Coale Pens Daily Journal from Europe

Sherri Coale will pen a daily journal of her team's European tour. Read below to get the head women's basketball coach's perspective on the 10-day visit to Italy and Greece.

The University of Oklahoma women's basketball team will tour Europe for 10 days, stopping in Rome, Italy, and Athens, Greece, to see the sights and play games against local clubs and the Greek Olympic Team.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Last Day in Athens: Headed to the Coast

Today's tour guide is the 'Soup Nazi.' She's about 5-foot-2 and sixtyish. She has on a black and white sundress and the black eyeliner Greek women seem to not leave home without. Within moments of her arrival on the bus this morning, I was scolded for writing on my laptop. She said, “Technology will not leave you alone even on the holidays! Put away!” Then she promptly put Chandler's bangs behind her ears and pulled up the arm of every aisle seat on the bus. Before she even told us about herself, I had her pegged. She had former school teacher written all over her. We do not disguise well.

She made an almost two hour bus ride feel like 30 minutes, as she told us about her background as an archeologist and an etymologist. She taught us about the Temple of Poseidon, the Greeks' infatuation with the color blue, and the lacey laws that enable those with money to build on the coastline. She told us about the construction, much of which seemed abandoned on the hill. She said the cycle was predictable and you could find it in every corner of life: creation, neglect, and destruction. This is what we all do if you pause to think about it. It makes me wonder if it's even possible to break the chain. Our little former school teacher also pointed out every one of the 600 wildflowers she knows while making up names for the ones she didn't. Our little Grecian Tour Guide was a jewel. And Poseidon wasn't too bad either.

The tour concluded at our final hotel stop in the city of Voliagmeni. Here my kids couldn't wait to get to the beach. So we hurried down to find open chaise loungers where we enjoyed ham and cheese sandwiches before playing a ridiculously intriguing game of paddle ball (think ping pong plus tennis without the bounce) with our feet in the Aegean Sea. Chandler collected shells; Dane got an intense sunburn; and Colton nailed a sleeping middle-aged sunbather with a tennis ball. It was probably good that we couldn't stay very long.

Tonight's third consecutive game against the Greek Senior National Team resulted in our third consecutive loss. We gave it to them, literally, like a token of appreciation for the turquoise water and ancient ruins. In the fourth period we were up by ten. Then we got complacent and passive and here they came. They rallied back to a tie and the game hinged on one final defensive stop for us with 29 seconds remaining on the clock. They forced it at 12, Courtney rebounded and all of our guards ran for the hills. It was Missouri in the Big 12 tournament all over again. And you can't call timeout here except on a dead ball. So the official calls the fastest unguarded five-second count in the history of basketball. They inbound with eight seconds on the clock and swish a driving runner in the middle of the lane as the clock went to zero.

I would be mortified, except, this is why we came. We came to test our defensive rotation against a women's team who penetrates and pitches as well as the Duke men. We came to learn to stop the ball and protect the basket. And to try to figure out how to be hard to guard. Some people question foreign tours. I would only question why you wouldn't choose to take them if it's possible that you could. We have grown through ten days of focused practice. We have grown through competition against very savvy teams. And we have had to figure out how to be together, without cell phones and boyfriends and parents and newspapers. This is how we grow up. Europe has been worth the price of admission and then some.

I take home with me the image of Chandler skipping down an Athens sidewalk, the sound of Colton speaking with the melodic rhythm of Italian conversation, and the feel of a group of American kids whose skin was stretched by the opportunity of a lifetime. And I hum “God is good” all the way to the plane. . .

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Entry #7: Cruising to the Greek Islands

Ok, wow. Today was one of the top 10 all-time days of all time.

Rome was magnificent in its grandeur, but it was a little stiff. It was fast. It was ornate. It was crowded. And Athens … Athens was wonderful. It was bursting with history, the simplicity before ornamentation. But it, too, was fast. And smoky! And crowded. They are cities of tourism. We would expect little else.

But this morning we boarded a cruise ship at 8 a.m. and set sail for the islands of Aegina, Poros, and Hydra. Today we got a glimpse of what it's like to be in the view.

Our first stop was the large island of Aegina. It's like a huge rock city in and of itself just sitting in the middle of the sea. We tried shopping for a bit here but the tiny, crooked streets were like interstates with motorcycles and little cars that almost scraped their sides as they zoomed in and out with reckless abandon. It was absolutely harrowing.

Our second stop was Poros, a much smaller island with a slower pace of life. As we approached we had a breathtaking view of a white clock tower perched on the edge of a craggy, pastel cliff draped in honeysuckle and capes of magenta bougainvillea. We only had about 40 minutes on this stop but that didn't stop Colton from leading our foray through the stone step neighborhoods up the mountain. Standing there next to the tower with a panoramic view of the sea was special, but I'm not sure it trumped the journey to get there. Traveling through the laugh lines and the furrows of this tiny island, we could almost feel the heart rate of this little village. All its passageways seem to connect and every turn offers something worth pausing to admire.

Our final docking was at the island of Hydra. This must be where God spent day seven. It's what the painters paint. The houses are white stucco and they're layered neatly up the hill. They have fabulous cobalt blue doors and some have bright yellow shutters. And every place has a patio or a rooftop terrace even if there is only room for one chair. No motorized vehicles are allowed on the island of Hydra. so immediately, as you might imagine, the clock seems to tick more slowly. What amazed me, however, was the absence of noise. You could hear the water lapping against the rocks. You could discern individual laughter. It was like we had passed through a filter where everything was separated and the white noise disappeared.

The main attraction at Hydra were the cliffs for diving and we all immediately wound our way around the point to test our courage and taste the Aegean Sea. I think Guy was the first in as he was surfacing before I had even scaled down to the jumping point to pull out my camera. Abi was hysterical -- diving in with rampant abandon taking pictures of herself with a floating camera “up close and personal” on her way down. She would jump and scream and toss the camera. I laughed until my sides hurt.

There were levels for bravery: a scary high craggy cliff, a high dive ledge, and a reasonably moderate level for those of us who harbor some issues with height and cold, cold water. Lots of players went in twos. Some meandered around having arguments in their heads about watching or participating. Chandler jumped at the high spot and the higher. Colton and Dane did tricks off the top of the cave. Joe C. went with the bravado of a fearless leader and Jan went over and over.

AT said she'd do it if I would, so we moved surgically toward the ledge of moderation, squeezed our eyes and jumped before our racing hearts tied us to the nearest rock. I've often heard that life's greatest regrets come in the form of what you didn't do. I can't imagine having missed the plunge into the Aegean Sea. I leave Hydra regret free and wanting desperately to return.

The boat ride back to Athens was about two-and-half hours long. We set up camp on the very top of the cruise liner where the sun was close but the wind brought a chill. I hope I will always be able to close my eyes and see the frame of Hydra wrapped in turquoise water that we enjoyed as we floated away.

To pass the time some players went to the bottom floor to play cards. Some curled up like infants, covered in towels as they slept. And a crew of inventive music lovers entertained us all with some sort of “win Courtney over” sing off. All that any of us who watched and listened in an amused stupor could discern is that Jenny and Colton were singing country and Ashley and Abi were belting rap. Courtney would hop back and forth as they all grew louder and louder. Surprisingly, it wasn't annoying at all. Watching them laugh and enjoy themselves while using their imaginations was worth the price of our collective plane tickets to this beautiful, mysterious land.

I'm not sure days on this earth get any better than this one. If they do, I sure want in on it.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Entry #6: The Acropolis

My favorite part of today was standing on Mars Hill. It's hard for me even as I type this to believe that I stood where Paul stood when he preached the gospel. The hill is just outside the entrance to the Parthenon and I get it now. This is what's so priceless about traveling. I get it now in a way I never had before. When Paul implored the people to listen as he spoke of the unknown God, I'm sure he was gesturing toward the marble statues of the Parthenon. I can almost see him, palm outstretched, saying, “You have all these statues erected to all these gods and I am here to tell you about the monument of the unknown God.” I'm here to fill in the gaps, is really what he said. Understand what you're missing here. I'm about to clear the air.

The climb up the marble steps past the temple of Nike toward the Parthenon was like the driving crescendo of the Philharmonic Orchestra. You could feel it coming. Words don't do the structure justice. The columns are massive and the detail work from 50 feet away is still, after 2,000 years, absolute. The Parthenon and the surrounding temples are undergoing some restoration currently so we had to look through some scaffolding, but it was breathtaking. Chandler had created a model of the Parthenon earlier this year for a class project, so she anointed herself the group leader as she is an expert on its construction and its purpose. She, however, became the main event for a group of local junior high kids who were on a field trip there and wanted desperately to make an American friend. They practiced their English with her and pronounced her name over and over. Then we high-fived them all and took a group picture. It was hysterical; between the Parthenon and a bunch of stubborn poppies that were thriving in the midst of massive marble boulders stood a bunch of 12-year-olds from different worlds making common ground. In my mind all the little Disney toys were going around in a circle singing “It's a small world after all”.

After the Parthenon, we went to the Olympic Stadium. I felt like I was inside of a postcard. It is in fabulous form from its rebirth for the 2004 Olympics, and just looking at it makes you want to get in shape to excel. Olympic competition is the pinnacle. Standing at the gate was a surreal experience that I shall not soon forget.

Though we lost again tonight to the Greek Senior National Team, I really liked some of what I saw from a number of our guys that haven't played that much during the regular season. Abi, in particular, has been much improved. Her stamina is growing as is her confidence and I love the way she communicates on the floor. She has brought great energy here. (And after long days of sightseeing we have certainly needed it!) Lauren Willis, too, has been solid. She competes on every possession and will do exactly what we ask her to do. Those two traits will make a player indispensable pretty quickly. It's been nice to be able to give her an opportunity to play without pressure. She has certainly taken advantage of the situation.

I think I'm most proud, however, of Jenny Vining. She has tried just about every food placed in front of her. She has shopped and foraged and laughed and enjoyed herself so completely. It's shown on the floor, too. Jared said after the first two days that we should drape the interior of the Lloyd Noble so that she'd think she was in a barn. She makes a lot of shots in places that feel like barns. Seriously, she's showing solid improvement on the floor on both ends -- excellent offensive movement without the ball and better defensive habits, too. She says she's just having fun. It's always hard to tell which comes first: solid play or fun. One thing is for sure, though, one begets the other.

Tonight after the game we had dinner with the Greek coaching staff and several of their federation executives. We went to an excellent restaurant on the water again -- this time they ordered and the food came in consistent waves even though the kitchen was across the street. We had fabulous vegetables and squid in three forms. I tasted the octopus, and though I can't say I'm a fan, I can say it wasn't awful.

Kouskos, Greece's head coach, was an interesting dinner companion. We talked a lot of basketball. He coached men for 14 years and has now been with the women's program for a little over two years. He says women are cleverer; they pick up things quicker and they play harder. He also says they think about too many things at once and it drives him insane. Some truths are universal.

The president of the federation, who is also the 16-and-under coach, is a basketball purist. His eyes twinkle when he talks about the game. And though it has absolutely nothing to do with anything, he looks just like Walter Matheau. We exchanged information with their staff. They want to know how we teach motion offense; I want to know how they develop so many shooters. The assistant coach, George, (who looks just like Marc Anthony, go figure!) gives us a business card as Kouskos asks me to send motion information to George because he does not do technology. I had TK give George his business card for information exchange because I don't do business cards. Head coach habits seem to be universal as well. I bet Kouskos can never find his keys either.

Late night, but tomorrow we cruise! Can't wait!

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Entry #5: Free Day in Athens

Today was supposed to be a tour of the Acropolis but the public was striking back at the greedy government so the buses didn't run and we were relegated to exploring on our own. The downtown shopping area known as the Plaka became our target.

The Plaka is a little like the shopping area along Venice Beach, except there is no beach and the lone performers are the street venders selling crazy toys out of suitcases. Tourists are drawn here like a magnet; however, the deals aren't too bad, especially if you're hard headed and perseverant. You can find some real stuff tucked in and around all the trinkets if you wade through it enough.

I love the Plaka for its charm. Its stony streets are narrow and inhabited but not packed. The eating district is lined with colorful awnings and arbors hoisting loads of bougenveillia and hosts who do their level best to lure you to their tables. I imagine Hal Smith on the corner in front of Charleston's beckoning people in and I laugh out loud. The fight to feed you here is savage.

Ultimately, we selected our lunch spot based on the charm of the table and the wit of the beckoning host. We chose well and the bonus was the quality of our food! We had zucchini and bread and fried meatballs and veal and French fries and Greek salad and lots of Coca-Cola with ice! When the waiter brought our meals, he served Chandler first. He said, “For the Princess, we have spaghetti!”, to which she responded without skipping a beat: “See! I told you so!” My athletics director now has a new and very real appreciation for the personality of my ever confident and opinionated daughter. He re-enjoys the story every time he tells it.

We wound our way down the streets toward the market area passing fresh fruit and vegetable stands that we could ignore. If the fruit at Homeland looked this great I might not eat so many Cheetos! We bought a huge sack of cherries and a huge sack of strawberries that we devoured on the meandering walk back toward the cab stop.

Tonight we played the Greek Senior National Team, and they were for real. It's easy to see, however, why they do not fare well in international competition: they have no size. They are all long and lean; very skilled and very smart. But on an international scale, they are very small. We played toe to toe with them through the first half. It was obvious that our pressure made them uncomfortable and it was also obvious that they were adept at drawing fouls. We had an unforgiveable number of turnovers from the point position (13!!!), and yet we limited our walking violations considerably. Carlee had the game of her life, looking poised and very comfortable for a change. Ashley presented them with all kinds of problems at the block and Ny did some really good things on both ends of the floor. Other than that, we were cold from the perimeter and in the final three minutes, we just let the game get away.

Tonight Joe took our staff to dinner down at the port where the view of the bay is gorgeous. All of the restaurants here are two-sided. The waterside is filled with tables and sides that are totally glassed in, but the kitchen is across the street on the other side of two lanes of traffic. So, you trade a view for service. It can take a while to cook and carry, especially at the rate we request things. They brought us a plate of fresh fish from which we were to select our dinner -- eyeballs and all. And we had lots of stuff that we struggled to identify. Joe and Jan decided to veer off the beaten path, so they chose fillet. I haven't been able to get the Golden Corral off my mind since. Our three-hour dinner was topped off with a 100-mile-an-hour cab ride back to the hotel; I only wish this were hyperbole.

I'm thinking you either love Greece or you hate it … I'm leaning toward love.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Entry #4: Off to Greece!

Above the millions of white stucco houses with red tile roofs, the roads of Athens look like giant comb marks. The craggy cliffs stick their chins out as if they are waging war with the sea. A sea that is the kind of turquoise you can still see when you shut your eyes. I fell in love with the palette of Greece before we even hit the ground.

Though the flight was just slightly over an hour, it was obvious, immediately, that we were in another place. People have a way about them. The Italians were very … tolerant (I suppose is the word) for us Americans. They weren't particularly mannerly or eager to help us necessarily, but they seemed very happy in their world and completely unaffected by our presence there one way or another. Here there is an aggression I felt almost from the moment I stepped off the plane.

On the bus drive to the hotel, even Chandler remarked on the evolution of the graffiti. (Graffiti was everywhere in Rome.) Alongside of the interstate, Greece's graffiti was masterful! It was artistic and flamboyant -- you could feel the connection of the people here to color even in their vandalism! And people smoke EVERYWHERE! I want to wear a t-shirt that says, “Second hand smoke kills.” But I'm afraid of the mafia who sat next to us at dinner.

SO, I'm not totally comfortable with the culture yet! But let me tell you about the views!!

We climbed tonight to the top of Lykavittos Hill. From there you can see the Acropolis, the original Olympic Stadium that hosted first modern Games in 1896, the top of every tree and the roof of every house. As the sun dipped behind the clouds pulling the curtain of night, standing there felt like being invited to a private party with the sky. Something about the ocean air, the glow of the Parthenon, the twinkling lights of the city made the world go away. It was as if God granted us a timeout that we didn't know we had coming. The sore quads I'll have tomorrow as a result of the 20-minute hike straight up this mountain will be a small price to pay for “The View”.

One of my favorite books is Naomi Wolfe's “The Treehouse.” The title stems from her concept of each person finding their own spot to climb to, whether figuratively or literally, so that they might “pull back an awning to look up to a kind of sky”. In other words, she suggests we think, and imagine, and take time to dream. And that we have a place to go to do that. When I was a little girl, I had a weeping willow tree. I'm thinking Lykavittos Hill might be my new spot.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Entry #3: Free Day in Rome

Across the street from the Hotel Jolly is the Villa Borghese Park, a square mile expanse where I walk every morning to say hello to Italy before the racing around begins. I love the trees here. They stand majestically, sprawling out in all directions providing shade so dense that as you walk among them you're never so much as touched by the morning rain. And I would know because it rained every morning. My favorite statue here is Umberto I perched on a stallion charging to victory. It's so massive that even among the towering Sycamores and Umbrella Pines it jumps out at you. Like Elton John's oversized goggles. It is simply an accessory to the land but you can't help but get wrapped up in it.

The Trevi Fountain was on top of the list of places to go and things to see this morning and it was worth the walk to get there. It's the size of an Olympic swimming pool and the marble fixtures who adorn it loom as superheroes. I just couldn't get over the fact that this enormous work of art, which constantly functions morning and night, sits in the center of this city. You round a corner, dodging cyclists -- who do not pause for pedestrians I might add -- and BOOM! There it is. A 500-year-old masterpiece that connects you to a foreign world.

We stood in the light rain of Rome and tossed three coins over our left shoulder as ritual advises that we do. Supposedly that means you will return to this spot. Personally, I hope it means my wish comes true. The aura of the fountain was so spectacular that we made the long, winding walk again tonight after the game, just to see it shine among the stars. It was chilly and damp and there were creepy critters crawling everywhere, but I wouldn't have missed that chance for the world.

Our bus trip to the game this evening was not nearly as picturesque as last night's. I suppose every city has an armpit. We drove through Rome's tonight. Once we finally arrived, we had to sit and wait for a junior high practice to finish. It was particularly amusing to me as my daughter is 12 (well, almost!), so this would be the Italian comparison to her squad, the Oklahoma Spirit. My conclusion is that coaches are coaching and players are playing but making baskets is a lost art. As we watched I told Chan, “Just practice, practice, practice taking game shots at game speed and you will always excel.”

There is always a spot for a shooter. Always.

This game began with even less pomp and circumstance than the last. No one even had a device for playing our National Anthem! Though the opponents' jerseys were different and their numbers were changed, at least three-quarters of the players were on the team we defeated last night. The coach was different and this squad had a shooter, but other than that, it was déjà vu.

We played better for 40 minutes this time. Abi kept her streak of consecutive foul outs in a foreign country alive; and Jenny continued to drain from 3, going a perfect 5 for 5. Rose has consistently questioned every single call against her while in Italy, earnest to the bitter end even in obvious error. It was appropriate that she fouled a fast break shooter at the final buzzer only to stretch out both her palms and say, “The game is over!” while the shooter lined up to receive her gift with no time on the clock.

The officiating remained consistent, too. Quick stops and live ball moves are apparently not acceptable in the land of grapes. And free-throw lane violations were obviously not covered in the officials' points of emphasis meeting as the foreign players would just run to the rim before the shooter ever even released the ball. To our adaptive credit, however, by the end of the game we were beating them there! If we could only now adjust to the way they call those walks.

I really do think we are getting better. Our breaks have been better; our one pass away defense has been better; we have even taken several charges (which are not easy to come by on foreign soil!) Even our offensive movement has showed promise. Our ten days of practice have made a difference that I'm really excited about. Sometimes really young teams have so much to learn that practice feels like trying to nail Jello to a tree. But we're getting there. Our freshmen are starting to look like sophomores and our sophomores are starting to look like juniors … and tomorrow we go Greece!

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Entry #2: The Vatican

Vatican City is its own country. It has its own zip code; its own postage stamps; its own law enforcement. It is the home of the Pope. And people stand in line for half a day just to enter the walls for a glimpse of the kingdom.

Fortunately, we had reservations.

It would be impossible to attempt to relay the size, the scope, the intricate beauty of the structures inside the Vatican. St. Peter's Basilica is 700 feet long -- in Oklahoma terms, that's two football fields and then some. So, you get the idea. We saw perhaps only half of this historical masterpiece and it was all any of us could comprehend in one dose.

I found that Michelangelo was not even originally a painter; he was a sculptor commissioned by Pope Julius II to paint the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. Seriously, shouldn't Pope Julius be a little more heralded? I shudder to think what the world would have missed had Michelangelo not been called off tomb building duty to pick up a brush and stroke. He spent four straight years painting al fresco via scaffolding. Then he returned 30 years later to paint the infamous Final Judgment scene on the alter wall at the entry of the chapel. Significant study of this panoramic depiction of saints rising and sinners falling reveals a bit of the artist's personality as well as the historical evolution of societal norms that occurred in the 20 years separating the two projects. Over 250 individuals are represented on the wall -- some are clothed and some are not -- and several individuals who had delivered less than fabulous feedback on the artist himself found their likenesses positioned squarely on the underside of the clouds plummeting toward darkness. It seems to me that people haven't changed all that much in the last 500 years.

I walked away from Vatican City in awe of our ancestors and their uncanny attention to detail. I can't even fathom how much marble had been carved or how long it must have taken to carve it. I can't imagine that the sculptors had many types of tools but what amazes me most is not the intricate use of a hammer and a chisel but the deliverance of detail that had to come solely from the mind's eye. There was no photography! So, the image of a lion trapping its prey was from memory. The veins in the arms of the gods and the expression on the face of a frightened mother were created from observance. Not only were the artisans attentive to detail in the artistic endeavor itself but maybe even more so in the stuff of daily life. I'm reminded of how fast we go and how advantageous it might be to notice a little bit more along the way.

Tonight we played our first game. Day one of competition is always an adventure! En route to the gym we passed lush, rolling land peppered with modest vineyards and swirling seas of red poppies. We saw several quaint hillside cottages with terra cotta roofs and one majestic castle on the top of a mountain. The rural countryside is always my favorite part.

We played well in the first half and inattentively in the second. They were shocked by our speed; we were shocked by how many steps they were allowed to take while shooting a lay-up. We shot 69 percent in the first half and scored 63 points. (That in and of itself is outstanding news, even if we were playing five versus none!) Unfortunately, our numbers weren't as impressive in the second half as we have not yet matured enough to consistently compete against the game. That, however, is what makes this trip such an opportunity. If we learn nothing more than that as a basketball team, Italy will be our new sixth man!

We're driving back into Rome as I type … the sun has set and it's dusk … and some lamp lit sidewalk café and a bowl of pasta are calling my name!

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Entry #1 : Arriving in Rome

At the start you want to take a picture of everything. You want the rocks. You want the river. You want the trees. And you take a lot of really lousy pictures that end up at delete, thanks to the age of digital photography. Fortunately, you quickly ascend toward landmark photography: the Colosseum, the Senate building in the Forum, the statue of Marcus Aurelius. Soon you realize that you just took fairly average pictures of the exact same things that grace the fronts of postcards in every corner market. Finally, if you're lucky and you have some experience traveling, you graduate to photos of people you actually know in front of fabulous once-in-a -lifetime-places to be and, of course, that's where you should have started all along.

Sometimes you just can't help yourself even when you know better.

Appropriately, our first stop in Rome was the Colosseum: the icon of all modern competition, the historical center for political propaganda, the birthplace of priority seating. As we meandered around the bowl, my modern mind kept waiting for Russell Crowe to pop out of one of the stone cages in the understage. The upper levels had alcoves which offered breathtaking views of the city and, though the structure itself is only a shell of what it once was, it's easy to imagine it filled with 73,000 screaming enthusiasts. I liked it there. The aura of it made me want to stand tall and fight hard.

We traipsed down streets flanked by partial temples and churches and senate buildings -- remnants of a world that flourished before drowning and being buried alive by mud. Buildings that were built upon buildings are now uncovered and revered as archeological ruins. We touched alabaster columns, walked on the most intricate of mosaic tiles and stared up at coffered wood ceilings three stories high. And everywhere we looked, there were statues. From this “underworld” we climbed a steep flight of stone stairs (some more briskly than others!) and found ourselves in the back door of the Forum. It felt like Disneyworld when you round a corner and you're suddenly in a John Wayne western.

It did not disappoint! The Forum was amazing -- it's everything thing the pictures and movies depict it to be, complete with all the pigeons. But the best parts of the city are the alleys, the streets nobody tells you to go down. That's where you get the good stuff. That's where you see how people live and are reminded of why we try so hard to copy their style. That's where you find bouggenveillia streaming out of window boxes and laundry strung across a line.

When we finally got back on the bus to go to the hotel for check-in, there was a collective crash as our entire party hit the wall of a 4:30 a.m. departure and a nine hour overnight flight. Hotel check-in with a team is always a bit of a debacle: bags and people and an elevator traffic jam. But this one at the Jolly Hotel was unlike any pile up I have ever been a part of. The antiquated elevator system had us and our bags (and our bags and our bags ) backed up in a serpentine line for a quarter of a mile. Stairs aren't an option -- which alarmed me a bit in the case of a fire -- so patience wasn't either. And I must say, my guys made me proud.

The evening ended with a welcome dinner at a cozy restaurant just across the street from the hotel. We were escorted right in and a bevy of white-coated waiters descended upon us bringing course after course of everything you can think of, and then some. For Italians, eating is an art form. It is a process. And how you savor the process is almost as important as the food itself.

Day one has whet our appetite for Rome…can't wait to see what tomorrow brings!

University of Oklahoma Athletics

Related News

Related Videos

Sponsors