DAY 58: Whata’ Rebel

Apologies for slacking on Blond Voyage… we were on strike for a few days… bloggers will be rollin’ in one after the other and you will soon learn why the gang has been MIA… you won’t wanna miss it. These Marfan syndrome (abnormally long digits… opposite of cloven hooves i.e. “Nightmare Before Christmas” appendages- Google it) fingers are click’clackin’ as fast as possible!

Digital Italy has official commenced… it’s nice to carry around a 17 inch darkroom everywhere I go. Though it is somewhat unfortunate that the art of photo developing has dwindled because it truly is a magical process- the element of surprise that awaits on photo paper and water is like finding out if you got that scholarship or job… little caterpillars rolled up in cocoons itching to become bootiful buttaflies. (That took on a sick Survivor cuisine twist.. just go with it.) Even though I love the creative process, I have more of an instant gratification personality, so being able to download 500 shitty photos and Photoshop the life out of them to become Ansel Adams-worthy is great… just kidding, every picture I take is A.A.-worthy- I’m THAT good.

“Conga’” gave us a morning full of tutorials on our Mac-Daddies and de-stupefied those of us who are technologically handicapped. Being a part of the “Slash Generation” has some serious advantages… I am a designer/skier/metalsmith/writer/photographer/sister/climber/bitch. Nowadays you have to wear several different hats to make it in this industry… Lord knows I love my hats. 4 hours of photo editing and computer skillz, we broke for lunch… yummy salad full of peppers, tommies, fennel and carrots, spaghetti carbonara (tastes like breakfast pasta- eggs and bacon with noodles) and of course my 87^th blood orange. Our afternoon class was SLR 101… I am IN love with my Canon Rebel. The difference in picture taking I’ve experienced is night and day… literally, because you can actually tell if it is night or day.  There is a plethora of information to absorb concerning photography, and “Conga’” is a great mentor since he professionally photographs and writes for several car magazines. You just squeeze him and information pours out… lucky to have him on the this trip.

After sitting in front of my Mac for 7 hours today, my eyes were ready to pop out of my head and my pancake ass needed some activity (get your mind out of the gutter), so I ran up to Corciano, through town and back in the dark. It got pretty interesting running through a quiet, foreign little town, down and around hills, using my IPod as a flashlight, praying potholes would get outa’ my way. I managed to keep my ankles un-rolled and up until a bunny rabbit jumped out from behind a bush, startling the snot outa’ me, just as I reached the villa gardens, forcing me to jump and slip on wet rocks. Not only am I a designer/skier/metalsmith/writer/photographer/sister/climber/bitch, but I’m graceful as a rhino in a baby crib to boot. Dinner consisted of  penne with pesto and an antipasta plate with caprese salad, proschuetto and cheese. I’ve had more starch in the last week than a Korean Dry Cleaner goes through in a year. 2 blood oranges for dessert, passing on some cakey-moussey-chocolatey-Little Debby looking bunt… Not only am I a designer/skier/metalsmith/writer/photographer/sister/climber/bitch/ungracefulKlutz, I’m an active pursuant of Professional Orange Peelers of Umbria. More Tomorry! Chika-chika-chow-chow…

DAY 57: Mystical magic

If I could send a fruit basket to the inventor of sweatpants, I would... unfortunately, there is no one person to thank for this anomaly. The chief characteristic distinguishing cotton sweatpants from other athletic pants is the elastic band located around the cankles (An aesthetically unfortunate physiological condition which leaves its victims with no discernible narrowing of the ankle between the calf and the foot- don't hide those pretty little thangs...). They are usually quite "baggy" and loose which makes them easy to slip into (and out of) and allows a great deal of flexibility and comfort, especially key for stomach expansion due to exorbitant amounts of consumption. In addition, this design traps less heat than most conventional trousers, which may be a disadvantage in some contexts (when you're visiting Antarctica) and an advantage in others (such as body heat caused by aerobic activities or thinking too hard). If I wasn't obsessed with my wardrobe and the art of fashion, I would live in sweatpants. I have slept in, eaten in, gone to class in and gotten down with the funky bunch in my mystic blue sweatpants for the last THREE days. (Dating sign-ups will be available at the end of this lecture... midgets save your pencil lead. Unless you invented sweatpants...)


After an early run looping up to and through Corciano and down along the highway, day 1 of "actual" class started today at the villa.... Advanced Drawing with Mr. Jeffery Conger. Yes I was wearing my mystic blue sweatpants.... maybe they need a name too... He critiqued our travel journals thus far ("Great on the writing part... need to see more drawings"- knew that was coming) We started with cups... still life's ain't my gig, but I trucked through and drew 3 horribly deformed cups. Once again, I was waiting for Celine to float into the room, singing "It's  all comin' back, it's all comin' back to me now..." after about 3 hours of cuppage, we put our graphite down and headed to lunch... Salad! Yessss... With cheesy pasta casserole! Nooooo... and of course an orange. *SIDENOTE* If there was a timed event for orange peeling, I'd take the silver... style points would be lacking, as I need to work on the "initial break-through"... I've mastered the "single peel" (removing the peel in one clean spiral) and the "equal halves" (removing the peel in two equal pieces). I have 3 more months to prepare for a gold-worthy performance. *END OF SIDENOTE* Back to the drawing board this afternoon where Rosella surprised us with one of her "special" cakes... layered yellow and red cake with chocolate pudding on top, all in a big bowl (?). One bite was enough for me! An art history discussion followed an afternoon of etch-a-sketch... the rise of Rome, the fall of Rome, Humanism, Religion, Iconography, Reformation, Counter Reformation, Winkin, Blinkin and Nod-off... JESUS! All very interesting to those interested, therefore much too political and dull for all of you (dumbies). Dinner was served in our family style dining room with a barrel vaulted ceiling... veggie soup (yes with pasta), baby snausages and mashers. SO much food... just look at all the food included in one paragraph, Ugh! So good, yet so much...


It snowed all day today... complete white out for a few hours. Luckily it doesn't stick... if I am surrounded by this much snow, I want to be strapped to my Salomons scoping my next line... I'm in Italy! I want to frolic barefoot through olive trees in a sundress with nymphs while satyrs serenade us with music pipes... C'mon! (I joke, I joke) More from Pieve della Vescovo tomorrow, ciao my dear friends...

DAY 56: You'll shoot yer eye out!

The 8th of March marks International Women's Day- celebrating political, economic and social achievements of women all of the world... as if Mother's Day and Valentine's Day aren't enough. I suppose if National Ferris Wheel Day exists, why not have one dedicated strictly to chicks? Primarily in Italia, men give yellow mimosa flowers and chocolates to the important women in their lives... I received a socialist propaganda bouquet from "Stefano" the lobbyist. Deeply touched... Aleolus, the God of wind decided to grace us with his presence today when we "learned how to ride the bus!" (I swear I feel like I'm in 4th grade sometimes...) The sad part is that some people really wouldn't know what to do or where to go... Lord knows I was a public transportation wizard in Dublin, but we are out in the boondocks here. So, after 2 hours of waiting in the wind and rain for a ride, the wolf pack arrived in Perugia, a University town of 36,000 students and the National Gallery of Umbria that is FULL of GUESS WHO!!  I like to think of Jesus wearin' a Tuxedo T-shirt because it says "I want to be formal, but I like to party."  You all know how I feel about Mar-Mar and JC right now... I was kicking and screaming like Ralphie when he wouldn't go down the slide because he had to tell Santa he REALLY wanted the Official Red Ryder Carbine-Action Two-Hundred-Shot Range Model Air Rifle... "I REALLY want Venti Soy Caramel Latte and the last 3 backissues of InStyle!" as my nails grip around a column like a scratching post.  Mar, JC... I love you guys, but I think we need a break. Rosella and "The Harv" talked about a lot of art (that all looked the same... don't tell him I said that) as I contemplated the "affair of sorts" between Mags and JC... no one ever touches on the soapy drama of the "holy heros"... they were humans too... I want the dirt! 


After we toured the museum, Rosella made reservations at Ristorante Ferrari, a great pizzeria that sat all 20 of us at a long table... I really wanted a fatty salad, but they made a deal with us that for 10 Euros, we could get a drink and a pizza... and since I'm the oldest, I need not be difficult (!@#$%^&*), so Prima Vera pie for me- as close to veggies I could get. I sat at the end of the table with Rosella and discussed how art is our medium in expressing ourselves and the ability we as artists have to communicate visually with the world. Speaking without words... what a concept. We also discussed interpreting our dreams... specifically a dream where you see rooms inside of yourself... exploring what you hold inside each room, determining if you need to close certain doors and open others... concluding that your body is a house, a temple and the importance of taking care in what you let in and out. A wonderful metaphor and inspiration for new artwork! After lunch we were assigned to trudge back into the gallery and sketch for an hour... time flies when your drawing- seriously. It felt like 5 minutes... I know when I've taken time away from a medium when I want to throw my sketchbook through a display case... Holy rusty, no pun intended. Through the bummer weather, we made our way to a little art store for supplies and loaded the bus back to Corciano. Rosella had homemade hot chocolate waiting for us in the "yellow room," upstairs in the villa" upon return... I warmed up and caught up on some writing (what I find myself doing any free chance I get) until dinner time. 


There were a few extra guests that joined us for dinner tonight, including a journalist friend of Rosella's that teaches in New York, Felipo Vasta- Rosella's brother and Roberto- Rosella's assistant. Bebe (Rosella's mother) has been cooking us some fine Italian cuisine these last few days, but her Tuscan Bean Soup took the cake tonight. Marinated chicken drummies and potatoes baked with onions left everyone beyond full, pants unzipped. In a few conversations Rosella has mentioned that of all the Universities the Pieve School hosts (about 5 others), Montana State kids are her favorite. She exclaimed that she loves how we laugh and our respect for open spaces... city kids don't always know how to handle themselves or others in rural settings, so she loves it when we arrive because we all feel and act like we're home. And with that, I'll leave you with a quote I stumbled across the other day...

"I am in love with Montana... for other states I have admiration, respect, 

recognition, even some affection; but with Montana it is love and it's 

difficult to analyze love when you are in it."  

-John Steinbeck

I think that sums it up right there... well said Johnny, well said. More tomorrow, Ciao ciao!

DAY 55: STOP YELLING!

Breakfast options include corn flakes, plain yogurt, toast in a plastic wrapper, croissants in a plastic wrapper, Nutella, biscotti and occasionally scrambled eggs... Everyday. (I'm not complaining, I'm just allowing you to experience this with me... so you can base your glee for breakfast choices based on your own personal preferences...) Coffee and cornflakes mixed with yogurt sufficed... different strokes for different folks. Took another run today up to Migiani, a little different route that involved hurdling, failing miserably and slipping on my landing over a gargantuan mud puddle- new white running kicks are no longer white. Good times were had by all.

"Ahhhh, si si!" I reckon a revelation is responsible for the naming of the town "Assisi." Another hilltop town 12 miles east of Perugia, birthplace of St. Francis (patron saint of Italy) and home to 3,000 peeps is where we spent our day. We boarded a short bus and Rosella, cordially gave us a history lesson on the drive, but did so at an octave that a deaf person could hear. She was YELLING into a microphone that transfered from the blaring speakers above our seats to our bleeding ears. I couldn't hear what she was saying, as I was practicing self-restraint and trying to find my happy place... no one but "Bill da' Bus Driver" had the heart to tell her to "STOP YELLING!" We stopped in a small town on the way, to see a church... on a Sunday... in the middle of mass. I refuse to enter churches as a tourist on, Sundays especially, during other people's time for thoughts and prayers- regardless of the religion. As I was standing outside the church in a small square, I looked around and realized that all of the people standing around me were men. "The Harv" agreed that disrupting church is disrespectful and joined me outside to explain that families walk to church together, but only the women and children go in while the men huddle, with leashed pooches, drinking cappuccinos, undoubtedly discussing current events... Riiiight. I decided the "Good Ol' Boys Club" light each others cigarettes, replay the weekend's big soccer match and comment on how tall the blond American is that just walked by... I joined Professors #1 & #2 for a cappuccino on a bench outside, to sit and contemplate the meaning of life.

After the rest of the group joined our leisure, we piled back on the bus to chug up the hill... first stop: Basilica of St. Francis. Although the artist is unknown, art historians are convinced that the 13th century frescos are by Giotti (remember when I was in Padua, and we only got 15 minutes in the Scrovegni Chapel? "The greatest painter to ever live"- according to "The Harv," is believed to have painted Frank's Basilica too!)... I was not nearly as impressed, but I want a divorce from Jesus and will pay for Mary to visit a tailor- meaning I NEED A BREAK from those two! One more dove beaming down from a spaceship cloud to Mar-Mar's unfortunate pear-shaped figure and I will get out my 22. We were released for "recess" after instructions for a photo assignment were explained, so Kate, Jesine and I found a cafe with a buffet... I loaded up on grilled veggies- green beans (my fav!), brussels sprouts, zucchini, cauliflower, eggplant and carrots, and some delicious grilled fish. I heart vegetables more than I heart Seinfeld. After some vitamin D and Omega 3, we walked to a castle on top of the city that lent extraordinary views and torrential winds... a checker board carpet of grass and soil laid below us, littered with dancing cyprus Pawns, castle Kings and chapel Arch Bishops... Mother Natures version of chess. The weather started to change for the worse, dropping in temperature which dropped my enthusiasm for the outdoors. Unless I am on my skis, in powder, on a mountain, I see no reason to tolerate cold weather... but that's just me. We rolled down the hill towards the bus, snapping photos and partaking in a quickie Tai-Chi session led by Conga'... even "Harvetron" performed waking bear. The villa was nice and warm with bowls of piping tortellini and broth waiting for us. Nights now consist of writing and drawing... much preferred after 2 months of non-stop action. Day trip to Perugia tomorrow! CHOW!

DAY 54: You are what you eat?

I am a blog behind. 

Although I do not mind, 

I will be sure to find, 

my fans wondering where I have dined,

 and if it involved an orange rind; 

or if the people were kind.

Nonstop travel makes it hard to rewind

the days that I have left behind.

Thankfully I have scribed & designed,

the adventures that have defined,

how Whit & Europe became entwined.

My oath to you here is signed,

I invite you to read on, if you feel so inclined.

 I am living in one of "the most beautiful villages in all of Italy"... Corciano sits high on a hill, systematically designed in medieval times for security and to always see who was "at the front door." Although there wasn't a cloud in the blue bird sky, it was brisk. At the bottom of the hill, I was in a sweatshirt and down jacket. 20 minutes later at the top of the hill I was reminded what elevation felt like after being at sea level for a month, sucking air and fanning myself, in a t-shirt- buns of steel here I come! Rosella, fellow blondie and complete crack up, showed us around the town, introduced us to the priest and the Gelatoria owner and gabbed on about history intermittently between answering her cell phone and dying laughing at herself. We stopped by the market for snacks since we don't usually receive meals on the weekends... Ritz, carrots, bananas, raisins and almonds. Upon return to the villa at the bottom of the hill, we were informed that we were in fact, provided lunch, being it the first weekend of our stay... green salad followed by pesto gnocchi and a blood orange. You will hear rejoicing from the hilltops the day we don't receive pasta at a meal... I wouldn't hold your breath. 

After settling in for a bit, I went on my first run in my new region... I am surrounded by hills and valleys, though roads are very narrow, lacking shoulders, so running will be similar to an arcade game- Inky, Blinky, Pinky and Clyde are the smart cars speeding around corners, trying to catch me, Pac Woman. I stayed on rural roads and wound my way up to the neighboring hill town, Migiana. It must be mandatory for Italians to own German Shepherds because through every steel gate were black noses and snarled teeth releasing fierce, blood thirsty barks. Here kitty, kitty, kitty... I found a dirt road/trail through the woods that took me as far as a large, impassable mud bog. It was getting dark, so I headed back just in time to enjoy the last sliver of sun slip behind the hills. I "stretched it out" next to the castle... yes, the castle. I know, I pinched myself as I leaned on the stone wall to stretch the calves. The skies were pale pink and misty orange... it was pretty magical. I grabbed a shower and joined everyone for penne with tomato sauce, salad, fried artichokes (pass) and mystery meat with gravy (pass)... so much food. One course is a full meal for me, but they keep coming... I don't want them to think I dislike their food, but I physically cannot consume this much! Michele came in to share some of his homemade "Fragolacella"- strawberry version of Lemoncello. Took advantage of some much needed R&R today... off to Assisi tomorrow! Ciao!

DAY 53: Bloody Hell. Bloody orange.

Whelp, 2 hours of worrisome non-sleep wasn't enough... as you can imagine, I was in a fantastic mood this morning. Exhaustion isn't even a worthy description. Feeding Luigi was similar to feeding a 1 year old... sloppy mess- just shoved things in the hole and called 'er good. Because I did such a successful job packing, I managed to fill my reusable grocery bag, "Oscar" (holds garbage and crap). With Luigi on back, Roo on front, Trixie over the shoulder, Hoebag (small purple) smashed in "Oscar," who was switching from my left hand to right, Team BlondVoyage bid Rome adeu, thanked God for still remaining upright and threw my self into the Tiber. Just kidding... the bus. Threw myself onto the bus. Which quickly took on a basement pub, mortuary stench... it was all I could do to not vomit, let alone come to terms with the fact that it was seeping out of my peers pores. DETOX TIME!

2 hours later we arrived in Corciano... also known as the halfway point between Heaven and Earth. Only the people that are ALMOST perfect get to come here... maybe they stole an orange when they were little or cheated on an Algebra exam in Middle School. Lord only knows how I got so lucky- and I'm not even dead yet!  I'm not sure how to describe my home for the next two months because words do it no justice. But I'll try: imagine winding through tree-covered hills on a narrow road, rising in elevation with each mile behind the tires. Rain lightly sprinkles from the overcast sky that is bigger and brighter than anywhere I've been (ok, besides my second favorite place in the world, Big Sky, Montana)... powder grey acts as a backdrop while ribbons of lavender and plum dash between chubby rain clouds. Almond colored medieval towns stacked on top of one another settle into hillsides everywhere you look... castles rise up out of no where like sleeping giants. We take a sharp right up a dirt road to one of these magnificent sleeping giants, which happens to be our next door neighbor... the villa is situated right beneath the town of Corciano, a steep 20 minute walk away. The wolf pack tirelessly files off the bus, into our "hotel," which sits adjacent to the villa and classrooms. Keep in mind that this hotel and classrooms are nothing like you might imagine... all very old buildings that have been converted, so they have remaining charm  and character. Rosella Vasta is our host- her mother Bebe and father Michele bought the villa 20 years ago and turned it into a business retreat/wedding/vacation destination. Ten years ago Rosella decided to start an International program that hosts university groups studying abroad, including Montana State (we are the 10th group). Rosella is not your typical Italian... she has bright blond hair and is an absolute firecracker. Her paintings cover every wall, as she is a very well known artist in Italy.

After introductions, orientation and "moving in"(rooming with Jesine) were accomplished, we joined Rosella and her assistant in the dining room for lunch... croquettes (small, fried roll filled with mashed potatoes), lasagna, turkey with a mushroom gravy and brownies for dessert. It was all I could do to keep my eyes open, so after an hour of small talk and physically holding my eyelids up, I could not curl up in my bed fast enough... only to lay there, wide awake. Is it possible to be TOO tired to sleep? How can I be in Hell when I'm supposed to be in euphoria? My brain would not shut off, so I laid on my cot/bed, staring at the wood panels on the ceiling. My mood increased exponentially when I had to meet the group for more orientation in a meat locker... err, classroom; followed by dinner... I feel like I have done nothing but sit, lay down and eat today... I win the gold medal in the "Lazy Sack" finals. So MORE food... vegetable soup with pasta (very tasty) followed by salad and a slice of potato/egg pie. For dessert I enjoyed my third blood orange of the day... they've become my latest obsession. So deliciously juicy, I can hardly stand it. I made a special request for salads and vegetables as often as possible at meals... I have a feeling pasta will be served at every meal, so for someone that rarely ever ate pasta before coming to Italy...

After taking a shower and giving Luigi the heimlich, I feel at home. I'm ready to relax, get back in a routine and dust off my drawing skills (it's been awhile since I sat down to sketch for 5 hours at a time). Breath in, breath out... I love fresh mountain air. Ciao ciao ciao...

DAY 52: 'Til the wee hours of the morn

For our last day in Rome, we were to take bus to the Catacombs- mazes of underground tunnels that were used to bury thousands of bodies (burials were forbidden inside the walls of Rome). BUT, because it was raining, and a lot of walking was involved, "The Harv" gave us some options: Catacombs, Avant Garde exhibit at the Museum of Modern Art, or a special Edward Hopper exhibit (my recommendation). A few took a bus out to the Catacombs, everyone else followed "The Harv" to the Avant Garde while "Conga'" (prof. #2)  and I chose the Edward Hopper (perfect since I wasn't in the mood for "group" activities). They set up an exhibit hall right on Via del Corso (shopping street, 10 minute walk from hotel) for Mr. Hopper's famous works containing sketches, etchings and paintings... I've become numb to religious interpretation paintings, so it was a breath of fresh air to walk in and look at America, through the left hand of a 6'5" American. Hopper is best known for capturing intimate moments in people's lives, whether it is someone sitting in a window, or someone crossing the street at night- he brings stark, lonely moments to life. I really enjoyed his sketchbook- he used an accounting notebook, very organized and filled with beautiful drawings. His etchings were breath taking (yes, after I inhaled some fresh, American air, it was quickly taken away)... from a distance, they looked like black and white photographs. I have taken several printmaking classes and know the skill it takes... made me appreciate his even more. The gallery was set up chronologically with his life... he lived in an apartment in New York for over 50 years, and after marrying his wife Jo, she remained his only model, with much of his work sweetly dedicated to her. During his younger years, he traveled and lived in Paris and Italy... it was fun to see/recognize his landscapes (Seine, Arno, Tiber rivers).
Wonderful quote: "If you could say it in words, there would be no reason to paint." Such a romantic and talented individual... when he died at the age of 84 in 1967, his sweetheart donated much of his work to the Whitney Museum of Modern Art in NYC. It is very rare to experience exhibitions of an artists work, together in one location. I am so lucky to have seen this show, along with Caravaggio's days earlier.

After a few humbling hours with Hopper, "Conga'" and I walked to a little resto for lunch. I drank a cappuccino and ate a salami sando I'd packed, while Jeff tried the famous potato pizza we've been seeing everywhere (thinly sliced potatoes with rosemary and mozzarella). We had a great conversation about the impact traveling has on a person and how it molds one's character and outlook upon return. There was a Grace Kelly exhibit I really wanted to see, so we sat on the Spanish steps while we waited for it to open... I got a little camera 101 while we took pictures of rose venders, tourists and high school kids playing hooky. Once in front of Grace Kelly's pretty face, we realized that the exhibit ended last weekend- Rats! I was on a hunt for running shoes, so Jeff joined me in the wonderful world of Adidas... SCORE! I  am the happiest girl on Earth, with comfortable tootsies! We parted ways and I walked around more (I heart alone time)...

In celebration of Becca's birthday and our last night in Rome, "The Harv" made us reservations at a resto... that he couldn't find after we all walked around for 30 minutes, so he picked a random place and all 17 of us shlepped inside. *WARNING* This is where the night turns into an absolute dog and pony show...
7:41pm: Dinner is great... I order a salad and seafood linguini and slip away to order a dessert for the birthday girl. "Marcello the Grouch" brings me INTO  the kitchen, to pick out a cake... "One piece of chocolate cake please!" He agrees, confirming I wanted "just one" piece....
9:28pm: "Marcello" slyly brings the cake out... "Happy Birthday" ensues, along with 16 more pieces of cake. Whit is pissed but rides it out since it's Becca's big day.
9:46pm: Bill arrives. 17 pieces of cake at 4.50 Euros a pop= a 77 Euro cake (107 USD). Whit is irate. Whit removes herself hastily from the table, huddles "Marcello," "Marcello's" interpreter/busboy and "Old Man Diner" the owner together. After an upheaval of papers, throwing of pencils, spitting and several profane arm gestures later, "Old Man Diner" knocked off 10 Euros, ONLY because he was sick of looking up at me.
9:58: Devin goes to the bathroom, bumps a table to get by a waiter, knocks over an entire bottle of wine, turns to grab it, knocks two glasses over, breaking one that fell to its death on the tile floor.
9:59pm: "Marcello" enters room. "Marcello" turns bright red, temple veins strained, teeth on the grind.
9:59:32pm: "Conga'" jumps up, offers to pay for the bottle, smoothes things over, etc. etc.
10:01: Embarrassed members of the group disperse like field mice back to the hotel.
10:17pm: Pre-gaming commences.
10:23pm: Whit straightens Kate's head of brunette ringlets.
11:44pm: People start making their way to MOOD (dance club).
12:04am: Whit enters MOOD. Whit realizes there is an open bar. Whit finds majority of the group at bar.
12:41am: 4 minutes left of open bar. Wolfpack moves in.
12:42am: 3 minutes left of open bar. Wolfpack consumes copious amounts of choice bevies.
12:43am: 2 minutes left of open bar. Wolfpack decides to see how much they can drink in 2 minutes.
12:44am: 1 minute left of open bar. Whit realizes she is having deja vu, and decides to pass on binge drinking. Whit watches a full moon rise over the wolfpack... debauchery begins.
1:17am: Devin gets jumped by 2 Spanish guys. Devin has a swollen face. Becca Jessie and Whit take care of Devin and decide to gather the rest of the wolf pack.
1:20am: Whit and Jessie realize none of the wolfpack is left in the club. Whit and Jessie are really happy about this.
1:21am: Whit walks up stairs to see if anyone is outside. The bouncer informs Whit that we cannot leave, because the Spaniards are waiting outside for us and will follow us home. Whit is stoked.
1:47am: Whit goes back upstairs after sitting, icing Devin's mug to ask the bouncer if we can leave yet. He informs Whit that they have a taxi coming to pick us up. Whit sees the Spaniards in a 10 man brawl in the street. Whit is really looking forward to the next 10 minutes.
2:03am: Bouncer, club owner and security guards create a human barricade for us to pile into the taxi and speed away. Whit is sympathetic for Cameron Diaz and understands why she decked a paparazzi.
2:16am: Arrive back at hotel to realize 3 people are still missing. Whit's motherly instinct kicks in immediately. Whit and Jessie put on tennis shoes and go back out to search for the missing.
3:30am- Whit and Jessie return, out of luck to the hotel, to find 2 of the 3 missing persons. Whit swallows a lump the size of an Easter egg. Whit and Jessie go back out to search for the missing.
4:42am: Whit and Jessie scour the city of Rome. Whit and Jessie walk EVERYWHERE. Whit and Jessie return to the club 3 times throughout the night, search every open bar and resort to yelling as if in a forest. Whit and Jessie are discouraged, worried and exhausted.
5:09am: Whit and Jessie return. Still no missing person.
5:30am: Whit is unable to give anymore details, for safety, embarrassment and other respect issues. Needless to say the missing person returned safely, only to be pummeled to death by yours truly. Just kidding. I'm grateful everyone got home safe and sound.
5:39am: Whit finally goes to bed. Whit promises that if I publish this blog someday, I will include all (most) of the details of what this ridiculous night entailed. If you thought that was good, just wait.

When in (M-Fing) Rome! What a day/night/morning... off to the villa in Perugia tomorrow, where I will get some much needed R&R. CIAO.