N is for Nemi, or NEVER eaten a better strawberry in my LIFE!

The first day of “class” we went on a 5-city tour of Frascati, Grottaferato, Castel Gondolofo Nemi, and, Montecavvo. Frascati was our first stop, and is known for its town symbol of a three-breasted woman—two breasts are filled with milk and the third is filled with wine. Many giggles were swapped upon this discovery. Followed by excitement when we found cookies in the shape of a three-breasted woman!  Amazing! Then a few of us went into the church in the center of town, which was awe-inspiring to say the least! I have discovered the original inspiration for inspired design—the God worthy of all glorious design, excellence to the extreme, and finery in every detail. I was left speechless.

The second town we visited was Grottaferata, centered around a castle which is used as a monastery.  In the inner courtyard of the castle is a quaint church, “quaint” being relative, as each church is elaborately ornate with gold leaf trims, hand carved wooden statues, marble columns, wrought iron-clad wooden doors, wrought iron gates to each shrine, impeccably detailed paintings that serve as the inspirational central piece for each corner of the church. The only things not so elaborate—the wooden benches. It’s a shame, as those benches are typically our only resting stop for the day. Cheery ho!

Next we traveled to Castel Gondolfo, the summer vacation spot for the Pope to this day. It’s a small town, centered solely around the monstrosity of a palace where the Pope resides, and outlined by one of the most incredible views I have ever seen. Granted, the sun was on its way down at that point in the day, casting perfectly romantic shadows on each flower pot and wrought-iron restaurant chair left outside of the overhang-trattorias for the evening diners.  The buildings and villas are all connected, each a similar shade of terra cotta clay, imitating the color of the cobble stones that line every walking space in Italy. When we arrived to the overlook view around the corner of the Pope’s palace, every girl gasped upon turning the corner…it was like a ripple effect of awe-inspired breathlessness.  Once we absorbed it, the cameras were out in a flash. I don’t know how many angles you can take of a range of mountains and the sun casting the furthest-stretching reflection on a lake, but I assure you, every angle was captured. In addition to various groupings of people in front of said scene to capture it a bit more. Even still, the pictures will never do it justice.   It was as if the sun and the mountains were singing a harmony of “Majesty”. I shall return!

Next was Nemi, famous for its STRAWBERRIES!! (And rigthfully so…I have NEVER eaten a strawberry torte that melted in my mouth the way that one did…complete with the tiniest strawberries on top and custard smoother than Dunkin Donuts Boston Crème!) Here, I saw my first town-incorporated castle, where the neighboring trattorias and villas were connected to the sides of it, winding and forming the twists and turns of the sidewalks streaming under the arched overhangs.  The doors of the buildings are so flat to the walls (due to the narrow street ways) that one would hardly know that a little door was the grand entrance to a top-rated bed-n-breakfast, an art gallery, wine shop (well, those are designated by the front windows), or just a regular house entrance.  As we were lead through another winding course of villas stacked on villas (each  complete with their own flower box hanging outside their back steps), I assumed we were being lead to some grand villa or another epic scenery site. Yet, we happened upon a small glass door, which opened into a large seafood restaurant (“seafood” restaurant is again, relative—they serve one fish, which is native to the lake the spot overlooked, and the rest was 50,000 varieties of pastaJ). I would have never known that was our destination except for a small sign with the name of it painted on, posted one alley way away from the hot spot. It was definitely not “hot” literally, as we scarfed down our delicious pasta (and one fish I think someone ventured to try) in -2°C. Note to self: central heating/cooling is a LUXURY. So in between bites, we found it comical that as we chewed, steam would come out of our mouths, and then chilled breath in the next instant. Brrrr.

  
 

Montecavvo was our last stop, and it was literally just a stop. Overly stuffed and sleepy from our abundance of “seafood” style pasta, most had fallen asleep on the bus, only to be awakened by one last photo spot. I must admit, I was a little annoyed to be awakened for another photo op, as my camera had already absorbed its max capacity that day, but I was really glad when I saw what it was.

 Montecavvo is the trail where the original founders of Rome paved the way for their journey into Rome. It became a major walkway for all sojourners following. One would have never guessed, unless told so, as it was just a normal looking pathway on the side of another dirt road, winding off in a direction with some stones to guide the way, hardly. After we were told the story and headed back to the bus, however, I could just visualize the leather strapped sandals, blistered, muddy, and hopeful, walking in the same direction on the same path I was going…only their steps were filled with much more unknown adventure and risk. I think I’m experiencing a daring journey by coming to Europe? They began a whole nation, from scratch, which has outlasted timeless renown. Now that’s daring.