In Ruin

There are a few places every young Humanities major dreams of: the Roman Forum, Ancient Greece, and Pompeii are some of the top highlights. 

Pompeii has always fascinated my imagination. First, as a youngin' with my morbid thoughts running wild with images of flowing lava and a city buried alive. Then later, in my Classic Study of Ancient Greece & Rome course, I learned about the almost lucky (though not for the Pompeiians) preservation of the city, which has allowed historians and archeologists to better understand life during the height of the Roman Empire, and I became only more intrigued. Finally, as it can always be counted on to do, a good ol' episode of Doctor Who reminded me of the emotional turmoil and devastation that occurred in Pompeii, inadvertently spurring a sentimental attachment within me for the fallen Pompeiians. 

Despite this foreknowledge, when we first arrived in Pompeii, we were greeted by a light hearted phallus-waving imp, guaranteeing that the whole day would not be caught up only in the sorrow of death, but also in the rejoice of the accomplishments of the lost people, bronze nudes included.   

London town wanderings

I get hankerings, and once I get them, they don't let go. I've been fortunate enough that most of this food cravings have evaded me during my time in Italy. However, with the promise of London, home to every possible type of food you could imagine, I needed something so exotic, something so foreign I could get it in no other place than the cosmopolitan metropolitan paradise of London. I needed........ a cheeseburger. 

Ok, so maybe it's not that exotic. Nevertheless, few things are as satisfying as a good burger (and few things are as unfortunate as a bad burger). Thanks to some internet-scouring I had a hunch on where to get a goodin' in ol' London town. On Sunday I found myself at the Byron Burger in Soho.

A tasty Sunday Burger seemed to be a popular idea, as the place was poppin'. Inside there is a very diner-esc atmosphere, though just a little more upscale, probably because proper British people seem to eat there french fries chips with a fork. 

A Simple Sunday

Waking up with nothing to do is blissful. Not having to hit snooze a dozen times and whine to the morning gods that it is too early is one of the better moments in life. Even living in Italy, it can really be these little things that make you appreciate life. 

Sundays are one of my favorite days of the week. There are so many great simplicities on Sundays. My primary preference is "Scumball Sundays" (patent pending), when I don't leave the house or do anything relatively close to productive. Brunch is the primary meal of the day, and there's no going wrong with bacon and mimosas at 11 am. Everything is a little more relaxed on a Sunday. The streets are quieter, hushed from those suffering hangovers, and no one is rushing around with the usual frantic purpose of the week. 

Having been a frantic rusher for the past few weekends (not that there are any complaints here) I have been craving a chill weekend to enjoy Florence and a little relaxation. Friday and Saturday, I spent predominately tucked in hiding from the rain. I took advantage of an uncommon "Scumball Saturday", filled with tea and a Criminal Minds marathon. 

On Sunday I woke to a quite apartment. My whole gang of roommates had departed for the day so I had the place to myself. I think we all know that being home alone is one of those "little things" I was talking about. I opened the apartment windows to let in the sun that had finally peaked out from behind the clouds, turned on iTunes, and began to sing along. I cracked a few eggs on the stove and had breakfast going in no time. I danced around the kitchen, as I moved my cuisine from pan to plate. 

December Nights

Now it seems a bit cruel to tell ya'll about an event that's already passed, but it was so Christmasy and grand how could I resist? I promise to pop up some other holiday suggestions at the end, just to ensure no one is deprived of any Christmas cheer. 

The first weekend of December, every year, Balboa Park (one of my favorite spots), hosts December Nights. It is the largest community event in San Diego and host around 350,000 people over two nights. Crazy, I know. You might think that with this extreme amount of people the event might feel overwhelming, but it really doesn't. There's a good dose of Christmas cheer in the air, and everyone is generally pretty happy to be there. I went with a whole gaggle of people, and we trekked our way to the park to join in the festivities. 

The other side of the hill

When asking about the best spots in Los Angeles, one often is pointed toward The Getty Center. Now I have to say, I've yet to take a stroll about this said-to-be epic museum, though it is definitely on my to-see list (which is never ending). However, a few weekends ago, myself and a group of my favorite gals popped over to the other side of the Los Angeles hills to The Getty Villa. 

True to its name, The Getty Villa is the manifestation of J. Paul Getty's vision of creating a Roman Villa to house his dream museum. Constructed during the 1970s, the Villa is a replica of the Villa of Papryri at Herculaneum, Pompeii's less popular sister-city, also destroyed by Vesuvius in 79 A.D. Unfortunately, Mr.Getty died before getting to see the completion of the site, thought it was luckily still completed, in appropriate Roman architecture and style, with the inheritance left by the visionary.