Blog 2: My Summer Romeing Around the Eternal City

I was drawn to Italy for its rich history and culture, for its food and its wine, but also for an internship at a publication called Romeing. Romeing is a magazine for English-speaking travelers and expats which offers a local’s perspective on lifestyle and travel in the eternal city. As an editorial intern, it was my job to construct various travel guides and articles on local events. Initially, I felt extremely under-qualified. My first assignment was a first-timers guide to Rome, incidentally from a first-timer.

My supervisors only used the office for important meetings, so my internship was mostly remote. Of course there were no Starbucks or Panera’s in my neighborhood, but I noticed a lot of creative-looking types with laptops working at Baylon Cafe, right around the corner from my Trastevere apartment. I did my research on coffee in Italy and what would and wouldn’t make me stand out as an ignorant tourist. I ordered a cafe shakerato, a cold expresso drink, shaken with ice and strained, and decided that Baylon would be my office and this would be my drink. I sat in the same spot every day for two months. The waiters drew chocolate hearts in my drink and trained the new staff to know my order before I even sat down. I knew it would break my heart to leave them at the end of the summer.

A week or so into my internship, my supervisors sent me off to report on my first events: two new modern art exhibitions at Palazzo delle Esposizioni. This is when I realized that my art knowledge was not quite where it should be. Then I received the press releases and realized that my Italian was not quite where it should be either. Still, after a lot of research and a lot of Google Translate, I headed towards the expositions, press pass in hand. Two days later, I surprised myself and submitted two of my favorite pieces from the summer. I also reported on Plessi a Caracalla, an immersive exhibition inside the newly-revitalized underground sector of the Baths of Caracalla. The hallways were divided by shelves of ancient artifacts, and in one long passage way stood twelve fluid video installations which artist Fabrizo Plessi created to convey truths about the bath’s complex history.

I was also given the privilege of attending a press release dinner at Cresci, a new restaurant near the Vatican. I brought Sunny, one of my roommates, and we were seated at the end of a long table with the local media, none of whom spoke any English. I felt a little out of place at first, but I was soon distracted by dish after dish of mouthwatering cicchetti, small plates which function similar to tapas. Cresci’s menu offers creative twists on home-style Italian cooking, and I felt like I got a crash-course on Roman staples, from anchovies to suplí, balls of deep-fried rice with tomato sauce and mozzarella. I decided I could spend the rest of my life living off of the eggplant, smoked prosciutto, and buffalo mozzarella pizza. A week later I submitted my very first restaurant review.

I was incredibly humbled that my supervisors entrusted me with these narratives of food, art, and culture. Eventually, I began to feel less that I was out of place and more that I was right where I should be. My experience with Romeing quickly confirmed my career ambitions. The longer I stayed in Rome, the more dynamic it became, as did my abilities as a traveler and a writer.

Blog 1: All Alone in Orvieto

One Friday in late June, my friends were out of town and I found myself all alone in our tiny Trastevere apartment. This happened to be the one weekend of the summer that I, type A as I am, had not filled with a full agenda of travel plans or excursions, and I was feeling a little stir-crazy. A few weeks prior, I took a trip to the Umbria region of Italy and fell madly in love with the hill town of Assisi, the birthplace of St. Francis. The cobblestone streets, the artisan shops, the Grechetto grape Chardonnay: Assisi was so rich yet remained so simple. We passed a few tour groups, even a couple of tourist traps, but not even these took away from the authentic small town feel. Nighttime in Assisi was quiet and eery: history felt like a physical presence lurking around every corner. I wanted to see more of these hill towns. I was fascinated by their medieval architecture, kind inhabitants, and surrounding countryside. Of course, I also knew they were not all one and the same. After a little internet research I decided to embark on my first solo-travel experience to Orvieto—partly because there was a direct train ride from Rome, and this seemed fairly practical. I scrolled through Airbnb and found an affordable apartment with a modern interior in an old town neighborhood. A lot of these hill towns have the old town up on the hill, and the new one down at the bottom where younger generations enjoy modern conveniences.

I arrived in Orvieto at 10:30am the next morning. I took the funicular, which functions similar to a ski-lift, up to the top of the hill and then a bus to the town center. I was greeted by the Duomo di Orvieto with its colorful exterior and intricate rose window. After walking through the church, I was drawn to a pretty little vine-draped side street. I browsed through handprinted pottery shops and picked up a few gifts for family and friends before taking part in an accidental wine-tasting across the street. Then I happened upon Il Mago di Oz. Whimsical and over-cramped, somehow this tiny shop managed to transport me right back into the fairytales of my childhood. In the midst of all the vintage toys and collectibles was a surprisingly large collection of Tiffany lamps. The owner was quiet and kind. He spoke no English yet boasts an entire wall of personal photographs with iconic celebrities like Sarah Jessica Parker.

At this point I was starving, but coffee shops with workspaces were sparse. Finally I saw a picture of a moderately-appetizing sandwich outside an art gallery and wandered inside. I found the artist sitting with his sketchbook. A one man show, he nervously seated me and asked what I wanted. I soon learned that there was no such thing as a menu here and the image outside was only a stock photo. I guiltily broke the unspoken no cappuccino past 11am rule and then indulged in the best sandwich of my life with tomatoes, pork, and cheese spilling out of a brioche bun with a small salad of olives and strawberries. Every twenty minutes or so, he brought out a small cookie or piece of fruit for me. I noticed a few customers asking about his art and eventually I worked up the courage to ask as well. He explained the different sculpting techniques he used and then showed me pieces that his grandfather, also a sculpture in Orvieto, had made almost a century prior. Through these small interactions, I learned so much about people, including myself. If I hadn’t traveled alone, I would not have had the same priorities or experiences that gave this trip meaning.