I think there's still a half of a chicken salad sandwhich in my suitcase

So... imagine waking up at six-thirty in one country (Italy) and then traveling across two more countries (Belgium and France) by yourself only to end up at home with some sort of typhoid fever. I can't actually back that up, that I have Typhoid fever, but it definately feels that way. Maybe part of it is that I haven't slept in nine, count 'em, NINE days.

And if you're up for one of the most frusterating experiences of your life, try going to the doctor's office and explaining in French that when you cough it makes your teeth hurt. I'm not sure if I got my point across but I left with a grand total of FIVE PRESCRIPTIONS and 26 days worth of medicine. Hopefully tonight I will sleep the sleep of the dead (without actually feeling like death anymore).

I had fully intended to wander on down to the computer lab yesterday, despite my raking coughs and fill you in on the last days in Rome. It was a lovely sunny day (the first one since I've been here) and Carrie had gone to Bruge, "the Venice of Belgium" with Erin and her family so really had nothing to do but be too sick to do homework (Huzzah for Snood). Sadly, I looked out the window and lo and behold: HUGE WET SNOWFLAKES dropping from the sky like a plague of locusts. Bullocks. Needless to say, I stayed in and sent Cody out with money to buy a box of ice-cream. Here's to a long, crappy day fully and successfully wasted.

Anyway, the final verdict on the Eternal City is that, though eternally dirty, the city itself is something everyone on earth should see. There is a distinct reason why the Sistine Chapel is the greatest masterpiece of all time. And don't let anyone tell you that Michelangelo had help in painting it... it was halfway completed before anyone other than Pope Julius II (who was a bit of a dictator) was able to see it and even then the only people who saw the work in progress where Raphael and Giacomo della Porta (the architect of St. Peter's Basilica). Michelangelo had never painted a fresco in his life when he was "asked" (some say forced) to create his greatest masterpiece. The crazy thing about a fresco is that you can't change it once you put the paint down so everything you see is a first draft. The image of God separating light from darkness was created in one day. Suck on that new-age-artist-guy who makes statues out of hangers and string.

I say, if life is ever discovered in space, we send Rome as our ambassador but (no offense, Catholics) the Pope should probably stay home.

In other news, my Dad tells me that Hunter S. Thompson shot himself in his home in Aspen on the 20th. Rather than comment on that too much I suggest to you read Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas or, my favorite, The Curse of Lono (very topical reading for a trip to Hawai'i).

PS. there is no greater reward for a long, hard trip than to come home to find that your grandmother has sent you a strawberry marshmallow heart and your mom has sent you a package of knee-high socks. There has never been a greater family.

PSS. Erin McQ, as well as being the best travel companion ever born, is the official Rome-Trip MVP. Because she not only got her money and camera stolen (and miraculously returned) she also hiked five miles, barefoot, uphill, in the snow to get there. Also, she only eats half of everything and then lets you eat the rest. SNAPS!

PSSS. IF you find my "I (heart) TKE" pin the next time you go to the Vatican, let me know.