled, especially since she thinks I need “to be more Irish” in general. Working on that, Nana.)

  
We landed on Wednesday afternoon, welcomed by heavy fog, cold winds, and a little bit of rain. Hows that for Irish?? I headed off towards Trinity College for a very special lunch date with a friend who’s studying there. I met up with my childhood best friend, Grainne, who I hadn’t seen in TEN YEARS. How on earth are we old enough to have friends we haven’t seen in Ten Years?? We even had a “do you remember the time…” moment, and suddenly we both felt a little bit old.  Grainne was kind enough to take me around the corner to her favorite pub, where we ate and talked, etc. etc. It was an excellent welcome to Dublin, let me tell you. 

   
    
 

After parting ways and hooking back up with the CUA crew, we headed off for some shopping (girls, we can’t help it.) and even more eating. We hit Dublin’s famous Temple Bar, listened to some live, legit Irish music, and wandered through Dublin’s Christmas-y decorated streets.

            
Thursday, Thanksgiving, started at 6am, as we boarded a bus to Western Ireland. As lovely as Dublin truly is, we knew we wanted amore authentic Ireland experience, so we got on a bus for three hours and headed towards the Cliffs of Moor. We did stop frequently along the way- hitting Galway, some random fields (wow fields in Ireland!), ancient burial grounds from 6,000 years ago (older than Rome?? What?!), a rocky field where Tolkien got inspired for Lord of the Rings, and a bunch of spots along the coast. It was a dreary day, normal for Irish standards since it rains 300/365 days a year, but it was exactly what we expected it to be. We stopped off for lunch in a pub in Doolin, a itty bitty little town where the Celtic Underworld apparently lies. Nice. Let’s just say we learned a lot of folklore on this trip, and now I know why the Irish are so good at making up stories (I’m thinking of a certain pastor at a certain Church is LaGrangeville….). 

   
    
    
    
    
    
    
 
Doolin was cute, and we got some wonderful seafood chowder, perfect for the cold day. Next door there was a chocolate shop, which I naturally went into and the woman at the counter gave me the best compliment I have ever received. After introducing myself, she said: “You’re American? Goodness, with a name like Clare and a face like that, I thought you were one of us!” (Upon hearing about this, Grandma D’Ambrosio facetimed me and said: “Hello there my beautiful Italian girl!”. You just can’t make both of your Grandma’s happy at the same time, apparently.)

  
    
Fun Fact: The area of Ireland we were in was County Clare, so it was a great day to see a bunch of things with my name on it. Although Mom insists that Clare is an Italian name, and that I was named after Saint Clare of Assisi, I really believe that my father had other motives…

    
The fog consistently got worse as we traveled up the cliffs, so it was quite difficult to see. We had a few moments of clarity, but we managed to make it a good time and count our blessings (It was still Thanksgiving after all!) It was all fun and games until our bus driver said: “Look at the sun setting over the Atlantic Ocean, heading towards New York, where I believe they’re celebrating that holiday called Thanksgiving.” And all the Americans on the bus got real quiet. ( And of course, it didn’t last long).

            

(  And then I got this snapchat. Aren’t they cute??)
After heading back to Dublin, we quickly got changed and headed to another pub (Noticing a trend?) for our make-shift Thanksgiving dinner. I got a good ol’ Irish Stew- which basically means beef and potatoes. We got inside just at the right time; the band started up and some step dancers came out, and we might as well have been celebrating Saint Patrick’s day, but we were celebrating! The pubs in Dublin were oddly very similar to the Irish pubs in Washington and NYC- except less drunk, stupid  people. (I was only half surprised about this). The music was took loud, but the conversations and the company were good. Everyone was so welcoming and happy, starting up conversations where we went. The food was simple and delicious and it was all around a great time. 

   
    
 
Surprisingly, Dublin does indeed do Black Friday. We noticed advertisments every where, and the streets were especially packed on Friday. Friday morning we headed towards brunch to satisfy our eggs and bacon cravings, that we’ve had since August. (And I got a genuine cup of tea!) Thank God for full breakfasts, that’s all I’ve got to say. 

  
We headed off to Dublin Castle, that was decorated for Christmas so naturally we played the part of American tourists and had a photo shoot:

      
Apparently we didn’t pay attention to the history enough, because I cannot remember a thing. Opps.
And then the day became even more Irish; the day went from cold and dreary to cold, dreary and pouring. (Not like we expected anything less, really). At this point we went to the Guiness Storehouse to get a tour of how they actually made Guiness- probably the most popular thing to do in Dublin. It was genuinely really interesting-even for me, who doesn’t really like beer. As Mary said: “It was like Willy Wonka’s Chocolate factory- for adults!”

        
FINALLY the day concluded with full cultural emergence- Irish Black Friday. Alright so the deals weren’t as great, and people weren’t killing each other to get a new T.V., and no one got up at 2am, but it was a success. How I’m going to get all this stuff back on the plane is beyond me.

After our last Dublin dinner, we hopped in a cab and went to the airport. Part Two of Thanksgiving weekend commenced as we landed in London! London welcomed us on Abbey Road- where our cab driver made the smart decison to stop and take a picture of us being SUPER creative!!!

      
Saturday morning we headed straight for breakfast (If you’re thinking that this trip was all about food- you are correct), where we got more eggs, sausage and pancakes. It was literally called the All-American Breakfast. Some habits die hard. 

    
I got to run into Amanda D’Angelo- a friend from Home/Saint Kateri, who came to visit me last September. 

   
 Mary and I hopped over to the Tower of London- also known as the place where they display the Crown Jewels. Also ALSO known as the place where they executed three of King Henry VIII’s wives, and Saint Thomas Moore. (History + Catholic nerds here. Sorry not sorry). We saw a lot of diamonds and jewels and suddenly I realized why America wasn’t too pleased with this whole monarchy thing. You go America.

   
 
Mary and I also decided to be uber tourists and get one of those hop-on-hop-off bus tickets. This came to be EXTREMELY useful because it came with so much more than just bus tickets. However, on Saturday we just took a seat and let someone else dictate our day for us (a first for both of us!) En route we saw Shakespeare’s Globe Theater (A reproduction from the 199s, lame), the Tower Bridge, 10 Downing Street (aka- The British White House), and varous other monuments. Towards the end we hit the bigs ones- Big Ben, Westminster Abbey and Buckingham Palace. I gotta say- wasn’t too impressed with Buckingham Palace. Maybe its just the American in me, but it was pretty standard for a pretty, big building. Fit for a Queen? Well, I wouldn’t know, but we still took pictures of it anyway.

                      
So Saturday was a very windy, very chilly night and there was a Christmas festival/fair thing going on in Hyde Park (like the ORIGINAL Hyde park- not the one in New York) so we headed up there. After wandering around in the wind and rain for an hour looking for a restaurant that WASN’T packed, we gave up on the fair and the whole area and started home. All we wanted was some Fish and Chips, is that too much to ask??
Apparently not- because we found some. They are exactly what you think they are: Fried fish and potato wedges. Eat Fish and Chips in England= Another check off the bucket list.

  
Sunday was our second and last day in London, so once again we had a long day trying to make the most of everything. We headed out early, catching our tour bus around 10am and had a photo shoot near Big Ben. Me and Mary shot up to Westminster Cathedral for mass (alright so This was NOT the famous Abbey. The Abbey is Anglican, (the Church of England). Remember that time when King Henry VIII split the entire country of England from the Catholic Church to found his own Church, all because he wanted a divorce so he could marry his mistress and then eventually beheaded her? Good times. Thats Westminster Abbey. William and Kate got married there. Those were the genuinely good times.) 

During Mass, we prayed for the Queen and it was the most un-American thing I’ve ever done. Sorry America.
So our bus tour came with tickets to a boat cruise and some walking tours- both of which we took advantage of. We hopped on the a boat to ride up the Thames River, seeing things like the London Eye, another view point of the fake Shakespeare’s Globe, and various other sites. London is a fairly modern city, so much so that it sort of reminded me of New York. This is probably because most of the city was destroyed during the Blitz (the air raids of WWII), resulting in a whole new skyline, with the exceptions of Big Ben, the Tower of London, and other various main monuments. If I ever get the chance to do London again, a bit more extensively, I’d love to visit the Churchill War Rooms, and other WWII museums and sites. Just never enough time!  

    
 
We th took a quick stop at Saint Pauls Cathedral which will hav no significant to you unless you watched Mary Poppins as avidly as I did.there. There are  just SO MANY REFERENCES TO MAKE IN THIS CITY… Mary Poppins, Peter Pan ,Doctor Who, Sherlock Holmes, …the list goes on and on! 

The afternoon was spent a little uh…strangely by most people’s standards. I really wanted to do the Jack the Ripper Tour, especially since it was included in our ticket and Mary graciously came with me. So there we were, wandering East London talking about the world’s most infamous serial killer, visiting the sites of the murders and discussing the theories. Kinda sorta bizarre, I know, but who else gets to say they did the Jack the Ripper tour of London?? Any takers??

  
It was totally pouring by the time we finished, so we headed back towards our Airbnb Apartment. Now, just because it was evening doesn’t mean our journey was over! Far from it, actually. Our flight back to Rome leaves at 6:25am from STN London airport, and I am actually typing this from that airport right now. Because our flight is so early and the airport was an hour from our place, the girls and I opted not to stay overnight at the apartment, but save money and go to the airport a little early……like 6 hours early. Yup, we did the whole stay-the-night-at-the-airport thing. Its kind of a right of passage for wandering college students, and it also saved us a solid amount of money, so we can’t really complain. We did get a movie out of it though; We went to see the Hunger Games in a near by theater around 9, so we got picked up at midnight by a cab, who took us to the airport.That was great because it killed some time, but it was also super relaxing to something as simple and easy as seeing a movie (And it was in English! Ah!). 
So there you have it. It is currently 4:25, so we’ve only got three hours to go! We’ve all got quizzes and papers due this week, so unfortunately, we’ve all got some work to do. Fingers crossed we actually do work while we’re here, and not fall asleep on the floor….No promises….

Well, this was my very last excursion for this semester. We’ve got another break coming up this weekend, but guess who has four papers in the works, and five finals just two weeks away?!? Ugh. Just pray for me at this point. 20 days until I’m home for Christmas and goodness knows, I am counting the days. I’ll see you all so very soon!
All the best,
Clare  

  

Roman Holiday

To pick up where I left off-After getting off the plane from Paris, I  braced myself for Fall Break Part II- Also Known As: My parents came for a week and half.

After learning that I was studying abroad, and mom’s overwhelming to visit the motherland and buy lots of Italian terracotta bowls, both of my parents began making real plans to leave the country for the first time. Oh here’s a laugh: When my parents were first planning, they were thinking about 6-7 days in Rome with me. A few weeks later when they found out Father Graebe would also be in Rome, suddenly the trip went up to 9-10 days. Huh. Interesting how that works.

So Sunday morning I hurried back from the airport, had just enough time to do some laundry, take a shower and then book it down to the train station where I would be waiting to pick up the parentals. Mom and Dad were getting off a train coming from Tuscany, where they had just spent the weekend on their own, while I was in Paris. That is literally the most snooty, privileged thing I have ever said. After a very happy reunion, and kinda getting swindled by a cab, we made it to their hotel (well- our hotel because I ditched my campus for a whole week so that I could have a continental breakfast. Priorities, alright?) 

  
Basically, Sunday night was me talking their ear off about that bridge or that monument or how important Caesar Augustus was for the city of Rome. It’s a good thing they kinda sorta like history, or they just have patience for me. The other good thing is that Father Graebe joined us for dinner, so they got to talk about other (more interesting) things.

The thing about eating in Rome is that you can do it two ways: The good way, or the bad way. The bad way is eating anywhere public, anywhere that has pictures on their menus, or any place where they hassle you to come inside. These are no-nos. The good way is to get lost in some side alley somewhere until you find a hole in the wall where barely anyone speaks english. This, THIS is the real italian food (heads up next semester). Sunday night we took a stroll into Trastevere, my little paradise, and treated them to a nice, but authentic italian meal. This was the very very first time I was taking my parents somewhere neither of them have been before or know anything about, so I was PUMPED. And I’m sure you all know how awesome it is to show someone something for the very first time. Basically, I was feeling that feeling allllllll week.

  
(Dad slowly warmed up to this ‘Clare can drink now’ thing)

  
Monday rolled around and we hit the ground running. Naturally, the first place on our list was Saint Peter’s Basilica, where I showed them Michelangelo’s Pieta, the tomb of John Paul II (yep, Mom was in heaven), and a bunch of statues, mosaics and paintings that would take years to write about. As Dad said, literally all week, “Wow. Look at all that marble”. 

   
 The second thing we did on Monday was probably the COOLEST thing I have done all semester, which I know, is hard to believe. Ok so, underneath Saint Peter’s Basilica is a series of excavations, only done in the 1940s. At the time, there was substantial work being done to the ‘basement’ of Saint Peter’s, mostly expanding it for the flow of visitors. Most everyone knew that the current Saint Peter’s was built on top of the Constantine Saint Peter’s from the mid-4th century, so it wasn’t a surprise when Archaeologists found the original basilica foundations underneath. However, as they dug deeper they found a MUCH better find: A perfectly preserved Roman Necropolis (Cemetery- or literally translated, City of the Dead). HOW COOL IS THAT?? When you go down into the Scavi (the excavations), you walk on the road from the Roman Empire, circa 3rd century AD. Like, shortly after the time of the Apostles. The Mausoleums (this cemetery was for the rich) are in perfect condition, with some mosaics and Roman wall paintings still visible. Christianity was still illegal at the time, but there were various hidden symbols painted along the walls- like an image of Christ painted to like the god Apollo. It was dark, musty and kinda hard to breath down there, but it also is the closest you can get to time traveling, so it was worth it. Talk about your Indiana Jones moment!

So as Impressed as I was with the Necropolis, our tour guide informed us that the archaeologists cared little for the city of the dead, because there are many examples of Roman Cemeteries all over the city. What they were really interested in, was the ancient story of Peter’s bones being buried somewhere in this cemetery (which would be why Saint Peter’s was built where is was. Catholics have this tradition of building a church exactly where someone was martyred/buried. Peter…Paul…etc). So fun fact: The Roman Catholic Church was no positive that Saint Peter was ACTUALLY buried under Saint Peter’s at this point in time. (What?!) But now that excavations had started, they were going to find out. World War II had just broken out, and the Nazis were just about to occupy Rome, so the Vatican did all of these excavations completely in secret. After months of digging, they came across a small altar/monument. This monument had been recorded by ancient Roman sources as a monument to Peter, so it was exactly what the archaeologists were looking for. They opened the altar, expecting to find the bones, but instead found nothing. I’m sure in that moment they felt that they had failed completely, or that the bones had been stolen ages ago. Yet, they continued to look until someone had an idea. Next to the monument was a stone wall, a barrier or sorts, protecting the monument. It was gratified with prayers to Peter, left over from the ancient days of Rome. On part of the stone it read (in latin) “Here is Peter”. So, they took a chance and broke open the wall, and there is where they found the bones. Now, to this day no one can confirm 100% that these are the bones of Peter, but let’s be honest, that is as good as it’s going to get. The bones were adored there for at least 300 years before they were sealed up by Constantine, and then buried by the Basilica, and then dug up in the 1940s. We’re 99% certain they are, and thats good enough for me. SO yeah. We saw Peter’s bones in the  morning, and then met up with  Father Graebe to have lunch like it was any other day .  

  
After mass + Lunch , Fr. Graebe and I showed Mom and Dad around the area, to sites like the Trevi Fountain, the Pantheon, the Church where Saint Monica is buried and so much more. Later in the evening I took them to Saint John Lateran, Santa Croce (where relics from the Passion are held, like two nails, a piece of the crown of thorns, and a piece of the cross) and Sancta Scala. Fun Fact: back in March when I was in Jerusalem, we came across the spot of Pilate’s Palace, where he would have met Christ and condemned him to death. My professor informed us that the stairs to this palace, where Christ would have been shown off to the people, aren’t in Jerusalem anymore- Saint Helen brought them to Rome. Sancta Scala= Those stairs. Weird how it all comes full circle, huh?

  

  
  
  
  

  

  
Monday I basically killed my parents with all the walking , so we went to bed as soon as possible.

Tuesday we went to my favorite place on Earth- Assisi. Do you think when my parents named me after Saint Clare of Assisi that we would be journeying to Assisi together? Probs not. But there we were, taking a train from Rome to the glorious hillsides of Umbria (I just really like it ok??). It was surreal being back in the town where I first began my Italian adventure. I found that I hadn’t forgotten a thing; where the best gelato was (of course), where the restaurants with the best view were, how to get from Saint Francis to Saint Clare, etc. etc. I took them up to Saint Francis’ first, where Mom and Dad got to pray at the tomb of their favorite saint and then reflect on the Medieval paintings within the Church. We shopped and ate and made our way to my girl Saint Clare, whose body is still on display. (Mom thought it was quite fitting that Saint Clare’s church is pink.) Finally we headed down to my favorite place within my favorite town, San Damiano. Pictures were taken, Sunsets were beheld, and life was very good. Surprisngly, it was a very relaxing day for all that work.

   
    
    
    
(Apparently it was just the best ___ he had ever had. I don’t remember. Maybe it was lamb.)

 
   
   

  
Wednesday rolled around and we got up bright and early to visit my neighbor, Pope Francis. Alright so this was technically the second time I was seeing him, but my very first Papal Audience which is kinda of strange since I’ve been here three months. The square was TOTALLY packed; thousands of people had to be there. Papa Francesco spoke about the importance of a family meal, and the importance of putting down our electronics and actually speaking to one another. I went to class and Mom and Dad hit the Vatican Museums to pay a visit to the Sistine Chapel. Thursday flew by just as quickly; we spend all day learning Roman History at the Colosseum and the Roman Forum. We even headed down to Saint Paul’s, where- you guessed it- Saint Paul is buried. Also in the afternoon, I took them to a tiny church which is built on top of Saint Luke’s house. This is also known as the place where Saint Paul was held under house arrest for two years. I’m not sure if I mentioned this in the past, but its a spectacular place, where you really feel like Paul, Peter and Luke had been. And then we headed back to Trastevere for dinner (with Father Graebe, of course).

    
(Quote of the week: “look Ruins!” -Dad)
   
    
   

(Dad made friends with the old Italian lady next to him, although he’ll never admit it

Friday morning, we hopped on a train to begin our weekend in Sorrento. However, there was one teeny tiny little catch: We had to get off in Naples. Because you all know how much I loved Naples!!!!! I might have been a bit dramatic (a bit), so my parents didn’t really believe me when I said it was bad, but they certainly believe me now. We had three hours to kill so we did get some Naples pizza (Alright, I will give them that. They do a good job with their pizza!) and my parents became best friends with the owners and the oven-guy. Hey, we could’ve been related! Who knows!  Then we played the: “Is that fireworks or gunfire?” game, shot up to the Cathedral and then we were done. (Or at least, I was done.)
   
    
 

  
 Father Graebe (who apparently did not get sick of us) agreed to come down to Sorrento with us, so together we got on another ‘train’. (It was the Circumvesuviana. I might have complained about this too, in my post about Naples. Flashback friday, amiright?) 

Here, Mom and Dad finally got to see a port-Italian town and Mom got to wear the lemon scarf I got her for her birthday. It was an awesome, relaxing weekend. 

   

  

    
 
  

(We snuck into a 5-star hotel to take a picture on this balcony. I’m pretty sure it was worth it.)

Sorrento is a small town, and its November, we end up visiting out of season. (For all of you that know my father, you know how much he loves the no-crowds-thing). The streets were pretty empty, but it probably made it more enjoyable. We had no problem finding places to eat or things to do; like any other Italian town, it was full of historic churches. Since Sorrento is a port town, located on top of a cliff, there were views to be seen. Sorrento loves lemons probably more than New York loves apples, meaning everything was lemon flavored, lemon scented, lemon looking, etc. (Oh and can’t forget- the Lemoncello!)

  
  
   

  
Sunday arrived far too quickly. It was a lovely morning; Father said mass in one of the side chapels in Sorrento’s Cathedral, we checked out, ate some more and then hopped on the trains back to Rome. Mom and Dad opted to stay in CUA’s dorms Sunday night, so they said their goodbyes to Father Graebe, then checked in at CUA.

   
 
Just like that, monday

 came around and it was a tearful goodbye. You spend all that time and energy planning for their visit, and just like that its over! But, no complaints. Never in my wildest dreams did I think that I would ever be showing Mom and Dad around Italy! A  shout out to Father Graebe, who was so helpful in planning for this week and made this week so special for everyone. Thank you.

  

  
After all that, life refuses to slow down. Today marks the exact one month mark until I go home for Christmas! Of course I have things to look forward too; next week its Dublin and London. As usual, please keep myself and my classes in your prayers as we continue to travel. Keep Rome in your prayers as well; While things are very safe here, security concerns are always in the back of our minds.
All the best,
Clare