Vienna e Amsterdam

I am a delinquent blogger. E vero. Mi dispiace.






Here of photos from Amsterdam and Vienna!

Posts to follow.

Amo Londra

Click here for pictures from my lovely weekend in London.






I am almost done with exams (last two tomorrow) and then on Saturday I am off to Amsterdam. I will be there until Tuesday and then move on to Vienna before landing in JFK on Saturday the 22nd.

I'll be home soon.

Sono Stanca

Let me begin by telling you that my study abroad program is not a joke. We don't do coloring books and "group trips".

My week has been as follows:

Sunday night: 2 hours of sleep

Monday: 10 pager due for Egypt. It was a critical analysis of the representation of Egyptian death rituals in The Mummy. Yes, one can write at least 10 pages on the subject.

5 hours of sleep

Tuesday: Used to write the Archaeology of Rome paper that was due Wednesday.

45 minutes of sleep

Wednesday: 10 pager for Arch of Rome. This gem was on Pompeii, it was a refutal of "The Pompeii Premise."

Wednesday night was spent writing the paper that was due Thursday

2 hours of sleep

Thursday: 10 pager due for Arts of Antiquity. It was a critical analysis and evaluation of the Nile Mosaic at Palestrina. I argued in favor of the mosaic as an image of exoticism.

Thursday night was spent writing the myth that was due on Friday.

Sadly, there was not enough time to write both the myth and Roman political paper.

3 hours of sleep

Friday: 10 page myth and analysis due for Mythology. Mine was an allegory for the oil crisis.

also due was a 10 page paper on the role that soft power played in the Roman Republic for Caesar, Cicero, and the Collapse of the Roman Republic. After missing the 3:30 pm deadline, I spent from 6:00pm to 12:30 am finishing.

I am now off to pack for my weekend in London during which I intend to do nothing but wander, sleep, and enjoy myself. Well, maybe study a little because...

in case 5 papers weren't enough, I still have the pleasure of 4 finals next week.

Grand.

However, after finals I am off to Amsterdam and Vienna!

La Greccia

Click here for pictures from my weekend in Athens!

Il Giorno del Tacchino (Pt. 2)

To keep it short and sweet, the recipe for a perfect Thanksgiving across the pond:

1 Nathaniel imported from Florence
1 Alison imported from Barcelona
1 Justine imported from DC
1 room filled with friends and guests

1 batch of Melanie's stuffing
1 mind blowing zucchini bread
2 huge tins of mashed potatoes
2 interesting plates of turkey
several bottles of 1,20 E wine from Todis
1 huge platter of 5-cheese macaroni and cheese

Combine gradually, mixing in conversation, travel stories, and a pinch of reminiscing.

Consume slowly and submit to the food coma that will ensue.

Follow with dancing in Testacchio the next night.

Il Giorno del Tacchino (Pt.1)

Here are a few pictures from our crazy, fun, yummy weekend. Post to follow.

Verità Circa Gli Uomini

The rumor of perfect, tall, dark, and handsome men in Italy is just that. A rumor. A myth. A dirty trick. A lie.

Here is the truth:

1. You will never meet a man in Italy, because you will pass out from the body odor before he can even say his name.
2. If you make it past the introduction, you will probably fall off of his scooter before arriving at the restaurant at which you are supposed to eat dinner.
3. Skinny men in skinny jeans are just wrong.
4. They have no idea what attractive hair looks like.
1. Mullets are not attractive. Never have been, never will be.
2. Rat tails are even worse than mullets.
3. What is worse than the two styles above is the slicked-over bangs look with the back teased out like a peacock.
5. They know nothing about approaching women. For example:
1. "Ciao Ciao" is not a successful pickup line, especially when hollered out a window, from scaffolding, from a garbage truck, etc.
2. "Ciao Ciao" accompanied with kissing noises is no more attractive than the phrase by itself.
   
6. They missed the memo that women are not dogs, and should not be whistled at as such.
7. They all have dandruff. There is not enough Head and Shoulders in the world for this country.
8. They refuse to accept that purses are for women.
   

This rant was inspired by me simply trying to walk down the street to the open-air market.

Sente Come La Casa a Me

As Thanksgiving rapidly approaches, we are all growing increasingly anxious for the familiar faces that will be waiting at the arrival gates of our respective cities in one month's time. I, however, was lucky enough to see my favorite faces last week. Mom, Dad, Rebecca, and Henry hopped the pond to join me for their, well, our first European vacation.

School took a backseat to the last outdoor dinners of the season and the essential, day-ending, gelato with the fam. I have met incredible people during my time in Rome, but still no one compares to family, to that feeling of home that lies in the people, not the place.

We conquered the hot spots, with Mom and Dad exploring public transportation on their first and second attempts at the Vatican as well as Villa Borgese, and Rebecca enjoying the outdoor sightseeing (An hour in any given museum will put her over the edge). We spent just enough time each afternoon sipping caffe lattes as Mom consulted Rick Steves for our next stop and even got the Christmas card picture in front of the Colosseum.

Rebecca, in an amazing burst of maturity managed to make her way through not only St. Peter's Basilica, but also the Vatican Museums in order to see the Sistine Chapel. Both, I believe are noteworthy feats.

Intoxicated by Italy's ubiquitous and magical (yes, magical) leather, Mom, Rebecca, and Henry all left with hand bags. (Have no fear, Henry did not catch the man-purse syndrome, his bag was for his mother.) Rebecca even fell for a pair of boots.

We ended each day in a carb coma after sampling gnocchi, pizza, and just about every sauce we could find. We even ended up at the same neighborhood restaurant two nights in a row because the cuisine (and server for that matter) was so delectable. Our two-night stint proved that the best food comes from the restaurants with no English on the menu.

Mom and Dad experienced my open-air market, quickly fell for the fresh mozzarella di buffalo from my bakery, and even made friends with my little fruitteria guy downstairs who only sells fruit, water, wine, and beer.

So, save a minor pickpocketing attempt that Dad quickly squashed, a grand time was had by all. While I am sad that I am missing my first Norwalk Thanksgiving football game in 20 years and am angry that the stupid Italians haven't heard of a whole turkey, I feel refreshed and ready to plow through my last month having spent a great week with the people I love.

Come un Roamer (Pt. 2)

So yet again, I have put up pictures and left you hanging on the post. My apologies.

Fall break ended up being even more productive than we expected. Kyle and I managed to explore Rome, Pompeii, Venice, and Milan in 11 days.

After meeting Kyle in the airport, we returned home to drop his stuff and meet the room mates before we headed out for the first of what would be many rounds of gelato. Over the course of the week we developed a process known as Strategic Gelato Acquisition (SGA). It involves an evaluation of geographic location, presentation, texture, and flavor of gelato. He covered chocolate and coffee while I concentrated on raspberry, strawberry, and frutti di bosco. I think we have developed the hot spots of each of our destinations.

The next few days were spent visiting the Trevi Fountain, Spanish Steps, Vatican Museums, St. Peter's Basilica, Capitoline Hill, Forum, Colosseum, Pantheon, Vittorio Emanuele, Via del Corso, Trastevere, and Campo di Fiori.

We then decided to do a day trip to Pompeii. While I was thrilled to get a Harry Potter compartment on the train to Naples, I quickly realized that they are less fun when you share them with four strangers rather than Ron and Hermione.

I had been to Pompeii once before with a geology course, but I had forgotten how incredible it is. (As it turns out, I had also forgotten where the site was.) While we were a bit nervous when the guy at the train station pointed us down a long, and fairly barren street, we knew we were headed in the right direction when we started to pass people with cameras and high white socks.

With relatively few areas roped off, the site is fairly interactive. We walked down the cobbled streets that still have the impressions of cart wheels and walked through houses with frescoes, reliefs, and mosaics still intact. While it would go against my archaeology thesis statement to say that you get a feeling that the houses seem to have been frozen in time, it is fair to say that Pompeii really is unique in the insight it gives you into the design of the houses and the lifestyles of their inhabitants. On the streets you can see temples, a laundromat, and food stations that would have been their equivalent of McDonalds.

As we reached the forum, we saw plaster casts of people choking on the volcanic fumes and shelves of pots, bowls, and treasures recovered from homes. Sadly, pillagers of the 1800's took a lot of the pieces of art and valuables that would have decorated the more impressive villas, however, I find that the daily materials and human remains are even more valuable and precious than the lost antiquities.

The sun set behind a temple as we wandered around the collapsed columns and dilapidated government offices, taking pictures of a world that we are incredibly fortunate to see, but may never fully understand.

The next day (Wednesday) we set off for Venice, this time on a Eurostar train that was not too shabby and a lot more efficient than the local trains. We ended up sitting with two very nice, tolerant men who thought it was just hysterical when Kyle decided to interrogate me about the necessity of my diffuser after taking it out of my bag to display for the whole train. The people across the aisle from us enjoyed the show as well and continued to chuckle for the remainder of the ride as he unplugged my iPod mid-song when I dozed off, etc. It is never too late for the pocket rule.

We arrived in Venice in time for dinner on the edge of one of the many canals. We returned in the morning and took the boat from Piazzale Roma all the way down the Grand Canal to San Marco. On the way, we made friends with a group of 10 year olds, two of which took interest in our English. The one that resembled Harry Potter spent the entire ride practicing the few words he knew (glasses, good morning, thank you) while keeping up with his friends as they yelled "ciao, ciao" and waved frantically to all passing boats, gondola or otherwise. He saved the best for last, however. As he was getting off and lagging behind his group, he turned to me, flashed an adorable freckled smile, and said "Hello!" before scurrying off.

When we landed in San Marco, we checked out the basilica and stood in line behind a 70 year-old woman who, upon seeing my Rick Steve's guide, informed me that she just loves to read about all of the sites before she sees them and that he is just the best, most thorough writer. Kyle informed me that I was on my way to being her. I promptly put my book away.

The inside was beautiful, however, I found the outside to be just as incredible. The square as a whole is mind blowing. I even caved and played with the pigeons. I know that they are the rats of the sky, but we had a good time. There are swarms of them that assemble each morning. When Kyle opened the package of food, they literally swarmed around him. (They actually put birth control in the feed to reduce the pigeon population.) And no, they do not poop on you. Surprising, I know, but it is as though they know that if they poop on their nice things, that will be the end of the feeding operation.

We then set out in search of St. Barnaba, as featured in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. While the outside is correct, much to Kyle's disappointment, the inside is not the library we envisioned, but rather a sanctuary. After a bit of pouting, we got gelato and headed to San Rocco to look at glass and masks. The day ended the way it began, in San Marco, this time with live music rather than pigeons.

The next day we returned to the city and wandered over the Rialto Bridge and through the maze before hopping a train to Milan.

Now leaving the train station we were not sure that we would be impressed by Milan, but as we emerged from the metro station, our jaws dropped as our eyes met the Duomo. Elaborate and massive, Duomo is unlike any architecture I have seen during my time in Italy. It looks almost like a 3-D puzzle that was built in Milan. The inside of the basilica was also impressive, however I have no pictures as they are forbidden. We even got to see a 500 year old dead Saint. The skull of a saint protruding from under his blood-red robes is not something you get to see everyday.

We concluded the night with gelato and a performance by local roller bladers. We heard the smooth tones of R.Kelly's "Step in the Name of Love" as we approached a street that ran between two churches. There we found a group of people rocking out on rollerblades. They eventually set up cones through which they wove, whizzed, zig-zagged, and danced until a large crowd had assembled. Some were still learning, others were pros that danced on their skates with each other as Biggie replaced R.Kelly; one thing that they all had in common was how much fun they were having.

Over the next day and a half, we moved up and down the streets around Duomo, did some shopping (this resulted in a lovely pair of green pumps), and got to explore Sforza Castle and its sprawling yard, complete with duck ponds and landscaped trees, flowers, and bushes. If I had lived there, I like to think that my room would have been the balcony that faced the inside of the courtyard.

We also spent some time looking at a National Geographic exhibit that was set up in the street. Some of the images were incredible. They included the famous "Refugee" photo as well as other shots of humans and animals in an equilibrium with the earth. Kyle looked a little too much like one of the pictures of a monkey with a snowball that was clearly up to no good.

In other news, we are sad to report that there are NO Milano cookies in Milan. We checked the grocery store.

After a long day of walking, we ended our Milan tour and travel-filled week with dinner out. The next day, Kyle hopped a plane back to Greece and I boarded a full train to Italy and finished my otherwise great week sitting in the stairwell and luggage compartment of a train for 4 1/2 hours. I then had the pleasure of battling the masses to get on the Body Odor Express at Termini, which I rode for an hour before finally arriving at my apartment that had never before seemed so homey.

Come un Roamer (Pt.1)

Click here for a link to pictures from my fall break.

We covered Rome, Pompeii, Venice, and Milan.

Post to follow.

Infine

After hours of studying, stress, and a session of retail therapy that yielded a marvelous pair of Nero Giardini brown leather boots, midterm week is over! I had Archaeology of Egypt on Tuesday, and Archaeology of Rome, The Collapse of the Roman Republic, and Mythology today. It was a tiring week, but none of them were especially brutal. The Arts of Antiquity exam that was scheduled for tomorrow was postponed until after break. I am thankful for the breath of fresh air and a night of cleaning and getting the house in order before the fall break.

I will be traveling around Italy for the next week. Definitely Milan, I am not sure where else. Pictures will follow.

Una Festa del Cioccolato

Chocolate rocks my world.

Thanks to the Italian Culture Club, a bus of AUR students was able to go to the EuroChoc Festival in Perugia. I have never seen so much chocolate in my life.

After taking the ChocoTrain into Perugia, we climbed the hill up to a picturesque town with a view that looked like it was torn from the pages of a fairytale. Despite the crisp air that had already turned the leaves to shades of amber and red, we spent the day eating, dancing, and walking, the smell of melted chocolate consuming us all the while.

Part of the festival was within a castle, the other portion lined the main street. The vats of hot chocolate were filled with flavors ranging from milk chocolate, to amaretto, to orange, to dark chocolate. The only description that seems even comparable is that given in the Polar Express. It was like melted candy bars, but still thin enough to constitute hot chocolate. The juxtaposition of its warmth with the bite of the air was enough to send shivers up my spine. A marching band danced up and down the street with a wake of followers intoxicated by the ubiquitous creamy delights.

The chocolate on display was transformed into countless mediums. There was chocolate shaped as gardening tools, books, pills (still not sure if it was a joke or real), fruits, etc. There were chocolate covered fruits, nuts, and candies. The chocolate had been shipped from Venezuala, Equador, Switzerland, Italy, and over 20 other nations.

So with bags in hand and chocolate in my stomach, I got back on the Chocotrain and returned to Rome.

Click the picture link below for more photos.

Le Colline della Toscana

I have climbed the hills of Tuscany in flip-flops. Really.

What began as a search for a wine tasting in Tuscany turned into both the longest and most rewarding day of my time in Italy (pictures). But first things first...

I began my Tuscan tour in Florence with one of my best friends from high school, Ned. He is there for the semester and loving it, as well he should. It is much smaller than Rome, and easier to do on foot.

After two months of new faces, languages, and experiences, it was so nice to get to feel at home, even if it was for one day. He met me at the train station with a big hug and smile and led me through his new city to his monstrous apartment. He told me that they rarely use buses there, as the city is so accessible by foot. It is far quieter and cleaner than Rome and has its own charm. The little alleyways blend together with the buildings forming courtyard and passages. His apartment (which is across from Pitti Palace) looks over one such courtyard across which he and his friends talk to other students living in the complex (to the dismay of the Italian residents).

The entrance to the apartment was a stucco, arched hallway that was dimly lit by floor lights. There are eight boys living together in 3 or 4 rooms. Many of them were gone for their fall break by the time I arrived, but the ones I met were great guys. I got the tour of the apartment before we went out for Apertivo. This is an amazing phenomenon: you buy one drink at a bar and you are welcome to all of the food they put out. So for 9 euro, we enjoyed seafood pasta, a scrumptious tomato puree, prochiutto, cheese, bread, and excellent conversation including stories from home and abroad.

We then hit the streets. He led me down the Ponte Vecchio, which is the oldest bridge in the city that was the only bridge spared in WWII. It is now home to all of the gold stores. It literally shines in the evening. I have never seen that much gold in my life. Also along the street is the Vasari's elevated corridor, the tunnel used by the Medici family to get from the Pitti Palace to the Uffizi. Those Medicis were something else. (As Ned's professor told him, "ciao ciao, Medici, ciao ciao!")

We walked along L'Arno and checked out the massive structure that is Il Duomo. We also looked at the gold doors across from Santa Maria del Fiore. One of the Medici's held a competition for the design of the door panels. The architect who lost went on to design Il Duomo. Not too shabby.

We then saw Piazza della Signoria and Bartolomeo Ammanati's Fountain of Neptune that is fed by a still functional Roman aqueduct. This was followed by a stroll by the Bargello in the art district. We ended our night with Ned's friends at a bar and went to sleep so that he could get some rest before heading to Amsterdam for his fall break in the morning.

Early the next morning, I enjoyed a cappuccino and a chat with cafe owners who thought I was Italian (the hugest complement as far as I am concerned. Mostly because it means I didn't butcher their language too badly.) I then met my roommate, Ali, and began our adventure.

Our goal: Find a vineyard, do a wine tasting, and ship wine to her family. We had researched vineyards and found one that we could get to from Florence. It sounded reasonable enough....

Step 1: Buy a ticket at a Florence Tabacchi store and get lost trying to find the bus station that is around the corner, but tucked under a building and thus, difficult to find. We must have asked 4 people.

Step 2: Take said bus to Poggibonsi. Get off

Step 3: (Or so we thought) Follow directions that tell you to cross the street and wait for the next bus. Wrong.

What we found out after waiting for an hour (thinking there was only one bus per hour), is that you actually have to walk across the street, over a bridge, through a tunnel, down a hill and to a bus station. THEN get on the bus to Siena.

Step 4: Get off at San Gimignano and walk up the hill. (It was here that we took a lunch break and enjoyed Stortellata, a regional food that looks like a casserole, but is lasagna noodles, spinach, and ricotta. YUM.) Go up the hill to the town center, cross the garden, and start walking down the path next to the police station.

Step 5: Do not freak out when the pavement ends, the path keeps going, and you become engulfed by vineyards. Keep walking.

and walking.

and walking.

We walked for an hour up a Tuscan hill before finding one of the vineyards on our list. We were laughed at by three groups of workers on the way up. I guess they are not used to seeing two college girls with bags, flip-flops, and a whole lot of determination climbing up their hill. When we reached the vineyard, they told us that they could not do a tasting with us that day and that we should just climb back up on Monday. Well, that would be just lovely if we weren't leaving that night and if we had una macchina to take us back up the hill. But as we had neither the time, nor the resources to return, we continued our ascent.

After the next half mile, it all paid off.

We were met by a worker, who brought out his boss, the co-owner of the company (the main owner being his wife). Sergio was both the cutest and most kind man we have met. He smiled as he showed us the process of compressing the grapes, filtering the white wine, allowing it to sit in barrels and bottling it. He explained the importance of temperature in making wine. The barn is temperature controlled, especially as the days get cooler.

He then led us in to the tasting room that looked like a family-style table with a hutch of glasses. Between his broken English, and my broken Italian, we had a great conversation about school, his life and career, and the process of making both wine and olive oil. He even answered some of our questions about social tendencies, and the clarity of what we say.

He told us that it takes four years to even grow enough grapes for a round of wine; it takes eight years to begin to make olive oil. He and his wife had been running the business for forty years. He and his wife, Maria Elisabetta Fagiuoli, distribute their Montenidoli wine throughout the world, however, as a smaller company, 40% of their sales are within Italy.

The three of us sat at the large wooden table (presumably hand made) and tasted a rosé, three whites, and a red as the sun set over the hills.

He showed us his house that dates back to the 12th century and smiled as we took pictures from his roof. They were even kind enough to offer us a ride down the hill. This greatly accelerated our trip home, as it would have taken twice as long to get down in the dark with three cases of wine. He took a picture with us and smiled, telling us that we were strong girls, not in the physical sense, but within.

He didn't charge us for the tasting and told us that he doesn't advertise the vineyard along the path, as he doesn't want a lot of tourists to find them. He said, "If you want to come, you will find us. We will be here." And that is exactly what we had done.

La Bella Barcelona (Pt.2)

I apologize for both the lateness and brevity of this entry. Just a quick overview of my time in the Barc.

For my first excursion outside of Italy, I chose Barcelona. It had been far too long since I had seen Alison (my roommate from school who is studying there), and it was time for a change of food, culture, and scenery.

Thanks to Ryan Air which was cheap, quick, and efficient (from what I hear, you either hit it just right or not at all) and delivered me on time and in one piece. I arrived at Alison's large and lovely apartment just in time to get ready for a night of friends and fun. It was great to catch up and share our adventures.

The next day we headed for the Gaudi exhibit/property/park. It is an amazing area that was originally designed as a residential area for the wealthy. The concept never really took off, but Gaudi, himself lived there and his residence is now a museum. The poor fellow was hit by a tram. What a way to go. To make matters worse, because of the common way he was dressed, no one knew who he was and, thus, he was taken to a poorer hospital. By the time his friends realized where he was, he wasn't doing too well, and refused to move to a hospital where he could get better care. He said "I belong here among the poor." His work is all over the city of Barcelona.

So after poking around, admiring the tile mosaics, church, landscape, and most of all the tunnels (they were featured in America's Next Top Model during the scary bride photo shoot), we moved on to our next stop: tapas!

What a novel concept. For those of us who are indecisive, they are ideal. We ordered ten of the little buggers between the three of us. They are basically bite-size appetizer-esque finger food. They range from grilled vegetables, to spicy potatoes, to fried food, to strange and delicious combinations of just about anything you can imagine. By the time we thought to take a picture, we had scarfed down half of them.

After tapas, we wandered around the Catalunya plaza area (apparently the whole city used to be Catalunya and Catalonians are still a little bitter about it) and enjoyed watching the science that is fake purse selling. They display them on sheets just like in New York, however, they travel in groups with strings that they hold on to and can quickly tug to hide their display when police are sighted. And when those police come closer, those men can run like the wind. We also meandered down La Rambla, the main strip of vendors, spray painted posers, and (oddly enough) pet stores. We also stopped in the HUGE fresh market that had everything from fruits to fresh juices, sea food, cheese, live chickens, etc.

We then headed to the beach next to Port Olympic. The city got a major face lift for the 1992 summer Olympics. Some of the structures are incredible. We frolicked in the waves before heading for dinner and hitting a club. Their nights don't even start until 1. We left home at 1:30 am and returned between 5 and 6:00 am. This was an early night. Let's just say, the Romans pack it in a little earlier and I was exhausted. But a great time was had by all and the male gogo dancer in white leather was a sight to behold.
Tips for Future Travelers:


If you are flying Ryan Air, you are NOT going to Barcelona (as they advertise), you are going to Gerona. From there you need to take the "Barcelona Bus" into the city. It is about an hour ride and is 21 euro round trip.

Watch your purse like a hawk. Consider all sketchy characters to be pickpockets. Double check your bag often. Also, when eating, keep it on your lap, not at your feet, not slung on the chair.

Try tapas. They will rock your world. If you are afraid they won't fill you, go buy something else down the street when you are done. Or just order a ton. They are only 1-2 euro each.

Go clubbing just for the experience. The ages ranged from 18-45, so don't be shy. Dress up and have fun!

Check out at least one Gaudi building/exhibit while you are there.

They will sell you hash at the beach or on the street. Respectfully decline.

I'm not kidding about the tapas. Get them.

La Bella Barcelona (pt. 1)

Click here for pictures from my short, but wonderful weekend in Barcelona!

Post to follow.

Terraglie Dappertutto

Employees of and researchers at the American Academy of Archaeology, have it pretty good. Their gated research center is, essentially, a villa that has been converted into labs and offices. Upon entering the gates, you meet a gurgling fountain in which daylillies lazily float. Behind this are stairs up to the atrium of the estate. Inside, the walls of the peristyle host traveling exhibitions of antiquities. The villa also has a sprawling lawn and garden in the back that is bound by part of the original walls of Rome, fitting, no?

We were taken to the pottery lab to explore the post-excavation work that is done on sherds found around Rome. There we met with an expert who explained the fabrics of pottery from various regions and told us that the post excavation work takes almost ten times as long as the fieldwork for most digs.

He said that one of the main ways pots are dated is by comparing newly found sherds to those found on known sites of military camps (they generally have a specific date range). Sites like Pompeii and Herculaneum are also helpful for obvious reasons. Comparative dating, if you will.

Apparently, certain amphora styles would become popular for one or two centuries at a time. This time period is long enough to allow major distribution of the amphorae. It is, however difficult to create a timeline of these phases, as only one area of the pot would have been stamped (if that).

The abundance of pottery remains in Rome (and anywhere for that matter) is due to their enduring nature; they can not be melted down and reused like glass or metal, and they do not decay like wood, or linen. Therefore, they are here for the duration.

To record their finds, archaeologists empty a bin that was taken from the field (it is generally categorized by square) and separate the pieces into amphorae vs decorative pieces or tableware. They then further separate the amphorae pieces by the part of the jug they represent, i.e. shoulder, rim, etc. Those are then separated by fabric. Then comes the bagging and labeling before the professional pawns off the data entry to his students. The students count, weigh, and enter the data of the bags, learning various fabrics as they go.

While the majority of the trip was devoted to pottery, I did learn that the lab we visited was originally a restaurant on the Gianicolo. During the depression, restaurants stopped serving food, and people would bring their own, only buying wine. If you look carefully at the picture above, you may be able to make out the word "VINO" on the front. This is when sitting fees began.

News flash, the depression is over, lets stop charging an additional 3 - 5 euro per person.