These lyrics have been playing in my head for the past week but instead of home, insert Rome, and not that I want to go back there, but that I never want to leave:
Romeward bound, I wish I was
Romeward bound...
Rome, where my thought's escaping
Rome, where my music's playing
Rome, where my love lies waiting
Silently for me...
Sniffle, sniffle. I was supposed to go to Ireland with my sister this weekend, but Iceland's volcano decided to blow its load everywhere and grounded us both. It's okay, though, because I am getting reimbursed by Ryanair, I'm getting my homework done, and after celebrating Rome's 2,763rd birthday in Piazza del Popolo on Wednesday, I learned that for the "Settimana della Cultura", all state-owned museums are free.
JACKPOT! Therefore, I decided to can the bitching about missing out on Publin to do the rest of the things on my list. Accomplished this weekend: inside the Pantheon when it rained (the oculus lets the rain fall to the marble down below), scoured the Palatine Hill and saw Augustus's house, held a gun in Castel Sant'Angelo, toured the Baths of Caracalla, and went to the beach.
Now that I have a month minus 2 days left in Europe with no job for the summer or money to enjoy myself with, I am seriously contemplating many risky life moves. What if I work in a hostel? No, not in Italy, because of the language barrier, but maybe in Ireland? What if I spend the last of my money on the one thing I've been thinking about nearly every day I've been here- a tattoo? What if I just...miss my flight home?
What could happen?
Would you leave this?
-Cason
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