We’re going to take a quick detour from baseball today, as my newsletter wouldn’t even come close to complete without my official reflection on the magical semester abroad that I know you all have been dying to read about (right?). Though I would love to give my loyal subscribers another story about some eccentric reliever from the ‘30s, I’ve been putting this one off for way too long, and it feels like the perfect time to fully reflect on the greatest three months of my short life. 

Disclaimer: due to the implications of some of these stories, I’ll keep the name of the program and people involved anonymous. You’re welcome.

I was already a ball of nerves the second I arrived with my suitcase at the Syracuse airport, and the harrowing news that my flight was delayed didn’t help my anxiety at all. About 16 hours before my life would flip upside down, questions ran through my head - a highway of converging semi trucks that would crash if even one thing went wrong - and wrong things did go. When I landed in Washington, I had a tight ten minutes to reach my gate and board the flight. Great start right?

A full out Chandler Simpson-esque sprint took care of that issue, but the smooth sailing of the red eye flight to Rome didn’t alleviate my uncertainties - how would I get around? What if I don’t get along with the people in the program? What if the mafia actually exists to the extent in the movies (I know, dumb question). Landing at the Fiumicino airport only exacerbated these questions, and the $60 Uber to the hotel where the program would meet didn’t make my monetary concerns any less evident.

However, Rome has a magical way of making you feel at home, even if you’re thousands of miles away across an ocean. Upon greeting a student from Fisher who was also studying in the same program, we decided to walk the streets surrounding our hotel and get the lay of the land. My first meal, a $4 eggplant and fresh mozzarella focaccia with a Ceres Strong Ale just felt like everything was right with the world - a flipped switch from the uncertainties that plagued my head for days on end. 

We ventured back to our hotel, greeting some students who’d arrived that we would be spending the semester with, voicing our excitement, contingencies, and bucket lists for the three months. It wasn’t until the rest of my colleagues walked in that I would be rid of the worries - the group’s exciting and social demeanor made me realize that everything was going to be alright. Over dinner with a couple free drink coupons generously donated to us by the program, I felt like I knew these people for years, and knew that we would create long-withstanding friendships that wouldn’t end in Roma. 

About 20 minutes later, a plan formulated, and despite the program’s effort to keep us from going out by putting us up in a hotel twenty minutes away from Trastevere by train, the inevitable happened anyway. About five of us packed the public transit and made our way to the nightlife capital of Rome. That night would create memories to come (including the deadly hangover coming off of no sleep and a day-long flight), and only reinforced the aforementioned point that everything would be great with this group. 

Our apartment was a two-floor loft with a spiral staircase and wraparound couch spanning the living room, seemingly a bit upscale for 5 college students (I wasn’t complaining). Four out of us five had already arrived, and the fifth had flight issues and was trapped in a London airport for a couple of days. Better than a US airport, right? Anyways, when he arrived after his odyssey, we were ready to experience Roman culture to the fullest, not letting anything hold the loosely defined expats back.

The first meal in Trastevere had me floating, enough said. We ventured to a pasta restaurant down the street which defined my first trip to Rome a couple years prior as the pinnacle of our culinary experience. Popi Popi’s fettuccine alla gricia was absurdly delicious, and coupled with a bottle of wine, and some bresaola over rocket (arugula) proved to be a leadoff that was hard to top. They seem to have mastered the Roman specialties, and every time we went back, I was equally satisfied and then some. The next morning, we would take our first walk to class.

The walk was ethereal - passing landmarks such as Caesar’s assassination site and the Tiber River (got a story about that one) opened my eyes to a whole new world. The churches were magnificently constructed with open yawning doors, murals and frescos, and altars that seemed to be carved by God himself, and I’d give anything to go back. The history behind this city spans millennia, and being able to partake in the past of this beautiful city fit into a larger narrative -  I knew I would miss this place for decades to come just from what I’d sustained in the first few days.

I don’t really need to tell this story, but I owe you all an explanation for the Tiber River piece I mentioned a paragraph ago. Sorry and you’re welcome. It started with our walk to the Vatican, where a free concert with an odd but star-studded lineup of Pharell Williams, John Legend, Pusha T?, and Andrea Bocelli would be taking place. The ambience was beautifully put-together with a drone-powered light show, depicting images of Saint Mary and the late Pope Francis over the famed square. To have this experience as one of the leadoff hitters for my abroad trip was unreal, and it only made me wonder what was to come. I’d figure it out pretty soon. 

After the concert which we had to watch from outside the Vatican due to the packed nature, we decided to hit the town. A nightcap of a couple cocktails with friends at a neighboring bar should have proved to be enough for the night (can’t ask for too much), but one of my roommates and I were on such a high of enamoredness from Roma and the concert itself, to which we decided to check out the bars where the locals went. I’d consider it a mistake, but I don’t regret a second of this story (although I did for a few days after, naturally). We spent a few hours at an assortment of spots, grabbing a local brew at each. It proved to be sustainable, until we got to the last establishment. 

The Italian equivalent of a dive bar, the vibe at this small but well-decorated spot put us off instantly. A group of fine gentlemen sat down next to the two of us, appearing originally to try to get to know the two out of place Americans who had walked in. My roommate, bless his soul, spoke Italian pretty well, therefore he was able to get by in any conversation with these folk. I sat there inattentively while they talked, speaking to me in English when they could. However, my attention was reestablished when I heard one word. I will not share, but the gist is that they were trying to form a connection with us before trying to force us to buy drugs through fear tactics. We obviously didn’t relent because 1. We don’t do drugs, and 2. The illegal nature of narcotic possession and sale in Italy was heavily emphasized, with a charge leading to years in prison. We were trying to make our way out of this fiasco, when the bartender stepped in, booting the group out and explaining to us that these wannabe-mafia characters do this all the time to unsuspecting patrons. If there was a sign that the night was over, this one was blaring, and upon thanking the bartender, we began our 30-minute hike back to our apartment in Trastevere. But that was only the beginning of the night we didn’t know we’d have.

About five minutes into the walk, we found electric scooters that were plastered around Rome for quick commutes. We gave each other a look, and before we knew it, we were riding back home and having the time of our lives. Nothing could have prepared us for what would happen next.

A few blocks from our apartment, all hell broke loose. We were THIS close to making it back in one piece at a reasonable-ish time, but that’s too easy. Before I knew it, a man stepped out of a Mercedes and asked for my ID. I was confused, and my roommate was nowhere to be found. I relented, and seconds later, my roommate emerged from behind the Mercedes, with police cars rolling up to our position by the Tiber River. I thought my life was over, and I didn’t even know why! Eventually, my roommate filled me in - he lost control of his scooter, crashing into the back of the Benz. It took a while (about 3 hours), but the situation was eventually cleared up as there was no damage, and we were able to walk back as we were only a few blocks away. One problem with that - our phones were dead and we didn’t know the first thing about the streets of Rome. It was already 7AM, the folks were out running, birds were chirping, and I felt like a degenerate for one of the first times in my life. Inevitably, our bodies were giving out and before we knew it, we both fell asleep outside. On a ledge. Over the Tiber River. With a concrete barrier about three-hundred feet below. How we didn’t fall, I’ll never know. Thank the Lord.

Finally, we deduced our location through landmarks, and we officially made it to our street. Conveniently, the famous Bar San Calisto opened right as we passed it, and we decided to stop there for an affogato (espresso with a scoop of gelato, bomb) and a debrief. I can’t remember how many hours I slept, but all I know is the day was over before it began. If that isn’t dad lore, I don’t know what is. 

Aside from the aforementioned “extracurriculars,” classes were free, that’s all I’m gonna say about that. The program officials knew that we would learn more and sustain more growth just by experiencing the Eternal City, and they leaned into that identity by giving us low-involvement classes that focused more on culture rather than traditional academia. By giving us Fridays off to travel the entire weekend, stepping out of our comfort zones into other countries had never been easier. Therefore, you can imagine that I had no shortage of excursions and weekend-long ventures to other countries in Europe.

The first trip landed us in Budapest - the night before, we hit it hard, and instead of getting our 8 hours, we took about a 2-hour power nap and made our way to the Fiumicino airport in an Uber at 7AM. Big mistake? Nah. The adrenaline of leaving an already foreign country to go to another with an entirely different culture powered me through the flight, and by the time we landed, I was more than game to permeate into Hungarian culture. The first meal over in Budapest was courtesy of a beautiful, greenhouse-esque Jewish restaurant called Mazel Tov - a staple in the main part of the “Pest” side of town. My friend and I shared a shawarma plate that was honestly second to none I’ve had before, and the lentils and beets on the side complemented it perfectly. I’m not a beets guy, but I was willing to make an exception that paid off immensely. After that, we ventured over to the “Buda” side of town, stepping over the famed bridge that adjoined the two sides. Surreal. 

That first day was mainly allocated to getting the lay of the land, and after a quick power nap, we made our way to “Két Szerecsen,”  a timeless tapas-style full scale restaurant that I miss every waking hour (even if the duck liver pate may have given me food poisoning, which is a story for another day). Aside from that, the squid, mushroom, and beef tartare “small” plates that we ordered proved to be delectable, and the local Hungarian brew pushed my rating over the edge. Top ten all time, without a doubt. A bout of stomach sickness put me on the IR for the night, but I was overtly satisfied with our first day in the ‘Pest.

The next day, we ventured out to the Fisherman’s Bastion (only after some insane Dim Sum), a sprawling, breathtaking castle that spanned the river. I was captivated by the sheer beauty of the Bastion and the city itself, and sitting on the roof overlooking the skyline only solidified that. One of the most beautiful structures I’ve seen, without a doubt.

After that, we dispersed to an outdoor food market for dinner smack in the middle of the main street, filling up before our big night at Instant Fogas, a ruin bar built on remnants of a historical building, and the pinnacle of Budapest nightlife. After leaving a club on a boat (you read that right), Fogas proved to live up to every expectation.

In all, I’d rank the Budapest experience in the top quadrant of all the countries I visited. Here’s a quick guide ranked by food, culture and the city itself:

Next Edition: Assisi, Sorrento, Naples, Pompeii, more Rome, and possibly Athens, Greece

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