snuffles talks soccer.

Somehow, despite excessive amounts of Vitamin C and positive thinking, I've managed to get sick. I'm a little stressed out about Berlin (by the way, I'm going to Berlin tomorrow) and school, and I'm just plain tired, so motivation to blog has been hard to come by these past two days. I have a philosophy midterm tomorrow which should be interesting. And I realized this morning that Alex and I booked different flights coming back to Rome from Berlin early Sunday morning. They both leave at 7:15am, just at different airports. Oh boy.

[Sidebar]: Apparently my body thinks it's funny to get sick the day AFTER I make a delicious pot of hot chicken soup. What the hell, man.











In older news, the Roma vs Lazio game was insane. Stadio Olimpico was packed, and the entire experience was unlike any sporting event you will ever attend in the United States. First of all, history major Liz was going crazy over all the fascist statues and symbols around the outside of the stadium - pretty much talking Alex's ear off until I realized she really didn't give a crap. Also, the stadium was big, but not as big as I had expected, so we had a surprisingly good view of the pitch. The ultra - and even the regular fans - definitely lived up to their reputations. They were lighting things on fire, setting off smoke bombs, and throwing things at the field when the game took a turn for the worse. (Fun fact: in Italy, whistling is the preferred method of expressing disapproval. I was so confused at first as to why the Roma fans were whistling for Lazio, but then I figured out whistling is like booing. Weird.) I really wish I spoke more Italian so I could understand/join in with their songs and chants. Although I did find myself gesturing like an Italian by the end of the first half and yelling Italian profanities at the ref. What can I say? It's fun.

We also had an interesting halftime experience when the bald Italian man sitting in front of us (and his son and daughters and eventually everyone else in our little section) took an interest in the American girls and started trying to play matchmaker between Alex and what we believed to be a Hungarian boy. Between our limited Italian and everyone else's limited English, the only words we deciphered were "atomic bomb" and "top-shelf chocolate." Although in hindsight that really doesn't make much sense.

We didn't stay to the end of the game, since getting caught in a mob of angry Roma fans - one that was about to clash with a bunch of celebrating Lazio fans - didn't seem like the best idea for us. On the bright side, we got to ride on uncrowded metro lines, had time to stop for gelato during our hike down Via del Corso, and were in bed by midnight. Baby's first Serie A match = Success.