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.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
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."
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