so from the lack of postings, one would assume that the adventures had stopped, when in reality it seems as though they've just begun. i've made it through 3+ years of college and here i am, senior year. the time when everything is "figured out" and i can just coast- wait for the pieces to just fall into place. ha!
we spend three years convincing ourselves that when senior year arrives we will be done. as freshmen, we literally wander around, not knowing where to begin. as sophomores, we think we get it. as juniors, we realize that we were wrong- we didn't get it all. and now, seniors, we finally understand what we were supposed to be doing the last three years. and we realize we only have one year left to pack it all in.
i'm not done! i'm only a senior!
i could do the past three years over again in 50 different ways. i would go abroad for longer, i would go elsewhere, i wouldn't go. i would write a thesis, i would take a drama class, i would not take econ. i would never have 9 am class, i would never have class on friday, i would take 20 units every quarter. if someone had told me as a freshman that i only had four years, i would have chosen differently. i think.
but if i had made different decisions, if i had altered this path that i've taken, where would that put me now?
and that's when the pieces finally fall into place. i am here. here is not what i expected it to be. because the here that i want now is very different from the here that i wanted three years ago. it took three years of trial and error to be here. i like here and i am staying.
at least for another year.
November 18, 2006
May 01, 2006
biking through life
i was strolling through the quad the other day when i saw a woman and two children coming my way. one child was pedaling furiously, apparently in a race with an invisible competitor. the other was slowly making his way through the quad, cautiously eyeing every pebble that could become an obstacle. i forsaw disaster as they made their way toward the cobblestone. the sheer speed with which our first biker approached the bumpy road ironically kept him from danger. his counterpart however did not fare so well. biker number two hesitantly followed his friend. when his tire treads hit the first stone, his bike slowly tipped and he fell approximately one foot to the ground. he immediately began to cry as his friend continued biking happily over the unstable terrain. i couldn't help but laugh to myself as i assessed the blatant message this encounter had sent me. sometimes the cautious road becomes a self fulfilling prophecy and you end up with a scraped knee. better to be biker number one and approach change with a carefree attitude and enjoy it for what its worth.
April 20, 2006
springtime at stanford
the sun is shining. FINALLY. after an unprecedented amount of rain in the bay area, the weather has chosen to take a turn towards normalcy and i am beginning to feel like it is actually spring quarter. returning from italy, unpacking and repacking while home for 3 days, moving into a new room with a random roommate and being thrown head first into the brick wall that is rush can be quite harrying. but i've survived and declared a minor in political science to boot! and now the million dollar question: what is it like to be back? let me start off by saying that "being back" is not the right way to describe it. i am living in a random dorm with a girl i met three weeks ago. i know approximately five people in the entire dorm. none of my friends live nearby, let alone the down the hall. i eat at a dining hall (sometimes). i do not have a bike. so basically, give me a red folder and a nametag...i am a profro! clearly "being back" is inaccurate because my life thus far has been basically opposite of what my previous two years at stanford have been like. now that that is out of the way, i can be direct. IT IS GLORIOUS. despite the aforementioned technicalities, i am BACK and springtime has never looked so good. i can walk down the street without being accosted in a foreign language (and in a skirt no less!). i can interact with more than the same 30 people. i recognize people as i walk to class and they greet me warmly. contrary to my worst fears, people remember me! i am in three classes that i chose out of hundreds and i am fully engaged and motivated in all three. i have thirteen hours of class a week and the rest of the time is free to spend as i chose. it is baseball season. i have more then 10 outfit combinations to choose from. the weather is beautiful. i have seen various friends at various hours of the day. i played my first game of beirut since december. i am going to see ben harper this afternoon. and have i mentioned that the sun is shining?!
April 01, 2006
spring break and parting shots
After showing off our apartment we got to work on preparing pasta and fruit salad. I must say we were pretty gourmet although our dinner was nothing compared to the next morning’s brunch. Marco had managed to find the one pub in amalfi and it happened to be around the corner from our apartment. We rolled out, encouraged by the guiness sign out in front and were only slightly deterred when we discovered that the pub didn’t actually have guiness. It was shaping up to be a pretty low key night when suddenly, the pub transformed from a brightly lit, empty space to a dark, loud and crowded karaoke bar. It was really quite fortuitous. Here I was in italy with my 2 close friends that I could always count on to take over our neighborhood karaoke bar in dc in the fall and we wander into the pub that happens to be starting karaoke 15 minutes after we arrive. What are the odds? We dusted off some old favorites and showed the Italians how we rock with a little meatloaf. Memories of the fall flooded back and I missed the solid crew that used to take down café peyote on Thursday nights. Post karaoke, we all went back and crammed into the apartment for the night.
The guests took off early the next morning and the 4 of us decided to make a little brunch. And by a little I mean eggs, potatoes, bread, fruit, cheese, prosciutto, coffee and juice. This served on the terrace of our apartment would have been enough to satisfy us for the day but we took it a step further and went to the beach. This was my first real beach trip since summer. I napped and read like I was back in san diego until an unfriendly breeze sent us exploring amalfi for the rest of the day. A quick trip to the internet café informed me that I had thankfully been reassigned to a new residence although my actual room situation still remains up in the air. That night, the girls and I reprised our roles as gourmet chefs with pesto pasta and then some intense chats about musicals, italy, life. We went to bed happy with our weekend in amalfi and sad that we would be saying goodbye in the morning to our apartment and each other.
In the weekend’s madness we had managed to misplace one of the keys to the apartment. Emma and Lauren left in a rush and tess and I were left with the excruciating task of telling our friendly hostess that we had lost the set. I can honestly say, there are very few times I have ever felt worse. We offered to pay to replace the locks and in the true Italian way the friendly family assured us it would be fine and sent us on our way. Tess and I emerged to discover that daylight savings time had occurred and the most beautiful day in the world was half over. We lunched as we waited for our bus back to salerno and conspicuously eavesdropped on a table of old women sitting next to us. It just so happened that this particular group hailed from tess’s native Dallas and we quickly struck up a conversation. Commenting on our choice of books (rise of the vulcans for me and a primates memoir for tess) the women asked us what we were studying. Tess explained her humbio major and the nice old lady asked about my interest in economics and politics. I gave a brief description of my interests and the relevance of my reading choice. To which this poor woman exclaimed: “oh we are from texas you know! We LOVE president bush. Those poor people in iraq, they just want a little bit of the freedom we enjoy.” I managed to hold my tongue for the most part but couldn’t let them get away without a comment about the current mess iraq is in. They nodded through my explanation and ran off to rejoin their Baptist church group (I kid you not).
Refusing to let these ridiculous women ruin my morning, I boarded the bus with ben harper on my ipod. The ride was surprisingly serene and our trip to napoli uneventful. We checked into our hotel only to discover that rick steves and lets go! Had failed to mention the possibility of being assigned to a room the size of a cardboard box for our three night stay. After a short rest we ran off to explore and ended up at the pizzeria recommended by the hotel. The pizza was delicious and we soon found ourselves living an Italian movie. The neopolitan couple that was entertaining the pizzeria with song came over to inform us that they were given a request for a serenade. One of the waiters and one of the cooks apparently wanted to proclaim their love for us through the musician’s rendition of a neopolitan love song. Tess and I played along as the Italians blew us kisses from afar. We laughed our way through the rest of the evening and went back to the hotel for a good night’s sleep.
The next morning we set off to explore an island in the bay of napoli. We abandoned Capri for the lesser known ischia that tempted us with the allure of thermal baths. After an unfortunately cloudy ferry ride we arrived and began looking for a way to get to the thermal baths. We discarded the idea of renting vespas or a car and opted to take a picnic on the bus and hike down to the baths. We got off the bus into a day that had turned spectacular. The sun was shining and a coastal breeze kept us cool as we skipped down the path. When we got close enough to see the rest of our afternoon, an unforgiving construction worker informed us that the baths were closed and we would have to turn around. Stripping down to our suits we trekked back up the way we came for once not caring if we got any “fa caldo?” catcalls. With the help of a friendly old Italian man (are you sensing a theme?) we hopped on another bus to citara, what turned out to be our own private beach. We lived out our spring break fantasies for the afternoon, soaking up the sun and happily sipping corona. At the end of the day an unlucky turn of events sent us rushing back to the port to catch the last ferry. We made it back to our hotel, exhausted but extremely pleased with ourselves.
The next morning we let the alarm clock ring and ring as we attempted to recover from the worst night of sleep ever. The exhaustion and anxiety of returning home had us tossing and turning all night. We leisurely got ready for the day and were rewarded with a delightful surprise. The hotel had decided to move us into a much bigger, much nicer room. We happily relocated and then took off for pompei. The hazy warmth could not have provided a better backdrop for our exploration of the excavation. Tess delighted me with archeological insights and we marveled at the town wiped from existence with the eruption of mount Vesuvius. By the time we left, we had reached the end of our energetic ropes and returned to the hotel for showers and a little oc.
Wednesday we returned to rome for the final leg of our Italian adventure. Tess laughed at my attempt to claim that our journey had been so circular. (funny how that works out when you have a roundtrip ticket from the airport in rome) we commandeered a train station cart to get our other luggage out of storage and to our hostel. Although this hostel was familiar, our sleeping arrangements were not. We literally slept in bunk beds that came out of a closet. We spent the day repacking and getting our last fill of italy. We made a quick trip to the trevi fountain and had our last gelato. That night we entertained our 8 person dorm with yet another episode of the oc and went to bed sad, knowing that 4 am meant the end of our time together. We both woke up before our alarms and I waved goodbye to tess as she left for the airport. I was alone.
I’m not trying to be dramatic. It is simply a fact. This would be my first time “traveling” alone in italy during my entire time abroad. I went back to sleep for the rest of the morning (and by the rest I mean until 9 am) and then began my last full day in italy.
I wandered around until I found the Spanish steps and skipped down them, happily listening to my ipod. I felt like it could have been my first day in italy, as if I was exploring the country’s splendor with the bright eyes of a newcomer. I made my way to piazza del popolo and enjoyed a cappuccino standing at the bar with the rest of the Italians. I headed north to the borghese villa grounds and was overcome with the rome I had never seen. This quiet park had the peaceful serenity of the woods, not the grounds of a villa overlooking the crowds, heat and city of rome. I explored the borghese gallery, marveling at bernini’s stutues and caravaggio’s painings. I picked up a panino and lounged in the grass, eating and reading. Exhaustion began to fight my eyes and a headache was forming in the back of my head. I opted for the metro for the convinience of speed only to stumble upon the foil to my calm morning. The overcrowded cars full of pushy Italians kept me from boarding not once, not twice but three times. I wasn’t in a hurry so I sat back and surveyed the clausterphobic’s worst nightmare. I was startled by some yelling as a group of Italians frisked a young girl who had almost pickpocketed a solitary commuter. I hurried home, eager to escape the reminder that rome is not as safe as the morning had allowed me to lull myself into thinking.
Another pleasant error in my favor took me out of the closet bed and into a private 4 person room with three friendly Australians. We shared stories and then parted ways for dinner. It seemed appropriate for me to enjoy my final Italian meal in quiet reflection. As I chewed my pasta and sipped my wine I allowed myself to give into the saddening feeling of loss that I had been trying to avoid. Italy is over. I returned to our room and got cheered up by a few games of poker before bed. I beat my alarm clock to it this morning and was ready and waiting for my shuttle when it arrived. Despite a moment where the driver was lost and I allowed myself to worry that I might not make my flight, things went smoothly. Some clever rearranging managed to get all of my luggage on the plane without any fees. And here I am. On my way back to America. Only 16 hours to go. Another update can enlighten you on my feeling about home and going back. For now, I want linger on italy for a moment.
At one point during the quarter I second guessed my decision to study abroad. I wondered if I had “wasted” a quarter away from my major and the academically grounding influence of Stanford. But now I contemplate the friendships, the memories, the lessons that defined my 3 and a half months in italy. And I accept that this was just as valuable as “economic tools of policy analysis”. I can attend lectures and do problems sets to my hearts content for the rest of my life if I want. But I will never again get the chance to gallivant around italy with the somewhat transparent façade of being a student. I smiled with pride as the shuttle driver complimented my Italian this morning on the way to the airport. I teared up as I saw the coliseum fade into the distance, a tangible reminder of my leaving italy behind. I whispered ciao as my flight took off and am now content to conclude my time as a student in italy.
The guests took off early the next morning and the 4 of us decided to make a little brunch. And by a little I mean eggs, potatoes, bread, fruit, cheese, prosciutto, coffee and juice. This served on the terrace of our apartment would have been enough to satisfy us for the day but we took it a step further and went to the beach. This was my first real beach trip since summer. I napped and read like I was back in san diego until an unfriendly breeze sent us exploring amalfi for the rest of the day. A quick trip to the internet café informed me that I had thankfully been reassigned to a new residence although my actual room situation still remains up in the air. That night, the girls and I reprised our roles as gourmet chefs with pesto pasta and then some intense chats about musicals, italy, life. We went to bed happy with our weekend in amalfi and sad that we would be saying goodbye in the morning to our apartment and each other.
In the weekend’s madness we had managed to misplace one of the keys to the apartment. Emma and Lauren left in a rush and tess and I were left with the excruciating task of telling our friendly hostess that we had lost the set. I can honestly say, there are very few times I have ever felt worse. We offered to pay to replace the locks and in the true Italian way the friendly family assured us it would be fine and sent us on our way. Tess and I emerged to discover that daylight savings time had occurred and the most beautiful day in the world was half over. We lunched as we waited for our bus back to salerno and conspicuously eavesdropped on a table of old women sitting next to us. It just so happened that this particular group hailed from tess’s native Dallas and we quickly struck up a conversation. Commenting on our choice of books (rise of the vulcans for me and a primates memoir for tess) the women asked us what we were studying. Tess explained her humbio major and the nice old lady asked about my interest in economics and politics. I gave a brief description of my interests and the relevance of my reading choice. To which this poor woman exclaimed: “oh we are from texas you know! We LOVE president bush. Those poor people in iraq, they just want a little bit of the freedom we enjoy.” I managed to hold my tongue for the most part but couldn’t let them get away without a comment about the current mess iraq is in. They nodded through my explanation and ran off to rejoin their Baptist church group (I kid you not).
Refusing to let these ridiculous women ruin my morning, I boarded the bus with ben harper on my ipod. The ride was surprisingly serene and our trip to napoli uneventful. We checked into our hotel only to discover that rick steves and lets go! Had failed to mention the possibility of being assigned to a room the size of a cardboard box for our three night stay. After a short rest we ran off to explore and ended up at the pizzeria recommended by the hotel. The pizza was delicious and we soon found ourselves living an Italian movie. The neopolitan couple that was entertaining the pizzeria with song came over to inform us that they were given a request for a serenade. One of the waiters and one of the cooks apparently wanted to proclaim their love for us through the musician’s rendition of a neopolitan love song. Tess and I played along as the Italians blew us kisses from afar. We laughed our way through the rest of the evening and went back to the hotel for a good night’s sleep.
The next morning we set off to explore an island in the bay of napoli. We abandoned Capri for the lesser known ischia that tempted us with the allure of thermal baths. After an unfortunately cloudy ferry ride we arrived and began looking for a way to get to the thermal baths. We discarded the idea of renting vespas or a car and opted to take a picnic on the bus and hike down to the baths. We got off the bus into a day that had turned spectacular. The sun was shining and a coastal breeze kept us cool as we skipped down the path. When we got close enough to see the rest of our afternoon, an unforgiving construction worker informed us that the baths were closed and we would have to turn around. Stripping down to our suits we trekked back up the way we came for once not caring if we got any “fa caldo?” catcalls. With the help of a friendly old Italian man (are you sensing a theme?) we hopped on another bus to citara, what turned out to be our own private beach. We lived out our spring break fantasies for the afternoon, soaking up the sun and happily sipping corona. At the end of the day an unlucky turn of events sent us rushing back to the port to catch the last ferry. We made it back to our hotel, exhausted but extremely pleased with ourselves.
The next morning we let the alarm clock ring and ring as we attempted to recover from the worst night of sleep ever. The exhaustion and anxiety of returning home had us tossing and turning all night. We leisurely got ready for the day and were rewarded with a delightful surprise. The hotel had decided to move us into a much bigger, much nicer room. We happily relocated and then took off for pompei. The hazy warmth could not have provided a better backdrop for our exploration of the excavation. Tess delighted me with archeological insights and we marveled at the town wiped from existence with the eruption of mount Vesuvius. By the time we left, we had reached the end of our energetic ropes and returned to the hotel for showers and a little oc.
Wednesday we returned to rome for the final leg of our Italian adventure. Tess laughed at my attempt to claim that our journey had been so circular. (funny how that works out when you have a roundtrip ticket from the airport in rome) we commandeered a train station cart to get our other luggage out of storage and to our hostel. Although this hostel was familiar, our sleeping arrangements were not. We literally slept in bunk beds that came out of a closet. We spent the day repacking and getting our last fill of italy. We made a quick trip to the trevi fountain and had our last gelato. That night we entertained our 8 person dorm with yet another episode of the oc and went to bed sad, knowing that 4 am meant the end of our time together. We both woke up before our alarms and I waved goodbye to tess as she left for the airport. I was alone.
I’m not trying to be dramatic. It is simply a fact. This would be my first time “traveling” alone in italy during my entire time abroad. I went back to sleep for the rest of the morning (and by the rest I mean until 9 am) and then began my last full day in italy.
I wandered around until I found the Spanish steps and skipped down them, happily listening to my ipod. I felt like it could have been my first day in italy, as if I was exploring the country’s splendor with the bright eyes of a newcomer. I made my way to piazza del popolo and enjoyed a cappuccino standing at the bar with the rest of the Italians. I headed north to the borghese villa grounds and was overcome with the rome I had never seen. This quiet park had the peaceful serenity of the woods, not the grounds of a villa overlooking the crowds, heat and city of rome. I explored the borghese gallery, marveling at bernini’s stutues and caravaggio’s painings. I picked up a panino and lounged in the grass, eating and reading. Exhaustion began to fight my eyes and a headache was forming in the back of my head. I opted for the metro for the convinience of speed only to stumble upon the foil to my calm morning. The overcrowded cars full of pushy Italians kept me from boarding not once, not twice but three times. I wasn’t in a hurry so I sat back and surveyed the clausterphobic’s worst nightmare. I was startled by some yelling as a group of Italians frisked a young girl who had almost pickpocketed a solitary commuter. I hurried home, eager to escape the reminder that rome is not as safe as the morning had allowed me to lull myself into thinking.
Another pleasant error in my favor took me out of the closet bed and into a private 4 person room with three friendly Australians. We shared stories and then parted ways for dinner. It seemed appropriate for me to enjoy my final Italian meal in quiet reflection. As I chewed my pasta and sipped my wine I allowed myself to give into the saddening feeling of loss that I had been trying to avoid. Italy is over. I returned to our room and got cheered up by a few games of poker before bed. I beat my alarm clock to it this morning and was ready and waiting for my shuttle when it arrived. Despite a moment where the driver was lost and I allowed myself to worry that I might not make my flight, things went smoothly. Some clever rearranging managed to get all of my luggage on the plane without any fees. And here I am. On my way back to America. Only 16 hours to go. Another update can enlighten you on my feeling about home and going back. For now, I want linger on italy for a moment.
At one point during the quarter I second guessed my decision to study abroad. I wondered if I had “wasted” a quarter away from my major and the academically grounding influence of Stanford. But now I contemplate the friendships, the memories, the lessons that defined my 3 and a half months in italy. And I accept that this was just as valuable as “economic tools of policy analysis”. I can attend lectures and do problems sets to my hearts content for the rest of my life if I want. But I will never again get the chance to gallivant around italy with the somewhat transparent façade of being a student. I smiled with pride as the shuttle driver complimented my Italian this morning on the way to the airport. I teared up as I saw the coliseum fade into the distance, a tangible reminder of my leaving italy behind. I whispered ciao as my flight took off and am now content to conclude my time as a student in italy.
the end of florence
Florence post Vienna was basically a madhouse. All of a sudden, finals had crept up on me, meaning not only that i had a ton of studying to do but also that my days in Florence were coming to an end. Tuesday I had a presentation for the democracy class as well as our last bing dinner and Thursday we had our final for photo, an exhibition. It was exciting getting to see something tangible and creative that I had done. I am accustomed to my creativity expressing itself in live formats and now having a physical representation of my artistic talents to bring home is pretty cool. Friday, of course, was st. patricks day. Now, normally I would wear my green and have guiness in the celebratory spirit and continue on my way. But, I was rooming with the number one not actually irish irish girl. So, never one to disappoint, I rallied for the Florentine irish pub crawl. We drank guiness, sang irish songs accompanied by bagpipes, hit 5 different irish pubs and managed to do it all in Italian. That’s right…despite the fact that saint patricks day is not celebrated in italy, tess and I managed to keep our English speaking to a minimum. We befriended an Italian that tess appropriately named the Russian and spoke only in Italian to each other and jesse’s host cousin (his host mom’s niece). I think tess and I showed the Italians what saint patricks day is all about.
By the time the weekend rolled around I had one down and was knee deep in research for my final paper on accountability in iraq. Cue marco’s visit. I was so excited to see marco and get a chance to reminisce with him and emma about our quarter in dc. However his arrival was perfectly timed with my finals. He got in on Sunday and left Thursday. I planned on being done on Thursday. Top this off with emma’s 21st birthday on Tuesday and I was in a huge predicament. Basically, I pounded out the paper, crammed for Italian, did the necessities with art history and postponed the Italian paper until post celebration/reunion. I even managed to pack my bags, finish my gift shopping and buy the much needed extra suitcase. Wednesday night Stanford in Florence went out with a bang, taking over lochness with the help of marco and ayla. I pretty much partied like I didn’t have to write a five paged paper in Italian the next day.
But then I did. I sat at the center armed with pages and pages of research on Giacomo Puccini and his operas. My attempt to power through my paper was foiled by the entrance of brad and his sentiments on the end of Florence. Forget writing my paper, I could barely keep from crying. I spent all quarter telling myself that when it was over I would be so excited to get back to Stanford the transition would be smooth sailing. All of a sudden the thought of abandoning my Italian cell phone, forgoing cappuccino for nonfat vanilla lattes, not chatting with the mamma over a second helping of pasta, going to frat parties instead of a new Italian town every weekend and leaving italy hit me like a ton of bricks. But I sucked it up, returned the cell phone and began the trek home from the center for the last time. Goodbye ponte vecchio, goodbye Duomo. See ya later bus number 17 and asking “scusi, scende qui?”. Ciao mamma and Claudia and alessandro and Francesca and Cosimo. That night at dinner I lost it. The mamma could barely speak and then Claudia and alessandro came to say goodbye. I teared up. Tess and I stayed up until three pretending that we weren’t going to hop on our usual 8 am train and leave our quarter abroad in Florence forever.
The next morning a tearful goodbye and a promise to come back to the mamma as soon as we could sent us on our way. Despite the fact that we had yet to email our Italian papers, the quarter was over! We were officially on spring break! And where does one go when on spring break after a quarter in italy? The amalfi coast duh.
Not that fast, when I say we were going to the amalfi coast, I need to paint a little picture for you of what exactly that means. It means taking a huge rolling suitcase, 2 large carry ons a backpack and a purse (each) on the eurostar to rome. Dragging the aforementioned luggage to the baggage deposit at the train station. Leaving the suitcase and one carry on in rome. Hopping on a train to salerno. Getting your feet kissed as a small child asks you for money. Trying to figure out which bus goes to amalfi as you quickly being to realize that you are in the stereotypical italy from the movies. The kind where strange men flirt with you and snap your photo on their cell phone. The dirty, warm, sticky italy where you begin to wish you weren’t two young women traveling alone even though its 2 pm and full daylight. Then you finally make it on the bus only to be yelled at by a disgruntled old Italian man who isn’t happy that you have so much luggage. You proceed to take an hour long bus ride overlooking the most beautiful coastline you have ever seen but can’t enjoy it because the windy road and constant honking to avoid other vehicles is making you naseous. You finally make it to amalfi by an act of god and a seeming good Samaritan offers to help you carry your luggage but then asks what you are doing for the night. You quickly thank him and reclaim your luggage and then carry it up 8 flights of stairs to your apartment.
But then, we made it to the apartment of our dreams. It had 2 bedrooms, a living room, a couch, a kitchen and 2 terraces. One overlooked the main piazza and amalfi’s church and the other had a spectacular ocean view. Unbelievable. Thank you lets go! italy. After a good 10 minutes of awe, we set off in search of internet and food. Amalfi turned out to the cutest little beach town that ever was. After getting our internet fix, we stocked up on food and waited for emma and Lauren (her friend from high school) to arrive. About an hour later, they did, with three unexpected guests in tow. Somehow they had run into marco, ayla and her brother at the salerno bus stop. It really is a small world.
By the time the weekend rolled around I had one down and was knee deep in research for my final paper on accountability in iraq. Cue marco’s visit. I was so excited to see marco and get a chance to reminisce with him and emma about our quarter in dc. However his arrival was perfectly timed with my finals. He got in on Sunday and left Thursday. I planned on being done on Thursday. Top this off with emma’s 21st birthday on Tuesday and I was in a huge predicament. Basically, I pounded out the paper, crammed for Italian, did the necessities with art history and postponed the Italian paper until post celebration/reunion. I even managed to pack my bags, finish my gift shopping and buy the much needed extra suitcase. Wednesday night Stanford in Florence went out with a bang, taking over lochness with the help of marco and ayla. I pretty much partied like I didn’t have to write a five paged paper in Italian the next day.
But then I did. I sat at the center armed with pages and pages of research on Giacomo Puccini and his operas. My attempt to power through my paper was foiled by the entrance of brad and his sentiments on the end of Florence. Forget writing my paper, I could barely keep from crying. I spent all quarter telling myself that when it was over I would be so excited to get back to Stanford the transition would be smooth sailing. All of a sudden the thought of abandoning my Italian cell phone, forgoing cappuccino for nonfat vanilla lattes, not chatting with the mamma over a second helping of pasta, going to frat parties instead of a new Italian town every weekend and leaving italy hit me like a ton of bricks. But I sucked it up, returned the cell phone and began the trek home from the center for the last time. Goodbye ponte vecchio, goodbye Duomo. See ya later bus number 17 and asking “scusi, scende qui?”. Ciao mamma and Claudia and alessandro and Francesca and Cosimo. That night at dinner I lost it. The mamma could barely speak and then Claudia and alessandro came to say goodbye. I teared up. Tess and I stayed up until three pretending that we weren’t going to hop on our usual 8 am train and leave our quarter abroad in Florence forever.
The next morning a tearful goodbye and a promise to come back to the mamma as soon as we could sent us on our way. Despite the fact that we had yet to email our Italian papers, the quarter was over! We were officially on spring break! And where does one go when on spring break after a quarter in italy? The amalfi coast duh.
Not that fast, when I say we were going to the amalfi coast, I need to paint a little picture for you of what exactly that means. It means taking a huge rolling suitcase, 2 large carry ons a backpack and a purse (each) on the eurostar to rome. Dragging the aforementioned luggage to the baggage deposit at the train station. Leaving the suitcase and one carry on in rome. Hopping on a train to salerno. Getting your feet kissed as a small child asks you for money. Trying to figure out which bus goes to amalfi as you quickly being to realize that you are in the stereotypical italy from the movies. The kind where strange men flirt with you and snap your photo on their cell phone. The dirty, warm, sticky italy where you begin to wish you weren’t two young women traveling alone even though its 2 pm and full daylight. Then you finally make it on the bus only to be yelled at by a disgruntled old Italian man who isn’t happy that you have so much luggage. You proceed to take an hour long bus ride overlooking the most beautiful coastline you have ever seen but can’t enjoy it because the windy road and constant honking to avoid other vehicles is making you naseous. You finally make it to amalfi by an act of god and a seeming good Samaritan offers to help you carry your luggage but then asks what you are doing for the night. You quickly thank him and reclaim your luggage and then carry it up 8 flights of stairs to your apartment.
But then, we made it to the apartment of our dreams. It had 2 bedrooms, a living room, a couch, a kitchen and 2 terraces. One overlooked the main piazza and amalfi’s church and the other had a spectacular ocean view. Unbelievable. Thank you lets go! italy. After a good 10 minutes of awe, we set off in search of internet and food. Amalfi turned out to the cutest little beach town that ever was. After getting our internet fix, we stocked up on food and waited for emma and Lauren (her friend from high school) to arrive. About an hour later, they did, with three unexpected guests in tow. Somehow they had run into marco, ayla and her brother at the salerno bus stop. It really is a small world.
hiking, carnevale, housing and vienna
Somehow midterms had dragged into week 8 and then all of a sudden it was march! Our last month in italy. Our next foray into Italian adventuring was the beloved cinque terre, the “five lands” of the western coast, north of the Italian Riviera. This time, tess and I had a third partner in crime, liz robinson. We knew that traveling with liz would bring a whole new set of challenges but also fun to our weekend. We set off on the standard 8 am train bound for riomaggiore, our home base for the weekend. Upon arrival we made our way to the apartment we had rented for the weekend. At 60 euros a night total, our 2 bedroom equipped with kitchen and living room flat enticed us to stay a second night. We bought our trail passes and decided to start at the furthest town, monterosso, eager to hike from town to town. We took a quick train ride and upon surveying the hike decided a little lunch and exploration was necessary before tackling the hardest hike of the four. After treating ourselves to delicious seafood, we felt ready for the hike that lay ahead. Little did we know that the next 2.5 hours would bring a rather grueling, mostly uphill hike that was made worth it by the breathtaking views of the sea and vernazza far in the distance. Needless to say, we made it to vernazza but knew that no more hiking would be done that afternoon. We shopped a little and celebrated our successful hike with champagne and the sunset. Coincidentally we met a fellow pi phi from Washington university who was also studying abroad and after a quick trip to the internet café for the necessary friendship request we hopped on train back to riomaggiore. That night we again reveled in the delicious seafood cuisine and went to bed early to rest up for another day hiking.
The next morning, we dragged ourselves out of bed, some more sore than others, and debated what the hiking program should be. Although I was gung ho about the vernazza-corniglia hike, the girls managed to lure me away by setting me shopping on vernazza. Possibly my favorite purchase was an Italian themed decoupage mirror done by a local artist. It will fit in nicely with the color scheme in the happy place that is my room. We took a train to corniglia and attempted to make our way to the nude beach and up to the town, but were sidelined by padlocks, 300 stairs and an adorable cat who just wanted to play with us. Instead we decided to head to manarola for lunch and then make the necessary hike back to riomaggiore on the “via del’amore”, the path of love. In manarola, I sampled the scrumptious pesto native to the region and our kind hosts even offered a free dessert of biscotti dipped in dessert liquor. Yum! We then let our inner child loose on a playground overlooking the ocean on manarola. Our walk along the via del’amore was made more spectacular by the rough seas that had characterized our weekend, sending huge sprays of foam soaring into the air and over breakwaters. Back on riomaggiore we ordered pizza and spent the night watching mtv with german subtitles. Liz kept trying to convince us that her pizza tasted fishy but tess and I insisted it was all in her head. Toward the end she made us taste it and we discovered that liz had been right all along, the things she thought were eggplant were actually anchovies! We laughed it off by attempting to read the german subtitles of pimp my ride, not knowing how relevant this would become in our future. The next morning we left our beautiful little seaside towns, liz headed back to Florence and tess and I to viareggio, undeterred by the rain.
Viareggio had the spectacle of the final carnevale parade drawing tess and I to its borders despite our exhaustion and the weather. Reassured that the weather would ameliorate, we wandered around viareggio looking for internet until the parade started. we were hoping to check our housing assignments for the spring when we returned to Stanford. We happened upon the balena 2000, what looked like a beach resort and conveniently had internet access. Our attempt proved unsuccessful but we came away with free drink vouchers, an invitation for the carnevale parade afterparty and the chance to wiggle our toes in sand and test the ocean water (it was too cold). When the start drew near, we were amazed by the number of people in costume. Toddlers, teenagers and too old to wear that folks took to the streets to celebrate the holiday most famously known in Venice. We settled on the curb near the middle of the beachside parade route. And then the craziness began: enormous floats overloaded with people began passing by, one poking fun at money controlling the world’s leaders (complete with a george bush puppet being maneuvered by a figure robed in dollars) , another at the parties in italy’s upcoming elections, all throwing confetti and silly string upon the masses gathered to watch. After the parade, tess and I made our way to the balena for aperitivi and fireworks reflected in the pools of the resort. We struggled back to Florence, totally drained after another successful weekend and anxious about tomorrow’s opportunity to check our housing assignments.
The next morning I was up early to check my assignment at an internet café before heading to the dark room for photo. My idealistic world came to a crash when I read: “toyon”. I do not mean to belittle this house that I am sure is nothing but a pleasure to live in. but somehow in my silly little head, I had convinced myself that as a junior returning from abroad my worst case scenario would be “not a two room double”. The possibility of throwing a party in the eating clubs was not enough of a comfort for me as I contemplated the two room triples frequented by the sophomores of Stanford university. Tess kindly offered her rollaway bed as we celebrated her assignment to Casa Italiana ensuring a prime location and the possibility of the illustrious two room double. I lulled myself into hope for reassignment at the end of the month and contemplated the next night’s celebration of tess’s 21st birthday.
Clearly, the most logical way to celebrate your roommate’s 21st birthday in Florence is by calling an oc themed night and heading to an irish pub dressed as the characters of everyone’s favorite show. We took over The Dublin and chaos ensued as a photo shoot occurred and a random group of irish adopted the birthday girl as that evening’s cause. Hours and many guiness later, the crew hopped over to the brazillian dance club across the street. There we showed the over 40 italian crowd how to get down on a Tuesday night. We made it home with no major losses and too many photos to recount the night’s activities.
We barely had time to settle in before we left for our final bing trip of the quarter: Vienna. Arrival involved one train, two planes and one bus. By the time we stumbled into our hotel on Thursday night we barely appreciated its prime location. We did however become quickly alert to the fact that we were staying in suites. Full on, multi-roomed, robe and slippers provided suites. we fell into our beds and didn’t move until our wake up calls aroused us from quite possibly the best sleep we had had while abroad. Although I would have been content to lounge around clad in my robe all day I dragged myself down to breakfast. And I was treated yet again, this time to a real buffet breakfast, the likes I haven’t seen since my days in lag dining. The morning was spent in a walking tour with unfortunately the worst tour guide ever and then luckily starbucks. In the afternoon we saw the winter palace of the Hapsburgs and then hurried back to the hotel to prepare for the evening’s reception at none other than the American ambassador to vienna’s residence. The evening began a little on edge as we realized that a few of our fellow students had chosen that inopportune occasion to get drunk, but we settled into our element discussing our majors and aspirations with former alumni and the embassy staff. After meeting marcus rogan, stanford’s very own medal winning Olympic swimmer, I ended up at a table with the embassy’s counselor for public affairs and a Stanford alum who was working in the atomic energy agency of the united nations in Vienna. The former promoted the value of a career in foreign service and left me with a business card and a promise to introduce me to a colleague who could serve as a mentor. The latter chatted with tess and I about our abroad experience and then freakonomics and the question of nature versus nurture. Dinner was a learning experience all in itself. Later that night we celebrated our successful schmoozing with a good old fashioned hotel party.
Saturday in Vienna called for a trip to hunderwasser (please forgive my atrocious spelling) the public housing created by the architect that doesn’t believe in straight lines and then the hapsburg’s summer palace. That afternoon I invested in a pair of obnoxiously large sunglasses and then we went back to our hotel to prepare for the opera. After another quick trip to starbucks we watched verdi’s don carlo. I think this may possibly have been my favorite opera. The cast was incredibly talented, the music a pleasure and the story for once not totally incomprehensible. Afterwards, the usual suspects went to a local brewery for dinner and pitchers and then a much needed viewing of anchorman.
The next day our tour guide once again bored us to death by describing the breugul paintings to us in detail as we blank stared. As one of the program staff so eloquently put it, “how can one person talk so much and say so little?”. The rest of the day was devoted to touristy shopping and then heading to the airport for our return flights. After the remote possibility that we could be stranded in Munich as our delayed plane almost missed its connection, we were on our way back to Florence. Our weekend in Vienna made us grateful for the Italian we spoke: one of the most frustrating experiences of my time abroad was not being able to communicate in Austria. I was limited to “thank you”- my ignorance making everything from ordering a coffee to asking where the wc was, an overwhelming task.
The next morning, we dragged ourselves out of bed, some more sore than others, and debated what the hiking program should be. Although I was gung ho about the vernazza-corniglia hike, the girls managed to lure me away by setting me shopping on vernazza. Possibly my favorite purchase was an Italian themed decoupage mirror done by a local artist. It will fit in nicely with the color scheme in the happy place that is my room. We took a train to corniglia and attempted to make our way to the nude beach and up to the town, but were sidelined by padlocks, 300 stairs and an adorable cat who just wanted to play with us. Instead we decided to head to manarola for lunch and then make the necessary hike back to riomaggiore on the “via del’amore”, the path of love. In manarola, I sampled the scrumptious pesto native to the region and our kind hosts even offered a free dessert of biscotti dipped in dessert liquor. Yum! We then let our inner child loose on a playground overlooking the ocean on manarola. Our walk along the via del’amore was made more spectacular by the rough seas that had characterized our weekend, sending huge sprays of foam soaring into the air and over breakwaters. Back on riomaggiore we ordered pizza and spent the night watching mtv with german subtitles. Liz kept trying to convince us that her pizza tasted fishy but tess and I insisted it was all in her head. Toward the end she made us taste it and we discovered that liz had been right all along, the things she thought were eggplant were actually anchovies! We laughed it off by attempting to read the german subtitles of pimp my ride, not knowing how relevant this would become in our future. The next morning we left our beautiful little seaside towns, liz headed back to Florence and tess and I to viareggio, undeterred by the rain.
Viareggio had the spectacle of the final carnevale parade drawing tess and I to its borders despite our exhaustion and the weather. Reassured that the weather would ameliorate, we wandered around viareggio looking for internet until the parade started. we were hoping to check our housing assignments for the spring when we returned to Stanford. We happened upon the balena 2000, what looked like a beach resort and conveniently had internet access. Our attempt proved unsuccessful but we came away with free drink vouchers, an invitation for the carnevale parade afterparty and the chance to wiggle our toes in sand and test the ocean water (it was too cold). When the start drew near, we were amazed by the number of people in costume. Toddlers, teenagers and too old to wear that folks took to the streets to celebrate the holiday most famously known in Venice. We settled on the curb near the middle of the beachside parade route. And then the craziness began: enormous floats overloaded with people began passing by, one poking fun at money controlling the world’s leaders (complete with a george bush puppet being maneuvered by a figure robed in dollars) , another at the parties in italy’s upcoming elections, all throwing confetti and silly string upon the masses gathered to watch. After the parade, tess and I made our way to the balena for aperitivi and fireworks reflected in the pools of the resort. We struggled back to Florence, totally drained after another successful weekend and anxious about tomorrow’s opportunity to check our housing assignments.
The next morning I was up early to check my assignment at an internet café before heading to the dark room for photo. My idealistic world came to a crash when I read: “toyon”. I do not mean to belittle this house that I am sure is nothing but a pleasure to live in. but somehow in my silly little head, I had convinced myself that as a junior returning from abroad my worst case scenario would be “not a two room double”. The possibility of throwing a party in the eating clubs was not enough of a comfort for me as I contemplated the two room triples frequented by the sophomores of Stanford university. Tess kindly offered her rollaway bed as we celebrated her assignment to Casa Italiana ensuring a prime location and the possibility of the illustrious two room double. I lulled myself into hope for reassignment at the end of the month and contemplated the next night’s celebration of tess’s 21st birthday.
Clearly, the most logical way to celebrate your roommate’s 21st birthday in Florence is by calling an oc themed night and heading to an irish pub dressed as the characters of everyone’s favorite show. We took over The Dublin and chaos ensued as a photo shoot occurred and a random group of irish adopted the birthday girl as that evening’s cause. Hours and many guiness later, the crew hopped over to the brazillian dance club across the street. There we showed the over 40 italian crowd how to get down on a Tuesday night. We made it home with no major losses and too many photos to recount the night’s activities.
We barely had time to settle in before we left for our final bing trip of the quarter: Vienna. Arrival involved one train, two planes and one bus. By the time we stumbled into our hotel on Thursday night we barely appreciated its prime location. We did however become quickly alert to the fact that we were staying in suites. Full on, multi-roomed, robe and slippers provided suites. we fell into our beds and didn’t move until our wake up calls aroused us from quite possibly the best sleep we had had while abroad. Although I would have been content to lounge around clad in my robe all day I dragged myself down to breakfast. And I was treated yet again, this time to a real buffet breakfast, the likes I haven’t seen since my days in lag dining. The morning was spent in a walking tour with unfortunately the worst tour guide ever and then luckily starbucks. In the afternoon we saw the winter palace of the Hapsburgs and then hurried back to the hotel to prepare for the evening’s reception at none other than the American ambassador to vienna’s residence. The evening began a little on edge as we realized that a few of our fellow students had chosen that inopportune occasion to get drunk, but we settled into our element discussing our majors and aspirations with former alumni and the embassy staff. After meeting marcus rogan, stanford’s very own medal winning Olympic swimmer, I ended up at a table with the embassy’s counselor for public affairs and a Stanford alum who was working in the atomic energy agency of the united nations in Vienna. The former promoted the value of a career in foreign service and left me with a business card and a promise to introduce me to a colleague who could serve as a mentor. The latter chatted with tess and I about our abroad experience and then freakonomics and the question of nature versus nurture. Dinner was a learning experience all in itself. Later that night we celebrated our successful schmoozing with a good old fashioned hotel party.
Saturday in Vienna called for a trip to hunderwasser (please forgive my atrocious spelling) the public housing created by the architect that doesn’t believe in straight lines and then the hapsburg’s summer palace. That afternoon I invested in a pair of obnoxiously large sunglasses and then we went back to our hotel to prepare for the opera. After another quick trip to starbucks we watched verdi’s don carlo. I think this may possibly have been my favorite opera. The cast was incredibly talented, the music a pleasure and the story for once not totally incomprehensible. Afterwards, the usual suspects went to a local brewery for dinner and pitchers and then a much needed viewing of anchorman.
The next day our tour guide once again bored us to death by describing the breugul paintings to us in detail as we blank stared. As one of the program staff so eloquently put it, “how can one person talk so much and say so little?”. The rest of the day was devoted to touristy shopping and then heading to the airport for our return flights. After the remote possibility that we could be stranded in Munich as our delayed plane almost missed its connection, we were on our way back to Florence. Our weekend in Vienna made us grateful for the Italian we spoke: one of the most frustrating experiences of my time abroad was not being able to communicate in Austria. I was limited to “thank you”- my ignorance making everything from ordering a coffee to asking where the wc was, an overwhelming task.
american pride and otherwise
Haha! You thought it would never come but here it is…the final blog update of italy…forse. I’m going to have to reach far back into the recesses of my memory to make sure I don’t leave anything out but I’m sure it will come to me. So lets see…where did we leave off? ah yes, let us begin by saying, how often do you study abroad in the country that happens to host the winter Olympics in the brief three months you happen to be living there? Clearly this was an opportunity that could not be ignored. Tess and I found ourselves all wound up and ready to show off our American pride but with no conveniently located hostel. So we did what any two young impressionable girls would do…go to lake como. We set off early on a Friday morning ready to conquer the lake and the alps (at least as much of them as time would allow). Red bull kept me alert during the train ride and we made it safely and soundly to quite possibly the cutest lakeside town ever. We promptly left our bags at our hostel and made a beeline for the lake. As has been the custom during our winter abroad, we were the only people braving the ferry on this day. But don’t let the date deceive you, it was a stunning day and let’s be honest, when you have what basically turns out to be your own private boat, things are bound to work out. We spent the afternoon cruising from town to town, pausing occasionally to enjoy a particularly stunning view of houses set on a hillside above the lake with the alps looming in the background, excitedly watching snowboard cross with the Italians in a waterfront bar while dreaming of our own Olympic adventures that the next day would bring and sipping some vino with the afternoons usuals on the patio overlooking the lake. Nevermind that the Italian man asked if we were twelve or that the ferry captain thought we were insane for sitting outside, we were in heaven at lake como and we were going to do it up right! That night we treated ourselves to a little local prosecco and season 2 of the oc before heading off to a romantic seafood dinner. If you are wondering whether tess and I are actually on a three month honeymoon instead of a study abroad, you aren’t too far off actually. We called it an early night with the thought of torino in the morning bouncing around in our brains.
Saturday morning crack of dawn: tess and I hop on a train to Milan, then Torino and try to figure out how to get to our Olympic event: 2 man bobsledding. That’s right, as the Italians say, bob. Straight up cool runnings, “feel the rhythm, feel the ride” Olympic bobsledding. After a quick jaunt around the surprisingly industrial torino and the necessary photo opp with the Olympic rings we set off for the alps. Yes, we had to change trains in Oulx (pronounced ooooooool) and yes, we quickly exhausted the capacities of our digital cameras. Upon entering the actual venue we were like two kids in a candy store. The greeters had us dancing with joy and grinning stupidly with delight: we had arrived. We were at THE OLYMPICS. We refueled with some lasagna (I mean we are in italy ladies and gentlemen) and then explored the venue. Official Olympic gear was bought and many a photo was taken. We attempted to see just where our stunning charm and ridiculously good looks could get us and managed to get up to the starting line and catch an up close glimpse of real life Olympians. We made friends throughout the day of the American and foreign variety (even though one of these conversations started with a swiss guy asking “whats your problem?”) and even managed to meet the man who made the runners for one of the American teams. His giants hat gave him away as a san Franciscan and we bonded over our norcal pride (did I just write that?). the event itself was a trip. Tess and I tried to snap as many pictures as possible in the hope of catching a bobsled in action. We enjoyed some degree of success. On our way out we stopped to cheer on the official Olympic cheerleaders (who by the way could have used a better uniform designer…I mean this is italy) and caught the end of curling on TV on the bus back to Torino. Utterly exhausted and ridiculously content we practically crawled back to lake como and our beds. Despite the threat of delerium we got up early, tess to head to Zurich to meet up with the elusive Kieran and myself to head back to Florence and the reality of my democracy midterm. All in all, we could not have been more content with our first and hopefully not last foray into Olympic spectating. We also came away with the unexpected memory of an Italian lake town that beckoned us to return and a promise to do so as soon as possible.
Our next weekend did not turn out exactly as planned but still wound up pleasing to say the least. Friday we took a much too early eurostar to rome with the entire program for our second bing trip. We had had a late night and the prospect of a 9 am walking tour through a rainy albeit glorious rome was not exactly at the top of my to do list. I comforted myself by treating myself to a lime green 2 euro umbrella and borrowed aviators. Our first stop was san pietro in vincoli, actually very exciting because it was one of the places my family and I missed on our rome trip due to odd closing times. It was stunning and I was really just overwhelmed by Michelangelo’s sheer genius. The Moses simply cannot be described (as most things I have seen in italy cannot). Then we trekked to the colosseum and did the roman forum and the campidoglio. This second time around reminded me of my thoughts when seeing these ruins for the first time in December with my family. The grandeur of the mere remains just blew me away and provided a much needed reminder that we, now is just a speck of dust in time. It humbled me after being so sucked into our nation’s great capital in the fall. We are so arrogant to think that we will continue to be the leading world power. If rome could speak it would shout “civilizations fall! Leaders come and go! You can have your time in the sun but your ideal nation cannot outlast eternity.” And yes, this may sound pessimistic but the fact remains…its real…its history…look at Britain and get ready. Because the way our country is going, with iraq, with the world, with itself, this is just the beginning. Oh and learn Chinese…because they are the new America.
Perhaps this negativity was brought on by my preparation for a presentation on Iraq. I read a great and troubling book by stanford’s very own larry diamond (you should read it: squandered victory). it basically told the story of the administration arrogantly rushing into iraq expecting everyone to immediately jump on the democracy bandwagon without offering the slightest peace offering such as a staff who understood the country (even just the language!) or enough troops to hold down the proverbial fort while chaos ensued. While this account wont exactly get you singing the star spangled banner it might inspire you to wonder what exactly these leaders we elect are doing and why no one is there to keep them from invading a country and then just watching it fall apart. And at the same time maybe it will get the people who sit around and whine about how they hate george bush to stop being babies and DO something about it. And I am not talking writing your congressman, woman, person. We might not be at the top of the world for much longer but we should at least try to bow out graciously instead of chucking the puzzle and leaving the world to pick up the pieces.
Ok after that necessary bit of rage, back to rome. We rounded out the morning with a trip to the pantheon: yet another remarkable feat of ancient civilization. Well done romans, well done. We stopped for a necessary pizza and then we were off to the Vatican. And by the Vatican I’m not talking the crowded, sweaty, rushed sprint through the museums but an honest to goodness private tour for our group of thirty. With a tour guide to boot! It was much less overwhelming as our tour guide gave us a sort of highlights tour and then gave us a good half hour in the Sistine chapel. The girls and I successfully metroed back and checked into our hostel. And then the exhaustion of midterms and a daylong walking tour in rome set in. Jamie and I decided to opt out of a night on the town and go for pizza and a movie with the uomis.
Tess and I had planned on heading to napoli and pompei the next day but a forecast of rain spoiled our plans. Instead Jamie, emma and I decided we were in no shape to extend our roman holiday and took a peaceful train back to Florence after a little impromptu shopping in the train station. I took the afternoon to rest up for the evening’s exploits. Because we rarely all found ourselves in Florence on a Saturday night and had been feeling a little homesick, we decided to call a choose your own theme night and make dinner reservations at THE Mexican restaurant in Florence. And so it went: we rolled into Tijuana at seven thirty in costumes ranging from jungle party to the olsen twins. Our frat partyish attire let us fool ourselves into thinking we were at celias and that campus was just a hop, skip and a jump away. We talked about missing California and our firsts when we got back to the states: first meal, first phone call, first drive. And we all made it home before we turned into pumpkins at midnight.
Saturday morning crack of dawn: tess and I hop on a train to Milan, then Torino and try to figure out how to get to our Olympic event: 2 man bobsledding. That’s right, as the Italians say, bob. Straight up cool runnings, “feel the rhythm, feel the ride” Olympic bobsledding. After a quick jaunt around the surprisingly industrial torino and the necessary photo opp with the Olympic rings we set off for the alps. Yes, we had to change trains in Oulx (pronounced ooooooool) and yes, we quickly exhausted the capacities of our digital cameras. Upon entering the actual venue we were like two kids in a candy store. The greeters had us dancing with joy and grinning stupidly with delight: we had arrived. We were at THE OLYMPICS. We refueled with some lasagna (I mean we are in italy ladies and gentlemen) and then explored the venue. Official Olympic gear was bought and many a photo was taken. We attempted to see just where our stunning charm and ridiculously good looks could get us and managed to get up to the starting line and catch an up close glimpse of real life Olympians. We made friends throughout the day of the American and foreign variety (even though one of these conversations started with a swiss guy asking “whats your problem?”) and even managed to meet the man who made the runners for one of the American teams. His giants hat gave him away as a san Franciscan and we bonded over our norcal pride (did I just write that?). the event itself was a trip. Tess and I tried to snap as many pictures as possible in the hope of catching a bobsled in action. We enjoyed some degree of success. On our way out we stopped to cheer on the official Olympic cheerleaders (who by the way could have used a better uniform designer…I mean this is italy) and caught the end of curling on TV on the bus back to Torino. Utterly exhausted and ridiculously content we practically crawled back to lake como and our beds. Despite the threat of delerium we got up early, tess to head to Zurich to meet up with the elusive Kieran and myself to head back to Florence and the reality of my democracy midterm. All in all, we could not have been more content with our first and hopefully not last foray into Olympic spectating. We also came away with the unexpected memory of an Italian lake town that beckoned us to return and a promise to do so as soon as possible.
Our next weekend did not turn out exactly as planned but still wound up pleasing to say the least. Friday we took a much too early eurostar to rome with the entire program for our second bing trip. We had had a late night and the prospect of a 9 am walking tour through a rainy albeit glorious rome was not exactly at the top of my to do list. I comforted myself by treating myself to a lime green 2 euro umbrella and borrowed aviators. Our first stop was san pietro in vincoli, actually very exciting because it was one of the places my family and I missed on our rome trip due to odd closing times. It was stunning and I was really just overwhelmed by Michelangelo’s sheer genius. The Moses simply cannot be described (as most things I have seen in italy cannot). Then we trekked to the colosseum and did the roman forum and the campidoglio. This second time around reminded me of my thoughts when seeing these ruins for the first time in December with my family. The grandeur of the mere remains just blew me away and provided a much needed reminder that we, now is just a speck of dust in time. It humbled me after being so sucked into our nation’s great capital in the fall. We are so arrogant to think that we will continue to be the leading world power. If rome could speak it would shout “civilizations fall! Leaders come and go! You can have your time in the sun but your ideal nation cannot outlast eternity.” And yes, this may sound pessimistic but the fact remains…its real…its history…look at Britain and get ready. Because the way our country is going, with iraq, with the world, with itself, this is just the beginning. Oh and learn Chinese…because they are the new America.
Perhaps this negativity was brought on by my preparation for a presentation on Iraq. I read a great and troubling book by stanford’s very own larry diamond (you should read it: squandered victory). it basically told the story of the administration arrogantly rushing into iraq expecting everyone to immediately jump on the democracy bandwagon without offering the slightest peace offering such as a staff who understood the country (even just the language!) or enough troops to hold down the proverbial fort while chaos ensued. While this account wont exactly get you singing the star spangled banner it might inspire you to wonder what exactly these leaders we elect are doing and why no one is there to keep them from invading a country and then just watching it fall apart. And at the same time maybe it will get the people who sit around and whine about how they hate george bush to stop being babies and DO something about it. And I am not talking writing your congressman, woman, person. We might not be at the top of the world for much longer but we should at least try to bow out graciously instead of chucking the puzzle and leaving the world to pick up the pieces.
Ok after that necessary bit of rage, back to rome. We rounded out the morning with a trip to the pantheon: yet another remarkable feat of ancient civilization. Well done romans, well done. We stopped for a necessary pizza and then we were off to the Vatican. And by the Vatican I’m not talking the crowded, sweaty, rushed sprint through the museums but an honest to goodness private tour for our group of thirty. With a tour guide to boot! It was much less overwhelming as our tour guide gave us a sort of highlights tour and then gave us a good half hour in the Sistine chapel. The girls and I successfully metroed back and checked into our hostel. And then the exhaustion of midterms and a daylong walking tour in rome set in. Jamie and I decided to opt out of a night on the town and go for pizza and a movie with the uomis.
Tess and I had planned on heading to napoli and pompei the next day but a forecast of rain spoiled our plans. Instead Jamie, emma and I decided we were in no shape to extend our roman holiday and took a peaceful train back to Florence after a little impromptu shopping in the train station. I took the afternoon to rest up for the evening’s exploits. Because we rarely all found ourselves in Florence on a Saturday night and had been feeling a little homesick, we decided to call a choose your own theme night and make dinner reservations at THE Mexican restaurant in Florence. And so it went: we rolled into Tijuana at seven thirty in costumes ranging from jungle party to the olsen twins. Our frat partyish attire let us fool ourselves into thinking we were at celias and that campus was just a hop, skip and a jump away. We talked about missing California and our firsts when we got back to the states: first meal, first phone call, first drive. And we all made it home before we turned into pumpkins at midnight.
February 26, 2006
reflection on weekends traveled
Suffice it to say that with all the traveling I have been doing, the blog update has become a rather difficult task. Top that off with midterms and limited internet and I think its understandable that a long update was put on the back burner until now.
Post montepulciano I spent two weekends in Florence trying to figure out the city known as the cradle of the renaissance. Conclusion: it is beautiful. it is large. It is full of art, history and culture. In fact the only thing that outnumbers the famous works nowadays are Americans. Loud, English speaking, picture snapping, touristy folks from the good old u s of a. now let me reassure you that I am indeed proud to be an american. I’m the girl who mouths the words to the national anthem and tears up listening to god bless America. But an afternoon in Florence has me cringing in my uggs because I share a country with some of these people. let me qualify this by explaining that these are mostly students. 20 year old coeds that despite the opportunity to immerse themselves in the Italian culture can’t inconvenience themselves to say "per favore" or "grazie" instead of “haha I can’t understand him”. And unfortunately the people of Florence have grown accustomed to america’s ugly face. Despite my best efforts to speak Italian everywhere I go, I am repeatedly frustrated by the shop owner/panino maker/bus driver who insists on “hello can I help you” instead of the customary “prego?”. So the real conclusion is that florence’s beauty lacks charm. There are occasional reminders that I am living in a different country (namely my wonderful host mamma and luca at antico noe who always humors us with Italian) but while in Florence, I am overwhelmingly aware of the feeling that someone has secretly substituted the Italian culture with the equivalent of a theme park. Roller coasters replaced by museums, popcorn sellers by fake designer purse vendors and everywhere the constant presence of a crowd pushing through to be first in line.
Don’t let this rather pessimistic view of Florence deceive you, I am delighted to be in italy and am getting more than my fair share of "la dolce vita", just in a different way. After conquering six flags Florence I knew my best bet was to throw myself onto a train and see where I would find the italy I wanted, the italy I came here to discover. And I found it one weekend in a little Umbrian town called Assisi.
Kathleen flew in from London for this particular adventure and after giving her the abbreviated and necessary highlights of Florence tour we hopped on a train with tess. We were armed with lets go! and rick steves and had rented a room from quite possibly the nicest Italian woman in the world (as determined by our phone conversation). En route to said woman’s house we received a free ride and well-intentioned directions (in Italian!) from an assisian bus driver who was delighted to be of service. After wandering through the tiny and completely empty streets of the town’s center for a bit we found our humble abode in a little courtyard off the street. After a warm greeting we set off for dinner and sampled Umbrian cuisine at its finest. An early bedtime promised early rising for a chance to explore the town. Before we even made it to assisi’s pilgrimage site, the basilica of San Francesco, we were amazed by the wonderful serenity Assisi had to offer. It was quite the foil to Florence. Empty streets and kind Italian words greeted us everywhere we went. And then the church. San Francesco is the famous resting place of Saint Francis, a figure not only of religious importance but also art historical. the basilica is decorated with influential frescoes by giotto and cimabue that also provided convenient study material for my upcoming art history midterm. Tess and I got to dazzle Kathleen with our extensive art history knowledge and remind ourselves that we actually are learning a lot on our study abroad, not just traveling. We then went down into the tomb of saint francis himself. I can’t quite describe the experience but my best attempt is by saying that it was intense to say the least. The air seemed to become thicker and heavier as one descended to the tomb and an eerie buzzing noise almost emanated from the room. It left me with an unspoken understanding of the great importance this place holds as a pilgrimage site.
The girls and I then took a train to nearby perugia, the childhood home of my favorite Italian teacher, Giovanni Tempesta. Perugia was not at all what I expected. At that point in my travels, it was the most urban city I had come across, but also one full of international students. Perugia not only provided a playground for a younger tempesta but also for the students of its famous international university. After a good hour hike up the hill, we were struck by the excited buzz that never ceased on the main drag. Not once did we see the streets empty. But this was not the pushy crowd of Florence; a much younger, rowdier group paraded up and down perugia’s center at all hours. We popped into the main church which we discovered houses the virgin mary’s wedding ring. It is kept under lock and key so we contented ourselves with lord of the ring jokes and then moved on. After sampling and purchasing perugia’s famous chocolate we met up with emma and Jamie for what turned out to be the neverending dinner. The five of us laughed our way through the meal as the waiters brought us course after course. We befriended a 2 year old Italian girl who wanted nothing more then to be photographed and we were more than happy to oblige. We all made it back to our room in one piece but kat turned out to be a little worse for the wear. She was up sick most of the night with what was later diagnosed as a bad case of the flu but I think we did an okay job trying to make her feel better by deliriously quoting love actually. the next morning I saw her off at the train station and dropped in on a mass at one of assisi's numerous churches.
I returned to home base to finally meet the aforementioned nicest Italian woman in the world who turned out to be just that. she chatted with me about studying abroad and showered me with compliments for studying economics and being nice. It was quite silly. The girls and I packed up, had a nice leisurely breakfast in a caffe and then saw the rest of the sights. Once again, the landscapes were just breathtaking. The train ride back to Florence provided the appropriate bookend to the most peaceful weekend spent in italy.
My next weekend took me north to the fashion capital of the world, Milan. This was our first affectionately termed “bing trip”. Named after the donors who finance them, these weekends are provided to all Stanford study abroad students free of charge. After dropping off our belongings at our plush hotel, we set off to find lunch. six of us knowingly walked into a tourist trap allowing our waiter to choose our wine and food for us with the comfort that we never have expensive Saturday night dinners and that if we don’t go a little broke, we won’t do italy right. My 25 euro meal was well worth it and provided the much needed energy for the 3 hour tour that followed. We power walked all over the city with our art history professor as a guide, his booming voice illuminating the subtleties of the cathedral that has one of the nails from christ’s cross. We were lucky to have a beautiful 60 degree day as opposed to the cold wintery Milan we were warned about.
After the tour we hurried back to the hotel to doll ourselves up for the evening’s adventure: an opera at La Scala.Tess’s family was in town and treated us to a fancy dinner at their hotel, making us feel like we belonged at La Scala with the who’s who of Milan. Rigoletto was quite the opera, although I am sad to say that our seats were not exactly the best in the house. I think I stood for the majority of the time but was just so delighted to be where I was, doing what I was doing that I hardly noticed.
The next day we had a nice little alumni lunch at a local restaurant and then got to see Da Vinci’s Last Supper. It really was even more remarkable than I had expected.
I cannot fathom how Da Vinci was able to make the fresco ro realistic: The light really seemed to glow outside the windows of the scene. What remained of Saturday afternoon was spent wandering the Galleria and attempting to shop. When this proved unsuccessful due to the mass amounts of people with the same intention, we contented ourselves with McFlurries. (yes I will boldly proclaim that I went to McDonalds in Milan- it was absolutely necessary!) Tess and I miraculously made it back to the train station in time to catch our train and spent the majority of the trip sharing a bottle of wine with her family and chatting. That evening we had a spectacular dinner with her family and the caspers. We joked that somehow I had become the 6th garton, a trend that continued for the remainder of the garton’s trip.
That brings us halfway to today but the rest will have to wait. Coming next time are lake como, the Olympics and rome!
Post montepulciano I spent two weekends in Florence trying to figure out the city known as the cradle of the renaissance. Conclusion: it is beautiful. it is large. It is full of art, history and culture. In fact the only thing that outnumbers the famous works nowadays are Americans. Loud, English speaking, picture snapping, touristy folks from the good old u s of a. now let me reassure you that I am indeed proud to be an american. I’m the girl who mouths the words to the national anthem and tears up listening to god bless America. But an afternoon in Florence has me cringing in my uggs because I share a country with some of these people. let me qualify this by explaining that these are mostly students. 20 year old coeds that despite the opportunity to immerse themselves in the Italian culture can’t inconvenience themselves to say "per favore" or "grazie" instead of “haha I can’t understand him”. And unfortunately the people of Florence have grown accustomed to america’s ugly face. Despite my best efforts to speak Italian everywhere I go, I am repeatedly frustrated by the shop owner/panino maker/bus driver who insists on “hello can I help you” instead of the customary “prego?”. So the real conclusion is that florence’s beauty lacks charm. There are occasional reminders that I am living in a different country (namely my wonderful host mamma and luca at antico noe who always humors us with Italian) but while in Florence, I am overwhelmingly aware of the feeling that someone has secretly substituted the Italian culture with the equivalent of a theme park. Roller coasters replaced by museums, popcorn sellers by fake designer purse vendors and everywhere the constant presence of a crowd pushing through to be first in line.
Don’t let this rather pessimistic view of Florence deceive you, I am delighted to be in italy and am getting more than my fair share of "la dolce vita", just in a different way. After conquering six flags Florence I knew my best bet was to throw myself onto a train and see where I would find the italy I wanted, the italy I came here to discover. And I found it one weekend in a little Umbrian town called Assisi.
Kathleen flew in from London for this particular adventure and after giving her the abbreviated and necessary highlights of Florence tour we hopped on a train with tess. We were armed with lets go! and rick steves and had rented a room from quite possibly the nicest Italian woman in the world (as determined by our phone conversation). En route to said woman’s house we received a free ride and well-intentioned directions (in Italian!) from an assisian bus driver who was delighted to be of service. After wandering through the tiny and completely empty streets of the town’s center for a bit we found our humble abode in a little courtyard off the street. After a warm greeting we set off for dinner and sampled Umbrian cuisine at its finest. An early bedtime promised early rising for a chance to explore the town. Before we even made it to assisi’s pilgrimage site, the basilica of San Francesco, we were amazed by the wonderful serenity Assisi had to offer. It was quite the foil to Florence. Empty streets and kind Italian words greeted us everywhere we went. And then the church. San Francesco is the famous resting place of Saint Francis, a figure not only of religious importance but also art historical. the basilica is decorated with influential frescoes by giotto and cimabue that also provided convenient study material for my upcoming art history midterm. Tess and I got to dazzle Kathleen with our extensive art history knowledge and remind ourselves that we actually are learning a lot on our study abroad, not just traveling. We then went down into the tomb of saint francis himself. I can’t quite describe the experience but my best attempt is by saying that it was intense to say the least. The air seemed to become thicker and heavier as one descended to the tomb and an eerie buzzing noise almost emanated from the room. It left me with an unspoken understanding of the great importance this place holds as a pilgrimage site. The girls and I then took a train to nearby perugia, the childhood home of my favorite Italian teacher, Giovanni Tempesta. Perugia was not at all what I expected. At that point in my travels, it was the most urban city I had come across, but also one full of international students. Perugia not only provided a playground for a younger tempesta but also for the students of its famous international university. After a good hour hike up the hill, we were struck by the excited buzz that never ceased on the main drag. Not once did we see the streets empty. But this was not the pushy crowd of Florence; a much younger, rowdier group paraded up and down perugia’s center at all hours. We popped into the main church which we discovered houses the virgin mary’s wedding ring. It is kept under lock and key so we contented ourselves with lord of the ring jokes and then moved on. After sampling and purchasing perugia’s famous chocolate we met up with emma and Jamie for what turned out to be the neverending dinner. The five of us laughed our way through the meal as the waiters brought us course after course. We befriended a 2 year old Italian girl who wanted nothing more then to be photographed and we were more than happy to oblige. We all made it back to our room in one piece but kat turned out to be a little worse for the wear. She was up sick most of the night with what was later diagnosed as a bad case of the flu but I think we did an okay job trying to make her feel better by deliriously quoting love actually. the next morning I saw her off at the train station and dropped in on a mass at one of assisi's numerous churches.
I returned to home base to finally meet the aforementioned nicest Italian woman in the world who turned out to be just that. she chatted with me about studying abroad and showered me with compliments for studying economics and being nice. It was quite silly. The girls and I packed up, had a nice leisurely breakfast in a caffe and then saw the rest of the sights. Once again, the landscapes were just breathtaking. The train ride back to Florence provided the appropriate bookend to the most peaceful weekend spent in italy.My next weekend took me north to the fashion capital of the world, Milan. This was our first affectionately termed “bing trip”. Named after the donors who finance them, these weekends are provided to all Stanford study abroad students free of charge. After dropping off our belongings at our plush hotel, we set off to find lunch. six of us knowingly walked into a tourist trap allowing our waiter to choose our wine and food for us with the comfort that we never have expensive Saturday night dinners and that if we don’t go a little broke, we won’t do italy right. My 25 euro meal was well worth it and provided the much needed energy for the 3 hour tour that followed. We power walked all over the city with our art history professor as a guide, his booming voice illuminating the subtleties of the cathedral that has one of the nails from christ’s cross. We were lucky to have a beautiful 60 degree day as opposed to the cold wintery Milan we were warned about.
After the tour we hurried back to the hotel to doll ourselves up for the evening’s adventure: an opera at La Scala.Tess’s family was in town and treated us to a fancy dinner at their hotel, making us feel like we belonged at La Scala with the who’s who of Milan. Rigoletto was quite the opera, although I am sad to say that our seats were not exactly the best in the house. I think I stood for the majority of the time but was just so delighted to be where I was, doing what I was doing that I hardly noticed.The next day we had a nice little alumni lunch at a local restaurant and then got to see Da Vinci’s Last Supper. It really was even more remarkable than I had expected.
I cannot fathom how Da Vinci was able to make the fresco ro realistic: The light really seemed to glow outside the windows of the scene. What remained of Saturday afternoon was spent wandering the Galleria and attempting to shop. When this proved unsuccessful due to the mass amounts of people with the same intention, we contented ourselves with McFlurries. (yes I will boldly proclaim that I went to McDonalds in Milan- it was absolutely necessary!) Tess and I miraculously made it back to the train station in time to catch our train and spent the majority of the trip sharing a bottle of wine with her family and chatting. That evening we had a spectacular dinner with her family and the caspers. We joked that somehow I had become the 6th garton, a trend that continued for the remainder of the garton’s trip. That brings us halfway to today but the rest will have to wait. Coming next time are lake como, the Olympics and rome!
January 22, 2006
the much anticipated long overdue update
despite the millions of things i have wanted to write about, i just could not buckle down for a chunk of time. blame italy i suppose. hmm...where to begin? how about firenze: well i live with my dear friend tess 
near the stadium and one of the florence train stations. as a result, tess and i have mastered the art of the public bus system. this means we must brave overcrowded, sometimes smelly, awkwardly jerky rides day in and day out. it is very liberating though. riding the bus with the florentines makes me feel a little less like the obnoxious american students i see (and hear) all over town. tess and i live with our italian mamma; a wonderful lady who never ceases to delight us with her AMAZING cooking (i would highly recommend her tiramisu) and wonderful italian way of doing everything whether it be worrying about her ragazze, taking care of us when we are sick, teaching her (adult) daughter how to make minestrone or sneakily eating walnuts.
my classes are a bit scattered. italian helps me with all the times when im not in class. art history has given me an idea of what all the beautiful things i live near actually mean. and the narration by the roman catholic priest professor doesn't hurt. he drops gems like "...over there with his pendulous buttocks. that SAUCY boy...". verbatim. i've also got photo on my plate: basically me trying to get the creative juices flowing since i haven't done any theatre for too long. it also gives me an excuse to take photos of italian people without feeling like a stalker. and finally a class on democracy aka my pathetic attempt at a class that is slightly related to my major/future. at least im having a cultural education. and these classes happen to fall on monday, tuesday, wednesday, leaving me with a four day weekend to explore italy. cue: last weekend.
one fateful day at the stanford center in florence, a group of us were discussing our first tuscan travel weekend. tess fortuitously happened upon a page in a guidebook titled "montepulciano". a photo of a beautiful church set on the mountainside enticed her to throw this little town's name in the pot. a couple days later, inspired by our mamma's promise that we would love montepulciano, we set off for the train station with three ragazzi who we will call the uomis from here on out. tess and i quickly learned that the uomis would be completely useless on this particular journey and that we would have to rely on our italian to get us there and back. we made the first leg of our trip unscathed except for tess and brad almost getting left by the bus because they chose an inopportune moment to run to the bathroom. our plan was to bus to siena and transfer to montepulciano. but when we got to siena we discovered that the next bus to montepulciano left at 7 am the next morning. in true italian attitude we shrugged of this setback and contented ourselves with a spectacular 4 course dinner at the restaurant jesse and i had discovered on our last trip to siena. we made a second appearance at the youth hostel with minimal difficulty and managed to wake up at 5:30 am to catch our bus.
despite the early morning after a late night, the bus ride was incredible. watching the sunrise over the tuscan hills is basically as good as it gets. at one point it felt like we were riding the line between day and night. on one side of the bus, the hills were basked in the glow of the rising sun, the air and light mingling only as it does in tuscany. on the other side, the land was covered with frost and shadows, homes dark, people still sleeping in anticipation of the light reaching their corner of the earth. and there i sat in the middle, speechless with awe for this countryside that so very few get to experience. my meditative wonder was abruptly interrupted by the entrance of 60 twelve year olds and one small explosion. they literally came in with a bang. but their shock soon outweighed ours as they saw that five strangers were occupying the sacred back of the bus on their ride to school that morning. (yes italian children go to school on saturday...one of the many differences of our educational systems) as brad pointed out, it was quite the juxtaposition. the silent consideration of the beauty that surrounds 5 americans on an italian bus through the tuscan countryside with the boisterous excitement of a throng of 6th graders trying to fit in the maximum gossip possible on the same old bus ride to school. i think its fair to say they rocked my world as much as i did theirs.
montepulciano was a dream come true. shortly after being ditched by the uomis, much to our delight, we came across a friendly italian man who invited us to return to his winery later in the day. tess and i trekked all over the highest hilltown in tuscany, pausing to make conversation with any italian who cared to and taking plenty of photos for class. we wandered down to the famous guidebook church,
allowing us to declare our day trip a success. we then sampled the town's reason for fame, vino nobile, at various wineries including the aforementioned kind italian's. later we lunched on delicious pecorino cheese and then made it back to the bus station where we jumped on a direct route back to florence. by this time we had reunited with the uomis, who probably felt a little sheepish for their previous condescension. on the bus we had another run-in with school children, this time 16 year olds on their way home. we summoned the courage to chat a bit and had a delightful exchange. after they got off, a nap took us through the rest of the ride. we returned to firenze only to discover that a bus strike was in full effect and we taxied home, exhausted, but quite content with our adventure.
this past week flew by, what with classes and the opportunity to play volleyball with a local italian team. they worked me but it was fun for me and pretty funny for them. tess got sick (who knew that a colon could spasm? and what does a colon do anyway?) so we decided that this weekend would best be spent in florence. the rest of the group ended up traveling so we had the city to ourselves. friday morning we discovered the mercato near our house and did a little too much shopping for our own good. we lunched with my language partner who turned out to be a wonderful albeit quiet italian girl with an american boyfriend. a facebook friendship promptly ensued. we rounded out the day with a trip to the cinema to see the dubbed version of "rumor has it". i was proud of my ability to understand most of the movie although there were times that i laughed when no one else did and vice versa. saturday turned out to be another shopping/exploration of florence day. we met luca, the proprietor of our new favorite sandwich place and vendor of our brand spankin new "antico noe firenze" shirts. (which i am not ashamed to say that i am wearing right now) in the evening tess, jesse and i discovered florence's surprisingly delicious version of mexican food.
if it sounds like tess and i are basically inseparable i would say that you are definitely on the right track. we seem to bring out the weird in each other, exemplified by last night's self imposed 80s night. at our mercato we invested in some dollar fifty leg warmers and felt that last night was the perfect opportunity for inauguration. tess's language partner and friends bore witness to this momentous occasion and tess and i ended up with an album of photos and a bunch hilarious moments to boot.
so that brings me to right now, sunday afternoon, sitting in moyo, the hangout of the quarter due to its free wireless internet, not the appallingly slow service. tonight we will head to our first fiorentina soccer game, the italian equivalent of basically the superbowl. but for now, i believe tess and i will begin our hunt for soup.
near the stadium and one of the florence train stations. as a result, tess and i have mastered the art of the public bus system. this means we must brave overcrowded, sometimes smelly, awkwardly jerky rides day in and day out. it is very liberating though. riding the bus with the florentines makes me feel a little less like the obnoxious american students i see (and hear) all over town. tess and i live with our italian mamma; a wonderful lady who never ceases to delight us with her AMAZING cooking (i would highly recommend her tiramisu) and wonderful italian way of doing everything whether it be worrying about her ragazze, taking care of us when we are sick, teaching her (adult) daughter how to make minestrone or sneakily eating walnuts. my classes are a bit scattered. italian helps me with all the times when im not in class. art history has given me an idea of what all the beautiful things i live near actually mean. and the narration by the roman catholic priest professor doesn't hurt. he drops gems like "...over there with his pendulous buttocks. that SAUCY boy...". verbatim. i've also got photo on my plate: basically me trying to get the creative juices flowing since i haven't done any theatre for too long. it also gives me an excuse to take photos of italian people without feeling like a stalker. and finally a class on democracy aka my pathetic attempt at a class that is slightly related to my major/future. at least im having a cultural education. and these classes happen to fall on monday, tuesday, wednesday, leaving me with a four day weekend to explore italy. cue: last weekend.
one fateful day at the stanford center in florence, a group of us were discussing our first tuscan travel weekend. tess fortuitously happened upon a page in a guidebook titled "montepulciano". a photo of a beautiful church set on the mountainside enticed her to throw this little town's name in the pot. a couple days later, inspired by our mamma's promise that we would love montepulciano, we set off for the train station with three ragazzi who we will call the uomis from here on out. tess and i quickly learned that the uomis would be completely useless on this particular journey and that we would have to rely on our italian to get us there and back. we made the first leg of our trip unscathed except for tess and brad almost getting left by the bus because they chose an inopportune moment to run to the bathroom. our plan was to bus to siena and transfer to montepulciano. but when we got to siena we discovered that the next bus to montepulciano left at 7 am the next morning. in true italian attitude we shrugged of this setback and contented ourselves with a spectacular 4 course dinner at the restaurant jesse and i had discovered on our last trip to siena. we made a second appearance at the youth hostel with minimal difficulty and managed to wake up at 5:30 am to catch our bus.
despite the early morning after a late night, the bus ride was incredible. watching the sunrise over the tuscan hills is basically as good as it gets. at one point it felt like we were riding the line between day and night. on one side of the bus, the hills were basked in the glow of the rising sun, the air and light mingling only as it does in tuscany. on the other side, the land was covered with frost and shadows, homes dark, people still sleeping in anticipation of the light reaching their corner of the earth. and there i sat in the middle, speechless with awe for this countryside that so very few get to experience. my meditative wonder was abruptly interrupted by the entrance of 60 twelve year olds and one small explosion. they literally came in with a bang. but their shock soon outweighed ours as they saw that five strangers were occupying the sacred back of the bus on their ride to school that morning. (yes italian children go to school on saturday...one of the many differences of our educational systems) as brad pointed out, it was quite the juxtaposition. the silent consideration of the beauty that surrounds 5 americans on an italian bus through the tuscan countryside with the boisterous excitement of a throng of 6th graders trying to fit in the maximum gossip possible on the same old bus ride to school. i think its fair to say they rocked my world as much as i did theirs.
montepulciano was a dream come true. shortly after being ditched by the uomis, much to our delight, we came across a friendly italian man who invited us to return to his winery later in the day. tess and i trekked all over the highest hilltown in tuscany, pausing to make conversation with any italian who cared to and taking plenty of photos for class. we wandered down to the famous guidebook church,
allowing us to declare our day trip a success. we then sampled the town's reason for fame, vino nobile, at various wineries including the aforementioned kind italian's. later we lunched on delicious pecorino cheese and then made it back to the bus station where we jumped on a direct route back to florence. by this time we had reunited with the uomis, who probably felt a little sheepish for their previous condescension. on the bus we had another run-in with school children, this time 16 year olds on their way home. we summoned the courage to chat a bit and had a delightful exchange. after they got off, a nap took us through the rest of the ride. we returned to firenze only to discover that a bus strike was in full effect and we taxied home, exhausted, but quite content with our adventure.this past week flew by, what with classes and the opportunity to play volleyball with a local italian team. they worked me but it was fun for me and pretty funny for them. tess got sick (who knew that a colon could spasm? and what does a colon do anyway?) so we decided that this weekend would best be spent in florence. the rest of the group ended up traveling so we had the city to ourselves. friday morning we discovered the mercato near our house and did a little too much shopping for our own good. we lunched with my language partner who turned out to be a wonderful albeit quiet italian girl with an american boyfriend. a facebook friendship promptly ensued. we rounded out the day with a trip to the cinema to see the dubbed version of "rumor has it". i was proud of my ability to understand most of the movie although there were times that i laughed when no one else did and vice versa. saturday turned out to be another shopping/exploration of florence day. we met luca, the proprietor of our new favorite sandwich place and vendor of our brand spankin new "antico noe firenze" shirts. (which i am not ashamed to say that i am wearing right now) in the evening tess, jesse and i discovered florence's surprisingly delicious version of mexican food.
if it sounds like tess and i are basically inseparable i would say that you are definitely on the right track. we seem to bring out the weird in each other, exemplified by last night's self imposed 80s night. at our mercato we invested in some dollar fifty leg warmers and felt that last night was the perfect opportunity for inauguration. tess's language partner and friends bore witness to this momentous occasion and tess and i ended up with an album of photos and a bunch hilarious moments to boot.
so that brings me to right now, sunday afternoon, sitting in moyo, the hangout of the quarter due to its free wireless internet, not the appallingly slow service. tonight we will head to our first fiorentina soccer game, the italian equivalent of basically the superbowl. but for now, i believe tess and i will begin our hunt for soup.
January 03, 2006
sono arrivata
despite the fact that I’ve been in italy for three weeks now, the liberating although sad feeling of saying goodbye to my family has really made me feel like my “abroad experience” has begun. And the indication that the next three months will result in neverending hilarious anecdotes came on yesterday’s train ride to siena. Jesse and I had only been separated from my family for a mere 2 hours when we came face to face with our first crazy lady on a train in italy. At first she seemed like a nice lady who was a bit lonely and wanted company for the two hour ride. But then she began losing her train of thought mid-sentence and repeating herself. And telling us about her condition. Granted my Italian isn’t perfect, but I am pretty sure she told us that she experiences 6 months of emotional high then a month of deathly low. At this point I was shooting jesse every “get me out of here” look possible but our two huge suitcases, 2 carry ons and 2 backpacks prevented us from making a quick and subtle escape. The rest of the journey I spent praying to get to the hostel unscathed as our very own crazy lady asked us if we wanted to share a cab to take her to our hostel and offered to carry our luggage. By some act of god she took the hint and disappeared when we respectfully declined. 
Luckily the next people we encountered were good Samaritans who helped us to our hostel and even carried our luggage. The high points of today were losing the guidebook and therefore wandering throughout siena in an attempt to see the sights without a map or buying a ticket. Along with the spectacular things most tourists encounter jesse and I stumbled across what was either a community agricultural project or a homosexual communist cooperative (though most likely the former). We also got lost in an area and chuckled to ourselves as we ended up walking out of a psychiatric hospital. At lunch I had a mini heart attack when I thought I had managed to order a 10 euro bottle of water. Some easy Italian cleared up the mistake and now I am 9 euros richer. One day in…I can only imagine what the next 87 will bring.
Luckily the next people we encountered were good Samaritans who helped us to our hostel and even carried our luggage. The high points of today were losing the guidebook and therefore wandering throughout siena in an attempt to see the sights without a map or buying a ticket. Along with the spectacular things most tourists encounter jesse and I stumbled across what was either a community agricultural project or a homosexual communist cooperative (though most likely the former). We also got lost in an area and chuckled to ourselves as we ended up walking out of a psychiatric hospital. At lunch I had a mini heart attack when I thought I had managed to order a 10 euro bottle of water. Some easy Italian cleared up the mistake and now I am 9 euros richer. One day in…I can only imagine what the next 87 will bring.
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