Rome, Italy
A cab just dropped me off in a shady alleyway at night (no, I wasn’t alone). But you’re probably wondering how I got here.
Well, we started off the day at Vatican Radio, where I signed up to be more or less that person who asks the questions that nobody wants to. It went well, except reflecting on it now, I didn’t learn anything from their answers that I didn’t already know. They focus on the positive, which in itself sounds admirable, but in the long run, does not seem impactful to me. How can you ignore the atrocities of the world, and those within your own institution?
Later on, I’ll be writing an in-depth piece on this topic, so anticipate that.
So after my initial stress over that visit, us broadcast students headed directly to a special dinner with some accomplished people in the radio and T.V. fields. By far, this was my favorite experience of the day (yes, I enjoyed the Roman architecture, sculptures, and paintings inside the Vatican and especially the Sistine Chapel) because I became a fan of our guest Seth Doane.
Let’s discuss Seth for a moment. This man is a foreign correspondant who has been to more countries than a musician on tour. Although I’m not partiularly interested in reporting, we did have the chance to talk briefly about K-Pop, which was so bizarre and actually left me feeling embarassed. Simply, K-Pop is something that many are shamed or belittled for liking, so I was thankful that he had some insight on the industry, having lived in South Korea for some time and having listened to the music as a result.
And here goes my embarassment growing when he asked me about writing—it’s difficult for me to mention without sounding overzealous, but he reinforced for me the idea of writing novels for a living through his own experiences and “you know what’s best for you, and nobody can tell you otherwise” attitude.
So this is how I ended up in a dark alleyway in Rome: the cab that myself, Helen, Casey, & Kimmie took dropped us off in the wrong location. Really, we weren’t that far from the hostel, but it’d be dishonest for me to claim that I didn’t panic. Now here I am, sitting in bed with cracked soles and bug bites on my ankles (there is no such thing as TMI to me).
I only wish that the people over at the Vatican had been this honest.
