Tag Archives: Rome

Christine Kekka

A Night Out In Rome: My Own Midsummer Night’s Dream

Rome is generally known for its ancient monuments such as the Colosseum, Castel Sant Angelo and the Imperial Fora, and is less famous for its nightlife. Nevertheless, Continue reading

Robert Lowe

Part 2: Querying Roman History

The beauty of Rome is one that can be viewed internally, as well as externally. The more you understand about  Continue reading


Part 1: The Trevi Fountain

Rome: the capital city where its country’s history vibrates through every crack in the pavements, and every Continue reading

Wenje, Zhang

An American in Rome

As an American transfer student studying full time in Rome, I’ve had the opportunity to travel all over Europe by myself and with others. With Rome as my home base, there has been a very fun and, at times, challenging transition process. This is the beginning of a series discussing this transition and what other Americans visiting Rome should expect.
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Lessons in Transience

I’m sitting on a stone outside my B&B near one of Mantua’s outlying villages at 7am on a Monday morning, waiting for my camp director to pick me up so I can begin my ninth consecutive week at camp. There is no one else around. Just me, sat on a stone, with an empty B&B at my back and a maize field stretching out in front of me.

I’m preparing to move on once again, with the paraphernalia of my identity as an ACLE Tutor scattered around me and my rucksack at my feet. Not just through my time working for ACLE, but throughout my life, I have become comfortable with my identity as something of a nomad. I spent years fighting it but I finally surrendered —  there’s that catchword again – and the liberation and growth that followed has been immense. Perhaps that’s why I travel.

What was it my dad called me the other day? Ah… ‘Transient One.’

Sat in Lombardy, reflecting about the entire trip. www.awams.com

Sat in Lombardy, reflecting about the entire trip. (www.awams.com)

We are all transient. Coming to terms with our transience is one of the most difficult life lessons we all have to learn, I suppose. And so, sitting on that stone outside that nameless B&B in rural Lombardy, feeling very smug about having just applied a very big life concept to a comparatively small occasion, the name of this article was born.

This article is dedicated to documenting those glorious, transient memories I made over the summer, because despite thinking we’ve come to terms with the transient nature of everything, we will still try to contain, to quantify and to keep hold. This is a re-living, a re-telling, and a re-sharing of moments with those I made these memories with, as well as evidence of the fact that you can never predict what is going to happen when you travel.


Looking out of the coach window on my way from Ciampino airport into the city centre upon my arrival in Rome, I spot a man heading a football right into the middle of two rows of stock-still traffic.


The scent of honeysuckle that coats the walls surrounding the garden at the back of the Vatican Museums.

The Vatican Museum gardens are just as beautiful as the museum's contents. landoftheleprechaun.wordpress.com

The Vatican Museum gardens are just as beautiful as the museum’s contents. (landoftheleprechaun.wordpress.com)


Selfie sticks are possibly the most irritating things ever invented.


When your amazing Sicilian host-family take you to the opening night of a beautiful club on the beach and you dance until 3am and they arrange for the DJ to give you and the friends you’re travelling with a shout-out on your last night in Sicily, before going to bed with your head ringing and knowing you have a six-hour coach journey the next morning but sod it, that was amazing and you LOVE ITALY! Phew…


Pecococca per vino for desert: a variety of peach that is ONLY eaten after being steeped in red wine. My host-father said he’d let me know when it was ready to eat, so there I am, patiently contemplating my wine-soaked fruit, when my eight-year-old host-sister appears and swipes my host-father’s cup from under his nose, scoffs the fruit, drains the glass and smacks her lips in satisfaction.


When we sang along to ‘See You Again’ in the car on the way from Rodia to Messina Coach Station, from where we then took the coach to Puglia, struggling not to cry.

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