Shake It Hip To Hip

I'm not even sure if those are the right lyrics to the B-52s song. Appropriate nonetheless.

Yesterday saw a tearful goodbye with John, Graham, Casey, and Mike. In John's case, 'tearful' meant waking up as early as possible and running out of the hostel as if it was on fire. I can't imagine why he wanted to leave so quickly. It may have been the 7-inch deep puddle of murky water in our bathroom. Or the three guys who ended up in our room somehow, out of whom we scared the bejesus when Graham threw his backpack against a bunk bed at 1am the previous night. The star of our room was Dennis, a kindly Slovakian man who wanted to know if it was safe to 'drink tap water in all of the U.S. territories.'

I don't know if I ever want to leave Rome. Yesterday we toured the Vatican and saw the Sistine Chapel. I learned two important lessons:

1) being a guard inside the chapel is probably the coolest job in the world. You are supposed to be quiet in the chapel, and pictures are strictly forbidden. So four guys in sharp-looking suits have to enforce these rules. They get to walk around all day, SHOUTING at tourists to "STOP TAKING PICTURES IMMEDIATELY!!!" and "Miss, COVER UP YOUR ARMS!" and my favorite "People! SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!" I can't think of any other jobs where there would be absolutely no reason to be nice to anyone.

2) Renaissance painters drew women with fake-looking breasts because they had never seen naked women. Weird. Every woman from the 1500s in Italy had implants.

On a more somber note, someone in the hostel stole my salami from the refrigerator. Outrageous. I think they used some of my bread and cheese too. For revenge, I'm thinking about making a giant sandwich with the Nutella in the fridge.