Snowshoeing at Solitude: A review of sorts

When I was a kid, I made exactly one snowman. I was approximately 3 years old at the time. Later, when I was 16, I went with my friend Cindy to a hill and attempted to snowboard.

That's all I got for winter outdoor activities, folks. I guess I've always been more of inside kind of girl.

So when I started to think about snowshoeing this year, it seemed foreign. But I've realized the past few years how much I love winter running. I'm not in the least afraid of the cold; I actually love it. I'm faster in the winter than I am in the summer, and my asthma doesn't seem to bother me as much. Plus, with my kids getting older, all they ever want to do is hang out with their friends. I'm happy to let them do that, but I'm finding that if we don't find things to actually go out and do, then we don't ever do anything together.

On Christmas Eve, we went sledding at a park near our house. It was really fun and it solidified my determination that we would soon try snowshoeing. Shane found us all boots. Then the day after Christmas, I got my very first pair of snowpants. (They are seriously so cute. I got them at Costco and I wore them for the rest of the day after I bought them.) I found a great deal on snowpants for both Shane and Thomas, and Ben already had a pair. We were ready, and all we had to do was pick a day and go.

That day finally came on Saturday. I had researched snowshoeing in Utah and found that the Silver Lake area at Solitude Ski Resort is the perfect place to snowshoe. The reason are many, but include:

• 6 miles of dedicated and groomed snowshoeing trails.
• Easy and relatively inexpensive rentals. They were very helpful, and asked us lots of questions. Thomas didn't have waterproof boots so they suggested overshoes for him. They asked which of us wanted poles (only I wanted them) as a way to save money. We were all outfitted and ready within 10 minutes of walking in to the Nordic Center.
• Free parking
• Easy to follow trails (once you realize the markings - will explain later!)
• A shuttle bus that allows you to travel between Silver Lake and the main Solitude Ski Resort.
• Color coded maps along the trails.

We got to Solitude about 12:00. We had originally planned on doing a half-day of snowshoeing, but to do that, you have to arrive after 12:30. Even so, it was still around $21 a person for the rentals and day pass. Not bad for trying out a new activity.

I kept thinking as I was getting my snowshoes on that standing up would feel like ice skating, but it didn't. There is nothing at all similar about ice skating and snowshoeing other than they both involve your feet and cold weather, ha ha.

The trail starts right outside of the Nordic Center. However, being new, we had no idea at first that we were on the cross country ski trail. We bumbled around for about 10 minutes, unsure of where we were supposed to be going until the person who helped us with our rental directed us to the trail. After that, it was super easy to follow the blue ribbons to stay on course. They were tied to trees, posts, bushes, and poles. There were other trails marked in other colors - we ended up taking blue around the lake, and then orange around another trail that took us past some lovely winter cabins. The two trails make a figure 8, and total about 1.5 miles.

The snowshoe trail is about 3 feet wide - wide enough for just a single person to snowshoe, and to pass others on the trail. By the time we started, the trail was pretty trampled, which was nice because it was less work, but kind of sad because it was fun to step on virgin snow. We each stepped a few feet off the track at some point just to make our own footsteps. It's fun to watch the snowshoes cut through the snow, and amazing to see how even though you sink a little, you still stay relatively higher than you would in regular shoes.

I used poles, and both boys used borrowed them for a time during our walk. Having poles isn't necessary in any way, but it makes it fun. I liked how they added an upper body component to the snowshoeing. (I've found this when I've used them hiking as well.) The poles were nice to have especially when going uphill. It took a little less strain off of of the legs.

Our little snowshoe adventure took us about 2 hours. We weren't trying to win any speed awards. We stopped and took pictures, laid in the snow to make snow angels, threw snowballs at trees, put snow down clothing (well, some of us), and admired the scenery. It was seriously such a gorgeous day - it was snowing just enough to be beautiful but not super cold. The wind was cold, but once you were moving, it sort of faded into the background, and was completely absent during our time on the orange Cabin trail, which is a little more sheltered.

I wore a pair of ColdGear UnderArmor tights, my snow pants, a pair of wool socks and a pair of acrylic (but my boots kept my feet so warm I would have been fine with one pair of socks), a short sleeve running shirt, a long sleeve running shirt, a running jacket, and a coat. I could have survived (and would have preferred) without my coat. I wore gloves sometimes, but other times I took them off because I was too hot or wanted to take pictures.

Once you get the rhythm down, you sort of forget you are wearing snowshoes at all. The kind I had required me to step toe-first instead of heel first, because the spikes were at the front of the snowshoes. There is a hinge that allows your hill to come up but the snowshoe to stay down.

Everyone had a great time. I would have loved to stay longer, but unknown to us until the very end, Ben had the stomach flu so he was more than ready to be done when we got back to the Nordic Center.We finished off the day by stopping at a cafe called Silver Fork Lodge for a delicious lunch.

Now for some pictures.

Not too bad for an inside girl, I'd say.


Have you ever been snowshoeing? Any advice or local trails you can recommend?

We were 465 and 7586.

When we would check out books from the library as kids, there would be envelope at the back of the book with a card in it. To check out the book, the librarian would take out the card and write the last four of your phone number on the card. There were a lot of books that had 7586 on them.

About a year ago, my mom let our old phone number go. That was weird. I always liked the little pattern that 7586 made on the phone. When it was coupled with the prefix, all the numbers in the middle two rows of the phone were used. It was strange to know that I couldn't ever call that number and have the anyone in my family answer.

This weekend, my mom moved out of her house. 465 has gone the way of 7586. The numbers still exist, of course, but have no more relevance to our family.

My dad used the chassis from an old truck of some kind to make this mailbox post.

I went there for the last time on Thursday. I helped my mom in the kitchen mostly, packing the cleaning supplies from under the sink, sweeping now-empty pantry, and other odds and ends. In the early afternoon, we sat down and ate a Jimmy John's sandwich. I made sure to sit in my old place at the table so I could look out the window at the mountain with the face in it that only Amy and I could ever see. The church that was built in 1991 sort of ruined the view. And the trees that my dad planted that just kept growing and growing.

This is what it looked like to eat dinner from my chair. Back in the day, Michele and Suzette would have occupied these two chairs. My dad would have been to my left, my mom on my right, and Amy at the other end of the table to the right of my mom.

In fourth grade, I read "Anastasia Again!" by Lois Lowry. In it, Anastasia Krupnik moves from her apartment in Cambridge to the suburbs. On moving day, everyone is sad, but especially her little brother. He says his blankie is sad to leave the apartment. As a solution, Anastasia cuts the blankie in half and folds it small and leaves it in the corner of the hutch. I always remembered this scene when I move and have made a habit of leaving little "I was here" tokens. So after lunch I took a sharpie and went on a mission. I don't know if you are supposed to do this or not, but I wrote a message on the very top shelf of my old closet. "This was Amy and Becky's room. Then it was Becky's room." I then gave the sharpie to my mom to do the same. Standing on the stepstool so she could reach the very top of her closet, she wrote "I loved this house" and signed her name. I remembered the picture I took on Christmas of what I felt like was my dad's "I was here." How long will it take the new owners to find these leftover clues?

The tree grew around the saw my dad left in the tree many years ago. Just the tip of the blade is now visible.

Before I left, I walked through every single room and remembered and remembered. I lingered in my old bedroom longest, thinking of the nights Amy and I would talk when we were little, watching the lights from the cars make a familiar track across the ceiling. I thought about the mornings when I would lay in my bed after eating breakfast and look in my closet to decide what to wear. I realized how impossible it was to remember it all. I felt that strange juxtaposition of being in a place right at that moment and knowing that very soon the moment would end and I wouldn't ever stand there again but again, being right there.

So many emotions. Not all of them good. I wish some things could have gone better in this process, but it wasn't mine to control.

I doubt I will  ever stop having dreams about this place.

Goodbye, 465.

Get a good grip on your heels.

Last week was insane. I can't go into all of the crazy, but suffice it to say, I never want another week like that again. Looking back, if I had to say what caused most of the anguish, I would say it was lack of planning on the part of others, insensitivity and assumptions, and the foolish feeling in me to always need verification of my feelings from others combined with a tendency to want to take care of people in impossible ways.

Basically, a recipe for disaster.

By the time Saturday rolled around, I had an emotional hangover to match the real hangover I had the morning after my bachelorette party. I felt bruised and battered and I had a desperate urge to feel something physical to take away the emotional drama. So I went to hot yoga. While I usually strive to do my very best in class, I gave myself permission to get through whatever I could in the class, even if that meant just laying in Savasana. Plus I knew that even if I cried through the whole class, no one would know because it would just look like sweat. Hopefully.

Luckily, I did okay. I did take a knee for the second set of Triangle Pose. I got through all of the floor poses in a good state of mind until the second set of Half-Tortoise Pose, when I began to have a mini-panic attack at the thought what was next - Camel Pose. Camel is always a hard one for me. If there is anything emotional going in my life at the time, it usually bubbles up during Camel. I've cried in it, I've felt elated in it, I've also felt absolutely nothing in it (but that is rare.)



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I found I was breathing so fast I thought I would hyperventilate. Even though I was 3 feet from the front mirror, I avoided any eye contact with myself. I dragged myself into the beginning position of the pose, head down. Leaning backward into the pose felt like I was being flayed. Or crucified. I could barely endure the feeling of exposure. I kept thinking of the terrible conversations I'd had in the preceding days, and I recognized the same feelings of panic and despair. When it was time to come out, I got out as quickly as possible, collapsed onto my back, and cried, dreading the knowledge I'd just have to do it all again.

But that was when I got pissed. When Savasana was done, I let my anger drive me. I turned around, stood up on my knees, and stomped my way towards the mirror (which looks as comical as it sounds), looking at forward the entire time. Before I dropped my head back to begin the pose, I stared into my own eyes and let the person in the mirror look defiantly back. I went into Camel and let all my anger override my fear of the openness. It was the exact same pose as before, but the intention was completely different. I let that sink in, and thought of the recent conversations and how I could improve my intentions, even if the consequences are the same. I stayed in the pose just a few seconds after the instruction to come out came, just to prove to myself I could face and learn from hard things.

After Camel comes Rabbit. Rabbit is as closed off as a pose can be.

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It was a relief to feel protected again. I listened to the instructions that were given - get a good grip on your heels. What I heard was "Get a grip on your life, Becky." I need to find a good handhold inside of me to balance my recent openness with people I've been closed off to for 20 years with my tendency to close off to those same people. Pulling back in didn't negate the openness I felt before. The thought came to me to adapt to the extremes and find the middle. As I came out of Rabbit, the instructor reminded me to come out slowly, aligning my spine one vertebrae at a time (which is so symbolic of what has been going on lately), tightening my core, bringing up my head last, keeping that good grip on my heels, and finding my eyes in the mirror.

I don't always have such a dramatic yoga class. I went to the class with the hope that Camel pose would do its worst and allow me to see clearer.

What I took away from the class was:

• I can be open with people without flaying myself or allowing them to flay me. 
• My Camel doesn't have to be so deep, and my Rabbit doesn't have to be so protected.
• I need to stop finding the extremes in everything, stop allowing others to ruin my zen, straighten my spine, and lift up my head to face the world.

Gratitude, Day 2

Today was my youngest niece's wedding. It was a beautiful day, and I was so glad to be able to be there.

I didn't take any pictures. Well, that is a lie: I did take one selfie before the ceremony. But other than that, nada. When I was the photographer at the wedding this summer, I was annoyed at all the others taking pictures. I had also read a post about letting the photographer do his/her job by staying out of the way. So I kept my phone and camera in my lap and enjoyed the ceremony and dinner afterward, making mental pictures and trying to make memories.

(Side note: I was so nervous for the photographer during the ceremony. Gah! So many moments to try and capture. Moments that don't come again, that don't have a do-over. I'm sure she did a great job, but I was having some serious anxiety on her part.)

After the ceremony, I sat with my family and chatted. There wasn't any one moment that was significant. I simply enjoyed myself. I loved seeing all of my family together. Sure there were some tense moments. But there were others that made me laugh, like when we put together a group photo of my boys, Amy's boys, and our husbands with the bride and had them make the duck face. Or when everyone was teasing Shane about his hair (he's been growing it out all summer and it looks smoking hot. Everyone had an opinion about it.), and my two oldest nieces laughed about a long ago memory of Shane's hair that they love to tease him about.

My mom's wedding dress and photo were on display. I looked at what a beautiful woman she was, and still is. I liked looking at her hands in the picture: the same hands I've watched sew nightgowns and dresses for dances and costumes and quilts, make countless yummy dinners and desserts, and hold my little girl hands back before I was too cool to hold my mom's hand anymore. I love her. My grandma's cedar chest was there, too. Right before we left, my mom gave me a baby picture of me that she had found in the chest. My grandma had written "Becky Bue In Hospital" on the back. It made it feel like my grandma was right there (which I know she was.)

It was fun to talk with so many of my nieces and nephews. I don't see them as often as I'd like, but when I do, I feel so proud of who they are. They are moms, dads, students, basketball players, workers, artists, soccer players, video game aficionados, runners, readers, dancers, and more. So many talents and personalities.

I hugged my sisters. I love them. I don't want to know what life is like without them.

I love my family. I love being with them and being a part of them. I'm so grateful for the incredible people that they are. We get annoyed at each other and then we forgive. We aren't perfect. But they are mine and I wouldn't trade them for anything.

Summer 2014 Images

On Friday, Amy posted this about End of Summer images. I wanted to comment and tell her how much I loved her images, and share some moments of my own. But then I realized had an entire post of moments that I don't want to forget from Summer 2014.

Dinner with Shane. One night, the kids wanted to stay in with takeout from Five Guys, while Shane and I were more interested in our favorite Mexican restaurant. So we went on a date, just the two of us. It was a simple enough moment: sitting on the bench outside the restaurant, chatting and holding hands. Watching a group of girls who were all wearing their purple softball team uniforms talking and laughing and team-ing together. The view of the mountains, which were that shade of summer green that happens just before they start to turn. Later, the taste of a giant cold Coke and warmed refried beans with chips and salsa (the delicious detail that sets this restaurant apart from others.)

Walking with Ben. Thomas and Shane were running a four-mile training run for Thomas's black-belt physical test. Ben walked with me. The kid talked the whole time: wondering if the rock next to the trail was a meteor; why the sky was darker blue above us and lighter blue lower on the horizon; trying to find a rock of just the perfect size next to the trail that could be a meteor that wouldn't cause a giant crater, but would still put a dent in the trail. I loved his ceaseless chatter, the browning grasses next to the trail, the reddening trees on the mountains to the west, as he rode his scooter along the trail "that was only for walking, not for cartwheeling" he had earlier declared after I demonstrated a cartwheel.

Eating with Thomas. One evening, it ended up that it was only me and Thomas home for dinner, a very, very rare occurrence in our house. Shane was at a late meeting at work, and Ben had gone to the trampoline park with the neighbor kid's family. Not wanting to make dinner, I picked up Thomas from karate and declared it was date night. We went to Carl's Junior together (I'm a sucker for CJ!). We got burgers and fries and cokes and laughed through dinner. He's grown up so much this summer; he's now within an inch of my height, has bigger hands, and bigger feet than me. He's also matured so much, thanks to working at the library for volunteer hours, mowing lawns for his grandma and neighbors, and running with his dad. It was a great summer of growth for him.

Running in San Diego with my foursome. This is a family snapshot: Shane and Thomas ahead of me. We are in the cross walk at the intersection of Mission Bay Boulevard and San Rafael street, between the two bodies of water: the Pacific beach and Mission Bay, just down from our favorite San Diego hotel. Ben is riding his scooter next to me, and I am running. Usually runs in San Diego are solitary, but Thomas had a goal of running 4 miles without stopping before he started school, and so we did it all together on vacation.

Sitting in my sister's pool. For my mom's birthday, we had a family party at my sister's pool. I rarely swim, but on that day, I put on my suit and sat on the steps of the pool with my mom, sister Suzette, and great-niece Josie while she learned to not be afraid of the water. At some point, I ended up stealing my mom's straw hat right off of her head, which I wore for the rest of the party. Later, Amy and my niece Lyndsay came and sat with me. Visiting and watching the kids scream and play and swim while we visited made me happy.

Waiting for Wicked with Sisters Squared. The people on our Italy trip took to taking me and my mom and sisters Sisters Squared. It sort of stuck. In August, we got tickets to Wicked together. Looking down at the curtain at Capital Theater as we took selfies, talked about books we were reading, planned where we would eat dinner later (Desert Edge), and shared in the excitement of being together again as Sisters Squared is an image I don't want to forget.

Swearing with Amy. The end of Ragnar was a disaster. Amy and I sort of hobbled across the finish line, both of us near tears, swearing like sailors as the rest of our team ran ahead. I loved that I could tell my sister in just a few words what I was feeling, and that I didn't have to censor myself, but she would understand and swear along with me while declaring her own frustrations.

Talking Mom about laundry. A few weeks ago I had a little conversation on the phone with my mom that turned somehow to laundry. She told me a little story about folding laudry with my grandma when my two older sisters were tiny. My mom doesn't tell stories about that time very often, and I loved that it just came up so naturally.

Standing on the Pier at Pacific Ocean. I did get to go on one solo run during our time in San Diego. We stayed at a different hotel than we usually do; we were just down the beach a few miles, but it felt so different. I ended up on the sand, instead of the boardwalk where I normally run. I ran all the way to the end of Crystal Pier, where I stopped running, turned on I Wanna Get Better  by Bleachers (I didn't know I was lonely til I saw your face...) and looked out at the ocean. I love the way running on the beach smells. It's fishy and salty and sweaty, and it clears out my soul in a way that no other running anywhere can.

Thanks, Amy for your beautiful and inspiring post.(I enjoyed that moment at Ragnar, too. I always love driving out of Kamas on Saturday morning. It's one of my favorite parts of Ragnar.)

What are your summer images?

Roma...

It is bothering me SO MUCH that I don't have my Italy trip blogged. But when I think about it, I get so overwhelmed. How do I write about 10 of the most amazing days of my life? Do I do it minute by minute? Do I do just the highlights? Do I do it by topic - churches, fountains, piazzas? I just don't know. And therefore I think about blogging it, instantly get frustrated, and then write nothing.

(Which, as a sidenote, is another thought. I want to write something. I have always wanted to write a book. But I think of my ideas for a book [which really don't exist] and then I think, I don't have a story to tell. So then I write nothing. I'm failing before I even try. But that is sort of another topic for another day. Rant over.)

So let's talk about Rome. Or Rooommmaaa, as our fascist Roman tour guide Corrinne called it. Rome was probably my favorite city on the tour. I love cities so how could I not love Rome? We arrived bright and early on Tuesday morning. We had hoped to spend the day at a beach nearby that Amy had found, but when we got to our hotel it was too early to check in so we couldn't do that. Suddenly I was sent out into this foreign place with my mom and sisters, with the goal of buying postcards, getting money from an ATM, and eating some food. That first half an hour on the street was comical. We were clueless American tourists, bumbling around, trying to speak pigeon Italian while we tried to figure out how to open the door to the bank. I can remember standing on a corner, frustrated as hell, hungry, grumpy, and angry at every living soul who came in my path. It all seemed so confusing and foreign. I was ready to throw in the towel and go home.

Luckily, a few minutes later we sat down at a streetside cafe and ate. Our pizzas were intended to be shared, but we all ordered our own. We all laughed about that, and I proceeded to eat every bite of my pizza. The waiter was a little shocked, as was my family, but afterwards, I was much calmer and ready to explore. Amy, my mom, and I spent the afternoon visiting two of the famous Roman basilicas - Santa Maria degli Angeli (which was originally a Roman bath but was reconstructed into a church and designed by Michelangelo) and Santa Maria Maggiore. They were both within walking distance of our hotel. My favorite was Santa Maria degli Angeli. It was very reverent and peceful inside. There was this amazing purple stained glass window that I tried and tried to get in a picture, but could never quite capture its beauty.

The purple stained glass. Impossible to photograph!

The dome inside - not as large as St Peter's, but still amazing

There was a lovely little walled garden outside that we wandered through on our way out. It was incredible to consider that I was walking in a building designed by Michelangelo. It was older than any building I'd ever been in in my life up to that point. Amazing. Even Saint Peter's Basilica was second to this church, though. I guess you just never forget your first Italian basilica.

Santa Maria Maggiore is famous for the relic it holds - a piece of Jesus' manger. It also has a ceileing that has flowers made from gold donated by King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella of Spain - you know, the ones that funded Columbus' journey. I kept thinking, "How is this possible? This building is older than my country?" (It wasn't the first time I thought this, by the way.)

The facade of Santa Maria Maggiore's

The golden ceiling

All along the sides were confessionals. I might have slipped inside one if the English one had been open. They all had the language and times posted right on the front of them.

We also visited the Opera house and walked through the Piazza della Republica. I don't have any photos of these places - and now I am sad. There was an amazing fountain in the Piazza as well as a giant sculpture. Amy and I wandered back there after dinner one night. We ate gelato and walked arm in arm through the quiet Roman streets.

Our second day in Rome was busy busy. The Pope was giving an address at St Peter's so our visit to the Vatican museum was much less crowded than it normally would have been. However, we still went through the museum at an alarmingly fast pace. The highlight of the morning was visiting the Sistine Chapel. I stood exactly below the panel showing Adam touching the finger of God for about 5 of the precious 20 I was allowed in the chapel. I wrote in my journal as I viewed all the artwork. It was magnificent. The chapel is much, much smaller than I ever imagined it would be. Altogether too soon, I had to leave (remember: fascist Roman tour guide!)

 After lunch at an amazing but very overpriced lunch on the street in front of the Vatican, we had a tour of Rome. We walked (again, at an alarmingly fast pace!) from the Spanish Steps (of which we were unable to go up - we could only visit them, argh!) to Trevi Fountain (there is an amazing gelateria there that also has free bathrooms - score!) to the Temple Adriano, to the Pantheon (had enough time to walk around it one time and then had to leave!) then to Piazza Navona (we visited the inside of the church here, looked at the fountain, and took pictures.) We came out of all this Roman madness by the Tiber River, where the beautiful sycamore trees were draping over the wall. I had loved all the places I had been but simply didn't have enough time to spend at any of them.

By the Vatican wall

Room in Vatican Museum

Ceiling in hall of Vatican Museum

View of St Peter's from a window in Museum

Suzette and Mom on the ramp in the Vatican musuem

My lunch. So amazing!

Roman drinking fountain. The water was so good!

Roman street

Spanish Steps

Dome in Pantheon

Pantheon

Street near Piazza Navona. I liked the iron work on the windows.

Fountain near Piazza Navona

Church at Piazza Navona

 

Piazza

 That evening Amy and I went up on the roof of our hotel. We took some silly pictues of each other and then visited with a couple who were some of our favorites on the tour, Craig and Connie. It was lovely and relaxing too see the sun setting over the rooftops of Rome. We ate that night in a lovely restaurant called L'Europeo that was delicious! We met some people from Ireland that we visited with both nights (because we liked it so much we had to go back the second night!)That night, Amy and I sat with all the drinking crowd at the bar in the hotel lobby. They were a lively group and fun to chat with. There was a whole contingent of peole on the tour who took the time to sit in cafe's with a bottle of wine and friendly chatter. I kind of envied their way of touring Italy. I wanted to see everything and not miss any moment or site. They seemed to have the sure knowledge that they would be back again one day, so if they missed going in a church or a site, it was fine. It is a different way of traveling - one day, I hope I can take that kind of casual attitude on my travels.I learned a lot from watching them.

Rome from the roof

The third day we went to the Coloseum, Forum, and St. Peters with our group.

Memories:

• Seeing the altar where Julius Caesar was cremated. Amazing!
• Climbing on rocks to take pictures with my mom and Amy
• Walking around the entire circumference of the Colosseum all on my own.
• Seeing a cat running through the Colosseum (I now want a "Cats of the Colosuem calendar! There are over 300 cats that live in there and in the Forum. I love it!)
• Walking on the stones into the Forum - the path was smoothed by thousands of years of feet being walked on it. Amazing.
• Buying Shane a cross at St. Peter's.
• WAndering through St. Peter's. It's just so collosal - it's impossible to take it all in.
• Crossing myself with holy water from St. Peter's. When in Rome, right?
• Touching the door in St Peter's that only opens every 25 years
• Standing in front of the Pieta, overcome with the beauty of it. Sigh, I just love Mary.
• Loving knowing where we were and how to get to places that we wanted to go to during the afternoon. Since we had eaten in the square in front of St. Peter's the day before, the sense of being lost all the time was beginning to lift.
• Buying a scarf from one of the people on the street
• Taking pictures of the dome in St. Peter's.
• Kneeling at one of the altars and reflecting on how blessed I felt to be there with my mom and sisters at that very moment. 

I loved all of those places so much. It was fun to walk through all the antiquities, talking with our tour group and getting to know them better. Amy and I were forever taking pictures, bringing up the rear of the group with one of the tour hosts, Brian. We had so much fun being at the back of the line.

After our group tour, we ate from one of the food trucks near St. Peter's. Our tour guide had left us so we were on our won for the afternoon. My mom and Suzette took a cab back to the hotel and Amy and I set out to visit the castle at Castel Sant'Angelo - which is also called Hadrian's Tomb (because Hadrian's remains were kept there for hundreds of years, followed by prisoners, Pope's, and other people over the next 2000 years.) This was my favorite place to visit because Amy and I could go at our own pace. There was a beautiful library inside where we couldn't take pictures - it was seriously one of the prettiest rooms I've ever been in. We climbed all the way to the very top so we could get the best view in Rome.

Path to the forum

Fountain in forum

If I ever got a tattoo, I would want it to be this flower

I thought this was so pretty. By the hill that the Palatino is on

Nun at St. Peter's

The door that only opens every 25 years

Hadrian's Tomb

On top of Hadrian's castle

Steps to the Bibliotheque in Castle Sant'Angelo

After the castle, we walked across the bridge built in 138 AD to walk down to the Tiber River. The steps were so long! We listened to a Depeche Mode cover of  U2's So Cruel while we walked by the river. Amazing.

Then we dove back into the madness of the Rome we had visited yesterday - but were able to do it at our own pace. We ate 2 gelato, went back to the Pantheon to get a proper tour, visisted St. Ignacio's church, and finally made it back to the Spanish Steps which we could climb. At the top is the most beautiful little church - Trinita dei Monti - which we went inside. They were doing mass in French which was just the icing on the cake. I had wanted to speak French the entire time I was in Rome - I couldn't remember enough Itallian, but my 2 years of French in college came back to me in a storm. It was so peaceful to sit and listen the beautiful singing of the nuns and priest and then listen to a bit of mass. I loved this church - I crossed myself with holy water from here as I left.

Near where we ate rose flavored gelato

On Spanish Steps

I will always remember this lovely afternoon with my sister. We went at our own pace - walking fast between places and then slow when we got to the monuments we wanted to explore. Eating two gelato in the space of an hour. Taking pictues of our feet and of a bottle of Deep Blue in random places. Running into people from our tour, feeling like we were meeting up with old friends. Getting ourselves onto the Metro and managing to not get pick-pocketed. Buying souvenirs. Finding our way through the city streets, navigativing to the places we wanted to go. Going from iconic Christian churches to pagan temples in the space of 20 minutes. Getting back to the hotel and having the tour group people tell us that our mom had been looking for us and boy, were we in trouble. I loved this day with my sister. I wish that my mom and Suzette had joined us, though. We had so much fun!

I hope I get to go back to Roma one day. It was an amazing city!