So, on Saturday, even though I had my camera, I let it rest at my side, at least for a little, to experience the Rome that you can’t see in travel books. A few members of the group and I decided to check out the Gay Pride festival. It’s one of those things that you just happen upon, like being in Rome during one of the only days of the year that the presidential gardens are open, or missing your ferry and having to ride in a tiny boat back to Capri as the sun sets over the Mediterranean. Timing is everything, but spontaneity isn’t far behind. And luck probably has a lot to do with it.

A couple of nights ago I ran into two girls from Georgetown University at a pub crawl near the Colosseum. I asked them if they knew one of my friends from high school, Jenny Faenza who attended Georgetown. Jenny passed away last Thanksgiving after battling chronic pulmonary hypertension.

The girls had known Jenny and remembered her as “one of the sweetest, most positive people” they knew. They knew the Jenny I knew, a ball of spunk with a will to fight who always wore a smile.

It’s amazing that even half way around the world the same person has touched three strangers’ lives. 

With love and an open heart,

Jan

The tortuous, hot, sticky breeze of Italian summers swept through the derelict grandstands. No cheers, no whistles, no applause. Just the sound of the emptiness of forgotten traditions. The commentator would periodically announce to the wind that the next race was about to begin. Silence, until the horses made their final turn and their galloping hooves and the crack of the whip pierced through the hazy afternoon. But still, no cheers, no whistles, no applause. The riders were deaf to the silence.

This afternoon, Josh, Professor Mac and I made a trip to one of Rome’s harness racing tracks. I’ve never been to a horse race before and expected to have your stereotypical Kentucky Derby experience: gambling, drinks and obnoxiously large hats. But, the stands were empty, the facilities chipped with old paint and the grass untamed and well above knee level in some places. It was a ghost town that rivaled the ones of wild west lore. But, despite the unoccupied stands, you could still feel the passion that the track embodied. You could feel it in the jockies, and in the trainers, and in the noble creatures they tend for.

The forgotten sport reminded me of print journalism — both are professions that go greatly ignored, but are kept alive by the passion of those that do them. In harness racing, the riders have no fan or community support and compete for very little money. But, they continue because they love what they are doing. In journalism, you are constantly pelted with negative feedback and must face the challenges and demands of an ever-changing news culture. But, you continue because you love what you are doing.

So, it must be true, “All you need is love. Love is all you need.”

The newspaper industry seems to be at a crossroads — either change with the times or disappear. Design can lead this monumental transformation, in fact, it’s already begun. Over the past century, newspaper design has gotten more eye-catching, more bold, more experimental, more dominant. Designers have realized that newspaper visuals must compete with more interactive media in an impatient culture. Our readers want the instant satisfaction that comes with television and the Internet in print form.

And, we can give it to them. We just have to think outside the box, or in designer lingo, we just have to think with more boxes, more pull-outs of information, more graphs, more lists, more charts. I like to call these things tiny morsels because they are easy for the brain to devour. We have to remember that newspapers aren’t all about text. The main goal is that of storytelling, and success in this field can be obtained in many creative ways. It’s a technique that author Tim Harrower calls “writing for the non-reader.” His book, The Newspaper Designer’s Handbook, is my Bible.

Whether the newspaper industry or the public realize it, design has always been and will continue to be one of a newspaper’s most important elements. Your mom told you from the beginning that first impressions are important. The better designed a newspaper is, the better first impression it leaves. People are drawn to graphic elements, not giant gray blocks of text.

During my travels abroad, I am always drawn to newspapers with delightfully executed design. The design in Europe is much different from that in the states. Color plays a much more important role and images have a much bigger impact. White space is utilized well and typography is much larger. European design adapts much faster than American design. I would go so far as to say that it’s cutting edge.

Today I picked up a copy of Die Zeit, one of the world’s best designed newspapers, according to the Society for News Design. I have a copy from my last trip to Europe four years ago. It now hangs over my bed in a collage as if to give me sweet creative dreams. As a journalist, and as a designer, it is very important to soak up the world around you — to gather inspiration from everything. The more newspapers I study, the better I become.

Here’s some of what I’m listening to:

Hadouken!

Lykke Li

Lily Allen

3OH3!

The Veronicas

This is the corner of our street, the street of Hotel Cisterna.

It has been my home for the past week. 

The beds are as hard as a rock and take your breath away if you collapse into them, but that is easily ignored with heavy lids. The shower door has a tendency to come off its tracks and fall in on you, which severely complicates the already tiny shower. Internet only seems accessible from a 10 x 10 foot space in the lobby, luckily that space includes a couch. The maid sometimes throws away souvenirs and food, but almost always ignores the empty bottles by the bedside. 

It will be my home for one more week. It’s grown on me.

Check out multimedia on the Torre Argentina Cat Sanctuary in Rome.

http://sjbstudentmedia.com/italy/?p=169

As much as I love seeing and feeling the history of Rome, it’s really the people, and not the buildings, that bring this city to life.

While riding home on the tram today, our group had the pleasure of meeting this curious old man. His small frame easily fit in between Jessica and Professor Mac. He carried a small, proper briefcase and wore a hat to cover his grayed hair. After I snapped a picture of the three, the man smiled and began to ramble to us in Italian, none of which we understood, but all of which we smiled at. Although I couldn’t translate any of what he was saying, it was one of the most engaging conversations I have had on this trip. Two minutes later, we exited the tram and left the elderly man just as we had met him, with a smile. 

It’s exchanges like these that make my day.

This is the best photo of myself that I’ve taken in a while. I’m posting it in triumph.

Also, the slideshow from Days 9-11 is now up on the main site. Visit sjbstudentmedia.com.

They are the first thing that attracts me to people. Intellect is above all else. That’s why I can’t stand to see ideas stolen.

Today, at the open air flea market at Port Portese I passed a t-shirt stand, that at first glance had great merit above the endless piles of secondhand clothes and random junk. But, upon closer inspection I found that many of the shirts were identical to shirts designed and printed by threadless.com. Complete rip-offs.

Just as much as I value ideas, I value integrity. Being a journalist fits.