#janplan

is having the courage to talk about it. Our society is so consumed with not talking about our mental illnesses. That shit is ridiculous. We need to be open and honest about the things that we are sad about and that we care about. It's hard to bring it up sometimes because it's a little embarrassing but the great Dr. Seuss once said: "Those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind." And that's how you know your real friends are. They're the people who don't look away when you tell them what's inside your insane mind.

This is where this story begins. Ben and I were in LA, staying with an old friend. We planned to travel back to Athens the way we'd come, maybe hit a couple new cities on the way. But (to be explained in another story another day) we agreed to "swing by" Iowa to visit my little brother and pick up my sister's cat, Olivia, after Olivia Tremor Control, of course. She had been staying here briefly because my sister though her summer would take her traveling and she needed a secure home for Olivia. Once she realized she would remain stationary, she set about getting her cat. We were elected. We stopped in Denver to visit another friend and then we were off. We planned to drive through the night and arrive in Dubuque, Iowa in the early morning.

We stopped in Denver to visit another friend and then we were off. We planned to drive through the night and arrive in Dubuque, Iowa in the early morning. Ben drove all day and almost all night -- we were only just two hours away. We switched drivers and he fell swiftly asleep. I would complete this journey and deliver us safely to out resting place. I clutched both hands to the steering wheel and scanned the dim edges of the interstate for deer. Then I saw him -- Granddaddy Coon himself. I could see the years of survival and fear in his lumber. He ran towards the path of my oncoming missile. But then, no, he turned back around to safety. As I was sighing with relief, the coon changed his direction. He was either confused or suicidal but now he was roadkill. His body shook the car as we plowed over him. Ben woke with a start. I did what I do when I panic -- nothing at all. I assured Ben all was okay -- it was just a coon -- and drove on, soothing him gently back to sleep

Everything was okay for about a minute. A minute is a long time when you're holding your breath. Then one by one, each and every light on the dashboard flashed and blinked. The hood was erupting with steam (or smoke?!). I could no longer hide my transgression I shook Ben awake in a state of alarm. We pulled over as the car slowed to a halt. My heart sank lower than the fluids gushing onto the pavement. There was no avoiding the predicament we were in. It was the dead of night. There were no other cars in sight, only rows of corn as far as the eyes could see. The car was dead.

I grew up with an angry and volatile dad. Any misstep could prove to be the ruin of an entire day, week, even vacation. I cringed as I turned to Ben and realized the direness of the situation. He didn't scold me for driving recklessly. He didn't blame me for ruining his trip or his car. He smiled and held my hand as we planned our next move. He joked abt the gallon of water we had bought earlier and our camping gear we had yet to use. He mapped us to the nearest town and we walked there. Yes, we went the wrong way first, but we made it to a 24 hour diner.

When I was a little girl, my family left a church that allowed a woman to speak during the service. My dad said a woman should be silent -- it was a man's work to lead the church. My mother said nothing. I'm still that little girl. I still love singing and making eyes at the other hot boys and girls. I still question everything. I still suffer for it.

Naples is crazy. It’s loud and full of people and cars and overwhelming and there is literally no sense of order at all to this huge chaotic mess of a city. Everywhere people are gesturing, gesturing and speaking loudly and it is POURING buckets of rain and hail on us as we try to move past the sketchy and dirty and loud nature of the city. Stressed, overwhelmed, wet, and cold after going to the Archeological Museum via a long walk in the rain and metro, we made it to Via Tribunali for dinner. Looking like wet sad puppies, we were ushered in by no-smiling waiters into this tiny pizza place. The magic of pizza. This place was owned clearly by a bunch of brothers, and I got a pizza alla bufala (basically margherita pizza but with buffalo mozzarella) and it was full of melty cheesey goodness. The sauce was just right and it was thin crust but not too thin and it was cooked to perfection. I watched them put it into their big brick oven. Let me tell you it was not Bertucci’s pizza. This was wonderful and I just felt my anxiety melt away like the cheese. Even though Naples is crazy, the people we’ve met and talked to here are already some of the warmest we’ve encountered (except for the pizza guys. No smiles there but that’s supposedly their shtick). Our taxi driver certainly cheered a couple of wet and scared girls up. I think of Neopolitan traffic to be like that scene in Mulan when the grandmother closes her eyes and tests the cricket’s luck. There are very few crosswalks and the ones that do exist don’t have the lights so you basically just have to hope that you don’t get run over as you dash across bumper to bumper traffic with scooters buzzing by in between. Everywhere horns are honking and people are shouting and gesturing. Naples is interesting, overwhelming, loud, crazy. But the best pizza I've ever had, which is worth a lot to me.

This morning we came downstairs to a beautiful spread of food---cheeses and meats and even scrambled eggs!—our first real breakfast since we got here. We made our way to the metro, successfully navigated it, and got to the Vatican without a hitch, following the flow of people into the Vatican Museum (no line). Tons of amazing art highlights today! The Belvedere Torso/Apollo, Ajax and Achilles, The School of Athens, and so much more before one of my favorite places in the entire world: the Sistine Chapel. I could have spent all day in there. I hated leaving, just like last time; but I got to see it and be there and feel the energy and movement in Michelangelo’s work, and that was something. Words aren’t adequate to capture the sheer pleasure and admiration I have for that room filled with so many figures and colors and shapes. From there we went to St. Peter’s Square. But the line was so long for the Basilica we made the tough call to skip it (Kelsey will go back tomorrow) and go to Castel Sant’Angelo, where no one was at all (thankfully) and there were phenomenal panoramic views of Rome and St. Peters. Wonderful, wonderful in the sun and the wind and looking out over this great city I’ve fallen in love with. A quick panino and a metro ride later, we made it to St. Paul’s-Outside-the-Walls for Vespers. We were a little turned around at first but we followed the flow of people around this gorgeous and huge basilica to a large crowd of people already lined up (it was 3pm, and the service begins at 5:30pm). If the priests hadn’t told us to go at 3, we would have never have made it in at all; I’m so glad we got there even if it was to wait. It kind of felt like a concert (well, the Pope IS a rock star after all) because everyone was full of anticipation and excitement. A bunch of Spainards next to us all sang and danced and laughed and it was so fun to be in line next to them. It’s also good to know that I can understand Spanish, understand/speak French, AND understand (sort of) and speak (sort of) Italian. It makes me happy to be able to talk to people from all over, and this weekend in particular we’ve met so many nice and happy people in Rome from around the world—Spain, Argentina, France, Scotland, Australia! I’m a friendly person by nature but this has been especially fun. We got to know this huge family pretty well, and we sang “La Bomba” and “Ave Maria” and the nuns nearby joined in. It was beautiful and even though it was cold it made me excited to get into the church. Once into this beautiful golden wonderful basilica, we found seats relatively quickly (the mass of humanity once again showed its faults, but we did it) next to a nun from where else but Connecticut, who was so nice and showed us the ropes a bit, even letting us peek at the Pope from her seat, which was so cool. THE POPE IS SO COOL I SAW HIM!!!!!!!!!!! The service was really cool. It’s an experience I never would have a) known about b) gone to c) been able to enjoy without Kelsey, and I’m so thankful. It was incredibly moving service and there was lots of singing that echoed so beautifully around this giant basilica. Again, as a writer I'm not supposed to say this, but I can't describe it---you must just go for yourself. After, emotionally exhausted, we took the metro to Spagna, saw the Spanish Steps, and wandered around trying to find a decent restaurant. We ended up going near the Pantheon to a little (slightly touristy) place but it was delicious and a perfect end to our very full day. Tomorrow is a day of art! More walking (ow my feet) but love Rome and love this cap to our amazing month in Siena.