Rome! by Rora

My interest in Rome actually started with an interest in ancient Egypt and it's most famous pharaoh, Cleopatra. I saw a book at the library called "Antony and Cleopatra" by Colleen McCullough and decided to check it out. It was dry. Up until then, the only history I had read was in a school history book; but the content was interesting even if there were a lot of boring minutia, so I kept reading. Eventually all the details started coming together and making sense, and the book became really enjoyable. I finished it and the rest of the series in conjunction with the actual works of the time (Caesar, Plutarch), then moved on to other historical fictions. Right now I'm reading a lot of academic histories, mostly around the time of Julius Caesar. 

Despite all of this, I have never actually been to Rome! So you can imagine how cool the Roman room was for me. The following is my analysis on the decor included in the room based on what I've learned so far. Please correct me if I'm wrong!

A bust of my favorite Roman general, Gaius Julius Caesar!

Hercules and the Nemean Lion

While Hercules originated in Greece as the divine hero Heracles, Rome eagerly adopted him into their own mythology. He became so much a part of Roman life, there were feasts and multiple temples dedicated to him (one of which stands today- the Temple of Hercules Victor). This shield depicts him slaying the Nemean lion. This was one of Hercules' "twelve labors" he went through to earn atonement and immortality.

The Great Fire of Rome

This scene is obviously the burning of Rome. But where was Nero and his infamous lyre? Andy and I spent a long time searching the mural for him. Our room came with an information binder that I hoped would tell us a little bit more about the artwork. While it didn't say much about the art, it did confirm that there was a painting somewhere of Nero watching as Rome burned. We actually found it in the bathroom.

Emperor Nero playing the lyre as Rome burns.

Here's the rest of the mural surrounding a burning Rome. I tried checking some maps to see if the buildings corresponded to anything, but I didn't have much luck.

"Discobolus of Myron"

This statue is a weird one for the room since the original is a Greek work called "Discobolus of Myron". I guess there were multiple Roman copies though.

???

This statue has me stumped. The only Roman deity associated with grapes is Bacchus, the god of wine, and that definitely is not a man, although he is sometimes pictured with longer hair like this. I was thinking it could possibly be Ceres since she is credited with the harvest, but she's usually pictured with wheat or a cornucopia. Yeah, I've got nothing.

The colosseum, damaged by an earthquake.

"Peace"

Hannibal or Pompey?

Andy's first thought when seeing this picture was Hannibal; mine was Pompey the Great. Back when Pompey had joined Sulla in the war against the Marians, he had a few victories in Africa and felt that he deserved a triumph once he returned to Rome. Sulla at first refused- not only was Pompey just a citizens holding no office, but he still had active legions that he would not disband. Eventually Sulla gave in though, and put Pompey's triumph behind his own and one of his generals. In an attempt to upstage his seniors, Pompey had his chariot drawn by an elephant. However, the elephant was too big to get through the city gate. Pompey had to scramble to make it work while Sulla laughed at him. I'm not sure which one the artist intended with this picture, but I always liked that story about Pompey.

The last Pharaoh

This is most obviously Cleopatra VII Philopator, the Cleopatra of stories. The man below would then be Marc Antony. After Julius Caesar's assassination, Antony became part of the second triumvirate who joined forces to defeat Caesar's murderers and restore order to Rome. Antony was given control of Rome's eastern provinces (which at the time included Egypt) and began a romantic relationship with Cleopatra, fathering three children on her. Eventually the triumvirate broke down as Antony and Caesar's nephew/heir Octavius clashed for political power; civil war erupted between the two, with Octavius bringing the might of Rome against Antony and Cleopatra. The lovers were defeated and commit suicide together in Egypt. Despite the fact that Cleopatra had also been Caesar's lover and bore him a child, she is probably more strongly associated with Marc Antony because of their tragic end.

Marcus Antonius

The following are either generic paintings or I have no idea who they are or what they depict. If you can identify any of them, please let me know!

 

These prancing soldiers on our chariot bed :)

A SoCal Sojourn

Pinnacles

I have never fancied myself a weekend warrior. I have always been more of the quit my job, pack my life in the back of a small car, and hit the road for an indeterminate amount of time kind of traveler, but one can’t reasonably do that without some preparation. Facebook “On This Day” reminders teased me about my prior adventures, stirring up a wanderlust froth that I could no longer ignore.

Rora and I packed up the car and hit the road for a weekend trip through SoCal.  We left first thing in the morning, freely flying down the freeway past throngs of commuters jostling in traffic driving in the opposite direction.  There are few feelings that elicit such a sadistic pleasure as heading off onto vacation and looking across the concrete barrier at the stressed out faces stuck in an endless line of cars, all with the goal of making it to their cramped offices.

       

        As we shed the suburbs and headed into the farmland south of San Jose, the rolling hills greeted us with an endless expanse of green, a display of gratitude for all the rain that El Niño had drenched us with over the prior weeks. We had a short ride to our first stop at Pinnacles National Park and we were there before much of note happened.

        We had decided to stop at Pinnacles as a practice hike for the much more difficult hikes we will be doing in 6 weeks in Hawaii. We pulled into the park and stopped by the visitor center to check in and grab a map.  We decided to climb the high peaks trail and then wrap around the peaks through the valley on our way back.  This loop would be a 9-mile hike with around 1,600 feet of elevation gain, significantly less elevation than we will be facing in Hawaii, but I had little desire to climb the same trail twice simply to accomplish comparable elevation gain.

        The short drive into the park was fairly unremarkable as national parks go, following a shallow creek to the base of the peaks. We pulled up to the trailhead and got our stuff ready for the hike. An older couple came in an SUV, jumped out, and hit the trail just as we were starting. They were only a little ways ahead of us and when we got to where the trail split, they headed down the flat portion to the left, leaving us to climb the high peaks trail alone. The beginning of the trail strolled gently alongside the same creek that we followed on our drive to the trailhead.  

Moss Landing

My bed at the hostel was amazingly comfortable and I slept like an angel drifting on a cloud, the room was filled with other guys, not one bed empty, but no one snored or if they did I was undisturbed by it. I really hope I don’t snore loudly, I would hate to be the guy known for snoring in the hostel dorm, everyone dislikes that guy. I was in little hurry to get back to the aquarium, as I remembered the line that had formed before opening the prior day. I took my time making breakfast and getting ready before heading out. It was a beautiful day outside, sun shining, making it just hot enough that the cool ocean breeze felt delightful, nearly Caribbean, as I took the short walk to the aquarium. 

Clown Fish

Big Fish

The others decided to venture out for the day, some off to new places, some just off to explore the beautiful city of Monterey. I decided to return to the aquarium, hoping the crowds had decreased by now. The morning had been somewhat chilly, forcing me to dawn a coat, but the sun had now warmed the landscape and its beating rays mixed with the cool ocean breeze created a perfect climate outside. 

We'll start with a baby sea turtle.

Monterey Bay Aquarium

The Monterey Bay Aquarium was just a couple blocks down the street from my hostel. I decided to walk down and check out one of the world’s largest aquariums, a sprawling facility that sits along the shore on a site that used to be a sardine cannery, which lends its name to the shop lined street leading to the aquarium, Cannery Row. I walked to the aquarium along Cannery Row, the touristy shops just opening at this early hour. When I got to the aquarium there was already a line, stretching out the door and part way down the sidewalk. 

I was taken aback by the lines length, I figure at such an early hour, on a weekday, I would have been joined by few others. The line moved along briskly and soon I was inside the aquarium, feeling giddy at the prospect of seeing amazing sea creatures up close. Most of the crowd headed to the right, eager to get to the sea otter tank, so I headed to the left in an attempt to find some solitude in the meandering facility, the effort was futile, however, as I found myself surrounded by a herd of school students out on a field trip.

Where's Whale-do?

It had been the coldest night I had dealt with since the redwoods, but I managed to get a good nights rest in, it was daylight before I could no longer stand it. I walked over to the car, turning it on to allow the heat to get working. I packed up my tent and belongings as quickly as possible, trying desperately to get out of the cold and into the fractionally warmer vehicle. I had only one trail that the ranger had suggested to me left to explore. I drove to the trail head as the sun crept its way over the mountains, graciously filling the valley with its warm light. 

Me taking pictures of myself!

Yosemite Valley

Periodically throughout the night the thunder from the storm woke me, the rain seemed to be unrelenting, the steep granite cliff behind the campsite protected the area from wind so the ten had little work to do in keeping back the onslaught of precipitation. By the time I awoke for the day the rain had slowed to a drizzle, and as I ate breakfast completely ceased. 

I had decided to forego any climbing hikes for the day, instead stringing together three easy hikes into what would be a 14 mile hike. While the hike would be long the flatness would make up for it, the previous days hike had been a staggering 9.2 miles, half of that up steep hills. I hit the trail eager to put some miles behind me.

Fog lifting off the granite cliffs. 

Into the Valley

There come days in every trip where one just need to relax, and relax is what I did the next day. I could try and write a couple paragraphs about how I sat around watching television and stuffing my face with Rora’s cooking, she had been gracious enough to not only house me but also serve me a cornucopia of baked goods and an amazing pasta dinner, I can’t thank her enough, but I’ve decided instead to leave the days summary here in this first paragraph.

Swinging inch worm.

Mariposa Grove

I awoke to the sound of birds chattering in the trees above my camp. I attempted to go back to sleep but the insistent chirping was not going to allow that to happen. As I wiggled out of my sleeping bag my body was introduced to the cold air, outside the tent the ground was covered in frost. I grabbed some food and headed to my car, turning it on to allow the frost to melt. I had decided that I wanted to spend the day at the Maripose Groves, a section of the park that housed specimens of the worlds largest tree, the Sequoia Redwood. The sequoia is more massive than the Coastal Redwood, but not as tall. 

Deer in a frosty meadow. 

The sun was just cresting over the mountains as I drove through the valley, a family of deer grazed on the frosted grass, taking no interest in me as I pulled over to capture a photograph. The Mariposa Grove is about an hour drive to the south from the valley. The drive offered amazing views of the mountain range as I climbed up the side. After driving through a long tunnel I was greater with a tremendous view stretching out below me. A cloud of fog was still settled in a valley, blanketed the earth as it crept down the mountain sides, a lake of grey water evaporating in the sunlight. 

Golden Gate Park

I returned to the hostel and made dinner, it was still just me and the two ladies, the building was silent other than the crackling of the fire in the living room. I cooked and had dinner alone watching the waves crash against the bluffs out the dinning room window. A haze hovered low in the sky adding a misty glaze to the peaceful panorama. After dinner I headed out to have a look at the lighthouse, it’s blinking beacon illuminating the dark evening. I walked down out to the edge of the bluffs, the splash from the waves nearly reaching the top. Away from shore the ocean seemed calm, a rolling plain of blue stretching into the darkness. I sat on the bluff for awhile, a group of kids searched a cove below, trying to find some life in the rocky shelter. 

View from my dorm window.

Tidal Pools of Fitzgerald Marine Reserve

I awoke to the bright sun sneaking in through the cracks in the drapes, I had slept far longer then I had been as of late, the lack of noisy roommates letting me slumber undisturbed. The sky was blue and clear, a hopeful sign that my outing to the tide pool wouldn’t be a repeat of the prior day. The hostel had a strange policy where you had to leave while they cleaned, although I had little intention of spending the beautiful day cooped up indoors. 

Low tide wasn’t till 3:06, so I drove off in search of something to do, pulling off to go explore Milagra Ridge County Park. I choose this place simply because I saw the sign for it. The park didn’t even have a parking lot, so I pulled over to the side of the road and headed up the trailhead. A cold wind was blowing in from the sea, a boil of hawks drifting in the updrafts. I ambled about the park, admiring the wildflowers and plethora of avian species. At the Milagra summit the wind whipped violently, forcing me to descend rather quickly as the cold air nipped at my exposed flesh. Lower on the ridge were old military bunkers tucked into the side of the hill, abandoned they were, a seeming trend in the area, coated in graffiti. The wind erased all the sound from the air, creating a haunting silence as I sauntered about killing time. 

Rainy Day

I awoke to the sound of rain playing music on the stone driveway outside my window. The ambient dripping a soothing alarm clock. The others in the room were still sleeping so I headed out into the living room, making my self a cup of tea and returning to the indent in the couch I had started working on the evening before. I had planned on camping out once again, but the weather called for persistent and heavy rain for the rest of the day, so I abandoned that idea and looked around for another hostel. 

While driving up the Pacific Coast Highway, I saw two hostels that were lighthouses, I knew at least one of these options was not terribly far away, and staying in a lighthouse overlooking the ocean on a stormy night seemed like a perfect way to spend the evening. I took my time getting ready in the morning, not terribly eager to venture out into the wet weather. When I finally got my stuff packed and headed out, I found my car surrounded by a gang of turkeys, who seemed rather upset by my unexpected appearance. The turkeys scattered as I packed up my car and started the engine, running frantically, erratically in all directions, a mass chaos of gobbling. 

Marin Headlands Day Two

The fog horns from the lighthouses had lulled me to sleep. I listened to their unceasing serenade trying to pinpoint the unique blasts of each one, the chorus of bellowing horns was surprisingly calming as I drifted off to dreamland. 

Having gone to bed so early I arose at an ungodly hour, but decided to take advantage of the fog less sky and the morning lighting to try and get a photograph of the sun rising over San Francisco. It was still dark down at the campsite as I negotiated my way up to my car. I stopped short when I heard growling coming from the bushes. I pulled out my flashlight, it’s weak beam unable to penetrate the thick shrubbery. The campground was covered with flyers warning of mountain lions up at my camp in Mt. Tam, which was just a 20 mile drive away, and my mind started fearing for the worst. I scrapped my feet on the ground and waved my flashlight around, hoping this would disorient the unseen predator. Soon the growls were followed by the alarming sound of a bird, panicking as it struggled in the brush, apparently the creature had found it’s prey and it wasn’t me. The brush quoted back down and I continued you up the path, periodically looking around me to make sure I wasn’t being stalked. 

I grabbed my camera from the car and set up along the bridge capturing the sunrise as it crest over the cityscape and ascended the tall tower of the bridge. The sky glowed a magnificent orange, attempting to match it’s hue to the that of the famous bridge. After a moment of glory the show was over, and the day began, a clear blue sky overhead and the distant skyline of san francisco diluted by the bright rays of the low lying sun. I had a quick breakfast and decided I should take advantage of my early rise and go for a hike while the park was still empty. 

Travel Logged

I’ve never been able to sit still. Even when forced, my mind would wander in search of something new. I always knew I wanted to travel, even when my greatest expeditions were simple adventures through the woods behind a friend’s house. I didn’t get my first taste of real travel till I was in college, up until then, I had never even left the timezone I was born into, but it didn’t matter:  I knew I wanted it. When I finally got to travel, studying abroad in Rome, it confirmed my lust for the road.

In the eight years since, I have been on three expeditions, one throughout Europe and two around North America. I feel ashamed to admit that I have only traveled to seven countries and 38 contiguous states. When I was 20, I wrote that by 30 I would set foot on each continent, but that goal seems unlikely to be achieved in the allotted time frame. I have slept everywhere from hostels to park benches, tents to train stations, and cars to under a bush.  

Headlands Day One

The drive from Mt. Tam, as it affectionately called by the locals, to Marin Headlands was quick and uneventful. The most noteworthy moment was when I stopped at the grocery store to procure some foodstuffs for dinner and was forced to lie to a little girl, telling her I would by some girl scout cookies on my way out of the store. Luckily, the girls were busy with other customers when I was leaving and I was able to slink back to my car unnoticed. 

It was another clear day in the bay area, and once again I was greater with a fog less view of the Golden Gate and the communities around the San Francisco Bay. It was still early in the day when I got to the visitor center. I had reserved a campsite for the night a couple days prior, making this the first day I had made sleeping arrangements before the day of. It was a nice relief to know I wouldn’t be scurrying for a place to sleep at night. 

I drove up to the campsite and was amazed by the view. The campsite sat at the bottom of a steep hill, a picnic grove sat at the top, along with the parking lot. The view form the picnic area was stunning, a marvelous panorama showing off the Golden Gate and the San Franciscan Skyline beyond. I walked my tent and sleeping bags down the hill and set up for the evening. It was still early but I wanted to do some exploring and had little intention of having to fight with building my camp in the dark. 

Mount Tamalpais

I’m not sure why I didn't continue exploring Petaluma after I got my tire situation worked out, maybe I was afraid I would spoil it if I looked too deep, maybe I was just addicted to the road, either way I headed off with no particular itinerary. I decided to head to Marin Headlands, although I knew it being a Saturday my chances of obtaining a permit were low. Petaluma is only about 40 minutes drive from Marin Headlands, but I had spent much of the morning waiting for my tire to be fixed and didn’t get to the visitor center until mid afternoon. The ranger informed me of what I had feared, all the campsites were occupied, I would have to find somewhere else to sleep. I booked a site for the following night, unwilling to give up a free nights stay in the beautiful park, and headed into the town of Sausalito. 

I had driven through Sausalito back when i was exploring the bay area and had made a point to return if I had the chance. I drove into town and parked, the streets were packed with pedestrians and bikers, non of whom seemed to be speaking english. It felt like I was in a European city. Bikes out numbered cars and restaurant seating spilled out into the sidewalks. A small path led along the shore, the bay filled with sail boats on the calm water. Houses stacked upon each other to get a view of the water and the San Francisco skyline in the distance. 

Why Hostelling?

I have been asked a lot lately “what exactly is a hostel?” along with a slew of add on questions like, “isn’t is weird sharing a room with strangers?” “aren’t you afraid someone will steal your stuff?” and the most common, albeit not a question, “I don’t think I could stay at a hostel!” So I decided to give you all a little run down on what exactly a hostel is, how is works and explain why I prefer hosteling to other forms of accommodations. So I will return to my old format of writing you out a list of Five reasons I prefer hostels…

Wonderful Petaluma

Sacramento must be surrounded by farmland, because within minutes I found myself once again surrounded by a featureless landscape. I was headed back to Golden Gate Recreation Area to take advantage of a free camp site. The drive unentertaining as I made the 90 minute drive. Then I heard, “thwap, thwap, thwap, thwap,” and my dashboard lit up in excitement, apparently I had a flat tire. I urged the car on, trying to make the next exit, the world around me still sparsely populated farmland. 

“Thwap, thwap, thwap, thwap,” the tire continued, but it didn’t feel completely flat and I needed to get off the highway. I turned at the next exit hoping desperately that I would be met with a gas station. Luckily I plaza sat at the side of the road I pulled over, my tire was low but not flat, luckily I was in civilization. When the tire was removed it was revealed that a piece of metal was lodged in the tire. A six inch long half inch wide piece of metal that had pierced through the sidewall and back out the treaded portion of the tire. It was evident I was going to need a new tire, the man at the tire shop told me he could have the tire to me by tomorrow. 

I couldn’t drive into Marin Headlands on a donut, and it didn’t matter the ordeal have set me significantly behind schedule, I would be too late to get a permit. I scoured the map for an alternative. A small state park existed just a few miles outside the city I was in, I decided to head there and camp for the night. The drive through the rolling pastures was beautiful, cows and horses grazing peaceful along the gentle green slopes. The sun was low in the sky casting long shadows across the hills. The road was winding, putting the donut to the test, my nerves on edge as now I had no spare tire and was once again without cell phone reception, the sun was setting and if anything were to go wrong I would be stranded. 

Sacramento and The Haunted Mansion

It was dark as I pulled up to the hostel, a gold rush mansion built in 1885, the building itself needed no assistance in looking haunted, but the darkness and eerie quite of the city streets did just that. I parked along the street and headed inside, a iron fence bordered the permitter of the property, inside the gates was a fantastically maintained garden. The old stairs creaked as I walked up to the front door, a heavy wooden door, I opened in and was met with stunning classic beauty. The door frames adorned with magnificent wood work, bronze chandeliers hung from a painted ceiling. 

The Mansion, cleary not taken at night, maybe you should follow my instagram if you want that picture @St3Inmetz

A man came was painting in the back and came out to greet me. His hands still caked in acrylic as he filled out my paperwork. I took my stuff upstairs and decided to explore the old mansion. It had two beautiful parlor each adorned with an array of antiques to complete the ambiance. Street like seeped in through the massive windows, draped in decorated white curtains. Each parlor had it’s own fireplace, embellished with beautiful tile work and expert wood work. A piano sat unused along a wall in the rear parlor, I took a seat against the back wall and sat to read. According to the literature, the mansion is known as the Llewellyn Williams Mansion and is one of the last gold rush mansions in Sacramento. 

The ceiling in the rear parlor.

If the idea of staying in a hundred and thirty year old stick-style mansion wasn’t creepy enough, further research revealed that in 1907 the house was converted to a funeral home. The mansion is now used as a hostel, explaining my presences in it’s eerie confines. I spent the evening splitting time between sitting on the porch listening to an irritating mocking bird imitate a car alarm and the rear parlor thumbing through the books on the coffee table. As the night drifted on I decided to venture out for food, finding a quaint Vietnamese restaurant just a few blocks away, where I indulge in what may have been the largest bowl of pho I have ever encountered. 

Out of the Woods

I had slept through the night without even noticing the cold outside, my tent and sleeping bag doing a marvelous job of allowing me to get a full nights rest. When I exited my tent I noticed something covering the top. “Ice!” I said out loud, the pack of five male elks the only ones around to hear me. My tent was covered in ice, as was my car, the picnic table and most of the ground. It had evidently gotten much colder outside then I had anticipated. I was thankful I had slept through the chilly night undisturbed. 

The Elk spent the morning mulling about as I sat and made breakfast at the picnic table. The ice had melted almost instantly once the sun had made it’s way above the tree line, it’s warm rays basking the prairie is a soft morning glow. There was no fog on this morning, which came as somewhat of a surprise given how persistent the fog seemed to be along the coast. 

As I sat enjoy my breakfast two of the elk began to lock antlers and battle, it wasn’t an epic mating battle, like one sees in a nature documentary, but more like a feud between friends fighting over who got to graze on some particularly inviting clump of grass. As I sat the group made their way over towards me, eventually the closest being maybe five yards away from me. A park ranger who had just pulled in to check up on the campsite pulled over and told me I shouldn't get so close, as if I had intentionally moved them towards myself. He was only trying to keep me from being charged at, but i still took issue with the comment, maybe all this time away from people was turning me into a crazy hermit who screams profanities in the woods at quarter to five in the morning. “probably not,” I thought to myself as I packed up my stuff.