4/25/2010-- Portland, Oregon
Things I missed about America include but are not limited to:
*Maple Syrup, honey, real ketchup, and condiments in general that are not olive oil and vinegar
* Non-fat milk
* Big beds
* No shower shoes
* Filtered and free water
* Pedestrian right of way
That said, the things that I miss about Florence is an infinitely longer list and I am yet to be home for 24 hours. I cannot even begin to fashion a summation of my feelings about the experience as a whole. I am thrilled to be back and see my family and yet simultaneously yearning for one more walk up to Piazzale Michelangelo, one more euro cone of Gelato from La Carraia, one more gypsy harassing me for spare change. I am alarmed at this stage to be waking up in a room sans roommates, and not exiting my house to a busy street of speeding buses, bikes, and cigarette smoke. I will forever yearn to be back in Flo which just motivates me to prioritize a goal of returning some day soon. As the famous graffiti says, look after my heart, Florence, I have left it with you.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Corte d' Azur: Chicken Fights, Yachts, and finally some ocean.
4/12/2010-- Southern France
I am in complete and utter denial about our eminent departure from Florence. That said, if one were to theoretically leave, and request a closing tour, this past weekend's experience would be the epitome of what anyone could hope for. The South of France blew every expectation I had into it's crystal clear blue waters.
Day 1: Lounging, sunning, general merriment on the beach in Nice.
Day 2: Lounging, sunning, general merriment on the beach in Cannes. This concluded with a group-wide (keeping in mind we were rolling around 75 deep) chicken fight- session in the waves. One of the top-five happiest days of my life, hands down. Joy radiated from every person and scene. The sun was glorious, the water moderate, the entire ambiance was perfection.
Day 3: Monte Carlo/ Monaco, where luxury liners, race tracks, and casinos are a-plenty, and envy is solicited around every corner. I dream of retiring in a place 10% as amazing as here.
All in all, the weekend was relaxing, time for friends who have moved us in special and peculiar ways throughout the semester. I returned to Florence (despite a bus-breakdown circa Pisa aeroporto) feeling ready to face the coming onslaught of dead/finals week with only feelings of utter bliss.
I am in complete and utter denial about our eminent departure from Florence. That said, if one were to theoretically leave, and request a closing tour, this past weekend's experience would be the epitome of what anyone could hope for. The South of France blew every expectation I had into it's crystal clear blue waters.
Day 1: Lounging, sunning, general merriment on the beach in Nice.
Day 2: Lounging, sunning, general merriment on the beach in Cannes. This concluded with a group-wide (keeping in mind we were rolling around 75 deep) chicken fight- session in the waves. One of the top-five happiest days of my life, hands down. Joy radiated from every person and scene. The sun was glorious, the water moderate, the entire ambiance was perfection.
Day 3: Monte Carlo/ Monaco, where luxury liners, race tracks, and casinos are a-plenty, and envy is solicited around every corner. I dream of retiring in a place 10% as amazing as here.
All in all, the weekend was relaxing, time for friends who have moved us in special and peculiar ways throughout the semester. I returned to Florence (despite a bus-breakdown circa Pisa aeroporto) feeling ready to face the coming onslaught of dead/finals week with only feelings of utter bliss.
Monday, April 5, 2010
Munchen Munchkins-- Easter Break
4/1/2010-- Munich, Germany
The theory that all any man needs to attract a harem of women is a puppy or baby must have originated in Munich, a city so stock-piled with both it was near overwhelming. Babies (or as we fondly referred to them as "nuggets" or "nuggs") were often found in tow of the mothers, wearing a variety of entertaining and precious outfits. Some gems were entirely-denim ensemble nugg, afro nugg, dinosaur hat nugg, and beyond. Dogs were also abundant and accompanied their owners to just about anywhere (one also was alarmingly spotted exiting a Hofbrauhaus bathroom stall). The discovery of such adorable creatures around every corner led me to believe very early on that I was destined to love Munich. I did not expect to like Germany nearly as much as I did but it took me by surprise and ended up becoming one of my favorite cities thus far.
Day 1: Dachau concentration camp. An ethereal haze of heaviness hung over every building we visited, reconstructed or not. The feeling one gets upon entering the gas chamber was indescribable. While Dachau was said not to be an extermination camp it was apparent that there were still souls lost in that room at the hand of the SS. After attending Good Friday mass at the camp, we frolicked around the inner city, had lunch at the Pauliner factory, and dinner at the infamous Hofbrauhaus.
Day 2: Five hour bike tour which was unreal. We toured many high points of Munich and ended by my personal highlight of watching local surfers master the wakes of the Isar river. This moment alone made the entire trip worthwhile. The day was glorious, sunny and also 20x better than walking because we got to witness the struggles of 63 college students attempting to operate gracefully beach cruiser bikes, hilarity ensued.
Day 3: Happy Easter! An 11 hour bus ride home with a stop at the Neuschwastein castle and a beautiful drive along the Austrian alps we were back in Florence!
Day 4: I have the wonderful privilege to accompany a long-time family friend to her and her husband's vineyard in San Gimignano, where I was treated to an exceptional four-course Easter Monday traditional Italian feast. The wine, food, and company were all unparalleled and the experience as a whole was beyond relaxing. The perfect end to my Easter holiday. Buona Pasqua!
The theory that all any man needs to attract a harem of women is a puppy or baby must have originated in Munich, a city so stock-piled with both it was near overwhelming. Babies (or as we fondly referred to them as "nuggets" or "nuggs") were often found in tow of the mothers, wearing a variety of entertaining and precious outfits. Some gems were entirely-denim ensemble nugg, afro nugg, dinosaur hat nugg, and beyond. Dogs were also abundant and accompanied their owners to just about anywhere (one also was alarmingly spotted exiting a Hofbrauhaus bathroom stall). The discovery of such adorable creatures around every corner led me to believe very early on that I was destined to love Munich. I did not expect to like Germany nearly as much as I did but it took me by surprise and ended up becoming one of my favorite cities thus far.
Day 1: Dachau concentration camp. An ethereal haze of heaviness hung over every building we visited, reconstructed or not. The feeling one gets upon entering the gas chamber was indescribable. While Dachau was said not to be an extermination camp it was apparent that there were still souls lost in that room at the hand of the SS. After attending Good Friday mass at the camp, we frolicked around the inner city, had lunch at the Pauliner factory, and dinner at the infamous Hofbrauhaus.
Day 2: Five hour bike tour which was unreal. We toured many high points of Munich and ended by my personal highlight of watching local surfers master the wakes of the Isar river. This moment alone made the entire trip worthwhile. The day was glorious, sunny and also 20x better than walking because we got to witness the struggles of 63 college students attempting to operate gracefully beach cruiser bikes, hilarity ensued.
Day 3: Happy Easter! An 11 hour bus ride home with a stop at the Neuschwastein castle and a beautiful drive along the Austrian alps we were back in Florence!
Day 4: I have the wonderful privilege to accompany a long-time family friend to her and her husband's vineyard in San Gimignano, where I was treated to an exceptional four-course Easter Monday traditional Italian feast. The wine, food, and company were all unparalleled and the experience as a whole was beyond relaxing. The perfect end to my Easter holiday. Buona Pasqua!
Monday, March 22, 2010
Everyone is exponentially better-looking when paired with an accent / Spring Break Part II
3/16/2010--Dublin, Ireland
It is a sad but solid fact that Irish accents could make even the coldest spinster weak at the knees. I could not be more in love with the Irish as a collective unit. Their friendly natures, kind temperaments and culture all are universally appealing and a welcome change to Parisian attitudes towards Americans. I can say with conviction that Ireland was the first country we have visited that I could realistically see myself living. We experienced the St Pattys day parade/ festivities in full splendor as a partial celebration for one of our friend's 21st birthday and also got a chance to view some historical elements (Book of Kels, Trinity College, St Patrick's Church, Dublin Castle) and some beautiful elements (Coastal regions, Galway, Cliffs of Moher). Everything was lush, green, and breathtaking. The Book of Kels was an exceptionally interesting part of Irish history and we got a chance to learn the process that was used to create this amazing artifact while we got a tour of the campus (which puts our Ivy league to shame). My favorite place in Ireland was Galway. This cozy town rivals Cannon Beach, Oregon (my first and foremost love) in terms of quaint hospitality but also offers busses en route to many amazing countryside destinations (such as the Cliffs) and, again, the people were beyond hospitable. Ireland was an absolute dream. I am dead set and determined to return in the very near future to explore it some more. This time, I intend to come prepared this time with a phone book or monologue to have every Irishman dictate to me.
It is a sad but solid fact that Irish accents could make even the coldest spinster weak at the knees. I could not be more in love with the Irish as a collective unit. Their friendly natures, kind temperaments and culture all are universally appealing and a welcome change to Parisian attitudes towards Americans. I can say with conviction that Ireland was the first country we have visited that I could realistically see myself living. We experienced the St Pattys day parade/ festivities in full splendor as a partial celebration for one of our friend's 21st birthday and also got a chance to view some historical elements (Book of Kels, Trinity College, St Patrick's Church, Dublin Castle) and some beautiful elements (Coastal regions, Galway, Cliffs of Moher). Everything was lush, green, and breathtaking. The Book of Kels was an exceptionally interesting part of Irish history and we got a chance to learn the process that was used to create this amazing artifact while we got a tour of the campus (which puts our Ivy league to shame). My favorite place in Ireland was Galway. This cozy town rivals Cannon Beach, Oregon (my first and foremost love) in terms of quaint hospitality but also offers busses en route to many amazing countryside destinations (such as the Cliffs) and, again, the people were beyond hospitable. Ireland was an absolute dream. I am dead set and determined to return in the very near future to explore it some more. This time, I intend to come prepared this time with a phone book or monologue to have every Irishman dictate to me.
Metro, thats French for Metro/ Spring Break Part I
3/12/2010-- Paris, France
There are teachable moments in life that I welcome, and some that are a little less than welcome. Upon our arrival to Paris, our group of seven consequently looked at one another as to say, "OK, now what?" and to our utter surprise, no one had any semblance of a game plan. We rapidly realized that the piece of paper that housed all of the information concerning our hostel and how to get there was attached to Michaela's boarding pass... which had been ripped in Pisa 3 hours prior. Upon this discovery, one could rise to a state of panic. While this was not the way we would have dreamed of starting our week long European excursion, it was a wee little snafu that we had to hurdle so we went into primal, survival mode because at that point, getting to a bed and some food was a matter of the utmost survival. Eventually (and thankfully sans a meltdown) we made our way to our DARLING hostel located in the 18th district of Paris. Our windows overlooked the famous Sacre Couer church. We slept, ate, slept again and awoke refreshed and rejuvenated for the week ahead.
Day 1: We bit off a large portion of Parisian tourism. Beginning with the Arc de Triumph, walking the Champs de Elysees (seeing the original Louis Vuitton store), Royal Palace, climbing the tower of Eiffel(Paris loves stairs and bread), attending mass at Notre Dame and ending the day with dinner in the trendy, young Latin Quarter.
Day 2: The Louvre. Absolutely phenomenal. I fell in love with the piece "Winged Victory," and obviously was blown away by the classics (Mona, Venus, etc). We then attempted to find the ancient catacombs of Paris. This also proved to be a task in and of itself. We asked various street vendors until we finally came upon one kind soul who semi-understood the combination of Hailey's one semester of beginners French and our blatant English. The kicker was when we told him we wanted to go on the train and he did not understand so we typed the word "m-e-t-r-o," into his handy-dandy iPhone and voila! "Oh, oh, oui, oui, Metro, in French that is pronounced METRO," our young friend said. This crucial distinction proved it's merit and allowed him to direct us to our destination. Upon arrival, the catacombs were closed and so we redirected our route to the Luxembourg Palace and Gardens which proved to be an unexpected treat. The sun was out and the afternoon was glorious.
Day 3: Also an unexpected twist was Versailles being closed only on Mondays which, naturally, was the day we had designated to be our Versailles day. But off we went to see Moulin Rouge, the cemetery that houses graves of greats such as Chopin, Jim Morrison and Oscar Wilde, the original Bon Marche and ended by climbing the Arc de Triumph to watch the glorious tower sparkle. It was the perfect end to an unexpectedly amazing four days.
There are teachable moments in life that I welcome, and some that are a little less than welcome. Upon our arrival to Paris, our group of seven consequently looked at one another as to say, "OK, now what?" and to our utter surprise, no one had any semblance of a game plan. We rapidly realized that the piece of paper that housed all of the information concerning our hostel and how to get there was attached to Michaela's boarding pass... which had been ripped in Pisa 3 hours prior. Upon this discovery, one could rise to a state of panic. While this was not the way we would have dreamed of starting our week long European excursion, it was a wee little snafu that we had to hurdle so we went into primal, survival mode because at that point, getting to a bed and some food was a matter of the utmost survival. Eventually (and thankfully sans a meltdown) we made our way to our DARLING hostel located in the 18th district of Paris. Our windows overlooked the famous Sacre Couer church. We slept, ate, slept again and awoke refreshed and rejuvenated for the week ahead.
Day 1: We bit off a large portion of Parisian tourism. Beginning with the Arc de Triumph, walking the Champs de Elysees (seeing the original Louis Vuitton store), Royal Palace, climbing the tower of Eiffel(Paris loves stairs and bread), attending mass at Notre Dame and ending the day with dinner in the trendy, young Latin Quarter.
Day 2: The Louvre. Absolutely phenomenal. I fell in love with the piece "Winged Victory," and obviously was blown away by the classics (Mona, Venus, etc). We then attempted to find the ancient catacombs of Paris. This also proved to be a task in and of itself. We asked various street vendors until we finally came upon one kind soul who semi-understood the combination of Hailey's one semester of beginners French and our blatant English. The kicker was when we told him we wanted to go on the train and he did not understand so we typed the word "m-e-t-r-o," into his handy-dandy iPhone and voila! "Oh, oh, oui, oui, Metro, in French that is pronounced METRO," our young friend said. This crucial distinction proved it's merit and allowed him to direct us to our destination. Upon arrival, the catacombs were closed and so we redirected our route to the Luxembourg Palace and Gardens which proved to be an unexpected treat. The sun was out and the afternoon was glorious.
Day 3: Also an unexpected twist was Versailles being closed only on Mondays which, naturally, was the day we had designated to be our Versailles day. But off we went to see Moulin Rouge, the cemetery that houses graves of greats such as Chopin, Jim Morrison and Oscar Wilde, the original Bon Marche and ended by climbing the Arc de Triumph to watch the glorious tower sparkle. It was the perfect end to an unexpectedly amazing four days.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Secret handshakes, clubs, and bakeries
2/26/2010-- Florence, Italy
My homework today consisted of the luxurious combination of a cappuccino and Italian Vogue. I love my Italian life. This weekend was spent solely in this unbelievable city that I am fortunate enough to call home. Friday: Michaela and I discovered the lone Thai restaurant in all of Florence (inadvertently) and I about cried tears of joy. After a delicious lunch, we ventured to Piazza Michelangelo (my favorite place in the whole of the city) and ended the night with a mind-blowing dinner of pear fiochetti at Quattro Leoni, a quaint Trattoria across the Arno. Saturday: We went to the triangle bridge where we bumped into a friend of mine from highschool (smallest world) who is also studying abroad in Firenze and who proceeded to steer us towards some of the better vintage shopping I have ever experienced. We then attempted to attend appertivo at a local bar called Rex but got re-routed due to time to a cozy bistro and then picked up drinks at one of our favorite bars Cafe Bigalo and proceeded to end the evening dancing to Johnny Cash at a hidden music club called The Blob Club. The only thing that could have even potentially surpassed Blob in terms of cool factor is our nightcap of euro pastries from one of Florence's many secret bakeries. Pastries for many bakeries around Florence are made at these locations late in the night and can be purchased for cheap by those who are nocturnal enough to see the flour billowing out of the doors or savvy enough to know the exact doors to knock at. My Florentine weekend could not have been more relaxing nor more perfect. I am so so blessed to be able to be living in this city and I look forward to discovering it even more as the semester progresses.
My homework today consisted of the luxurious combination of a cappuccino and Italian Vogue. I love my Italian life. This weekend was spent solely in this unbelievable city that I am fortunate enough to call home. Friday: Michaela and I discovered the lone Thai restaurant in all of Florence (inadvertently) and I about cried tears of joy. After a delicious lunch, we ventured to Piazza Michelangelo (my favorite place in the whole of the city) and ended the night with a mind-blowing dinner of pear fiochetti at Quattro Leoni, a quaint Trattoria across the Arno. Saturday: We went to the triangle bridge where we bumped into a friend of mine from highschool (smallest world) who is also studying abroad in Firenze and who proceeded to steer us towards some of the better vintage shopping I have ever experienced. We then attempted to attend appertivo at a local bar called Rex but got re-routed due to time to a cozy bistro and then picked up drinks at one of our favorite bars Cafe Bigalo and proceeded to end the evening dancing to Johnny Cash at a hidden music club called The Blob Club. The only thing that could have even potentially surpassed Blob in terms of cool factor is our nightcap of euro pastries from one of Florence's many secret bakeries. Pastries for many bakeries around Florence are made at these locations late in the night and can be purchased for cheap by those who are nocturnal enough to see the flour billowing out of the doors or savvy enough to know the exact doors to knock at. My Florentine weekend could not have been more relaxing nor more perfect. I am so so blessed to be able to be living in this city and I look forward to discovering it even more as the semester progresses.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Making friends with castle guards, transit police, and John Lenon
2/19/2010-- Prague, Czech Republic
Within my first 30 minutes in Prague, I felt like a boss tycoon. Exchanging euro for crown may or may not have been one of the more empowering fiscal transactions I have ever participated in. Walking away with thousands in your wallet puts a definite spring into one's step. My trip to Prague I quickly learned was a trip of what I had foolishly assumed to be exaggerations turned truths. For example: I did not actually believe (halfway for self-preservation) that our bus ride would ACTUALLY be 12 hours long, or that it would ACTUALLY be a high of 15 degrees our first day. Or, that a city could actually be this phenomenal. We participated in a walking tour the first day that hit all the highlights: the Charles bridge, Prague Castle (where we took great pleasure in posing with the castle guards as we caressed their muscles and pretended to kiss their cheeks in order to illicit the slightest smile to escape there usual stony gaze)Lenon wall (my personal favorite), the Jewish Quarter and ended in an Americanized bakery that boasted a plethora of bagels and other delicacies that we have been fiending for. My poison of choice was chili and carrot cake with iced tea, which could not have tasted better. The only tiny (and also unexpected, presumably exaggerated) speed bump we encountered was the Czech Transit Police. After our entry into the subway terminal, we were stopped by a very official (and angry) looking guard who proceeded to explain to us (naive americans)that there was no terminal with which to purchase tickets to the subway and by entering the building some odd 50 feet before, we had violated some super scary Czech law that now facilitated us coughing up 700 crown to ride the subway ONE STOP. This ticket would have regularly cost us under 1 euro. Had we not been compliant with his demands he was quick to point out his slick i-phone was at the ready to phone for backup and send us to the big house. Spending a night in Czech jail is about on par for me with listening to the Beegees everyday for the rest of my life, so we took all necessary measures to avoid this wee little snafu. All in all, lessons learned, advice headed, we returned to Florence up a great many stories and more seasoned travelers than before we departed on our Eastern European adventure. Proust!
Within my first 30 minutes in Prague, I felt like a boss tycoon. Exchanging euro for crown may or may not have been one of the more empowering fiscal transactions I have ever participated in. Walking away with thousands in your wallet puts a definite spring into one's step. My trip to Prague I quickly learned was a trip of what I had foolishly assumed to be exaggerations turned truths. For example: I did not actually believe (halfway for self-preservation) that our bus ride would ACTUALLY be 12 hours long, or that it would ACTUALLY be a high of 15 degrees our first day. Or, that a city could actually be this phenomenal. We participated in a walking tour the first day that hit all the highlights: the Charles bridge, Prague Castle (where we took great pleasure in posing with the castle guards as we caressed their muscles and pretended to kiss their cheeks in order to illicit the slightest smile to escape there usual stony gaze)Lenon wall (my personal favorite), the Jewish Quarter and ended in an Americanized bakery that boasted a plethora of bagels and other delicacies that we have been fiending for. My poison of choice was chili and carrot cake with iced tea, which could not have tasted better. The only tiny (and also unexpected, presumably exaggerated) speed bump we encountered was the Czech Transit Police. After our entry into the subway terminal, we were stopped by a very official (and angry) looking guard who proceeded to explain to us (naive americans)that there was no terminal with which to purchase tickets to the subway and by entering the building some odd 50 feet before, we had violated some super scary Czech law that now facilitated us coughing up 700 crown to ride the subway ONE STOP. This ticket would have regularly cost us under 1 euro. Had we not been compliant with his demands he was quick to point out his slick i-phone was at the ready to phone for backup and send us to the big house. Spending a night in Czech jail is about on par for me with listening to the Beegees everyday for the rest of my life, so we took all necessary measures to avoid this wee little snafu. All in all, lessons learned, advice headed, we returned to Florence up a great many stories and more seasoned travelers than before we departed on our Eastern European adventure. Proust!
Sunday, February 14, 2010
The best euro-fifty I have ever spent.
2/13/2010- Venice, Italy
Venetians must not have bladders. There are quite literally ZERO bathrooms in Venice that are accessible to the public, and by public I (more importantly) mean a cluster of college students that have endured a predicted 3, which turned 4.5, hour bus ride. Once properly relieved, we were able to grasp the splendor that is Venice and the outrageous chaos that is Carnivale. Everyone was dressed to the nines, whether it be in period costumes or as dancing, singing condoms, it was a spectacle to be sure. After we were sufficiently satiated by a delicious meal of pasta at a nearby Trattoria, we discovered the lone gelato shop that sold mildly inexpensive Prosecco (Italian sparkling wine) and sweets and were on our merry way to frolic around the square of San Marco, the focal point of the city. We arrived just in time to observe giant paper-mache bugs that were parading amongst the tourists and performers throughout San Marco square. The city was alive with music and masks which would have been overwhelming had the ambiance not been so incredible. After a long day of observing the glitzy costumes and wild characters (plus 3-euros worth of use at the public restroom, which was well worth the cost) we were on our way back to Firenze, our warm beds and flurries of schoolwork that plague our Sundays. Even with the minimal time we spend in "Venezia," it was long enough to make me vow to return to the fabulous sinking city very very soon.
Venetians must not have bladders. There are quite literally ZERO bathrooms in Venice that are accessible to the public, and by public I (more importantly) mean a cluster of college students that have endured a predicted 3, which turned 4.5, hour bus ride. Once properly relieved, we were able to grasp the splendor that is Venice and the outrageous chaos that is Carnivale. Everyone was dressed to the nines, whether it be in period costumes or as dancing, singing condoms, it was a spectacle to be sure. After we were sufficiently satiated by a delicious meal of pasta at a nearby Trattoria, we discovered the lone gelato shop that sold mildly inexpensive Prosecco (Italian sparkling wine) and sweets and were on our merry way to frolic around the square of San Marco, the focal point of the city. We arrived just in time to observe giant paper-mache bugs that were parading amongst the tourists and performers throughout San Marco square. The city was alive with music and masks which would have been overwhelming had the ambiance not been so incredible. After a long day of observing the glitzy costumes and wild characters (plus 3-euros worth of use at the public restroom, which was well worth the cost) we were on our way back to Firenze, our warm beds and flurries of schoolwork that plague our Sundays. Even with the minimal time we spend in "Venezia," it was long enough to make me vow to return to the fabulous sinking city very very soon.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Sleep-sacks, floppy cheese, and lollies, oh my!
2/4/2010- Barcelona, Spain
I fell in love in Spain. The object of my affections and I first came into contact with eachother when he walked in on me, mid-changing from jeans to sweat pants, and laughed off my clear expression of shock with a consoling, "Don't worry, I'm gay." His name is Brendon and he may or may not be the greatest blessing oof our entire trip to Barcelona. Brendon is Australian and was traveling around Europe on his own as a post-graduation adventure. He would delight us by randomly spouting off with random Australian tidbits such as calling candy "lollies," Kraft singles "floppy cheese," and prefacing everything with "heaps." With each adorable lingo quip, we were more and more enamored with him.
We were given Brendon as a roommate in our 4 ft by 7 ft hostel room and could not be more pleased with our new friend. He went on everything from a 3-hour walking tour, the Picasso museum, and paella and sangria on the marina. On day two, he and I decided to bypass the 6 euro audio guide at the Segrada Famalia cathedral by Gaudi and to make up our own explanations for the intricate and wild architecture. Barcelona was not at all what I anticipated it to be, but surpassed my expectations in every way. The trip had its highs (finally seeing some ocean, amazing local culture and cusine and new friends) as well as its lows (9-hour flight delay, 48 hours of no sleep) but collectively we returned to Florence equally as we invigorated as we were exhausted. We even convinced Brendon to change his travel plans to include a pit-stop in Florence. New friends and new experiences was "heaps good."
I fell in love in Spain. The object of my affections and I first came into contact with eachother when he walked in on me, mid-changing from jeans to sweat pants, and laughed off my clear expression of shock with a consoling, "Don't worry, I'm gay." His name is Brendon and he may or may not be the greatest blessing oof our entire trip to Barcelona. Brendon is Australian and was traveling around Europe on his own as a post-graduation adventure. He would delight us by randomly spouting off with random Australian tidbits such as calling candy "lollies," Kraft singles "floppy cheese," and prefacing everything with "heaps." With each adorable lingo quip, we were more and more enamored with him.
We were given Brendon as a roommate in our 4 ft by 7 ft hostel room and could not be more pleased with our new friend. He went on everything from a 3-hour walking tour, the Picasso museum, and paella and sangria on the marina. On day two, he and I decided to bypass the 6 euro audio guide at the Segrada Famalia cathedral by Gaudi and to make up our own explanations for the intricate and wild architecture. Barcelona was not at all what I anticipated it to be, but surpassed my expectations in every way. The trip had its highs (finally seeing some ocean, amazing local culture and cusine and new friends) as well as its lows (9-hour flight delay, 48 hours of no sleep) but collectively we returned to Florence equally as we invigorated as we were exhausted. We even convinced Brendon to change his travel plans to include a pit-stop in Florence. New friends and new experiences was "heaps good."
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Assisi-si-si
1/29/2010- Assisi
We have this amazing doorman at our pensione whose name is Boris. Boris is a one-of-a-kind gem of an individual who speaks close to three languages and is constantly attempting to perfect his English and his Italian, considering he is Peruvian and his native tongue is Spanish. Boris' favorite word is one that is universal: si. His use of "si" is frequent and borderline repetitive but remains most endearing thing in the entire world. So upon going to Assisi, we of course thought of our dear doorman.
Assisi(si, si, si) was nothing short of picturesque. We arrived after the three hour train ride relaxed (being as the journey was chock full of naps) and ready to explore. We toured the church of St. Francis of Assisi, the patron Saint of animals. His tomb was stirring and decorated with minuscule pictures of those desiring his prayer, or blessing. We were astounded by the intricacies of the church and the landscaping and sweeping views from the courtyard.
After this venture, we decided to move our sights to a castle located on top of a hill in the distance. This castle, unbeknownst to us, was in actuality around an hours walk away, when taking the scenic route. I have no qualms with the scenic route when the view was that of Assisi's sloping valleys and regal mountain landscapes. We finally reached our destination and the panorama from a-top this lofty perch was not to be believed. I felt that it was imperative to the success and overall happiness of this day trip that we not only appreciate our time spent navigating/being lost but also recognize that everything happens for a reason and while we almost met our death via nuns driving smart cars,and took an incredibly round-about route, we survived and lived to tell the tale of the beautiful city of Assisi.
We have this amazing doorman at our pensione whose name is Boris. Boris is a one-of-a-kind gem of an individual who speaks close to three languages and is constantly attempting to perfect his English and his Italian, considering he is Peruvian and his native tongue is Spanish. Boris' favorite word is one that is universal: si. His use of "si" is frequent and borderline repetitive but remains most endearing thing in the entire world. So upon going to Assisi, we of course thought of our dear doorman.
Assisi(si, si, si) was nothing short of picturesque. We arrived after the three hour train ride relaxed (being as the journey was chock full of naps) and ready to explore. We toured the church of St. Francis of Assisi, the patron Saint of animals. His tomb was stirring and decorated with minuscule pictures of those desiring his prayer, or blessing. We were astounded by the intricacies of the church and the landscaping and sweeping views from the courtyard.
After this venture, we decided to move our sights to a castle located on top of a hill in the distance. This castle, unbeknownst to us, was in actuality around an hours walk away, when taking the scenic route. I have no qualms with the scenic route when the view was that of Assisi's sloping valleys and regal mountain landscapes. We finally reached our destination and the panorama from a-top this lofty perch was not to be believed. I felt that it was imperative to the success and overall happiness of this day trip that we not only appreciate our time spent navigating/being lost but also recognize that everything happens for a reason and while we almost met our death via nuns driving smart cars,and took an incredibly round-about route, we survived and lived to tell the tale of the beautiful city of Assisi.
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Can we either say or pronounce where we are going?
1/23/2010- San Gimignano
I feel as though whilst abroad, we know how to get to our destination about 7% of the time. Originally, I prided myself on my keen sense of direction, map reading skills, and savvy street smarts. Those previously redeeming qualities evaporate into the Italian atmosphere upon the first foreign syllable being uttered as we try and maneuver our way around this new land. Not being able to communicate with those with whom you are asking directions from presents a myriad of issues. I anticipated getting lost would be not only stressful but foster a negative impact upon any given experience. Au contratre, it has only added to any event that has taken place. Literally everywhere I went this past weekend, I was lost; and could not have been happier about it. Friday we frolicked around the city, growing acclimated to our new home. This involved a rendezvous with the Salvatore Ferragamo museum (heaven), walks down the Ponte Vecchio/ Triangle bridge, cappuccinos and canolis, and attempting to find the Piazza Michelangelo which instead led us up into a residential area of Florence. And by residential, I should explain that I mean residential VILLAS. Villas with family crests etched into their marble porches and wraight-iron gates. The walk was breathtaking and only prefaced the more amazing disoriented experience that occured the next day. Saturday, we ventured to San Gimignano, Tuscany. Upon getting off the train, we realized that we were not infact in San Gimignano, but it a neighboring "city" that we could neither pronounce nor remember the name of (it still escapes me). We took a wee-little hike around town and then found by some grace of God the bus station to get us to our actual destination. Being lost in the mystery city would have been a sight more enjoyable had our bellies been full and bladders been empty. San Gimignano was quaint, and simply darling. We enjoyed a quiet, prolonged lunch hour followed by wine and appertivo before our departure back to Florence. Regardless of getting off at the wrong stop, having to fork over additional euro (from a too- quickly depleting supply) for a bus ticket to the REAL place we were going, I loved every second of it. Good laughs with good friends on an absolutely amazing weekend. Success!
I feel as though whilst abroad, we know how to get to our destination about 7% of the time. Originally, I prided myself on my keen sense of direction, map reading skills, and savvy street smarts. Those previously redeeming qualities evaporate into the Italian atmosphere upon the first foreign syllable being uttered as we try and maneuver our way around this new land. Not being able to communicate with those with whom you are asking directions from presents a myriad of issues. I anticipated getting lost would be not only stressful but foster a negative impact upon any given experience. Au contratre, it has only added to any event that has taken place. Literally everywhere I went this past weekend, I was lost; and could not have been happier about it. Friday we frolicked around the city, growing acclimated to our new home. This involved a rendezvous with the Salvatore Ferragamo museum (heaven), walks down the Ponte Vecchio/ Triangle bridge, cappuccinos and canolis, and attempting to find the Piazza Michelangelo which instead led us up into a residential area of Florence. And by residential, I should explain that I mean residential VILLAS. Villas with family crests etched into their marble porches and wraight-iron gates. The walk was breathtaking and only prefaced the more amazing disoriented experience that occured the next day. Saturday, we ventured to San Gimignano, Tuscany. Upon getting off the train, we realized that we were not infact in San Gimignano, but it a neighboring "city" that we could neither pronounce nor remember the name of (it still escapes me). We took a wee-little hike around town and then found by some grace of God the bus station to get us to our actual destination. Being lost in the mystery city would have been a sight more enjoyable had our bellies been full and bladders been empty. San Gimignano was quaint, and simply darling. We enjoyed a quiet, prolonged lunch hour followed by wine and appertivo before our departure back to Florence. Regardless of getting off at the wrong stop, having to fork over additional euro (from a too- quickly depleting supply) for a bus ticket to the REAL place we were going, I loved every second of it. Good laughs with good friends on an absolutely amazing weekend. Success!
Monday, January 18, 2010
Siena
1/16/2010
Day trip to Siena, Italy! Just a mere 7 euro, one hour bus ride away from Flo-town lies the quaint, quiet city of Siena. This hidden gem houses the famous "black and white" duomo as well as the historic preserved head and finger of St. Catherine of Siena. Sans a tiny bout of food poisoning that concluded the venture, the trip was a wonderful breath of fresh air from the first week of classes.
Day trip to Siena, Italy! Just a mere 7 euro, one hour bus ride away from Flo-town lies the quaint, quiet city of Siena. This hidden gem houses the famous "black and white" duomo as well as the historic preserved head and finger of St. Catherine of Siena. Sans a tiny bout of food poisoning that concluded the venture, the trip was a wonderful breath of fresh air from the first week of classes.
Roman Holiday
1/7/2010, Roma:
Riding the bus into Rome, no one knew quite what to expect. The pretense of a city of this magnitude was overwhelming and exhilarating. To begin the opening tour, we went out to an extravagant, typical five-course Italian meal which was a wonderful precursor to the sight-seeing that lay before us in the upcoming days. The next morning, we departed on a three-hour walking tour of historic Rome that included tours of the Pantheon, Colosseum, the Spanish Steps and Trevi Fountain, my personal favorite. We grew accustomed to native means of transport (lots of walking and the subways) to which we felt ever the more so like American tourists because having heard such elaborate stories of pickpockets on mass transit we held our belongings tight to our chests and looked around at any passerby as if they were packing heat. Later on, we were given an exclusive tour of the Museum Borghese and went home to get some rest. Day 2: The group was allowed free reign of our time and used it to tour Vatican City, St. Peter's Basilica, and the Sistine Chapel. Behind the immense, stone walls of Vatican city lies some of the most historical art and sculpture pieces in all of the world. We were ushered through a series of rooms, each more intricately decorated than the last, which eventually led to the finale of the Capella Sistina. Even amongst the crowds, tour guides, and Swiss guard members who were constantly berrating onlookers not to take pictures (although certain onlookers may have been able to sneak a video or two), the room was absolutely breathtaking. The thought of Michelangelo being propped up on scaffolding for seven years covering every square inch with such symbolic art was monumentally moving. We were blessed with the "Roma" passes which allowed us to go into all of these beautiful places. At the conclusion of the second night, we were blessed with the opportunity to tour the Jesuit house of Rome which had one of the best views of the city skyline we had seen to date. This tour was given by Father Michael, our resident Chaplin who travels with the Gonzaga-in-Florence program quite a bit. Within the house, he showed us the room that St. Thresa of the Little Flower had inhabited and the terrace where the Jesuits entertain and eat their meals. On the third day, we had the rare opportunity to be blessed by the Pope and then got back on the buses to head back to Florence! The weekend was a whirlwind of history, art, and new experiences to the point where we were all happy to be back in our own beds. It was educational not only in that the pieces we were viewing had previously been unbeknownst to us beyond the pages of a text book, but also in that this was the first time any of us had to navigate our way through a city completely on our own with no means of communication and a large language barrier. These hurdles were cleared with (relative) ease, and lessons learned. On to the next adventure!
Riding the bus into Rome, no one knew quite what to expect. The pretense of a city of this magnitude was overwhelming and exhilarating. To begin the opening tour, we went out to an extravagant, typical five-course Italian meal which was a wonderful precursor to the sight-seeing that lay before us in the upcoming days. The next morning, we departed on a three-hour walking tour of historic Rome that included tours of the Pantheon, Colosseum, the Spanish Steps and Trevi Fountain, my personal favorite. We grew accustomed to native means of transport (lots of walking and the subways) to which we felt ever the more so like American tourists because having heard such elaborate stories of pickpockets on mass transit we held our belongings tight to our chests and looked around at any passerby as if they were packing heat. Later on, we were given an exclusive tour of the Museum Borghese and went home to get some rest. Day 2: The group was allowed free reign of our time and used it to tour Vatican City, St. Peter's Basilica, and the Sistine Chapel. Behind the immense, stone walls of Vatican city lies some of the most historical art and sculpture pieces in all of the world. We were ushered through a series of rooms, each more intricately decorated than the last, which eventually led to the finale of the Capella Sistina. Even amongst the crowds, tour guides, and Swiss guard members who were constantly berrating onlookers not to take pictures (although certain onlookers may have been able to sneak a video or two), the room was absolutely breathtaking. The thought of Michelangelo being propped up on scaffolding for seven years covering every square inch with such symbolic art was monumentally moving. We were blessed with the "Roma" passes which allowed us to go into all of these beautiful places. At the conclusion of the second night, we were blessed with the opportunity to tour the Jesuit house of Rome which had one of the best views of the city skyline we had seen to date. This tour was given by Father Michael, our resident Chaplin who travels with the Gonzaga-in-Florence program quite a bit. Within the house, he showed us the room that St. Thresa of the Little Flower had inhabited and the terrace where the Jesuits entertain and eat their meals. On the third day, we had the rare opportunity to be blessed by the Pope and then got back on the buses to head back to Florence! The weekend was a whirlwind of history, art, and new experiences to the point where we were all happy to be back in our own beds. It was educational not only in that the pieces we were viewing had previously been unbeknownst to us beyond the pages of a text book, but also in that this was the first time any of us had to navigate our way through a city completely on our own with no means of communication and a large language barrier. These hurdles were cleared with (relative) ease, and lessons learned. On to the next adventure!
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