So it seems quite a bit obvious I've fallen behind on my blog. It's certainly not for lack of events, ideas or people to write about; for some reason, every time my fingers come back to the keyboard they've seemed to reach a blogger's block. But to prove I have far from given up on or forgotten about this web log, a few teasers for upcoming entries that will force me to remember to remember:
-graffiti in Napoli
-monster lemons in Sorrento
-the cruelest staircase ever in Positano
-ash preserved horrified bodies in Pompei
-conquering Vesuvius
-gorgeous, thunderstorming Amalfi, Casserta e Ravello
-Streetlight(s) in London
-rockabilly in Paris
-my newfound, certified ability to pour the "perfect pint" from Dublin
-pissing statues in Brussels
-compulsive liars in Amsterdam
I think I'm going to have quite a few hours dedicated to locking myself in a room with my iTunes open, warm fuzzy socks, and some tea.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Monday, March 30, 2009
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Interlaken fine: saying bye to sweet, sweet mountains and Baboo
*******Sunday********
We had really lucked out with weather Saturday. On Sunday, we woke up to clouds and threats of drizzling raindrops. Defeated, Justin gave up on his hope of heliskiing and decided to just leave after breakfast.
We woke up around 07:00 again, unnecessarily early for the circumstances since we weren't going back up to the mountain. But Alex and Justin were craving an American breakfast with scrambled eggs, and Justin had learned of the diner nearby the day before. They got their eggs and bacon, and I had my authentic muesli, straight from Switzerland.
There's not much to say about the rest of the day; we walked around and explored the rest of the town with our free time between check-out and when our train arrived to take us back to the airport. I'd like to forget the security at the airport, where the guard who may or may not have spoken English emptied out my entire bag looking for a shampoo bottle that, I had repeatedly pointed out, was in the plastic bag he had removed from my backpack as the very first item.
I already wasn't happy since my face was a giant burning tomato, but I let it go pretty quickly because I had just gone through a day of the best snowboarding of my life. That, and the waiting area for our Flybaboo plane was arranged with white (probably fake) leather chairs set up in circular positioning that definitely had some good feung shui. The flight had great food again, but between it being delayed an hour and the long train plus transfer, it was a long ride home. Still, while I crossed off "snowboarding in the Alps" from my life to-do list, I added another: snowboard Austria, Italy, France, Australia and Colorado. Also, get back to Interlaken for at least a straight week.
We had really lucked out with weather Saturday. On Sunday, we woke up to clouds and threats of drizzling raindrops. Defeated, Justin gave up on his hope of heliskiing and decided to just leave after breakfast.
We woke up around 07:00 again, unnecessarily early for the circumstances since we weren't going back up to the mountain. But Alex and Justin were craving an American breakfast with scrambled eggs, and Justin had learned of the diner nearby the day before. They got their eggs and bacon, and I had my authentic muesli, straight from Switzerland.
There's not much to say about the rest of the day; we walked around and explored the rest of the town with our free time between check-out and when our train arrived to take us back to the airport. I'd like to forget the security at the airport, where the guard who may or may not have spoken English emptied out my entire bag looking for a shampoo bottle that, I had repeatedly pointed out, was in the plastic bag he had removed from my backpack as the very first item.
I already wasn't happy since my face was a giant burning tomato, but I let it go pretty quickly because I had just gone through a day of the best snowboarding of my life. That, and the waiting area for our Flybaboo plane was arranged with white (probably fake) leather chairs set up in circular positioning that definitely had some good feung shui. The flight had great food again, but between it being delayed an hour and the long train plus transfer, it was a long ride home. Still, while I crossed off "snowboarding in the Alps" from my life to-do list, I added another: snowboard Austria, Italy, France, Australia and Colorado. Also, get back to Interlaken for at least a straight week.
Interlaken II: Rudolph, the red-nosed Amanda and the most sore I've *ever* been (and loving it!)
*********Saturday**********
The entire day is more or less a blur of incredibly intense, mind-blowing, adrenaline-pumping, and probably unrepeatable snowboarding. We woke up before 07:00 to head down to breakfast before we left. For 5.50 euro, the slices of bread with various jams and cheese were barely worth it, but I was too anxious to get up the mountain to eat much anyway.
Justin's heliskiing had been cancelled again for the weather, so he was awesome enough to not only drive us up to the mountain, but to stop at a rental place so we could pick up some gear. Yet another thing Swiss skiing has over mountains in the USA: prices. Cheap, cheap prices. I got a board, boots, helmet and gloves, and the rental cost me a 60-something CHF deposit (probably something like 50ish euros) and only about 70 CHF total, including the sunglasses I bought since they had completely sold out of goggles for rent or purchase. We walked our equipment up to the mountain, paid our 50 CHF for the one-third section of the mountain we'd be exploring (which we didn't even make it all the way through in one day), and headed to the first train to take us up to the mountain.
The mountains near Interlaken have a pretty ingenious ticketing system. For all the trains, cable cars, lifts and pulleys to get further up the mountain, all we needed was a card that we stuck in our left jacket pockets. The turnstiles for each lift have some kind of scanner than picks up the card and unlocks the turnstile to let each person through. It's quick and so simple, and yet as used to the sticker tickers we hang off a zipper at home, I never would have thought of something like this. So easy.
The mountain was a bit confusing; lifts were all over the place and took us all over the place. We got vague directions a few times from people who spoke mostly German and spent the rest of the time winging it. As random as we were in our exploring, I don't think we took any of the sam trails twice. It probably wouldn't have mattered if we had taken the same path, since basically the entire mountain, even if it wasn't designated, was a trail. Wherever the snow wasn't packed into a pre-made path, it was surrounded by gorgeous fresh powder just begging to be carved and faceplanted by me. It was super sunny with scarcely any clouds. The snow glittered as it reflected the sunlight, making the entire day even more incredible. I realize probably about an hour in that I forgot sun + snow = serious Amanda sunburn. Idiotically, I had managed to completely forget how easily I burn and how simple it would be to burn on such a snowy mountain on such a sunny day. But with nothing I could do about it, I enjoyed the skiing and tried not to think about it again until we got back to the hostel that night when Alex and Justin decided to nickname me Rudolph.
We just kept boarding and boarding from about 09:00 to 13:00. Around then, we checked a map and decided to take a lift all the way to the top after we broke for lunch. We ate in a lodge on a gorgeous peak. When your ears pop on nearly every lift, you get an idea of how high up you're moving. That was probably my best gauge of height, though, since the views from the tops of nearly every lift were so breathtaking that the distance up was no longer very comprehendible to me.
I'll be honest, I was nervous on our way up to the highest peak on our part of the mountain. It was the first time I'd been boarding this season (and the only time, unfortunately, but I'd never have it any other way) and the only way down from the top was a black diamond trail. I was just a bit worried about breaking myself on the hill, but figured a black diamond is just a steeper version of any other trail and I'd just board down slowly.
I got a little more worried when we got in the cable car to take us up the mountain. Justin, I and one other guy were the only people with snowboards in the car. A thought nagged me in the back of my brain: so few snowboards, could that mean the entire way down was moguls? But nah, I figured the other guy with the snowboard either could probably speak German and would have seen some warning or had already gone up to the top once before.
Turns out, women's intuition strikes again. On the way up, I look out the window of our car to see dozens of skiers navigating large bumps in the snow. On the entire trail. For at least a third of the way down. I wasn't thrilled, but there was only one way down. And the adrenaline from the incredible views and being at the top of the highest trail got the best of me. Still, I more or less crawled my way through the moguls, but as a result was able to make it to the bottom without falling. It wasn't the most heart-pumping moment of the day, but flying and sinking through all the fresh powder off the side of so many trails made it worth it.
We spent 9 a.m.-5p.m. on the mountain. Our last trail probably took us at least a good 45 minutes–we skied and boarded from nearly all the way at the top through the most serene, tree-lined paths at the edge of beautiful cliffs all the way to the bottom of the mountain. As soon as we got back to the hostel I could tell how sore I already was and how sore I would be the next day. My face was more than worthy of the Rudolph nickname I'd acquired, and it stung. I peeled for the next few days, but it didn't bother me at all. I had my one day of boarding in the Alps and a goal crossed off my list of things to do before I die. Really, knowing that fact and the feeling of the mountain and the best boarding I've had made it the perfect day.
We showered when we got back and discussed dinner. Justin had seen a Hooter's down the road and I was in a group of guys with an affinity for chicken wings. Justin also had somehow never met a vegetarian before me and spent a good 15 minutes inqusitioning me before we left for food. Then him, Alex, Sian and I walked down to the Hooter's, who I have to hand it to for making some pretty decent veggie nachos.
We headed back to the brasserie for one last beer, and then, exhausted and so, so happy, I fell asleep within minutes.
The entire day is more or less a blur of incredibly intense, mind-blowing, adrenaline-pumping, and probably unrepeatable snowboarding. We woke up before 07:00 to head down to breakfast before we left. For 5.50 euro, the slices of bread with various jams and cheese were barely worth it, but I was too anxious to get up the mountain to eat much anyway.
Justin's heliskiing had been cancelled again for the weather, so he was awesome enough to not only drive us up to the mountain, but to stop at a rental place so we could pick up some gear. Yet another thing Swiss skiing has over mountains in the USA: prices. Cheap, cheap prices. I got a board, boots, helmet and gloves, and the rental cost me a 60-something CHF deposit (probably something like 50ish euros) and only about 70 CHF total, including the sunglasses I bought since they had completely sold out of goggles for rent or purchase. We walked our equipment up to the mountain, paid our 50 CHF for the one-third section of the mountain we'd be exploring (which we didn't even make it all the way through in one day), and headed to the first train to take us up to the mountain.
The mountains near Interlaken have a pretty ingenious ticketing system. For all the trains, cable cars, lifts and pulleys to get further up the mountain, all we needed was a card that we stuck in our left jacket pockets. The turnstiles for each lift have some kind of scanner than picks up the card and unlocks the turnstile to let each person through. It's quick and so simple, and yet as used to the sticker tickers we hang off a zipper at home, I never would have thought of something like this. So easy.
The mountain was a bit confusing; lifts were all over the place and took us all over the place. We got vague directions a few times from people who spoke mostly German and spent the rest of the time winging it. As random as we were in our exploring, I don't think we took any of the sam trails twice. It probably wouldn't have mattered if we had taken the same path, since basically the entire mountain, even if it wasn't designated, was a trail. Wherever the snow wasn't packed into a pre-made path, it was surrounded by gorgeous fresh powder just begging to be carved and faceplanted by me. It was super sunny with scarcely any clouds. The snow glittered as it reflected the sunlight, making the entire day even more incredible. I realize probably about an hour in that I forgot sun + snow = serious Amanda sunburn. Idiotically, I had managed to completely forget how easily I burn and how simple it would be to burn on such a snowy mountain on such a sunny day. But with nothing I could do about it, I enjoyed the skiing and tried not to think about it again until we got back to the hostel that night when Alex and Justin decided to nickname me Rudolph.
We just kept boarding and boarding from about 09:00 to 13:00. Around then, we checked a map and decided to take a lift all the way to the top after we broke for lunch. We ate in a lodge on a gorgeous peak. When your ears pop on nearly every lift, you get an idea of how high up you're moving. That was probably my best gauge of height, though, since the views from the tops of nearly every lift were so breathtaking that the distance up was no longer very comprehendible to me.
I'll be honest, I was nervous on our way up to the highest peak on our part of the mountain. It was the first time I'd been boarding this season (and the only time, unfortunately, but I'd never have it any other way) and the only way down from the top was a black diamond trail. I was just a bit worried about breaking myself on the hill, but figured a black diamond is just a steeper version of any other trail and I'd just board down slowly.
I got a little more worried when we got in the cable car to take us up the mountain. Justin, I and one other guy were the only people with snowboards in the car. A thought nagged me in the back of my brain: so few snowboards, could that mean the entire way down was moguls? But nah, I figured the other guy with the snowboard either could probably speak German and would have seen some warning or had already gone up to the top once before.
Turns out, women's intuition strikes again. On the way up, I look out the window of our car to see dozens of skiers navigating large bumps in the snow. On the entire trail. For at least a third of the way down. I wasn't thrilled, but there was only one way down. And the adrenaline from the incredible views and being at the top of the highest trail got the best of me. Still, I more or less crawled my way through the moguls, but as a result was able to make it to the bottom without falling. It wasn't the most heart-pumping moment of the day, but flying and sinking through all the fresh powder off the side of so many trails made it worth it.
We spent 9 a.m.-5p.m. on the mountain. Our last trail probably took us at least a good 45 minutes–we skied and boarded from nearly all the way at the top through the most serene, tree-lined paths at the edge of beautiful cliffs all the way to the bottom of the mountain. As soon as we got back to the hostel I could tell how sore I already was and how sore I would be the next day. My face was more than worthy of the Rudolph nickname I'd acquired, and it stung. I peeled for the next few days, but it didn't bother me at all. I had my one day of boarding in the Alps and a goal crossed off my list of things to do before I die. Really, knowing that fact and the feeling of the mountain and the best boarding I've had made it the perfect day.
We showered when we got back and discussed dinner. Justin had seen a Hooter's down the road and I was in a group of guys with an affinity for chicken wings. Justin also had somehow never met a vegetarian before me and spent a good 15 minutes inqusitioning me before we left for food. Then him, Alex, Sian and I walked down to the Hooter's, who I have to hand it to for making some pretty decent veggie nachos.
We headed back to the brasserie for one last beer, and then, exhausted and so, so happy, I fell asleep within minutes.
Interlaken, giorno I: Flying Baboo, fondue, and exchange rates
18 marzo 2009
Never in my life has my entire body been so sore–hands and feet included, with an exception of maybe my ears–and never in my life have I had such a bad sunburn on my face. And yet, never in my life have I had such an incredible, intense, probably unmatched (for many, many years at least) snowboarding experience. The Alps were completely and absolutely gorgeous. Everyone on the trails knew what level they were at and stuck to it, meaning no beginners on their first days saying, "Hey, I can kind of stand on this board, I must be good enough to go on an expert slope!" Trails were more of a suggestion than a rule, and if there was a trail, there was most likely fresh powder everywhere around it dying to be carved. The high wasn't quite like the thrill of skydiving, but the heart-pumping, eye-popping rush of a free-fall was probably the closest I felt to the seven straight hours of snowboarding I did last weekend in the Swiss Alps.
*****Friday******
Spending the night in Rome Thursday so we wouldn't have to wake up at some ungodly hour like 5 a.m. was probably one of the best things we could have done. Though the hostel made for a bit of a strange experience, we had a place to sleep right near Termini so we could basically just hop on a train to Fiumicino.
At 7:22 a.m, our train pulled out of the station towards the airport. I sat with Nick's cousin, who was just finishing her visit in Italy for her spring break. Alex (aka Simone, I'll probably use it interchanably) and Nick sat together a-ways down. A few minutes into the train ride, Simone came over to us.
"You're not going to believe this," he said.
"...," we said.
Simone had left his jacket, in the pocket of which was his camera, in the hostel. I had remembered seeing it on top of the armoire in our room, but hadn't said anything because I figured it was eye-level for him. And, as a coat, not really something you'd forget. But that's exactly what happened, and Nick took his role as jacket-savior and stopped back at the hostel to retrieve it after he said his goodbyes to us at the airport and before heading back to Viterbo. He collected, camera and all, but it meant it was up to me to take photos for the weekend. Not that it was a problem; I probably would've taken at least as many photos anyway.
We arrived at the airport a couple hours early, so we had time to chill and get a coffee before boarding. The funny thing I've noticed about European airports: I want to hold my hands up in peace signs and say "I'm not a crook" every time I board and leave a plane. In all the flights I've taken around Europe so far, passengers have to walk outside and either into a bus that takes us to or just walk directly up to the plane. We climb a staircase to get on the airplane that's always just chilling somewhere on the tarmac. It's a pretty different experience than any flight at home.
Flybaboo, the airline we were taking to Switzerland, was an ever stranger experience. As we got off the bus to the plane, before me stood the smallest, most decorated and most-propellored flight I've ever been on. The plane only held 74 passengers, I later learned from some info wedged into the seat pocket. We sat right over the wings and the propellors both there and back, during which we spent much time discussing how Flybaboo could afford to be such a nice airline when the flight was less than half full on the way there and not much more so on the way back.
It seriously was the nicest flight I've had, though. It takes about an hour and a half to get between Fiumicino in Italy and Geneva in Switzerland. But during that time, Flybaboo gives all it's passengers mini bottles of Evian water, a mini sandwich with meat (if you so choose), a mini veggie sandwich, a dessert of some kind (pudding with apple bits on the way there, a clementine on the way back), coffee or tea, and a Toblerone that would probably be referred to as "fun-sized" in the US.
Plus, the chairs were roomy enough and I didn't feel like the seat in front of me was just grazing my nose like I did on the Ryanair flights to Barcelona. Honestly, with the airplane as sparsely packed as it was, they must be staying in business with overflowing flights to their other locations. Otherwise, I have no idea how they can afford to be so nice. Still, if I ever need to get somewhere in France or to any of their other locations in the future, I'm definitely flying Baboo.
Once we landed in Geneva, we ran for the train that we weren't sure if we'd make. We thought we only had a few minutes to catch our three-hour ride to Interlaken, but when we found the train station connected to the airport, the nice French-speaking lady at the ticket counter showed us we had a cushy half hour to kill. So we picked up some surprisingly good Greek sandwiches (olive bread, veggies, lots of feta cheese, mmmm) at a little cafe in the station. And we got our first Swiss Francs (CHF) as change, because Switzerland turned up their noses to the Euro.
A note about some aspects of Swiss culture: The CHF are kind of ridiculous to me. All coins from one cent to five CHF are silver and have the exact same designs on them. The only thing that varies is their size, which generally makes sense if you exclude the fact that the 1/2 CHF coin is smaller than the one cent. The bills look kind of like monopoly money with giant faces on them. I just don't understand the coin system though; I can see that taking years to figure out and a need to check every coin to find the right denomination, even for people who live there their whole lives. Also, Switzerland is divided into French and German speaking parts. It's funny how much of a language comes back to you when you're surrounded by it and sometimes need to know it. Still, I was dumbfounded by how the train company had managed to find enough ticket takers such that every one we encountered was able to ask us, "Deutsh? Frances? English? Espanol?" etc until he found a language in which he could tell us to let him check our passports.
The train ride was calm and went smoothly. An foursome of Brits, two men and two women probably in their 30s, sat in the seats behind us and helped us change trains to get to Interlaken, since they had the same destination. The view from through the windows of the train was breathtaking, just like the view from the airplane had been. But when we got of the train and finally saw those huge, massive, snowy, grassy, rocky and tree-covered mountains in person, that was it. I knew that the one weekend would not be nearly enough. And still, right now, I know that while I crossed off my life goal to ski the Swiss Alps, I have a new goal to replace it, and that's to return and board for at least a straight week.
We checked into our hostel/bar. The hostel part was called the Happy Inn Lodge, which was appropriate because they must've had everyone who worked there pass a test proving they could smile for hours on end before they were hired. (At least, that went for everyone but the woman working the breakfast shift, but she was another story.)
Since we still had a bit of daylight, we decided to walk around. I photographed every mountain I saw, as will be visible on Flickr. We were starved, and the Sandwich Bar recommended by Hostelworld was right next to our hostel so we stopped in for sandwiches. Alex got a swiss cheese one, of course, which I tried and was the first time I've really enjoyed swiss cheese. I guess I've just never had real swiss cheese before and that's why it's never been good. I ordered brie and nuts with lettuce and tomato. I know food tastes better when you're hungry, but as simple a sandwich as it was, it tasted incredible.
After some stops at the tourist center to orient ourselves and prepare for Saturday and sufficient exploring around town, we went back to the hostel's bar for a beer before dinner. Of course I can't recall the name of it now, but we tried the dunkel (dark) version of the beer brewed in Interlaken and it was fantastic. Sitting in the room when we got back was our soon-to-be snowboarding buddy Justin, a 24-year-old US soldier stationed near Venice for the next few years and taking a weekend off for some serious snowboarding before he bought a house and got serious with life. He was heading towards a nap and we were heading towards the bar downstairs, so we told him we'd see him later and set off.
We stopped at the brasserie downstairs for some beers before dinner. What better beer to try in Interlaken, we thought, than one brewed there in the town. We got two of the dark version, and it was incredible. Maybe I'm just easily pleased when it comes to beer and wine, but rarely ever have I tried a new drink this semester that I couldn't appreciate. Filling up Alex's glass, the tap ran out and the bartender managed to accidently spray foam everywhere, including partly all over my face. So when I cleaned up a bit and we finished our Swiss beers, we headed to dinner.
Hostelworld had recommended this place, Bebbi's, because it was supposedly the only restaurant in Interlaken with chocolate fondue. Well, chalk up another win to Hostelworld, because not only did we try the chocolate fondue, we got a pot of the cheese fondue for fairly cheap and free ice cream at the end of the meal. I don't think I've had fondue since I was a kid, where I have a mostly repressed memory of going to a fondue restaurant with Alyssa and my parents. The place smelled awful, probably stinking of all the melting cheese on everyone's tables. Maybe the smell just doesn't bother me as much now; maybe I just have a higher tolerance for stinky cheese stench. Or maybe that other place from my childhood really just smelled that bad. Either way, this place did not stink nearly the same. The cheese fondue was amazing and at the end of the pot our waitress came back and scraped off the bottom of the pot where a layer of hardened fried cheese had formed. It sounds pretty nasty writing it now, and it seemed pretty nasty before I tried it, but she convinced us by saying it was her "favorite part" of the bowl. The chocolate was fantastic too, and we got a whole bunch of fruit and marshmallowy shapes to eat it with.
What was strange about the restaurant was it seemed to cater to asians. I guess a lot of asian tourists head to Interlaken; there certainly seemed to be a lot of them around, or maybe it was just that they all happened to be at the restaurant that night. Probably as a result, at one point the man we took to be Bebbi–or at least the current owner of the restaurant–put on a stereotypical asian hat with little bells hanging from it and two other workers popped out of the back room under one of those giant Chinese dragon puppets with the bulging eyes while an obviously asian-inspired tune played out of the stereo speakers. Then, after a jolly laugh from the asians filling up the restaurant, Bebbi pulls out one of those horns that looks like a giant shofar, the kind of horn in the Ricola commercials. This is a bit less surprising and more appropriate, given that Bebbi is also wearing giant funny pants with cow print on them. On the way back from the restroom, Alex got pinned by the giant horn and had a chance to try it. After a whole bunch of people semi-unsuccessfully gave it a try, Bebbi himself goes at it and belts out a crazy tune that sounded like it could've been a trumpet. Must've taken some serious practice.
After, we were stuffed and content with the odd restaurant. We stopped at the bar under our hostel one last time before heading up to bed early. There, we sat with Justin and Sian, a Canadian from Vancouver/Toronto studying in Cambridge, England. Justin was planning on some heli-skiing early the next morning (where a helicopter takes the group up to the top of some backcountry and they basically jump out of the plane with their boards on their feet and ski down), but said if he was bumped or it was cancelled as had been the theme for him so far, he'd drive Alex and I up to the mountain. We accepted, extremely thankful for the possibility that we wouldn't have to deal with the trains up the mountain, and we all headed up to sleep.
Never in my life has my entire body been so sore–hands and feet included, with an exception of maybe my ears–and never in my life have I had such a bad sunburn on my face. And yet, never in my life have I had such an incredible, intense, probably unmatched (for many, many years at least) snowboarding experience. The Alps were completely and absolutely gorgeous. Everyone on the trails knew what level they were at and stuck to it, meaning no beginners on their first days saying, "Hey, I can kind of stand on this board, I must be good enough to go on an expert slope!" Trails were more of a suggestion than a rule, and if there was a trail, there was most likely fresh powder everywhere around it dying to be carved. The high wasn't quite like the thrill of skydiving, but the heart-pumping, eye-popping rush of a free-fall was probably the closest I felt to the seven straight hours of snowboarding I did last weekend in the Swiss Alps.
*****Friday******
Spending the night in Rome Thursday so we wouldn't have to wake up at some ungodly hour like 5 a.m. was probably one of the best things we could have done. Though the hostel made for a bit of a strange experience, we had a place to sleep right near Termini so we could basically just hop on a train to Fiumicino.
At 7:22 a.m, our train pulled out of the station towards the airport. I sat with Nick's cousin, who was just finishing her visit in Italy for her spring break. Alex (aka Simone, I'll probably use it interchanably) and Nick sat together a-ways down. A few minutes into the train ride, Simone came over to us.
"You're not going to believe this," he said.
"...," we said.
Simone had left his jacket, in the pocket of which was his camera, in the hostel. I had remembered seeing it on top of the armoire in our room, but hadn't said anything because I figured it was eye-level for him. And, as a coat, not really something you'd forget. But that's exactly what happened, and Nick took his role as jacket-savior and stopped back at the hostel to retrieve it after he said his goodbyes to us at the airport and before heading back to Viterbo. He collected, camera and all, but it meant it was up to me to take photos for the weekend. Not that it was a problem; I probably would've taken at least as many photos anyway.
We arrived at the airport a couple hours early, so we had time to chill and get a coffee before boarding. The funny thing I've noticed about European airports: I want to hold my hands up in peace signs and say "I'm not a crook" every time I board and leave a plane. In all the flights I've taken around Europe so far, passengers have to walk outside and either into a bus that takes us to or just walk directly up to the plane. We climb a staircase to get on the airplane that's always just chilling somewhere on the tarmac. It's a pretty different experience than any flight at home.
Flybaboo, the airline we were taking to Switzerland, was an ever stranger experience. As we got off the bus to the plane, before me stood the smallest, most decorated and most-propellored flight I've ever been on. The plane only held 74 passengers, I later learned from some info wedged into the seat pocket. We sat right over the wings and the propellors both there and back, during which we spent much time discussing how Flybaboo could afford to be such a nice airline when the flight was less than half full on the way there and not much more so on the way back.
It seriously was the nicest flight I've had, though. It takes about an hour and a half to get between Fiumicino in Italy and Geneva in Switzerland. But during that time, Flybaboo gives all it's passengers mini bottles of Evian water, a mini sandwich with meat (if you so choose), a mini veggie sandwich, a dessert of some kind (pudding with apple bits on the way there, a clementine on the way back), coffee or tea, and a Toblerone that would probably be referred to as "fun-sized" in the US.
Plus, the chairs were roomy enough and I didn't feel like the seat in front of me was just grazing my nose like I did on the Ryanair flights to Barcelona. Honestly, with the airplane as sparsely packed as it was, they must be staying in business with overflowing flights to their other locations. Otherwise, I have no idea how they can afford to be so nice. Still, if I ever need to get somewhere in France or to any of their other locations in the future, I'm definitely flying Baboo.
Once we landed in Geneva, we ran for the train that we weren't sure if we'd make. We thought we only had a few minutes to catch our three-hour ride to Interlaken, but when we found the train station connected to the airport, the nice French-speaking lady at the ticket counter showed us we had a cushy half hour to kill. So we picked up some surprisingly good Greek sandwiches (olive bread, veggies, lots of feta cheese, mmmm) at a little cafe in the station. And we got our first Swiss Francs (CHF) as change, because Switzerland turned up their noses to the Euro.
A note about some aspects of Swiss culture: The CHF are kind of ridiculous to me. All coins from one cent to five CHF are silver and have the exact same designs on them. The only thing that varies is their size, which generally makes sense if you exclude the fact that the 1/2 CHF coin is smaller than the one cent. The bills look kind of like monopoly money with giant faces on them. I just don't understand the coin system though; I can see that taking years to figure out and a need to check every coin to find the right denomination, even for people who live there their whole lives. Also, Switzerland is divided into French and German speaking parts. It's funny how much of a language comes back to you when you're surrounded by it and sometimes need to know it. Still, I was dumbfounded by how the train company had managed to find enough ticket takers such that every one we encountered was able to ask us, "Deutsh? Frances? English? Espanol?" etc until he found a language in which he could tell us to let him check our passports.
The train ride was calm and went smoothly. An foursome of Brits, two men and two women probably in their 30s, sat in the seats behind us and helped us change trains to get to Interlaken, since they had the same destination. The view from through the windows of the train was breathtaking, just like the view from the airplane had been. But when we got of the train and finally saw those huge, massive, snowy, grassy, rocky and tree-covered mountains in person, that was it. I knew that the one weekend would not be nearly enough. And still, right now, I know that while I crossed off my life goal to ski the Swiss Alps, I have a new goal to replace it, and that's to return and board for at least a straight week.
We checked into our hostel/bar. The hostel part was called the Happy Inn Lodge, which was appropriate because they must've had everyone who worked there pass a test proving they could smile for hours on end before they were hired. (At least, that went for everyone but the woman working the breakfast shift, but she was another story.)
Since we still had a bit of daylight, we decided to walk around. I photographed every mountain I saw, as will be visible on Flickr. We were starved, and the Sandwich Bar recommended by Hostelworld was right next to our hostel so we stopped in for sandwiches. Alex got a swiss cheese one, of course, which I tried and was the first time I've really enjoyed swiss cheese. I guess I've just never had real swiss cheese before and that's why it's never been good. I ordered brie and nuts with lettuce and tomato. I know food tastes better when you're hungry, but as simple a sandwich as it was, it tasted incredible.
After some stops at the tourist center to orient ourselves and prepare for Saturday and sufficient exploring around town, we went back to the hostel's bar for a beer before dinner. Of course I can't recall the name of it now, but we tried the dunkel (dark) version of the beer brewed in Interlaken and it was fantastic. Sitting in the room when we got back was our soon-to-be snowboarding buddy Justin, a 24-year-old US soldier stationed near Venice for the next few years and taking a weekend off for some serious snowboarding before he bought a house and got serious with life. He was heading towards a nap and we were heading towards the bar downstairs, so we told him we'd see him later and set off.
We stopped at the brasserie downstairs for some beers before dinner. What better beer to try in Interlaken, we thought, than one brewed there in the town. We got two of the dark version, and it was incredible. Maybe I'm just easily pleased when it comes to beer and wine, but rarely ever have I tried a new drink this semester that I couldn't appreciate. Filling up Alex's glass, the tap ran out and the bartender managed to accidently spray foam everywhere, including partly all over my face. So when I cleaned up a bit and we finished our Swiss beers, we headed to dinner.
Hostelworld had recommended this place, Bebbi's, because it was supposedly the only restaurant in Interlaken with chocolate fondue. Well, chalk up another win to Hostelworld, because not only did we try the chocolate fondue, we got a pot of the cheese fondue for fairly cheap and free ice cream at the end of the meal. I don't think I've had fondue since I was a kid, where I have a mostly repressed memory of going to a fondue restaurant with Alyssa and my parents. The place smelled awful, probably stinking of all the melting cheese on everyone's tables. Maybe the smell just doesn't bother me as much now; maybe I just have a higher tolerance for stinky cheese stench. Or maybe that other place from my childhood really just smelled that bad. Either way, this place did not stink nearly the same. The cheese fondue was amazing and at the end of the pot our waitress came back and scraped off the bottom of the pot where a layer of hardened fried cheese had formed. It sounds pretty nasty writing it now, and it seemed pretty nasty before I tried it, but she convinced us by saying it was her "favorite part" of the bowl. The chocolate was fantastic too, and we got a whole bunch of fruit and marshmallowy shapes to eat it with.
What was strange about the restaurant was it seemed to cater to asians. I guess a lot of asian tourists head to Interlaken; there certainly seemed to be a lot of them around, or maybe it was just that they all happened to be at the restaurant that night. Probably as a result, at one point the man we took to be Bebbi–or at least the current owner of the restaurant–put on a stereotypical asian hat with little bells hanging from it and two other workers popped out of the back room under one of those giant Chinese dragon puppets with the bulging eyes while an obviously asian-inspired tune played out of the stereo speakers. Then, after a jolly laugh from the asians filling up the restaurant, Bebbi pulls out one of those horns that looks like a giant shofar, the kind of horn in the Ricola commercials. This is a bit less surprising and more appropriate, given that Bebbi is also wearing giant funny pants with cow print on them. On the way back from the restroom, Alex got pinned by the giant horn and had a chance to try it. After a whole bunch of people semi-unsuccessfully gave it a try, Bebbi himself goes at it and belts out a crazy tune that sounded like it could've been a trumpet. Must've taken some serious practice.
After, we were stuffed and content with the odd restaurant. We stopped at the bar under our hostel one last time before heading up to bed early. There, we sat with Justin and Sian, a Canadian from Vancouver/Toronto studying in Cambridge, England. Justin was planning on some heli-skiing early the next morning (where a helicopter takes the group up to the top of some backcountry and they basically jump out of the plane with their boards on their feet and ski down), but said if he was bumped or it was cancelled as had been the theme for him so far, he'd drive Alex and I up to the mountain. We accepted, extremely thankful for the possibility that we wouldn't have to deal with the trains up the mountain, and we all headed up to sleep.
Monday, March 9, 2009
My first trip to an Italian castle (sort of)
domenica 8 marzo 2009
********Saturday*******
Last time Hana, Seul and I had missed the train from Rome that fatefully Sunday a few weeks ago, we decided to wait a half hour at Valle Aurelia, take the train to Bracciano, wait another hour and a half there and take the next train to Viterbo.
It was a few days before that when I found out Bracciano was the town in which Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes got married in a giant castle. And it had a really huge lake. So what reason was there not to go?
So, Saturday, Hailey, Jacky Lauren and I took the train to Bracciano. Important learned facts of the day: It is, in fact, physically possible for my hair to air dry and not look completely terrible. Learned from waking up, going running, taking a shower, and getting a call that they were leaving to go catch the train in 15 minutes if I wanted to come, giving me 15 minutes to get dressed and make a PB&J for the tracks.
I think walking around all day put all of us in a really good mood. It wasn't too chilly, it was sunny and gorgeous outside, and the views from Bracciano, especially where the castle towers over everything and where you can go down to the lago are incredible.
We arrived in town about 14:00, while everyone was still having their pausa pronzo. The town was pretty quiet and deserted and the castle didn't open again until 15:00 anyway so we decided to walk down to the lago. We stopped through a small park with a tiny playground. I tried to go down the slide and discovered my bum was a bit too wide. A man with a tiny adorable australian dog walked by and told us the playground was for bambini. He laughed and shook his head and walked off, but came back to talk to us more a few minutes later. Like most other italians who realize we don't really speak italian, he asked us if we were english. We told him we were American. He asked us if we liked Bracciano, said Viterbo wasn't nearly as good, and told us we should stay the next day for the Festa della Donna. We loved Bracciano, wondered why everyone including some people who live here aren't big fans of Viterbo, and still have no idea what the Festa della Donna actually celebrates even though it supposedly took place in Viterbo today as well.
At any rate, the guy was really nice and gave Jacky some tiny yellow flowers that he said were for the Festa and then took a picture of the four of us on the bridge of the playground. I played with the puppy for a bit and we walked in separate directions.
We walked down to the lake. When I say down, I mean in a literal downward sloping direction. Meaning the entire walk back was intensely uphill, but it was worth it because the lago was gorgeous and there were ducks.
A hefty walk later we got back up to the top of the hill and back towards the castle. It was a bit of money to get in that I didn't really want to pay for and neither did Lauren, so we just stayed outside in the sun while Jacky and Hailey toured the castle. Maybe one day I'll go back and see the inside, because I do think that would be really cool. I don't think I've ever seen the inside of a castle before?
Lauren was hungry and got some pizza and we sat in the sun on a fountain in a square we'd passed earlier. I mooched some of her pizza bianca and we discussed who's family was more odd while small children with tricycles ran around and old men in hats sat on benches. After a while a younger, scruffy looking guy plopped a large bag down towards a railing on one side of the square. Believe it or not, he broke out a huge bag on balloon animal balloons. He made himself a balloon hat, put it on, and of course it attracted the kids in the square and they started going up to him. He made them all balloon animals and gave me some good ideas to add to my routine when I get back home. I didn't get a chance to talk to him, which is probably not a big deal because the odds that he spoke english anyway are pretty small. Besides, I have no idea what the words are for "balloon" or "animal" in Italian.
We walked around a bit and left soon after Hailey and Jacky got out of the castle. I, of course, fell asleep on the train home. Jacky, Hailey and I stopped at the big Despar on the way back to our apartments and I was disappointed by their serious lack of soy milk and Gatorade. Still, I found a small container of soy milk, a little Powerade (which I have now learned is wayyyy too sugary) and a pack of HappyDent gumma to make my teeth happy.
We made dinner and watched Eurotrip, which neither Hailey nor Jacky had seen before, and called it an early night.
********Sunday********
I don't have much to say for myself for today. I was too lazy to get myself outside to go running or really do anything. Hailey and I planned out everything except one flight and two hostels for spring break though, so those plans are now pretty accomplished. Which is quite exciting. And I got an e-mail from my dad with info about when their flights to and from Italy will be, meaning they are officially visiting me after spring break. AND I woke up to a text message from Alyssa saying it's official, she's coming to Italy with Mom and Dad, which definitely made my morning.
Coming up this week: An international student day thing on Thursday, which means being observed in all Thursday classes and free food. And, leaving Friday morning for the Alps! Be prepared for a super-stoked entry following next weekend =).
Ci vediamo!
********Saturday*******
Last time Hana, Seul and I had missed the train from Rome that fatefully Sunday a few weeks ago, we decided to wait a half hour at Valle Aurelia, take the train to Bracciano, wait another hour and a half there and take the next train to Viterbo.
It was a few days before that when I found out Bracciano was the town in which Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes got married in a giant castle. And it had a really huge lake. So what reason was there not to go?
So, Saturday, Hailey, Jacky Lauren and I took the train to Bracciano. Important learned facts of the day: It is, in fact, physically possible for my hair to air dry and not look completely terrible. Learned from waking up, going running, taking a shower, and getting a call that they were leaving to go catch the train in 15 minutes if I wanted to come, giving me 15 minutes to get dressed and make a PB&J for the tracks.
I think walking around all day put all of us in a really good mood. It wasn't too chilly, it was sunny and gorgeous outside, and the views from Bracciano, especially where the castle towers over everything and where you can go down to the lago are incredible.
We arrived in town about 14:00, while everyone was still having their pausa pronzo. The town was pretty quiet and deserted and the castle didn't open again until 15:00 anyway so we decided to walk down to the lago. We stopped through a small park with a tiny playground. I tried to go down the slide and discovered my bum was a bit too wide. A man with a tiny adorable australian dog walked by and told us the playground was for bambini. He laughed and shook his head and walked off, but came back to talk to us more a few minutes later. Like most other italians who realize we don't really speak italian, he asked us if we were english. We told him we were American. He asked us if we liked Bracciano, said Viterbo wasn't nearly as good, and told us we should stay the next day for the Festa della Donna. We loved Bracciano, wondered why everyone including some people who live here aren't big fans of Viterbo, and still have no idea what the Festa della Donna actually celebrates even though it supposedly took place in Viterbo today as well.
At any rate, the guy was really nice and gave Jacky some tiny yellow flowers that he said were for the Festa and then took a picture of the four of us on the bridge of the playground. I played with the puppy for a bit and we walked in separate directions.
We walked down to the lake. When I say down, I mean in a literal downward sloping direction. Meaning the entire walk back was intensely uphill, but it was worth it because the lago was gorgeous and there were ducks.
A hefty walk later we got back up to the top of the hill and back towards the castle. It was a bit of money to get in that I didn't really want to pay for and neither did Lauren, so we just stayed outside in the sun while Jacky and Hailey toured the castle. Maybe one day I'll go back and see the inside, because I do think that would be really cool. I don't think I've ever seen the inside of a castle before?
Lauren was hungry and got some pizza and we sat in the sun on a fountain in a square we'd passed earlier. I mooched some of her pizza bianca and we discussed who's family was more odd while small children with tricycles ran around and old men in hats sat on benches. After a while a younger, scruffy looking guy plopped a large bag down towards a railing on one side of the square. Believe it or not, he broke out a huge bag on balloon animal balloons. He made himself a balloon hat, put it on, and of course it attracted the kids in the square and they started going up to him. He made them all balloon animals and gave me some good ideas to add to my routine when I get back home. I didn't get a chance to talk to him, which is probably not a big deal because the odds that he spoke english anyway are pretty small. Besides, I have no idea what the words are for "balloon" or "animal" in Italian.
We walked around a bit and left soon after Hailey and Jacky got out of the castle. I, of course, fell asleep on the train home. Jacky, Hailey and I stopped at the big Despar on the way back to our apartments and I was disappointed by their serious lack of soy milk and Gatorade. Still, I found a small container of soy milk, a little Powerade (which I have now learned is wayyyy too sugary) and a pack of HappyDent gumma to make my teeth happy.
We made dinner and watched Eurotrip, which neither Hailey nor Jacky had seen before, and called it an early night.
********Sunday********
I don't have much to say for myself for today. I was too lazy to get myself outside to go running or really do anything. Hailey and I planned out everything except one flight and two hostels for spring break though, so those plans are now pretty accomplished. Which is quite exciting. And I got an e-mail from my dad with info about when their flights to and from Italy will be, meaning they are officially visiting me after spring break. AND I woke up to a text message from Alyssa saying it's official, she's coming to Italy with Mom and Dad, which definitely made my morning.
Coming up this week: An international student day thing on Thursday, which means being observed in all Thursday classes and free food. And, leaving Friday morning for the Alps! Be prepared for a super-stoked entry following next weekend =).
Ci vediamo!
Day trip outside Italy: Walking through 50+ rooms of art at the Vatican
domenica 8 marzo 2009
So I realized I never wrote up Sunday from the Barcelona trip. There wasn't really much to say, other than entire day of traveling (11 a.m. to 9 p.m., or thereabouts) and a sequel to that first time I missed a train to Viterbo from Rome on a Sunday and had to wait two hours for the next one. Of course, it was also raining, so kind of an eh way to end the weekend.
Things picked up again this week though, despite my first final on Thursday. Got a 20/20 on the oral part, so that's a plus. Jacky declared next Tuesday black bean burrito night part III, which is another success. Monday night will be stereotypical italian/Purim dinner, which should be fun since I haven't been to a Monday night dinner in about a month.
Time is flying here, because sometimes cliches are the best way to describe the situation. I come to a lot of random realizations that I tell myself I should blog about later, but I never remember to write them down so they mostly end up lost somewhere in my memory. Mostly cultural things, I think, but just more stuff to send me to shock when I get back to the US.
*******Friday********
Friday our Renaissance class had a field trip to the Vatican with the art history class. It almost seems unfair to count it, but you can call this trip number two outside the country.
Being in Vatican City was pretty fascinating, and I managed to control the weather by bringing both an umbrella and sunglasses and not much room to carry either. So it was cloudy most of the day but didn't rain, although I did don my shades at some point for a few minutes.
Anyway, seeing inside the Vatican was way, way more awing than the outside, but was more of a downer when thinking of the reality behind it. That building is ridiculous inside. Gold surrounds and fills everything. Statues, mosaics and paintings of Jesus and other holy scenes and characters are everywhere. Towards one end is basically what can be construed as a giant wooden chupah that I think the art history professor said was something like 48 meters tall. A fountain of holy water with two giant angel babies that are taller than me stand near the entrance. A massive, probably holy clock surrounded by fiery bursts of gold towers over everything at the exact opposite site of the building from where we walked in. And, since the building is shaped like a cross, two huge open spaces where the hands go housed more giant art, sculptures, gold and marble. I'm also pretty sure at least three masses were going on in there at the same time.
The Vatican museum tour was kind of disappointing, partly because of the fact that I could hear virtually nothing the art history professor was saying even as she gave us some background info before we even entered either of the buildings. The other part was because she needed to leave at 14:30 so her plan was to rush us through the museum to the Sistine Chapel and then peace out, leaving us to decide what to do next. Our Renaissance professor basically let the art history prof. handle the trip, which was disappointing because she probably knew all kinds of things that we'd never find out otherwise about the Vatican.
I somehow ended up separated from most of the group for most of the trip through the museum. For a while I was with Christine, Hana and Emily, but pretty soon it was just Emily and me. We realized later on when we met back with the group that the four of us had taken the long way to the Sistine Chapel, which explained the rooms of art that we walked through, eventually numbering past 50-something before we got to the chapel.
Emily and I lost Christine and Hana somewhere around the School of Athens. I know it was there because in everyone's craze to find the chapel, I had forgotten that painting of Raphael's was there. Absolutely. Incredible. After seeing it in photos so many times, it was completely breathtaking to see in person. We must've just stood in front of it for at least a good 10-15 minutes before moving on. Looking through all the greats that Raphael painted took a while to soak in. I knew even as we were walking out of the room that painting would be the highlight of my day.
And it really was. We also saw Rodin's "The Thinker" and two of Dali's paintings, neither of which we had known were there and both of which we were amazed to see. Fifty-plus rooms later, we got to the Sistine Chapel. Maybe I was jaded by walking a literal mile, at least, to get to it, maybe it was low expectations after Raphael's work, but I honestly wasn't nearly as impressed by the chapel as I thought I would be.
Don't get me wrong, Michaelangelo is a master. I was so struck by the lines, columns and other shapes on the ceiling he made appear completely 3-D by simply painting them. Especially considering how long ago he painted it, he got all the optical illusions completely perfect. At first I didn't realize some of the columns and frames around the art on the ceiling weren't actually there, but made of shades of white paint. Seriously, wow.
Maybe it's just been too overhyped. But where Adam and God nearly touch their fingers (aka the ET hands) in the "Creation of Adam" is a small panel in the center of the ceiling, virtually unnoticeable unless I looked for it. I had to search and then turn my head upside-down to find it. Maybe the problem is it's too far away to thoroughly study. All I know is, along with the Pieta, these were the only works I've wanted to see that were more unimpressive when I saw them in person.
Still, for Raphael, Rodin and Dali, the trip was worth it. Emily and I found the group just as they were leaving the chapel (we must've spent half the time in there that they did) and just as she'd promised, the art history professor was gone at 14:30. Our Renaissance professor was lost somewhere in the museum, possibly still looking at the chapel or possibly in some other room; where ever she was, she didn't have a cell phone so no one could reach her. It'd been weeks since I'd had some good gelato and Christine said she knew a great place with soy (!!!) gelato on Corso Italia and she was going over there to go shopping with Lauren, Hana and Felicia, if I'd like to come.
Would I!! We metro'ed from the Vatican back into Italy, my mouth already watering for some good gelato. We walked to the street through a huge gate that I hadn't remembered seeing before, but maybe I'd never been all the way down the corso before. Just inside the gate was a huge obilisque carved with hieroglyphics, a tribute to I have no idea what.
What I do know is we walked into the first tiny shop on the corso because it looked cute, and hanging there inside was exactly the kind of bag I'd been looking for to replace my one that's begun ripping. Figuring it'd be at least 15 euro, I flipped over the price tag to see how much I wouldn't want to pay for it. Printed on the back of the tag, it told me: 4.90 euro. I did a double take, figuring it was a mistake. But the guy at the counter told me the bag costs 4.90. So I bought a new bag to replace my ripped one. A few stores down, right next to H&M, I bought vanilla soy gelato and frutti di bosco regular gelato and it was absolutely incredible. Next time I'm in Roma I'm heading directly to that gelateria.
A good day all in all. A long day, for sure, filled with interesting thoughts and realizations about christianity, but more importantly, filled with appreciation of knowledge from Raphael and appreciation of gelato from my belly.
So I realized I never wrote up Sunday from the Barcelona trip. There wasn't really much to say, other than entire day of traveling (11 a.m. to 9 p.m., or thereabouts) and a sequel to that first time I missed a train to Viterbo from Rome on a Sunday and had to wait two hours for the next one. Of course, it was also raining, so kind of an eh way to end the weekend.
Things picked up again this week though, despite my first final on Thursday. Got a 20/20 on the oral part, so that's a plus. Jacky declared next Tuesday black bean burrito night part III, which is another success. Monday night will be stereotypical italian/Purim dinner, which should be fun since I haven't been to a Monday night dinner in about a month.
Time is flying here, because sometimes cliches are the best way to describe the situation. I come to a lot of random realizations that I tell myself I should blog about later, but I never remember to write them down so they mostly end up lost somewhere in my memory. Mostly cultural things, I think, but just more stuff to send me to shock when I get back to the US.
*******Friday********
Friday our Renaissance class had a field trip to the Vatican with the art history class. It almost seems unfair to count it, but you can call this trip number two outside the country.
Being in Vatican City was pretty fascinating, and I managed to control the weather by bringing both an umbrella and sunglasses and not much room to carry either. So it was cloudy most of the day but didn't rain, although I did don my shades at some point for a few minutes.
Anyway, seeing inside the Vatican was way, way more awing than the outside, but was more of a downer when thinking of the reality behind it. That building is ridiculous inside. Gold surrounds and fills everything. Statues, mosaics and paintings of Jesus and other holy scenes and characters are everywhere. Towards one end is basically what can be construed as a giant wooden chupah that I think the art history professor said was something like 48 meters tall. A fountain of holy water with two giant angel babies that are taller than me stand near the entrance. A massive, probably holy clock surrounded by fiery bursts of gold towers over everything at the exact opposite site of the building from where we walked in. And, since the building is shaped like a cross, two huge open spaces where the hands go housed more giant art, sculptures, gold and marble. I'm also pretty sure at least three masses were going on in there at the same time.
The Vatican museum tour was kind of disappointing, partly because of the fact that I could hear virtually nothing the art history professor was saying even as she gave us some background info before we even entered either of the buildings. The other part was because she needed to leave at 14:30 so her plan was to rush us through the museum to the Sistine Chapel and then peace out, leaving us to decide what to do next. Our Renaissance professor basically let the art history prof. handle the trip, which was disappointing because she probably knew all kinds of things that we'd never find out otherwise about the Vatican.
I somehow ended up separated from most of the group for most of the trip through the museum. For a while I was with Christine, Hana and Emily, but pretty soon it was just Emily and me. We realized later on when we met back with the group that the four of us had taken the long way to the Sistine Chapel, which explained the rooms of art that we walked through, eventually numbering past 50-something before we got to the chapel.
Emily and I lost Christine and Hana somewhere around the School of Athens. I know it was there because in everyone's craze to find the chapel, I had forgotten that painting of Raphael's was there. Absolutely. Incredible. After seeing it in photos so many times, it was completely breathtaking to see in person. We must've just stood in front of it for at least a good 10-15 minutes before moving on. Looking through all the greats that Raphael painted took a while to soak in. I knew even as we were walking out of the room that painting would be the highlight of my day.
And it really was. We also saw Rodin's "The Thinker" and two of Dali's paintings, neither of which we had known were there and both of which we were amazed to see. Fifty-plus rooms later, we got to the Sistine Chapel. Maybe I was jaded by walking a literal mile, at least, to get to it, maybe it was low expectations after Raphael's work, but I honestly wasn't nearly as impressed by the chapel as I thought I would be.
Don't get me wrong, Michaelangelo is a master. I was so struck by the lines, columns and other shapes on the ceiling he made appear completely 3-D by simply painting them. Especially considering how long ago he painted it, he got all the optical illusions completely perfect. At first I didn't realize some of the columns and frames around the art on the ceiling weren't actually there, but made of shades of white paint. Seriously, wow.
Maybe it's just been too overhyped. But where Adam and God nearly touch their fingers (aka the ET hands) in the "Creation of Adam" is a small panel in the center of the ceiling, virtually unnoticeable unless I looked for it. I had to search and then turn my head upside-down to find it. Maybe the problem is it's too far away to thoroughly study. All I know is, along with the Pieta, these were the only works I've wanted to see that were more unimpressive when I saw them in person.
Still, for Raphael, Rodin and Dali, the trip was worth it. Emily and I found the group just as they were leaving the chapel (we must've spent half the time in there that they did) and just as she'd promised, the art history professor was gone at 14:30. Our Renaissance professor was lost somewhere in the museum, possibly still looking at the chapel or possibly in some other room; where ever she was, she didn't have a cell phone so no one could reach her. It'd been weeks since I'd had some good gelato and Christine said she knew a great place with soy (!!!) gelato on Corso Italia and she was going over there to go shopping with Lauren, Hana and Felicia, if I'd like to come.
Would I!! We metro'ed from the Vatican back into Italy, my mouth already watering for some good gelato. We walked to the street through a huge gate that I hadn't remembered seeing before, but maybe I'd never been all the way down the corso before. Just inside the gate was a huge obilisque carved with hieroglyphics, a tribute to I have no idea what.
What I do know is we walked into the first tiny shop on the corso because it looked cute, and hanging there inside was exactly the kind of bag I'd been looking for to replace my one that's begun ripping. Figuring it'd be at least 15 euro, I flipped over the price tag to see how much I wouldn't want to pay for it. Printed on the back of the tag, it told me: 4.90 euro. I did a double take, figuring it was a mistake. But the guy at the counter told me the bag costs 4.90. So I bought a new bag to replace my ripped one. A few stores down, right next to H&M, I bought vanilla soy gelato and frutti di bosco regular gelato and it was absolutely incredible. Next time I'm in Roma I'm heading directly to that gelateria.
A good day all in all. A long day, for sure, filled with interesting thoughts and realizations about christianity, but more importantly, filled with appreciation of knowledge from Raphael and appreciation of gelato from my belly.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Barcelona II: Looooong Day
As always, photos at http://www.flickr.com/photos/manda_face/
03 marzo 2009
*******Saturday*********
We woke up at 08:30 to get breakfast. The hostel had a pretty nice spread compared to some of the other ones we'd stayed at, and I was able to eat some cereal so I was happy. After eating, we went to walk down La Rambla. Even early in the morning, the street was getting full with vendors selling all kinds of (adorable) pets, thousands of flowers, souvenirs and street performers everywhere. You know those guys who stand on a platform on a sidewalk, have painted themselves gold and stand really still for hours? Think of that, but down entire sections of the street. Also, think of them way more elaborate. Like one guy in a giant bird costume, a couple guys in headless-man costumes and another guy, painted gold of course, sitting on a gold painted bike next to a skeleton lady on another gold painted bike.
We killed a few hours there until the tour our hostel offered in connection with the Travel Bar a few blocks down for free. The tour was supposed to start at 11:30. We waited there with two other girls until close to noon when the girl giving the tour came over to us and said she had to cancel it because not enough people had showed up. Still, she was really nice about it and marked on our map the places she would've taken us. Then she gave us a discount for the pub crawl that night, which worked out pretty well.
It was kind of difficult to tell where we should be going when we actually started walking around the Gothic Quarter though, so we didn't see everything she marked. Still, we're pretty sure we walked down the streets where the Jewish area used to be and saw a few really nice cathedrals and piazzas. After we figured we explored a good amount of it, we headed towards the metro to head up towards some of Gaudi's buildings.
I'd never heard of Gaudi until I did a bit of research about the city before the trip. He's basically a really cool architect that made buildings that look like they're dripping and curving with lots of fluid lines. If I were rich, I would've gone inside all of them too, because they were really fascinating from the outside.
I don't know if Gaudi was like Picasso, where he had some kind of vision problem and just saw things as curvy. Maybe he wasn't a genius architect at all and that really was the way he saw the world, but if that's true then he still saw everything in a really cool way. Plus you have to have some skill to figure out how to make a building look like it's melting but still stay standing through centuries.
We stopped at Sagrada Familia, Casa Milla and Casa Botllo. Sagrada Familia is still unfinished and has been under construction since Gaudi started it some centuries ago. The other casas were similar, but the exteriors were very bendy and looked kind of like they'd been molded from Play-Doh.
We also tried to hit up Park Guell where a whole bunch more of Gaudi's buildings were supposed to be. When we got to the metro stop for it, we saw a sign pointing us towards what we thought was the direction of Park Guell. We saw a giant hill at the top of which was something that looked like it had a lot of trees and plants so we figured it had to be right.
Well, after about a 20 minute trek uphill we ended up at a park called something like the Garden of Tourists. Aka, not Park Guell. We stayed there and looked around for a few minutes. It was pretty, yeah, but it was a small average park. We started to leave and looked to the left. Down another hill, then up another really huge hill, off in the distance we saw Park Guell. We saw the staircases that lined the road to get to it and the ant-sized people headed towards it. It would've been really cool to see, but there was no way Hailey was climbing that hill. I felt bad for making her climb the first one to the wrong park anyway, so we headed back to the metro.
We metroed back towards the hostel and Hailey went back for a nap. I wasn't particularly tired yet, so I figured I'd explore some of the windy streets in the gothic quarter that we'd passed through and had some really awesome looking shops.
I found a Quiksilver, a Vans store that was blasting "One Armed Scissor" by At the Drive-In, and a Claire's that I came this close to buying a new bag from. Other than that, all the stores were names I had never heard of or seen before. One was called "New Yorker" or "New York Style" or something like that and was basically like another H&M.
Before we had arrived in Barcelona, one of the info packets I had been reading said there was a really cool hipster market called El Mercadillo somewhere in the gothic quarter but that it was really hard to find. I don't know if that was a lie or if I just ended up on some really obscure streets, but I walked right past it so of course I went in.
It was set up like a really crowded and smaller version of the Tri-County Flea Market. All the stalls were selling punkish and hipster items. Giant "Palenstino" neckerchiefs were everywhere, for sale and on kids and merchants necks. Gauged earrings, punky bracelets, checkerboards and some really cool clothing brand was everywhere. Barcelona has no shortage of hipsters just walking through the streets, but this market was packed with them and it was definitely where they bought all their stuff.
I didn't buy anything during my stroll, but I think this was the first time I've really enjoyed window shopping. So many of the stores have such cool things that were just really awesome to look at. I need to get back to this city so I can see more of Gaudi's architecture, more of the town in general, and more of the shops in the gothic area.
When I got back to the hostel, Hailey was literally just waking up from her nap. It was around 17:30, still a couple hours too early for dinner. We both sat on our beds filling in postcards we'd bought from a stand the day before. I guess after window shopping I was more tired than I thought, because all of a sudden I woke up on my bed a little after 18:30 not remembering that I'd fallen asleep.
We went out in search of stamps (which we never found) and some food for dinner. We needed to meet at the Travel Bar at 21:30 for the bar crawl and there was a 30 minute Flamenco show we wanted to see at 20:30 beforehand. We walked down to La Rambla again, in the direction of the flamenco show and the Travel Bar.
Hailey considered KFC for dinner while my mouth watered at some of the surprisingly many vegetarian and vegan restaurants in the area (yet another reason I need to go back). In the end, we found a place with three tapas and a drink for 7.90 euro. We got six between us that ended up being all vegetarian, which worked out well for me. I think my favorite way to eat a meal is tapas since you get to try so many different things, and the tapas we had in Barcelona was insanely delicious. And, again, more fantastic sangria, this time made with cava, or champagne.
We found a gelato place near the restaurant and on the way to the flamenco show. I wasn't sure what to expect of gelato in Spain, but it was surprisingly good and pretty close to the quality of the converted ex-bank now-gelateria in Viterbo.
The flamenco show was amazing. The musicians played for about 15 minutes and the dancer came out for the second half of the show. I wish our seats positioned us more so we could've seen the guitar player's hands, because he was incredible at Spanish guitar. I was enthralled and spent most of the time, even after the dancer came on stage, watching him. The girl who was singing had a really shrill voice, which wasn't really pleasing. But the guy who was the other singer had a great stage presence and a really quirky way of moving his shoulders while he clapped his hands. The dancer was also amazing. I tried to imagine how long she must've been dancing to be able to move her feet that quickly.
After the show we went to the pub crawl and had a last delicious sangria as our free drink at the Travel Bar. It was a lot of fun, especially after we met three girls from Vassar who were studying in Paris and on their spring break. We met them at the third bar before the club and hung out with them for the rest of the night. One of them was even from Port Washington, knows Jesse and is family friends with Steven Donnelly. Talk about random, but I love six degrees of separation like that.
We enjoyed our drinks, chatted with the girls we met and danced a bit at the club at the end of the night. I think a guy tried to teach me some salsa dancing at one point but I definitely was not able to follow his feet.
We left late and took the long walk back from Barceloneta to our hostel. We did pass the Columbus statue at the bottom of La Rambla though, so I was glad we had the chance to see that before we left. By the time we got back to the area with the hostel, we were too tired to stop for donor kebabs or felafel or at the caffe our almost-tour guide had told us had amazing, think hot chocolate that they sold with bread to dunk. It's making my mouth water now and is yet another reason I need to get back to Barcelona.
We were back in the hostel around 04:00, enough for about six hours of sleep if we missed breakfast and woke up in time for check-out.
03 marzo 2009
*******Saturday*********
We woke up at 08:30 to get breakfast. The hostel had a pretty nice spread compared to some of the other ones we'd stayed at, and I was able to eat some cereal so I was happy. After eating, we went to walk down La Rambla. Even early in the morning, the street was getting full with vendors selling all kinds of (adorable) pets, thousands of flowers, souvenirs and street performers everywhere. You know those guys who stand on a platform on a sidewalk, have painted themselves gold and stand really still for hours? Think of that, but down entire sections of the street. Also, think of them way more elaborate. Like one guy in a giant bird costume, a couple guys in headless-man costumes and another guy, painted gold of course, sitting on a gold painted bike next to a skeleton lady on another gold painted bike.
We killed a few hours there until the tour our hostel offered in connection with the Travel Bar a few blocks down for free. The tour was supposed to start at 11:30. We waited there with two other girls until close to noon when the girl giving the tour came over to us and said she had to cancel it because not enough people had showed up. Still, she was really nice about it and marked on our map the places she would've taken us. Then she gave us a discount for the pub crawl that night, which worked out pretty well.
It was kind of difficult to tell where we should be going when we actually started walking around the Gothic Quarter though, so we didn't see everything she marked. Still, we're pretty sure we walked down the streets where the Jewish area used to be and saw a few really nice cathedrals and piazzas. After we figured we explored a good amount of it, we headed towards the metro to head up towards some of Gaudi's buildings.
I'd never heard of Gaudi until I did a bit of research about the city before the trip. He's basically a really cool architect that made buildings that look like they're dripping and curving with lots of fluid lines. If I were rich, I would've gone inside all of them too, because they were really fascinating from the outside.
I don't know if Gaudi was like Picasso, where he had some kind of vision problem and just saw things as curvy. Maybe he wasn't a genius architect at all and that really was the way he saw the world, but if that's true then he still saw everything in a really cool way. Plus you have to have some skill to figure out how to make a building look like it's melting but still stay standing through centuries.
We stopped at Sagrada Familia, Casa Milla and Casa Botllo. Sagrada Familia is still unfinished and has been under construction since Gaudi started it some centuries ago. The other casas were similar, but the exteriors were very bendy and looked kind of like they'd been molded from Play-Doh.
We also tried to hit up Park Guell where a whole bunch more of Gaudi's buildings were supposed to be. When we got to the metro stop for it, we saw a sign pointing us towards what we thought was the direction of Park Guell. We saw a giant hill at the top of which was something that looked like it had a lot of trees and plants so we figured it had to be right.
Well, after about a 20 minute trek uphill we ended up at a park called something like the Garden of Tourists. Aka, not Park Guell. We stayed there and looked around for a few minutes. It was pretty, yeah, but it was a small average park. We started to leave and looked to the left. Down another hill, then up another really huge hill, off in the distance we saw Park Guell. We saw the staircases that lined the road to get to it and the ant-sized people headed towards it. It would've been really cool to see, but there was no way Hailey was climbing that hill. I felt bad for making her climb the first one to the wrong park anyway, so we headed back to the metro.
We metroed back towards the hostel and Hailey went back for a nap. I wasn't particularly tired yet, so I figured I'd explore some of the windy streets in the gothic quarter that we'd passed through and had some really awesome looking shops.
I found a Quiksilver, a Vans store that was blasting "One Armed Scissor" by At the Drive-In, and a Claire's that I came this close to buying a new bag from. Other than that, all the stores were names I had never heard of or seen before. One was called "New Yorker" or "New York Style" or something like that and was basically like another H&M.
Before we had arrived in Barcelona, one of the info packets I had been reading said there was a really cool hipster market called El Mercadillo somewhere in the gothic quarter but that it was really hard to find. I don't know if that was a lie or if I just ended up on some really obscure streets, but I walked right past it so of course I went in.
It was set up like a really crowded and smaller version of the Tri-County Flea Market. All the stalls were selling punkish and hipster items. Giant "Palenstino" neckerchiefs were everywhere, for sale and on kids and merchants necks. Gauged earrings, punky bracelets, checkerboards and some really cool clothing brand was everywhere. Barcelona has no shortage of hipsters just walking through the streets, but this market was packed with them and it was definitely where they bought all their stuff.
I didn't buy anything during my stroll, but I think this was the first time I've really enjoyed window shopping. So many of the stores have such cool things that were just really awesome to look at. I need to get back to this city so I can see more of Gaudi's architecture, more of the town in general, and more of the shops in the gothic area.
When I got back to the hostel, Hailey was literally just waking up from her nap. It was around 17:30, still a couple hours too early for dinner. We both sat on our beds filling in postcards we'd bought from a stand the day before. I guess after window shopping I was more tired than I thought, because all of a sudden I woke up on my bed a little after 18:30 not remembering that I'd fallen asleep.
We went out in search of stamps (which we never found) and some food for dinner. We needed to meet at the Travel Bar at 21:30 for the bar crawl and there was a 30 minute Flamenco show we wanted to see at 20:30 beforehand. We walked down to La Rambla again, in the direction of the flamenco show and the Travel Bar.
Hailey considered KFC for dinner while my mouth watered at some of the surprisingly many vegetarian and vegan restaurants in the area (yet another reason I need to go back). In the end, we found a place with three tapas and a drink for 7.90 euro. We got six between us that ended up being all vegetarian, which worked out well for me. I think my favorite way to eat a meal is tapas since you get to try so many different things, and the tapas we had in Barcelona was insanely delicious. And, again, more fantastic sangria, this time made with cava, or champagne.
We found a gelato place near the restaurant and on the way to the flamenco show. I wasn't sure what to expect of gelato in Spain, but it was surprisingly good and pretty close to the quality of the converted ex-bank now-gelateria in Viterbo.
The flamenco show was amazing. The musicians played for about 15 minutes and the dancer came out for the second half of the show. I wish our seats positioned us more so we could've seen the guitar player's hands, because he was incredible at Spanish guitar. I was enthralled and spent most of the time, even after the dancer came on stage, watching him. The girl who was singing had a really shrill voice, which wasn't really pleasing. But the guy who was the other singer had a great stage presence and a really quirky way of moving his shoulders while he clapped his hands. The dancer was also amazing. I tried to imagine how long she must've been dancing to be able to move her feet that quickly.
After the show we went to the pub crawl and had a last delicious sangria as our free drink at the Travel Bar. It was a lot of fun, especially after we met three girls from Vassar who were studying in Paris and on their spring break. We met them at the third bar before the club and hung out with them for the rest of the night. One of them was even from Port Washington, knows Jesse and is family friends with Steven Donnelly. Talk about random, but I love six degrees of separation like that.
We enjoyed our drinks, chatted with the girls we met and danced a bit at the club at the end of the night. I think a guy tried to teach me some salsa dancing at one point but I definitely was not able to follow his feet.
We left late and took the long walk back from Barceloneta to our hostel. We did pass the Columbus statue at the bottom of La Rambla though, so I was glad we had the chance to see that before we left. By the time we got back to the area with the hostel, we were too tired to stop for donor kebabs or felafel or at the caffe our almost-tour guide had told us had amazing, think hot chocolate that they sold with bread to dunk. It's making my mouth water now and is yet another reason I need to get back to Barcelona.
We were back in the hostel around 04:00, enough for about six hours of sleep if we missed breakfast and woke up in time for check-out.
Barcelona: "Ma-ma-ma-myyyy Girona!"
03 marzo 2009
Officially, I am in love with the city of Barcelona. One full day there on Saturday with a flight on Friday afternoon and another back on Sunday afternoon was not nearly enough time to soak in that place. It was gorgeous, it was incredible, it had architecture unlike any of the square (literally and figuratively) buildings in America, it had windy gothic street and some of the coolest stores I've ever seen. If I ever get back to Europe, I'm going back to Barcelona for sure.
******Friday*******
For the first time since I arrived in Viterbo, I woke up when it was still dark outside. At 06:01 a.m., just as I had set it, my alarm went off and began ringing with a sound that's not hard to hate, even if on its own it's not that unpleasant. I had packed the night before, so it was just last minute things; Hailey came to my door at 6:30 and we peaced for the train.
RyanAir has its perks. It's got ridiculously cheap flights that get you relatively close to where you want to go. The problem is in the word "relatively." From Roma, RyanAir only flies out of Ciampino airport. Ciampino is in Roma like Dulles is in DC. Basically, it's not. The same goes for the airport "in" Barcelona, which is actually an hour-and-a-half busride from the city.
So, we took the hour-and-a-half train ride to Rome, rode the metro from three stops away from one end to the last stop at the other (another 40ish minutes), caught a bus from the metro for a 20-minute ride to airport, flew for about an hour 15 minutes, paid 21 euro for a roundtrip ride on the bus from the Girona airport in Spain to Barcelona (1.5 hours each way) and took the metro to our hostel. So what you make up for in cost, you pay for in convenience. Serious lack of convenience.
The hostel was really friendly and lively, but our room consisted of 10 beds, us, one guy who didn't say two words to anyone, a british couple, a german girl, a canadian girl, a really tall blonde girl, two older women probably in their 60s that must've just been bored and traveling, and one bed that never had the same person in it.
We weren't in Barcelona for half an hour when Hailey's everything that can go wrong will go wrong weekend began. Looking for money to pay our tab for the hostel, Hailey realized her wallet was gone. Luckily, all her money hadn't been inside her wallet, so she still had cash for the weekend. Still, she lost her credit card and IDs and we had a fun time trying to cancel her cards and getting through to her parents back home. I have to say though, through it all she kept a really cool head and didn't let it get to her too much.
There was not much else we could do, so we went to walk around and try to keep her mind off it. We walked down a nearby street to a market we'd heard about, which, much like two more markets we saw later, was complete with all kinds of clothes, shoes, accessories and linens lining the outer ring and an insane assortment of fresh foods in the inner part. Viterbo hasn't had grapes (that I've seen, at least) since I've been here. I spotted these enormous purple grapes at one of the stands in the center, so I had to buy them. Soooo worth it.
We walked around a bit more and eventually got back to the hostel. We figured, for dinner we'd just walk around and find one of the places we'd passed that had all looked phenomenal. Meanwhile, we also deduced that the part of the gothic quarter where our hostel was must've also been the middle eastern area, because every other shop was either a fast food place selling donor kebabs or a barber.
We were in Barcelona, after all, so I was hungering for some paella and sangria for dinner. It certainly wasn't difficult. We walked about five minutes before we found a couple that looked good and picked one. Somehow, we ordered ourselves a seafood paella (for me), a paella con carne (for Hailey) and a liter of sangria. For the two of us.
Here's the thing about Barcelona. It's in Spain, but in the Catalan part. As a direct result, they speak mostly Catalan there. I had naively gone to the city excited to use my mediocre at best Spanish from high school. Not only was it way more difficult than I expected to switch my brain off of italian, but then we got to Barcelona to find out nothing was in Spanish anyway. And Catalan, though it has a few words that cross over, is nothing like Spanish. Catalan has words with t's and x's right next to eachother. It has c's with little squiggly lines on the bottom like they have in French. It has nothing that I knew how to pronounce.
So, probably because of the Catalan majority, we ordered quite a bit of sangria. Luckily, our plates also had quite a bit of paella so it evened out. And my stomach was satisfied, because I got my Spanish paella like I'd wanted and some seriously delicious sangria.
We figured, at this point, we'd go check out the nightlife. At the hostel they told us there were quite a few good bars and clubs in Barceloneta, by the beach area. And they were probably right, but not in the area we took the metro to. The stop was pretty dead and we walked around for quite a bit without finding anything that looked promising. Hailey was exhausted anyway, so we headed back to the hostel to sleep in our room that by this point, unfortunately, smelled like feet.
Officially, I am in love with the city of Barcelona. One full day there on Saturday with a flight on Friday afternoon and another back on Sunday afternoon was not nearly enough time to soak in that place. It was gorgeous, it was incredible, it had architecture unlike any of the square (literally and figuratively) buildings in America, it had windy gothic street and some of the coolest stores I've ever seen. If I ever get back to Europe, I'm going back to Barcelona for sure.
******Friday*******
For the first time since I arrived in Viterbo, I woke up when it was still dark outside. At 06:01 a.m., just as I had set it, my alarm went off and began ringing with a sound that's not hard to hate, even if on its own it's not that unpleasant. I had packed the night before, so it was just last minute things; Hailey came to my door at 6:30 and we peaced for the train.
RyanAir has its perks. It's got ridiculously cheap flights that get you relatively close to where you want to go. The problem is in the word "relatively." From Roma, RyanAir only flies out of Ciampino airport. Ciampino is in Roma like Dulles is in DC. Basically, it's not. The same goes for the airport "in" Barcelona, which is actually an hour-and-a-half busride from the city.
So, we took the hour-and-a-half train ride to Rome, rode the metro from three stops away from one end to the last stop at the other (another 40ish minutes), caught a bus from the metro for a 20-minute ride to airport, flew for about an hour 15 minutes, paid 21 euro for a roundtrip ride on the bus from the Girona airport in Spain to Barcelona (1.5 hours each way) and took the metro to our hostel. So what you make up for in cost, you pay for in convenience. Serious lack of convenience.
The hostel was really friendly and lively, but our room consisted of 10 beds, us, one guy who didn't say two words to anyone, a british couple, a german girl, a canadian girl, a really tall blonde girl, two older women probably in their 60s that must've just been bored and traveling, and one bed that never had the same person in it.
We weren't in Barcelona for half an hour when Hailey's everything that can go wrong will go wrong weekend began. Looking for money to pay our tab for the hostel, Hailey realized her wallet was gone. Luckily, all her money hadn't been inside her wallet, so she still had cash for the weekend. Still, she lost her credit card and IDs and we had a fun time trying to cancel her cards and getting through to her parents back home. I have to say though, through it all she kept a really cool head and didn't let it get to her too much.
There was not much else we could do, so we went to walk around and try to keep her mind off it. We walked down a nearby street to a market we'd heard about, which, much like two more markets we saw later, was complete with all kinds of clothes, shoes, accessories and linens lining the outer ring and an insane assortment of fresh foods in the inner part. Viterbo hasn't had grapes (that I've seen, at least) since I've been here. I spotted these enormous purple grapes at one of the stands in the center, so I had to buy them. Soooo worth it.
We walked around a bit more and eventually got back to the hostel. We figured, for dinner we'd just walk around and find one of the places we'd passed that had all looked phenomenal. Meanwhile, we also deduced that the part of the gothic quarter where our hostel was must've also been the middle eastern area, because every other shop was either a fast food place selling donor kebabs or a barber.
We were in Barcelona, after all, so I was hungering for some paella and sangria for dinner. It certainly wasn't difficult. We walked about five minutes before we found a couple that looked good and picked one. Somehow, we ordered ourselves a seafood paella (for me), a paella con carne (for Hailey) and a liter of sangria. For the two of us.
Here's the thing about Barcelona. It's in Spain, but in the Catalan part. As a direct result, they speak mostly Catalan there. I had naively gone to the city excited to use my mediocre at best Spanish from high school. Not only was it way more difficult than I expected to switch my brain off of italian, but then we got to Barcelona to find out nothing was in Spanish anyway. And Catalan, though it has a few words that cross over, is nothing like Spanish. Catalan has words with t's and x's right next to eachother. It has c's with little squiggly lines on the bottom like they have in French. It has nothing that I knew how to pronounce.
So, probably because of the Catalan majority, we ordered quite a bit of sangria. Luckily, our plates also had quite a bit of paella so it evened out. And my stomach was satisfied, because I got my Spanish paella like I'd wanted and some seriously delicious sangria.
We figured, at this point, we'd go check out the nightlife. At the hostel they told us there were quite a few good bars and clubs in Barceloneta, by the beach area. And they were probably right, but not in the area we took the metro to. The stop was pretty dead and we walked around for quite a bit without finding anything that looked promising. Hailey was exhausted anyway, so we headed back to the hostel to sleep in our room that by this point, unfortunately, smelled like feet.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Broken water heaters and lots of food
***piu foto a http://www.flickr.com/photos/manda_face/ !***
Sun 22 Feb 2009
Accomplishments this week: Hours of searching for a show to see in London (as of now still unsuccessful, but Brian and I refuse to give up!); planned a last-minute trip to Barcelona for this coming weekend with Hailey; found out my roommates are actually going to Barcelona that same weekend, as are a few other kids; grated cheese, chopped peppers and tomatoes for fantastic black bean burritos and then potato soup chef'ed by WackyJacky; wore my brain out studying for the Renaissance exam Tuesday that I still need to study more for. Wowza.
So last Tuesday was when I discovered Brian sitting at his computer before our culture class, looking up shows to go see–the same thing I had been doing and spent some time on the weeks before. I told him about my list of shows I'd been writing up and found out he desperately wanted to see the Kaiser Chiefs and Black Kids as well. After class, we spent at least a good two hours trying to work out how we could get to one of their shows, unsuccessfully. But we decided not to give up and instead keep looking for ways to get to that one or find another place where our musical tastes cross and go to that show.
Most of my nights and free time these days is spent in some apartment or other up on the third floor of San Faustino. Usually, it's with Hailey, Jacky, John and Alex. Sometimes though, it's with Amy, Crystal, Fauna, Kim and their whole group. On Friday, after our (surprisingly short) trip to Pienza, Amy and Nicole were celebrating their "birthdays." Neither one was having a birthday here, so they decided to pick a random day, make some burgers and chili fries, and celebrate together. They had told me about it in Venezia, and Friday afternoon I got a call from Amy saying they were going to Ipercoop and asking if they should pick me up a veggie burger. But of course!
I picked up some of these chocolate cookies with little vanilla stars on them that are big here, probably because they taste absolutely incredible, and headed upstairs around 19:30. They were already cooking the chili for the chili cheese fries and putting up my veggie burgers so they didn't mix with the meat (thanks guys!!) i played some card game that, on the box, raved that it was big in the US. None of us had ever heard of it before. It involved French, speed limits, flat tires and traffic lights. All printed on a deck of cards. Go figure, but it was at least as fun as the Uno games where I kept having to draw 10 cards.
The food was so delicious. They had purchased some peppericino cheese for the burgers, which is the best kind I've had since I've been here. The chilifries were just spicy enough, just cheesy enough and not too fried. Spent the night just hanging out in their apartment with Amy, Nicole, Kelly, Brian, Chris, Rob, Crystal, Kayla and Carrie, having a good time.
Other highlights of the week are also based around food and cooking. Cooked dinner twice with Jacky, Hailey and the boys in their apartment; made grilled cheese at least twice, too. Did a pretty decent cheese grating and pepper/tomato chopping job, if I do say so myself. I hadn't thought I'd been craving Mexican food or American food, but during their respective meals, the burritos, potato soup (essentially mashed potatoes) and grilled cheese totally hit the spot.
Completely out of order, but I'm getting tired, the Pienza field trip was okay but not as much as I'd hoped for. We were there for about two hours. It was beautiful, but not more so than Viterbo or any other city I've seen. In fact, some of the streets looked like they were torn out of Viterbo and plopped down in a town two hours away. We took a tour of Piccolomini's palace, led by an entertaining tour guide who must've learned English listening to one of those handheld speakers that you punch numbers into at a museum and they tell you about a painting or an artifact.
Still, the view outside the palace beyond the garden was breathtaking. The chieza next door was pretty impressive too, but couldn't hold a candle to some of the others I've seen. After the tour, they told us we had an hour free for lunch. We walked around for a few minutes and then got some quick sandwiches, thinking we had to meet back because we'd be touring the rest of the town after we ate. Instead, we met back the palace only to be led back onto the buses and taken back to Viterbo.
Saturday consisted of the the first day I've been able to go for a run. I'm definitely out of shape compared to how far I was running at home, but it felt so good. It took me way longer than it should've to find some cheap running sneakers, but Ipercoop finally presented me with some dark brown, stylish kicks that supported my ankles well enough and cost five euro. You know what they say about when opportunity knocks, and now my legs are pleasantly sore from finally getting to run around this town yesterday and today.
Saturday was also a night of going out and celebrating Carnivale in Viterbo. All the bartenders at Blitz were dressed as Greek gods. Others came into the bar to buy drinks dressed as Disney characters and superheroes. At Lucio's, I stole some guy's hat to take a picture in it (don't worry, he got it back after) and we made a friend named Ned, a high school junior from Boston who was also studying in Viterbo. I marvel at anyone who's able to study abroad in high school, but I'm still much happier that I got to do it in college. I think I appreciate it more than I might've back then.
A very fun Saturday night, a very fun (or at least, eventful) most nights this week and weekend spent in Viterbo. To look forward to in the coming week: much stress tomorrow concerning my housing in Commons for next year and the big exam I have on Tuesday; and plans to plan out for Barcelona.
Ci vediamo, blog!
Sun 22 Feb 2009
Accomplishments this week: Hours of searching for a show to see in London (as of now still unsuccessful, but Brian and I refuse to give up!); planned a last-minute trip to Barcelona for this coming weekend with Hailey; found out my roommates are actually going to Barcelona that same weekend, as are a few other kids; grated cheese, chopped peppers and tomatoes for fantastic black bean burritos and then potato soup chef'ed by WackyJacky; wore my brain out studying for the Renaissance exam Tuesday that I still need to study more for. Wowza.
So last Tuesday was when I discovered Brian sitting at his computer before our culture class, looking up shows to go see–the same thing I had been doing and spent some time on the weeks before. I told him about my list of shows I'd been writing up and found out he desperately wanted to see the Kaiser Chiefs and Black Kids as well. After class, we spent at least a good two hours trying to work out how we could get to one of their shows, unsuccessfully. But we decided not to give up and instead keep looking for ways to get to that one or find another place where our musical tastes cross and go to that show.
Most of my nights and free time these days is spent in some apartment or other up on the third floor of San Faustino. Usually, it's with Hailey, Jacky, John and Alex. Sometimes though, it's with Amy, Crystal, Fauna, Kim and their whole group. On Friday, after our (surprisingly short) trip to Pienza, Amy and Nicole were celebrating their "birthdays." Neither one was having a birthday here, so they decided to pick a random day, make some burgers and chili fries, and celebrate together. They had told me about it in Venezia, and Friday afternoon I got a call from Amy saying they were going to Ipercoop and asking if they should pick me up a veggie burger. But of course!
I picked up some of these chocolate cookies with little vanilla stars on them that are big here, probably because they taste absolutely incredible, and headed upstairs around 19:30. They were already cooking the chili for the chili cheese fries and putting up my veggie burgers so they didn't mix with the meat (thanks guys!!) i played some card game that, on the box, raved that it was big in the US. None of us had ever heard of it before. It involved French, speed limits, flat tires and traffic lights. All printed on a deck of cards. Go figure, but it was at least as fun as the Uno games where I kept having to draw 10 cards.
The food was so delicious. They had purchased some peppericino cheese for the burgers, which is the best kind I've had since I've been here. The chilifries were just spicy enough, just cheesy enough and not too fried. Spent the night just hanging out in their apartment with Amy, Nicole, Kelly, Brian, Chris, Rob, Crystal, Kayla and Carrie, having a good time.
Other highlights of the week are also based around food and cooking. Cooked dinner twice with Jacky, Hailey and the boys in their apartment; made grilled cheese at least twice, too. Did a pretty decent cheese grating and pepper/tomato chopping job, if I do say so myself. I hadn't thought I'd been craving Mexican food or American food, but during their respective meals, the burritos, potato soup (essentially mashed potatoes) and grilled cheese totally hit the spot.
Completely out of order, but I'm getting tired, the Pienza field trip was okay but not as much as I'd hoped for. We were there for about two hours. It was beautiful, but not more so than Viterbo or any other city I've seen. In fact, some of the streets looked like they were torn out of Viterbo and plopped down in a town two hours away. We took a tour of Piccolomini's palace, led by an entertaining tour guide who must've learned English listening to one of those handheld speakers that you punch numbers into at a museum and they tell you about a painting or an artifact.
Still, the view outside the palace beyond the garden was breathtaking. The chieza next door was pretty impressive too, but couldn't hold a candle to some of the others I've seen. After the tour, they told us we had an hour free for lunch. We walked around for a few minutes and then got some quick sandwiches, thinking we had to meet back because we'd be touring the rest of the town after we ate. Instead, we met back the palace only to be led back onto the buses and taken back to Viterbo.
Saturday consisted of the the first day I've been able to go for a run. I'm definitely out of shape compared to how far I was running at home, but it felt so good. It took me way longer than it should've to find some cheap running sneakers, but Ipercoop finally presented me with some dark brown, stylish kicks that supported my ankles well enough and cost five euro. You know what they say about when opportunity knocks, and now my legs are pleasantly sore from finally getting to run around this town yesterday and today.
Saturday was also a night of going out and celebrating Carnivale in Viterbo. All the bartenders at Blitz were dressed as Greek gods. Others came into the bar to buy drinks dressed as Disney characters and superheroes. At Lucio's, I stole some guy's hat to take a picture in it (don't worry, he got it back after) and we made a friend named Ned, a high school junior from Boston who was also studying in Viterbo. I marvel at anyone who's able to study abroad in high school, but I'm still much happier that I got to do it in college. I think I appreciate it more than I might've back then.
A very fun Saturday night, a very fun (or at least, eventful) most nights this week and weekend spent in Viterbo. To look forward to in the coming week: much stress tomorrow concerning my housing in Commons for next year and the big exam I have on Tuesday; and plans to plan out for Barcelona.
Ci vediamo, blog!
"Amanda's Weekend in Venice" by Rod Sterling: Fin
Sun 22 Feb 2009
******Saturday*******
When I got back to the hostel Friday night, the Arizona girls were already asleep. By the time I got up in the morning, they were gone. So I changed out of my "I came. I saw. I crawled" shirt that I got for free from prior Roma weekend festivities, called up Amy and that group, and wound my way back towards San Marco to meet them.
Venezia on a Carnivale day is not Venezia at 5 a.m. the day before a Carnivale day. Every awkward, hidden side street we had quietly and serenely wound our way through the day before was sardine-packed with people. I couldn't even tell I was on a bridge as I crossed the Ponte Rialto; it looked like just another packed street lined with tiny shops filled with vendors and Murano glass jewelry. I watched the price tags in the store windows roll up and down like a wave, depending how close they were to populated areas and how high a cost they figured they could get away with. It was sunny, warm and gorgeous out, but it was hardly the Venezia I fell in love with the morning before. The island certainly has it's beauty, but Fiorenze quickly regained it's position as my number one city so far.
I couldn't stand the crowds everywhere. It took five minutes to walk through a street that took me half the time the day before. I was looking forward to visiting Murano, if for nothing else than a hope to get away from the ridiculous masses.
San Marco was no better. The ground of the piazza was no longer visible, instead covered with thousands of sneaker-footed tourists. The line to get inside the basilica must've been at least a quarter-mile long, no joke. And yet, the line at the tourist office to buy a ticket for the water taxi, that took me at least 20 minutes the day before, took less than five today. Go figure.
The ride to Murano on the water was beautiful, but the boat was just as packed as the land had been. Our legs, that had adjusted to the sea surprisingly quickly, struggled to learn the land again as we had them follow a mass of people we hoped would lead us to a glass-making demonstration. And exactly that they did.
We figured we'd just follow the large group that seemed to be headed down the road to the right of the water bus and found ourselves herded into a small room with risers on one side and a giant kiln roped off on the other. I had just pictured the glass-making demo as everyone taking their turn looking through a window as some guys on the other side formed glass necklaces and plates. Instead, we got a real five-minute tour. One Italiano lectured and explained as another, the "master," formed a vase and then a horse from a lump of 600-degree Fahrenheit glass. It actually was truly masterful and really impressive, especially done right in front of us. Then, of course, we were herded into the rooms of the purchasable glass, with tons of "special Carnivale sales."
Rob was the only one to buy glass in Murano–more or less the same things were available for way cheaper in Venezia–but I came pretty close to purchasing a few glass jewelry pieces that were unlike what I'd seen on the island. Instead, we enjoyed the sun and warmth that had become pretty foreign to Viterbo, bought some panini, and had ourselves a picnic-y lunch with our legs dangling over the water.
Back in Venezia, we did our shopping from the street vendors next to the Grand Canal by San Marco. I broke down and paid 10 euro for a painting, but I still love the one I got and don't regret it so I'd say it was worth it. Then the rest went back to their rented apartment to cook some dinner and I met up with Hana, who had stayed in Venezia while the group she had been with went over to Murano to take a tour of the glass-making as well.
At this point, as men on stilts wearing giant silver costumes, walking through the crowd to sounds of squawking and performing a dinosaur parade (and nearly knocking people over if they didn't get out of the way fast enough, myself included), I was reminded by Alex Simone that it was Valentine's Day. Through being in Venezia and all the crazyness of opening celebrations for Carnivale, I had completely forgotten. In true girl fashion, Hana and I decided to be eachothers Valentines and proceeded to shell out of big bucks and buy two scoops of gelato for two euro each. Totally worth it.
After we walked around for a bit, Hana went to meet up with the others back from Murano for dinner and I headed back to the hostel to change for the night. In the end, it's kind of a shame that I did–I kept my sweatshirt on basically the whole time and my pirate-y. gypsy-y Carnivale shirt was pretty much constantly covered up anyway. Still, getting ready is half the fun.
I returned back to the room to find my roommates from Viterbo just returning as well. They had been down by San Marco, decided not enough was going on, and figured they'd turn in for the night. I tried to encourage them to head out a bit later since it was still pretty early, but I guess they were pretty decked out from the day. I headed out, met with Simone, Derek, Nick, Aaron and Katia for some dinner that took quite longer than it should've, and by about the 22.5th hour, we headed towards San Marco.
We must've taken a long way around, because we picked up Alex and Coreen on the way and ended up passing Santa Margarita, which isn't really in the vicinity of on the way to San Marco from where we'd come from. We stopped for a beer and a toast at the big stand in the middle of the piazza and ventured onwards. By the time we got to San Marco there were few people and even less of a celebration. But our group was still there, all masked, dressed and confettied, and I had my own can of Silly String I'd picked up at Ipercoop before we left. We later found out Carnivale didn't technically start until noon on Sunday, so that explained the lack of celebration and crazyness we all expected. But it was still a Saturday night, confetti was everywhere, it was Venezia! Onwards we went, back towards Santa Margarita, searching for, as Simone put it, "Dov'e woo-woo?!"
Though it lacked the insanity and mystery we all hoped for from Carnivale, it was still an excellent night out. Kally and Seul had joined up with the group who had spun fire in San Marco (a demonstration that I had missed, but wanted to see). The group had made their way to Santa Margarita, towards a new group to spin fire for. But they weren't the only ones who did it–Kally had some experience with it herself and took her turn spinning fire around. Mad impressive, and the makings for some pretty good photos.
Though we didn't really meet any Italians or really anyone outside our USAC group that night, it was still an excellent night made even better by glittery masks. Sunday was uneventful, consisting mostly of waiting for trains and then sleeping on them on the way back to Viterbo, content with a good Carnivale weekend.
******Saturday*******
When I got back to the hostel Friday night, the Arizona girls were already asleep. By the time I got up in the morning, they were gone. So I changed out of my "I came. I saw. I crawled" shirt that I got for free from prior Roma weekend festivities, called up Amy and that group, and wound my way back towards San Marco to meet them.
Venezia on a Carnivale day is not Venezia at 5 a.m. the day before a Carnivale day. Every awkward, hidden side street we had quietly and serenely wound our way through the day before was sardine-packed with people. I couldn't even tell I was on a bridge as I crossed the Ponte Rialto; it looked like just another packed street lined with tiny shops filled with vendors and Murano glass jewelry. I watched the price tags in the store windows roll up and down like a wave, depending how close they were to populated areas and how high a cost they figured they could get away with. It was sunny, warm and gorgeous out, but it was hardly the Venezia I fell in love with the morning before. The island certainly has it's beauty, but Fiorenze quickly regained it's position as my number one city so far.
I couldn't stand the crowds everywhere. It took five minutes to walk through a street that took me half the time the day before. I was looking forward to visiting Murano, if for nothing else than a hope to get away from the ridiculous masses.
San Marco was no better. The ground of the piazza was no longer visible, instead covered with thousands of sneaker-footed tourists. The line to get inside the basilica must've been at least a quarter-mile long, no joke. And yet, the line at the tourist office to buy a ticket for the water taxi, that took me at least 20 minutes the day before, took less than five today. Go figure.
The ride to Murano on the water was beautiful, but the boat was just as packed as the land had been. Our legs, that had adjusted to the sea surprisingly quickly, struggled to learn the land again as we had them follow a mass of people we hoped would lead us to a glass-making demonstration. And exactly that they did.
We figured we'd just follow the large group that seemed to be headed down the road to the right of the water bus and found ourselves herded into a small room with risers on one side and a giant kiln roped off on the other. I had just pictured the glass-making demo as everyone taking their turn looking through a window as some guys on the other side formed glass necklaces and plates. Instead, we got a real five-minute tour. One Italiano lectured and explained as another, the "master," formed a vase and then a horse from a lump of 600-degree Fahrenheit glass. It actually was truly masterful and really impressive, especially done right in front of us. Then, of course, we were herded into the rooms of the purchasable glass, with tons of "special Carnivale sales."
Rob was the only one to buy glass in Murano–more or less the same things were available for way cheaper in Venezia–but I came pretty close to purchasing a few glass jewelry pieces that were unlike what I'd seen on the island. Instead, we enjoyed the sun and warmth that had become pretty foreign to Viterbo, bought some panini, and had ourselves a picnic-y lunch with our legs dangling over the water.
Back in Venezia, we did our shopping from the street vendors next to the Grand Canal by San Marco. I broke down and paid 10 euro for a painting, but I still love the one I got and don't regret it so I'd say it was worth it. Then the rest went back to their rented apartment to cook some dinner and I met up with Hana, who had stayed in Venezia while the group she had been with went over to Murano to take a tour of the glass-making as well.
At this point, as men on stilts wearing giant silver costumes, walking through the crowd to sounds of squawking and performing a dinosaur parade (and nearly knocking people over if they didn't get out of the way fast enough, myself included), I was reminded by Alex Simone that it was Valentine's Day. Through being in Venezia and all the crazyness of opening celebrations for Carnivale, I had completely forgotten. In true girl fashion, Hana and I decided to be eachothers Valentines and proceeded to shell out of big bucks and buy two scoops of gelato for two euro each. Totally worth it.
After we walked around for a bit, Hana went to meet up with the others back from Murano for dinner and I headed back to the hostel to change for the night. In the end, it's kind of a shame that I did–I kept my sweatshirt on basically the whole time and my pirate-y. gypsy-y Carnivale shirt was pretty much constantly covered up anyway. Still, getting ready is half the fun.
I returned back to the room to find my roommates from Viterbo just returning as well. They had been down by San Marco, decided not enough was going on, and figured they'd turn in for the night. I tried to encourage them to head out a bit later since it was still pretty early, but I guess they were pretty decked out from the day. I headed out, met with Simone, Derek, Nick, Aaron and Katia for some dinner that took quite longer than it should've, and by about the 22.5th hour, we headed towards San Marco.
We must've taken a long way around, because we picked up Alex and Coreen on the way and ended up passing Santa Margarita, which isn't really in the vicinity of on the way to San Marco from where we'd come from. We stopped for a beer and a toast at the big stand in the middle of the piazza and ventured onwards. By the time we got to San Marco there were few people and even less of a celebration. But our group was still there, all masked, dressed and confettied, and I had my own can of Silly String I'd picked up at Ipercoop before we left. We later found out Carnivale didn't technically start until noon on Sunday, so that explained the lack of celebration and crazyness we all expected. But it was still a Saturday night, confetti was everywhere, it was Venezia! Onwards we went, back towards Santa Margarita, searching for, as Simone put it, "Dov'e woo-woo?!"
Though it lacked the insanity and mystery we all hoped for from Carnivale, it was still an excellent night out. Kally and Seul had joined up with the group who had spun fire in San Marco (a demonstration that I had missed, but wanted to see). The group had made their way to Santa Margarita, towards a new group to spin fire for. But they weren't the only ones who did it–Kally had some experience with it herself and took her turn spinning fire around. Mad impressive, and the makings for some pretty good photos.
Though we didn't really meet any Italians or really anyone outside our USAC group that night, it was still an excellent night made even better by glittery masks. Sunday was uneventful, consisting mostly of waiting for trains and then sleeping on them on the way back to Viterbo, content with a good Carnivale weekend.
"Amanda's Weekend in Venice" by Rod Sterling: Part III of ?
Sun 22 Feb 2009
********Friday afternoon/night*******
In a very necessary fashion, we napped. Though we had gone separate ways after we found San Marco, all of us were in some dire need of sleep after a restless train ride and walking around since 5 a.m. in the Twilight Zone. The only problem with our room was that with the windows on the balcony closed, it was nearly pitch black no matter what the time of day was. One of the girls set her alarm for about two hours after we slept. I felt like I could sleep at least another eight when it went off, but I knew if I didn't get up then, I never would.
I quietly snuck out of the room while the other girls (I was in a room with the ones from Arizona) continued their nap. I wanted to see the Jewish ghetto while I was here, and with tomorrow being Saturday and us leaving around 11 a.m. Sunday, Friday before sundown was my only chance to do it.
It was a little after 16:00 when I left the apartment to walk over to the ghetto. The sun was still out, but much lower in the still cloudless sky and getting ready to set. I checked the map before I left, and that's it–much like the positive side of the Twilight Zone for the rest of the weekend, every time I walked somewhere solo I somehow found my way quite speedily, with little to no map-aid, and no (that I know of) wrong turns.
There wasn't much in the ghetto novo. A kosher restaurant with a good looking menu had a prime location right near the entrance. The big Campo de Ghetto Novo was filled with young children playing and their parents chatting on the side, which was simple and quaint to watch for a bit. A door near the synagogue had a mezuzah on it, leading me to believe it was the apartment of some Jewish family. And I didn't get to see the part that I really wanted, which was inside the synagogue.
By the time I got to it, people were already starting to arrive for Friday night services. Thinking back now, maybe I could've gone in and stayed for it, but at the time I felt too underdressed in my jeans and sweatshirt and too awkward to enter.
I took my time getting back to my apartment, enjoying the bustling island preparing for pre-Carnivale celebrations. I got back in through four sets of keys, enjoyed the heated floor, changed, and went to meet Amy, Chris, Nicole, Kelly and Rob for a sushi place supposedly located near Accademia.
As I mentioned, getting anywhere was, for some reason, cake for me. To bigger places like Accademia, randomly placed and often hidden signs on some streets helped direct me.
It was probably about 45 minutes after I got to the bridge near Accademia when the rest of them arrived. Uselessly, I had power-walked there, thinking it would be the other way around. Who knows why my sense of direction became super keen in Venice, but somehow it worked.
We walked a couple unsuccessful blocks looking for the sushi place when Amy took out her Blackberry to Google it. The search engine gave us a phone number, an address halfway across the island and a menu that said dinner for two cost 80 euro. So we scrapped that plan, picked a direction and walked in it. The Blackberry told us tales of supposed cheap restaurants, but in Venezia, especially during Carnivale, that's more of a yeah, right. But, thanks to Rob's growling stomach, we eagle-eyed a restaurant set a bit further back in a dead end street with decent prices. And, as we soon ate and discovered, more than decent food and a pretty awesome vino rosso della casa.
The rest were pretty tired after dinner though, so we went our separate ways. I hoped whatever sense of direction that somehow appeared within my being would guide me back to the hostel the same way it had guided me to Accademia. Well, it worked on some level–I bumped right into Aaron on the way back and found myself in the middle of Santa Margarita, where pretty much everyone else was meeting up that night.
Nick and Derek were already at a table outside Orange, a bar filled with foreigners spending the weekend at Carnivale. Out of nowhere appeared, in no particular order, just about everyone else from Viterbo. We spent the night hopping around the bars in Santa Margarita, enjoying the night of going out pre-Carnivale festivities.
********Friday afternoon/night*******
In a very necessary fashion, we napped. Though we had gone separate ways after we found San Marco, all of us were in some dire need of sleep after a restless train ride and walking around since 5 a.m. in the Twilight Zone. The only problem with our room was that with the windows on the balcony closed, it was nearly pitch black no matter what the time of day was. One of the girls set her alarm for about two hours after we slept. I felt like I could sleep at least another eight when it went off, but I knew if I didn't get up then, I never would.
I quietly snuck out of the room while the other girls (I was in a room with the ones from Arizona) continued their nap. I wanted to see the Jewish ghetto while I was here, and with tomorrow being Saturday and us leaving around 11 a.m. Sunday, Friday before sundown was my only chance to do it.
It was a little after 16:00 when I left the apartment to walk over to the ghetto. The sun was still out, but much lower in the still cloudless sky and getting ready to set. I checked the map before I left, and that's it–much like the positive side of the Twilight Zone for the rest of the weekend, every time I walked somewhere solo I somehow found my way quite speedily, with little to no map-aid, and no (that I know of) wrong turns.
There wasn't much in the ghetto novo. A kosher restaurant with a good looking menu had a prime location right near the entrance. The big Campo de Ghetto Novo was filled with young children playing and their parents chatting on the side, which was simple and quaint to watch for a bit. A door near the synagogue had a mezuzah on it, leading me to believe it was the apartment of some Jewish family. And I didn't get to see the part that I really wanted, which was inside the synagogue.
By the time I got to it, people were already starting to arrive for Friday night services. Thinking back now, maybe I could've gone in and stayed for it, but at the time I felt too underdressed in my jeans and sweatshirt and too awkward to enter.
I took my time getting back to my apartment, enjoying the bustling island preparing for pre-Carnivale celebrations. I got back in through four sets of keys, enjoyed the heated floor, changed, and went to meet Amy, Chris, Nicole, Kelly and Rob for a sushi place supposedly located near Accademia.
As I mentioned, getting anywhere was, for some reason, cake for me. To bigger places like Accademia, randomly placed and often hidden signs on some streets helped direct me.
It was probably about 45 minutes after I got to the bridge near Accademia when the rest of them arrived. Uselessly, I had power-walked there, thinking it would be the other way around. Who knows why my sense of direction became super keen in Venice, but somehow it worked.
We walked a couple unsuccessful blocks looking for the sushi place when Amy took out her Blackberry to Google it. The search engine gave us a phone number, an address halfway across the island and a menu that said dinner for two cost 80 euro. So we scrapped that plan, picked a direction and walked in it. The Blackberry told us tales of supposed cheap restaurants, but in Venezia, especially during Carnivale, that's more of a yeah, right. But, thanks to Rob's growling stomach, we eagle-eyed a restaurant set a bit further back in a dead end street with decent prices. And, as we soon ate and discovered, more than decent food and a pretty awesome vino rosso della casa.
The rest were pretty tired after dinner though, so we went our separate ways. I hoped whatever sense of direction that somehow appeared within my being would guide me back to the hostel the same way it had guided me to Accademia. Well, it worked on some level–I bumped right into Aaron on the way back and found myself in the middle of Santa Margarita, where pretty much everyone else was meeting up that night.
Nick and Derek were already at a table outside Orange, a bar filled with foreigners spending the weekend at Carnivale. Out of nowhere appeared, in no particular order, just about everyone else from Viterbo. We spent the night hopping around the bars in Santa Margarita, enjoying the night of going out pre-Carnivale festivities.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
"Amanda's Weekend in Venice" by Rod Sterling: Part II of ?
Wed 18 Feb 2009
*****Friday: continued*******
Walking through Venezia at 6 a.m. was pretty surreal. When we figured out the business with the Twilight Zone Train (no one understood exactly what went down, but the kids stuck at Mestre found a connecting train that got them to the island from the mainland about 20 minutes later), our giant mass began to head through the streets of Venezia towards the other side of the island and San Marco. Why not?
On one of the windy canal-lined streets, in the dark, an intense aroma of fresh baked bread surrounded us. Chris, Amy and I slowed when we smelled it, but the others kept their pace. Could this be a middle-of-the-night bread-baking facility, with insanely delicious pane much like we find at 3 a.m. in Viterbo? Well, we were hungry, it was around 6 a.m. on an island tourist city that we knew nearly nothing about, so we figured, why not knock on the door and see if they'll sell us some bread?
The others were a bit ahead, but we knocked. A woman in a bob and an apron answered.
"Posso comprare pane?" Chris asked.
"Si si!" the woman replied.
A loaf of their version of pane bianca was 40 cents. It was hard on the outside–we're pretty sure we got older bread and not the ones we were smelling–but soft, fresh and baked with salt on the inside. And since the bread in Viterbo is almost 100% not made with salt, this was a welcome change. And a delicious breakfast.
After walking for quite some time, we made it to the Ponte Rialto. When I got back to this bridge on Saturday, I could barely believe it was the same place. On Friday, less than an hour before sunrise, we were the only souls on the entire massive bridge. All the stores were shut with their gates pulled down, made to look as though they didn't even exist there. The photos we shot of the view from the bridge (now up on Flickr!) were of a silent, peaceful, cloudless morning. The only people moving down below were quiet, not quite yet awake and on their ways to work.
After a pause on the bridge to take in the scenery and our bearings, we continued towards San Marco. It must have been less than 10 minutes before we arrived there, and it was gorgeous. The sun was just starting to rise and it's light was casting long shadows on certain parts of the building while illuminating others. The gold and blues built into the architecture were glowing from the sunlight, and a few pink street lamps that were shut off for the daytime appeared illuminated. We photographed San Marco, the piazza, the Doge palace. But the true sight was when we walked to the edge of the street where the Grand Canal started.
The sky had been quite light by this point, so I assumed the sun had already risen a decent amount. But as we turned the corner by the canal, we saw that yellow orb that you shouldn't look directly into peeking just over the edge of the horizon. It was fantastic. In that moment, Venezia became my favorite city. I love sunrises more than sunsets; they just seem more special, more promising. In that moment, I wanted to hug everyone. I was so happy to be in Venezia and my day was pretty much complete at that point.
We spent quite a few hours in that area by the canal after that. Chris, Amy, Nicole, Kelly and I found a table near a cafe on the canal, intermittently snoozing and basking in the sun and cloudless sky until the San Marco basilica opened at 9:45 a.m. It was a good thing we had been there to see it when we did, because even before 10 a.m. a decent sized line had already formed in front of it. Had we gone back on Saturday, with the line I saw then that must have been at least a quarter mile long, no joke, there's no way we would've gotten inside.
We didn't pay the euros to go upstairs, but the free view from looking on the ground floor was astonishing. The entire ceiling and much of the walls are covered in a mostly golf mosaic filled with biblical scenes and figures. We walked through, following the path created by the roped-off sections, with our heads tilted upwards the entire time, gazing with awe. I think I've said this about all the big churches I've been in so far, but it was absolutely incredible.
We spent a bit after that walking by some of the stands selling souvenirs by the canal and in the piazza. Most of the offerings were masks (for much cheaper than I had bought mine in Roma, of course) and lots of jewelry and other art made from Murano glass. On Saturday I finally broke down and bought a painting near the Grand Canal of San Marco for 10 euro, but it was worth it.
Around noon I met up with Kayla, Karrie and the other girls I was staying with to take the water bus back to the other side of the island and check into our hostel. Let's just sum up this part as a huge disappointment. Our "bed and breakfast" that a communication breakdown had lead me to believe was 25 euro a night turned out to be a 40 euro a night set of rooms within an apartment in a different location from where we checked in, shared with other people we didn't know and I saw only once, and "breakfast" was a basket full of cracker-bread, honey, the tiny containers of peach jam set on the table for you at IHOP, and a couple bags of tea and instant coffee. Suffice it to say I wasn't thrilled and I took most of the offerings back to Viterbo with me, mostly out of spite. Oh, and the bathroom for the room I was staying in was across the hall and required a separate key.
*****Friday: continued*******
Walking through Venezia at 6 a.m. was pretty surreal. When we figured out the business with the Twilight Zone Train (no one understood exactly what went down, but the kids stuck at Mestre found a connecting train that got them to the island from the mainland about 20 minutes later), our giant mass began to head through the streets of Venezia towards the other side of the island and San Marco. Why not?
On one of the windy canal-lined streets, in the dark, an intense aroma of fresh baked bread surrounded us. Chris, Amy and I slowed when we smelled it, but the others kept their pace. Could this be a middle-of-the-night bread-baking facility, with insanely delicious pane much like we find at 3 a.m. in Viterbo? Well, we were hungry, it was around 6 a.m. on an island tourist city that we knew nearly nothing about, so we figured, why not knock on the door and see if they'll sell us some bread?
The others were a bit ahead, but we knocked. A woman in a bob and an apron answered.
"Posso comprare pane?" Chris asked.
"Si si!" the woman replied.
A loaf of their version of pane bianca was 40 cents. It was hard on the outside–we're pretty sure we got older bread and not the ones we were smelling–but soft, fresh and baked with salt on the inside. And since the bread in Viterbo is almost 100% not made with salt, this was a welcome change. And a delicious breakfast.
After walking for quite some time, we made it to the Ponte Rialto. When I got back to this bridge on Saturday, I could barely believe it was the same place. On Friday, less than an hour before sunrise, we were the only souls on the entire massive bridge. All the stores were shut with their gates pulled down, made to look as though they didn't even exist there. The photos we shot of the view from the bridge (now up on Flickr!) were of a silent, peaceful, cloudless morning. The only people moving down below were quiet, not quite yet awake and on their ways to work.
After a pause on the bridge to take in the scenery and our bearings, we continued towards San Marco. It must have been less than 10 minutes before we arrived there, and it was gorgeous. The sun was just starting to rise and it's light was casting long shadows on certain parts of the building while illuminating others. The gold and blues built into the architecture were glowing from the sunlight, and a few pink street lamps that were shut off for the daytime appeared illuminated. We photographed San Marco, the piazza, the Doge palace. But the true sight was when we walked to the edge of the street where the Grand Canal started.
The sky had been quite light by this point, so I assumed the sun had already risen a decent amount. But as we turned the corner by the canal, we saw that yellow orb that you shouldn't look directly into peeking just over the edge of the horizon. It was fantastic. In that moment, Venezia became my favorite city. I love sunrises more than sunsets; they just seem more special, more promising. In that moment, I wanted to hug everyone. I was so happy to be in Venezia and my day was pretty much complete at that point.
We spent quite a few hours in that area by the canal after that. Chris, Amy, Nicole, Kelly and I found a table near a cafe on the canal, intermittently snoozing and basking in the sun and cloudless sky until the San Marco basilica opened at 9:45 a.m. It was a good thing we had been there to see it when we did, because even before 10 a.m. a decent sized line had already formed in front of it. Had we gone back on Saturday, with the line I saw then that must have been at least a quarter mile long, no joke, there's no way we would've gotten inside.
We didn't pay the euros to go upstairs, but the free view from looking on the ground floor was astonishing. The entire ceiling and much of the walls are covered in a mostly golf mosaic filled with biblical scenes and figures. We walked through, following the path created by the roped-off sections, with our heads tilted upwards the entire time, gazing with awe. I think I've said this about all the big churches I've been in so far, but it was absolutely incredible.
We spent a bit after that walking by some of the stands selling souvenirs by the canal and in the piazza. Most of the offerings were masks (for much cheaper than I had bought mine in Roma, of course) and lots of jewelry and other art made from Murano glass. On Saturday I finally broke down and bought a painting near the Grand Canal of San Marco for 10 euro, but it was worth it.
Around noon I met up with Kayla, Karrie and the other girls I was staying with to take the water bus back to the other side of the island and check into our hostel. Let's just sum up this part as a huge disappointment. Our "bed and breakfast" that a communication breakdown had lead me to believe was 25 euro a night turned out to be a 40 euro a night set of rooms within an apartment in a different location from where we checked in, shared with other people we didn't know and I saw only once, and "breakfast" was a basket full of cracker-bread, honey, the tiny containers of peach jam set on the table for you at IHOP, and a couple bags of tea and instant coffee. Suffice it to say I wasn't thrilled and I took most of the offerings back to Viterbo with me, mostly out of spite. Oh, and the bathroom for the room I was staying in was across the hall and required a separate key.
"Amanda's Weekend in Venice" by Rod Sterling
This has taken forever to write up and post, and it's not even done yet. As you'll gather from the title of this blog, I had a weekend (and a following Monday) straight out of the Twilight Zone, to it's taken some time to get up on the internetz.
When we got back from Venice, we came home to a freezing apartment. What must've happened was the pipes froze, because about five minutes after we turned on the heat that had been shut off for the weekend, the water heater started pouring water out of it. And I'm not talking a few drips–I'm saying it might as well have been the faucet in our kitchen sink, because it was giving our closet and kitchen a pretty epic one-inch flood.
So we went the next days without heat. I slept the first night wishing for one of those mummy sleeping bags while trying my darndest to huddle under the thin blankets on my bed. I slept the next night on the couch upstairs from the hospitality of the girls and guys living in that haunted apartment. But that ghost is another story.
So anyway, it's not nearly finished yet and it's long and crazy as anything, but here's part I of my Twilight Zone weekend:
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sun 15 Feb 2009
This weekend of my study abroad experience I spent in the Twilight Zone. You might've heard to it referred to as Venezia, Venice and/or Carnivale.
It only just dawned on me now that perhaps Friday was so freaky because it was Friday the 13th. That's not supposed to be s superstitiously dangerous day here in Italy, but my weekend begs to differ.
*********Thursday/Friday*********
Piu o meno, I can't tell you where these days started and ended. They're basically moshed together because of the chronology and Twilight Zoneyness.
We left on the first train around 19:00. Simple enough. What was supposed to be an hour and a half layover at the first stop became a five minute one that resulted in me downing my chioccolato caldo and burned tastebuds that still remain in my mouth.
Since layover no. 1 was so short, layover no. 2 lasted a little over three hours before we could catch the sleeper train that would bring us to Venezia. This time was spent finding a bathroom, buying a slice of pizza because we felt bad for using the pizzeria's bagno, at least two hours of card games at the train station, and an unnecessarily long amount of waiting outside in bitter cold for the train. Sounds normal enough. But then, that's how all episodes of the Twilight Zone start, no?
We were split up on the third and last train in sleeper cabins that were nearly entirely too dark to see and filled with people already sleeping. We rushed onto the train car nearest to where we waited, impatient to get out of the cold. The first cabin I see has seat number 121, the number listed on my ticket. That was lucky, I thought, to end up right in front of my seat. I opened the cabin door. Inside were six seats, three filled with three heads of sleeping people and the other three filled with six feet of said sleeping people. Great, I now thought, my cabin is completely full. All the other ones in the car were in the same state. I later discovered that the seat numbers are the same in all the cars and that I was in the wrong car. In fact, my seat was a few cars down in a cabin with Kayla, Karrie and an empty seat where my butt should've been.
Luckily, an older italiano with graying hair and a baseball cap noticed I was standing in between cars looking for a place to sit and I conveyed to him in fractured Italian that my seat had a tush in it. He told me to come with him and found us both seats in a mostly empty car. He also put my giant travel backpack above on the luggage rack for me. I probably said grazie about a thousand times, but I doubt he knew how thankful I really was to him for helping me so I wasn't standing in the aisle of a train car all night.
The cabin we entered had two people in it. It was dark, but I looked over at the one two seats to my right. I had to do a double-take–I thought the kid, who looked about college-age and had very short, very dark hair, was the Alex that lives above me in San Faustino. I was about to say hi and I realized it couldn't be him because I had seen him in a full cabin in the last car I'd been in. I didn't say two words to the kid, but I couldn't believe I was sitting almost next to his Italian evil twin.
The other uomo in the train car, another middle-aged man with dark hair and the beginnings of a potbelly, I assumed was Twilight Zone Alex's dad and they were traveling together. That idea went out the window when Twilight Zone Alex left the train around 04:30, a few stops after the man who had helped me find the seat. I started talking to this last man, who I had assumed was Italian. It was dark, so I had no way to know until he told me that he was from Bangladesh and working in Italy sending money back to his family. We had a small conversation in Italian/English where I was just grateful to practice some foreign language conversational skills. Then Twilight Zone Bangladesh man asked if he could take a photo with me when I told him I was from New York. I was glad my stop was a few after that so I could get out of Twilight Zone Train.
I figured my Twilight Zone night would end right there, at 05:26 in cold, dark train station of Venezia. A whole horde of USAC kids had taken the same trains this night and we probably looked like a tour group as we walked through the streets of Venezia that night to the few people awake and around to see us in one huge group. But as we sluggishly got off the train after three hours or less of broken sleep, I noticed Amy, Chris, Nicole and Kelly hadn't gotten off the train. It seemed to be sitting in the station for a few minutes, but Kayla told us the train didn't end in Venezia but went to a bunch more stops that I think ended out of the country. So I grabbed my phone out of my bag to call her and tell her to get off the train. The next 10 minutes or so went something like this:
I call Amy.
AG (me): Hey, this is our stop! You guys have to get off the train because after this the train goes on to a bunch of other places NOT in Venice.
AA (Amy): Are you sure? The guy here said there's one more stop in Venice before we have to get off.
AG (to Kayla): Are you sure this is the last stop in Venice?
Kayla: Yes.
AG (to AA): Yeah, this is our stop.
AA: Okay, if you're sure we'll get off the train.
AG: Sounds good, see you guys in a minute.
*A couple minutes later my phone rings*
AG: Hey, where are you guys? I don't see you on the platform.
AA: Yeah I don't see you either. Do you see the McDonald's?
AG: Noo... maybe you're on the other side of the platform?
Kayla: You can't get off the train on the other side of the platform.
AA: Yeah, that's probably it. We'll meet you at the McDonald's.
I hang up the phone, enter the station, and come out on the other side of the train. I see no McDonald's. A few minutes later my phone rings again:
AA: Hey, We're at the McDonald's. Where are you guys?
AG: I don't see any McDonald's. I don't think there's one at this station...
AA: We're in it right now though...
This goes on for a while. The kids at the McDonald's had climbed onto the same train as us; I had seen it happen and searched for seats in the same cars as them. Yet somehow, we figured out. The train car they were on was stopped at the Venezia Mestre station at the same time that the train the rest of us were on was stopped at the Venezia Santa Lucia station. Meaning either the train somehow split into two separate trains with such little noise or movement that no one had heard or felt it happen–or it had somehow entered another dimension. Considering the likeliness of the physical possibility of the former, I'm more inclined to believe the latter. I spent much of the rest of this weekend pretty wigged out by this idea.
When we got back from Venice, we came home to a freezing apartment. What must've happened was the pipes froze, because about five minutes after we turned on the heat that had been shut off for the weekend, the water heater started pouring water out of it. And I'm not talking a few drips–I'm saying it might as well have been the faucet in our kitchen sink, because it was giving our closet and kitchen a pretty epic one-inch flood.
So we went the next days without heat. I slept the first night wishing for one of those mummy sleeping bags while trying my darndest to huddle under the thin blankets on my bed. I slept the next night on the couch upstairs from the hospitality of the girls and guys living in that haunted apartment. But that ghost is another story.
So anyway, it's not nearly finished yet and it's long and crazy as anything, but here's part I of my Twilight Zone weekend:
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sun 15 Feb 2009
This weekend of my study abroad experience I spent in the Twilight Zone. You might've heard to it referred to as Venezia, Venice and/or Carnivale.
It only just dawned on me now that perhaps Friday was so freaky because it was Friday the 13th. That's not supposed to be s superstitiously dangerous day here in Italy, but my weekend begs to differ.
*********Thursday/Friday*********
Piu o meno, I can't tell you where these days started and ended. They're basically moshed together because of the chronology and Twilight Zoneyness.
We left on the first train around 19:00. Simple enough. What was supposed to be an hour and a half layover at the first stop became a five minute one that resulted in me downing my chioccolato caldo and burned tastebuds that still remain in my mouth.
Since layover no. 1 was so short, layover no. 2 lasted a little over three hours before we could catch the sleeper train that would bring us to Venezia. This time was spent finding a bathroom, buying a slice of pizza because we felt bad for using the pizzeria's bagno, at least two hours of card games at the train station, and an unnecessarily long amount of waiting outside in bitter cold for the train. Sounds normal enough. But then, that's how all episodes of the Twilight Zone start, no?
We were split up on the third and last train in sleeper cabins that were nearly entirely too dark to see and filled with people already sleeping. We rushed onto the train car nearest to where we waited, impatient to get out of the cold. The first cabin I see has seat number 121, the number listed on my ticket. That was lucky, I thought, to end up right in front of my seat. I opened the cabin door. Inside were six seats, three filled with three heads of sleeping people and the other three filled with six feet of said sleeping people. Great, I now thought, my cabin is completely full. All the other ones in the car were in the same state. I later discovered that the seat numbers are the same in all the cars and that I was in the wrong car. In fact, my seat was a few cars down in a cabin with Kayla, Karrie and an empty seat where my butt should've been.
Luckily, an older italiano with graying hair and a baseball cap noticed I was standing in between cars looking for a place to sit and I conveyed to him in fractured Italian that my seat had a tush in it. He told me to come with him and found us both seats in a mostly empty car. He also put my giant travel backpack above on the luggage rack for me. I probably said grazie about a thousand times, but I doubt he knew how thankful I really was to him for helping me so I wasn't standing in the aisle of a train car all night.
The cabin we entered had two people in it. It was dark, but I looked over at the one two seats to my right. I had to do a double-take–I thought the kid, who looked about college-age and had very short, very dark hair, was the Alex that lives above me in San Faustino. I was about to say hi and I realized it couldn't be him because I had seen him in a full cabin in the last car I'd been in. I didn't say two words to the kid, but I couldn't believe I was sitting almost next to his Italian evil twin.
The other uomo in the train car, another middle-aged man with dark hair and the beginnings of a potbelly, I assumed was Twilight Zone Alex's dad and they were traveling together. That idea went out the window when Twilight Zone Alex left the train around 04:30, a few stops after the man who had helped me find the seat. I started talking to this last man, who I had assumed was Italian. It was dark, so I had no way to know until he told me that he was from Bangladesh and working in Italy sending money back to his family. We had a small conversation in Italian/English where I was just grateful to practice some foreign language conversational skills. Then Twilight Zone Bangladesh man asked if he could take a photo with me when I told him I was from New York. I was glad my stop was a few after that so I could get out of Twilight Zone Train.
I figured my Twilight Zone night would end right there, at 05:26 in cold, dark train station of Venezia. A whole horde of USAC kids had taken the same trains this night and we probably looked like a tour group as we walked through the streets of Venezia that night to the few people awake and around to see us in one huge group. But as we sluggishly got off the train after three hours or less of broken sleep, I noticed Amy, Chris, Nicole and Kelly hadn't gotten off the train. It seemed to be sitting in the station for a few minutes, but Kayla told us the train didn't end in Venezia but went to a bunch more stops that I think ended out of the country. So I grabbed my phone out of my bag to call her and tell her to get off the train. The next 10 minutes or so went something like this:
I call Amy.
AG (me): Hey, this is our stop! You guys have to get off the train because after this the train goes on to a bunch of other places NOT in Venice.
AA (Amy): Are you sure? The guy here said there's one more stop in Venice before we have to get off.
AG (to Kayla): Are you sure this is the last stop in Venice?
Kayla: Yes.
AG (to AA): Yeah, this is our stop.
AA: Okay, if you're sure we'll get off the train.
AG: Sounds good, see you guys in a minute.
*A couple minutes later my phone rings*
AG: Hey, where are you guys? I don't see you on the platform.
AA: Yeah I don't see you either. Do you see the McDonald's?
AG: Noo... maybe you're on the other side of the platform?
Kayla: You can't get off the train on the other side of the platform.
AA: Yeah, that's probably it. We'll meet you at the McDonald's.
I hang up the phone, enter the station, and come out on the other side of the train. I see no McDonald's. A few minutes later my phone rings again:
AA: Hey, We're at the McDonald's. Where are you guys?
AG: I don't see any McDonald's. I don't think there's one at this station...
AA: We're in it right now though...
This goes on for a while. The kids at the McDonald's had climbed onto the same train as us; I had seen it happen and searched for seats in the same cars as them. Yet somehow, we figured out. The train car they were on was stopped at the Venezia Mestre station at the same time that the train the rest of us were on was stopped at the Venezia Santa Lucia station. Meaning either the train somehow split into two separate trains with such little noise or movement that no one had heard or felt it happen–or it had somehow entered another dimension. Considering the likeliness of the physical possibility of the former, I'm more inclined to believe the latter. I spent much of the rest of this weekend pretty wigged out by this idea.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
I Sound Congested (to the tune of Vampire Weekend's "I Stand Corrected")
Tues 10 Feb 2009
My guess is it has something to do with the change in weather, or maybe it's the change in altitude, finally catching up to us. Or maybe it's an unnamed thing that exists, but since we're generally college students we don't bother to make a big thing of it and write it off without really discussing it.
Or maybe it's just a really big coincidence.
The runny noses, the phlegmy throats, the congested brains and sometimes the raspy blues-singer voices are the symptoms. Bring us a week into February and you can expect the American study abroad students will be sick. With Alyssa, she was sick on her birthday, 9 February, 2005, in Vienna. For Felicia, she was sick on her birthday, 6 February, 2009, in Viterbo. For about half of the rest of the USAC trip, it's not our birthdays, but it's February in Europe, and we've caught the illness.
It feels like just a bad cold, and as I'm writing this I'm pretty sure I've already passed the worst point (excuse me while I find some wood to knock on, just in case). But in Renaissance class today, as Professor Kittel went to turn up the heat to, as she put it, better circulate the germs in the disease-filled classroom, that confirmed it: we're all sick.
Sunday was my worst day. I felt it coming around Wednesday or Thursday with a throat that got increasingly more sore, but realized the Zicam had been left at home and I didn't have a runny nose, so whatever. By Friday I needed a few tissues but my throat had cleared up, so I figured whatever. Friday night we surprised a much-sicker-than-I Felicia for her birthday with index card birthday wishes, three cakes and more bottles of wine than I could tell you, followed up by a trip to Try because we just wanted to dance, the necessary end-of-the-night pane, and, what seems to be turning into tradition for me each weekend I stay in Viterbo, crashing on the couch in Felicia, Christine, Lauren and Hana's apartment. Saturday morning my nose wouldn't stop running, but I still had energy, so whatever.
Saturday morning brought the rain. Good thing I had sucked it up and bought the 8 euro umbrella from Ipercoop, but that's a life lesson only learned from first purchasing the 2.30 Euro umbrella and having it turn inside out and the little plastic legs breaking within five minutes of braving the rainstorm outside. So, with my slightly-better made umbrella, we faced the Saturday morning market for about 10 minutes before the downpour. Enough time to find two large-beaded, colorful, gaudy necklaces that match my shirt perfectly for Carnivale, but not enough time to find that cheap hat for bad hair days I've been hoping for. Perhaps another weekend. As we watched the stalls shut down we headed for Terranova (?), the cheapest clothing store I now know of in Viterbo. Came really, really close to buying a stylish, warm black corduroy jacket for 9.99 euro, but didn't. Still debating whether to go back and get it. At this point, needed some serious tissues, but figured it was just because of the rain, so whatever.
Got back to my apartment, cleansed in a scalding, much needed shower, went up to Hailey and sprained-footed hermit Jacky's apartment for movie watching. Feeling a headache coming on, my brain is telling me it's stuffed, I realize I need some serious Dayquil. Not so whatever anymore.
Head to the big Despar very close to apartment that I hadn't previously known existed. Now, good to know. Back to Hermit's apartment to bake some ziti and watch now-forgotten movie. Ziti was delish, guess movie wasn't good enough to be memorable.
Sunday, virus comes with a vengeance. As of right now, I officially have one tissue left in a previously full tissue box. Popped many Dayquil and Nyquil, dragged myself to mini-Despar in the walls to buy soup. And lots of sleep. My entire day.
Monday left me still feeling quite crappy, but I had it coming when I knew I was still sick but went to class anyway. Realized stress from dealing with Commons (housing) stuff back at home probably wasn't helping illness, but had to go work on it anyway. Besides, had to go to class, and had to attend vegetarian night at Christine's as one of only three Veggies on the trip.
At Ipercoop, picking up groceries for the week, was in the checkout line I saw it: Brooklyn gum. Was about to buy a pack or two (at least one for you, Dad) when the guy behind me dropped his bottles of Fanta (a tragedy, but quickly averted) and forgot. Can only hope they'll be there tomorrow. If I remember Ipercoop.
Today: runny nose doesn't quit, cough soothed by Ricola, congestion losing to Dayquil. All in all, much better than two days ago, and necessary, because departure for Venice (Carnivale!!!) is in exactly one hour less than two days. And, Commons-housing stuff is all worked out until at least 23 Feb, which makes me continue to believe my argument that home-stress was making me sick.
Tomorrow: Second cuisine class. Small dinner tonight so stomach has room to prepare.
Yesterday: Belated happy birthday to favorite, best sister in the whole world, no matter which continent she or I is on =)
My guess is it has something to do with the change in weather, or maybe it's the change in altitude, finally catching up to us. Or maybe it's an unnamed thing that exists, but since we're generally college students we don't bother to make a big thing of it and write it off without really discussing it.
Or maybe it's just a really big coincidence.
The runny noses, the phlegmy throats, the congested brains and sometimes the raspy blues-singer voices are the symptoms. Bring us a week into February and you can expect the American study abroad students will be sick. With Alyssa, she was sick on her birthday, 9 February, 2005, in Vienna. For Felicia, she was sick on her birthday, 6 February, 2009, in Viterbo. For about half of the rest of the USAC trip, it's not our birthdays, but it's February in Europe, and we've caught the illness.
It feels like just a bad cold, and as I'm writing this I'm pretty sure I've already passed the worst point (excuse me while I find some wood to knock on, just in case). But in Renaissance class today, as Professor Kittel went to turn up the heat to, as she put it, better circulate the germs in the disease-filled classroom, that confirmed it: we're all sick.
Sunday was my worst day. I felt it coming around Wednesday or Thursday with a throat that got increasingly more sore, but realized the Zicam had been left at home and I didn't have a runny nose, so whatever. By Friday I needed a few tissues but my throat had cleared up, so I figured whatever. Friday night we surprised a much-sicker-than-I Felicia for her birthday with index card birthday wishes, three cakes and more bottles of wine than I could tell you, followed up by a trip to Try because we just wanted to dance, the necessary end-of-the-night pane, and, what seems to be turning into tradition for me each weekend I stay in Viterbo, crashing on the couch in Felicia, Christine, Lauren and Hana's apartment. Saturday morning my nose wouldn't stop running, but I still had energy, so whatever.
Saturday morning brought the rain. Good thing I had sucked it up and bought the 8 euro umbrella from Ipercoop, but that's a life lesson only learned from first purchasing the 2.30 Euro umbrella and having it turn inside out and the little plastic legs breaking within five minutes of braving the rainstorm outside. So, with my slightly-better made umbrella, we faced the Saturday morning market for about 10 minutes before the downpour. Enough time to find two large-beaded, colorful, gaudy necklaces that match my shirt perfectly for Carnivale, but not enough time to find that cheap hat for bad hair days I've been hoping for. Perhaps another weekend. As we watched the stalls shut down we headed for Terranova (?), the cheapest clothing store I now know of in Viterbo. Came really, really close to buying a stylish, warm black corduroy jacket for 9.99 euro, but didn't. Still debating whether to go back and get it. At this point, needed some serious tissues, but figured it was just because of the rain, so whatever.
Got back to my apartment, cleansed in a scalding, much needed shower, went up to Hailey and sprained-footed hermit Jacky's apartment for movie watching. Feeling a headache coming on, my brain is telling me it's stuffed, I realize I need some serious Dayquil. Not so whatever anymore.
Head to the big Despar very close to apartment that I hadn't previously known existed. Now, good to know. Back to Hermit's apartment to bake some ziti and watch now-forgotten movie. Ziti was delish, guess movie wasn't good enough to be memorable.
Sunday, virus comes with a vengeance. As of right now, I officially have one tissue left in a previously full tissue box. Popped many Dayquil and Nyquil, dragged myself to mini-Despar in the walls to buy soup. And lots of sleep. My entire day.
Monday left me still feeling quite crappy, but I had it coming when I knew I was still sick but went to class anyway. Realized stress from dealing with Commons (housing) stuff back at home probably wasn't helping illness, but had to go work on it anyway. Besides, had to go to class, and had to attend vegetarian night at Christine's as one of only three Veggies on the trip.
At Ipercoop, picking up groceries for the week, was in the checkout line I saw it: Brooklyn gum. Was about to buy a pack or two (at least one for you, Dad) when the guy behind me dropped his bottles of Fanta (a tragedy, but quickly averted) and forgot. Can only hope they'll be there tomorrow. If I remember Ipercoop.
Today: runny nose doesn't quit, cough soothed by Ricola, congestion losing to Dayquil. All in all, much better than two days ago, and necessary, because departure for Venice (Carnivale!!!) is in exactly one hour less than two days. And, Commons-housing stuff is all worked out until at least 23 Feb, which makes me continue to believe my argument that home-stress was making me sick.
Tomorrow: Second cuisine class. Small dinner tonight so stomach has room to prepare.
Yesterday: Belated happy birthday to favorite, best sister in the whole world, no matter which continent she or I is on =)
Thursday, February 5, 2009
I saw lion-dog today!
Thurs 5 Feb 2009
Power outages seem to be a common thing in Viterbo. The universitá is running on it's second outage (that I know of) in the less than a month I've had of classes here, which means, among other things, no internet. Apparantly it's on the blink at Ipercoop next door too, which probably isn't great for the dairy and meat section. At least they don't refrigerate eggs here. So I figured I'd take this time to write up some random thoughts/facts I've had about Viterbo and Italia since I've been here.
-I somehow missed the fact that it's the rainy season this time of year. Nearly every day is cloudy, if not drizzling or pouring. On one of the few sunny days we had last week, though, I noticed it's actually really pretty here when it's not full of precipitation. We're surrounded by mountains that I fully intend on hiking when it gets warmer and the sunsets are surprisingly colorful.
-The centro of Viterbo is surrounded by walls built millions of years ago. Okay, not millions, but I'm not sure how long ago they were built and I know they're really, really old. Even after only being here about a week, I realized I had already programmed myself to feel safe inside the walls and nervous outside. I totally get why mediaeval people did it–it lulls you into a false sense of security that makes you feel much better, even if it doesn't actually mean anything.
-I saw lion-dog today! This probably needs an explanation. On our second full day in Viterbo, we had our first day of orientation. We were all to meet at the Wing fountain so they could walk us up to the SMG campus. While we were waiting for everyone to arrive, the most fluffly, orange dog I've ever seen wanders over to our group. No person seemed to be attached to him, but he was friendly and definitely did not appear to be going hungry. I petted him for a while, looking around for an owner, but no one seemed to appear. Eventually we had to leave and he wandered off. But today, looking out my window to watch the San Faustino market as I do every day, I saw lion-dog. He was on a leash attached to an old man in a long dark blue wool coat and an old-man cap. I nearly ran downstairs to go greet him, I was so excited to see him again. I'm not sure why. But the really lenient leash laws they have here suddenly were demonstrated to me.
-I really lucked out with the location of my apartment. I'm about halfway between the two universitá campuses; a bit less than 20 minutes from SMG and a bit more than 25 minutes from BC. But the best part is the San Faustino market. Tuesday through Saturday, 9:00-13:00, fresh fruit, veggies, and often smelly fish and dead animals are sold in the piazza right outside my building. Every morning, I debate whether to go buy more fruit. Every morning, I know what kind of jacket to wear based on the lightest jacket I see among the people below (everyone wears winter coats here, even when it's in the 50sF outside. I'm still not sure why). Two mornings ago, I bought three apples and two huge tomatoes for less than two euro. I've been eating the apples one per day, but I'm not sure about that doctor away thing. I've been starting to get a sore throat. Still, the fruit and veggies there are so incredibly fresh and delicious. It's fantastic.
-I have too many plans for places to visit, and, I fear, not enough time. Hot springs are this weekend; Venice for Carnivale is next weeked; I want one of the weekends after to be the Alps so I can finally complete that life goal; Barcelona hopefully another weekend; Budapest hopefully another; Paris, London and Amsterdam hopefully over spring break; plus the southern Italia tour through USAC and other weekends filled with day trips. I'm already about a quarter of the way through this trip. It seems impossible, agonizing and thrilling all at the same time. I feel insatiable for travel.
The lights came back on, but I'm still waiting on that Internet. Come on, Viterbo, don't you know I need to check my housing status for Commons?
Power outages seem to be a common thing in Viterbo. The universitá is running on it's second outage (that I know of) in the less than a month I've had of classes here, which means, among other things, no internet. Apparantly it's on the blink at Ipercoop next door too, which probably isn't great for the dairy and meat section. At least they don't refrigerate eggs here. So I figured I'd take this time to write up some random thoughts/facts I've had about Viterbo and Italia since I've been here.
-I somehow missed the fact that it's the rainy season this time of year. Nearly every day is cloudy, if not drizzling or pouring. On one of the few sunny days we had last week, though, I noticed it's actually really pretty here when it's not full of precipitation. We're surrounded by mountains that I fully intend on hiking when it gets warmer and the sunsets are surprisingly colorful.
-The centro of Viterbo is surrounded by walls built millions of years ago. Okay, not millions, but I'm not sure how long ago they were built and I know they're really, really old. Even after only being here about a week, I realized I had already programmed myself to feel safe inside the walls and nervous outside. I totally get why mediaeval people did it–it lulls you into a false sense of security that makes you feel much better, even if it doesn't actually mean anything.
-I saw lion-dog today! This probably needs an explanation. On our second full day in Viterbo, we had our first day of orientation. We were all to meet at the Wing fountain so they could walk us up to the SMG campus. While we were waiting for everyone to arrive, the most fluffly, orange dog I've ever seen wanders over to our group. No person seemed to be attached to him, but he was friendly and definitely did not appear to be going hungry. I petted him for a while, looking around for an owner, but no one seemed to appear. Eventually we had to leave and he wandered off. But today, looking out my window to watch the San Faustino market as I do every day, I saw lion-dog. He was on a leash attached to an old man in a long dark blue wool coat and an old-man cap. I nearly ran downstairs to go greet him, I was so excited to see him again. I'm not sure why. But the really lenient leash laws they have here suddenly were demonstrated to me.
-I really lucked out with the location of my apartment. I'm about halfway between the two universitá campuses; a bit less than 20 minutes from SMG and a bit more than 25 minutes from BC. But the best part is the San Faustino market. Tuesday through Saturday, 9:00-13:00, fresh fruit, veggies, and often smelly fish and dead animals are sold in the piazza right outside my building. Every morning, I debate whether to go buy more fruit. Every morning, I know what kind of jacket to wear based on the lightest jacket I see among the people below (everyone wears winter coats here, even when it's in the 50sF outside. I'm still not sure why). Two mornings ago, I bought three apples and two huge tomatoes for less than two euro. I've been eating the apples one per day, but I'm not sure about that doctor away thing. I've been starting to get a sore throat. Still, the fruit and veggies there are so incredibly fresh and delicious. It's fantastic.
-I have too many plans for places to visit, and, I fear, not enough time. Hot springs are this weekend; Venice for Carnivale is next weeked; I want one of the weekends after to be the Alps so I can finally complete that life goal; Barcelona hopefully another weekend; Budapest hopefully another; Paris, London and Amsterdam hopefully over spring break; plus the southern Italia tour through USAC and other weekends filled with day trips. I'm already about a quarter of the way through this trip. It seems impossible, agonizing and thrilling all at the same time. I feel insatiable for travel.
The lights came back on, but I'm still waiting on that Internet. Come on, Viterbo, don't you know I need to check my housing status for Commons?
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Roma III: Missing the train and where scientologists get married
Writer's note: a bajillion more photos at http://www.flickr.com/photos/manda_face/
********Sunday*********
I would probably have been pretty pissed if free breakfast hadn't been free. We each got a roll, a plastic package of two mini slices of hardened bread, and a single serving of butter, jam and generic Nutella. They asked what we wanted to drink and we all responded water. The gray-haired woman who was working brought us a pitcher big enough to fill four bathroom-sized paper cups with water. Lauren and I asked for caffé. We received a sizably larger metal pitcher of American coffee that tasted even nastier than coffee I've had at home and an equally large sized metal pitcher of hot milk that tasted like nothing.
Once we worked out money issues (we were 15 people, after all) we paid the hostel, checked out, left our bags so we could shop without burden, and left the place. The guys headed for home, as did Hailey, Kally and Christine who had decided they'd shopped enough.
The rest of the girls metroed once again to Spagna to shop on the main street. We were all determined to find Carnivale outfits, though we had different things in mind for what that meant.
A couple of us were looking to find something peasant-y and gypsy-y. A few unsuccessful stores, both for Carnivale and regular clothes, passed me by while a few of the others made their purchases. Maybe it was life just enjoying being ironic, but I found my perfect shirt at H&M. Also, a shirt-dress that Lauren bought in different colors, not for Carnivale but because it was fairly cheap and cute.
Not everyone found their perfect outfit though, and I still need a bottom half that I'm thinking will consist of black leggings and gray boots that I already have and either black or dark, dark blue short shorts that I hope to find in the next two weeks. You already know the shirt is peasanty, but I choose not to reveal more until the pictures of Carnivale are taken and surface.
Seul, Hanah and I split off from the group to get food, since the rest had stopped earlier for expensive pizza while we were still in a store. The rest went to look for their Carnivale masks and we would meet back at the hotel. We were right by the Despar from the night before so Hanah got some cookies, but we all wanted something more substantial. We walked back towards the Spagna metro stop. Hanah and Seul got trusty McDonald's, since we stopped there anyway for the bagno. I picked up a slice of pizza topped with fresh lettuga, pomodoro e tonno at the pizza place right next to the metro I had eaten at on Friday night. Sooo worth it, but while savoring we lost track of time a bit.
We sped back into the metro, out of the metro, into the hotel for our bags, out of the hotel, into the metro, out of the metro, and at the stop where we were to pick up the train back to Viterbo–just in time to watch it pull out of the station and its taillights disappear through the tunnel. Talk about depressing.
The next train to Viterbo wasn't for two hours since it was Sunday. Instead of sitting there waiting, we decided to take the train ending at the town with the Tom Cruise castle, which was on the same line as Viterbo and about 45 minutes away. Our layover there ended up being about an hour, which wasn't too bad since it was half the time and we weren't in a sketchy, deserted area.
We walked to the main road and found a cafe to sit at. Hanah got some gelato, but Seul and I stuck to our personal promises against gelato for a while. We got hot chocolate instead. I don't think the cioccolato caldo here will ever get old, even though I can only handle so little of it at once because it's so rich. We savored for a bit longer this time and then caught the train back the rest of the way to Viterbo.
A difficult end to the weekend between that and news about my grandpa's worsening condition, but I keep up hopes that all will work itself out in the end and hold on to the fact that I had another great italiano weekend.
********Sunday*********
I would probably have been pretty pissed if free breakfast hadn't been free. We each got a roll, a plastic package of two mini slices of hardened bread, and a single serving of butter, jam and generic Nutella. They asked what we wanted to drink and we all responded water. The gray-haired woman who was working brought us a pitcher big enough to fill four bathroom-sized paper cups with water. Lauren and I asked for caffé. We received a sizably larger metal pitcher of American coffee that tasted even nastier than coffee I've had at home and an equally large sized metal pitcher of hot milk that tasted like nothing.
Once we worked out money issues (we were 15 people, after all) we paid the hostel, checked out, left our bags so we could shop without burden, and left the place. The guys headed for home, as did Hailey, Kally and Christine who had decided they'd shopped enough.
The rest of the girls metroed once again to Spagna to shop on the main street. We were all determined to find Carnivale outfits, though we had different things in mind for what that meant.
A couple of us were looking to find something peasant-y and gypsy-y. A few unsuccessful stores, both for Carnivale and regular clothes, passed me by while a few of the others made their purchases. Maybe it was life just enjoying being ironic, but I found my perfect shirt at H&M. Also, a shirt-dress that Lauren bought in different colors, not for Carnivale but because it was fairly cheap and cute.
Not everyone found their perfect outfit though, and I still need a bottom half that I'm thinking will consist of black leggings and gray boots that I already have and either black or dark, dark blue short shorts that I hope to find in the next two weeks. You already know the shirt is peasanty, but I choose not to reveal more until the pictures of Carnivale are taken and surface.
Seul, Hanah and I split off from the group to get food, since the rest had stopped earlier for expensive pizza while we were still in a store. The rest went to look for their Carnivale masks and we would meet back at the hotel. We were right by the Despar from the night before so Hanah got some cookies, but we all wanted something more substantial. We walked back towards the Spagna metro stop. Hanah and Seul got trusty McDonald's, since we stopped there anyway for the bagno. I picked up a slice of pizza topped with fresh lettuga, pomodoro e tonno at the pizza place right next to the metro I had eaten at on Friday night. Sooo worth it, but while savoring we lost track of time a bit.
We sped back into the metro, out of the metro, into the hotel for our bags, out of the hotel, into the metro, out of the metro, and at the stop where we were to pick up the train back to Viterbo–just in time to watch it pull out of the station and its taillights disappear through the tunnel. Talk about depressing.
The next train to Viterbo wasn't for two hours since it was Sunday. Instead of sitting there waiting, we decided to take the train ending at the town with the Tom Cruise castle, which was on the same line as Viterbo and about 45 minutes away. Our layover there ended up being about an hour, which wasn't too bad since it was half the time and we weren't in a sketchy, deserted area.
We walked to the main road and found a cafe to sit at. Hanah got some gelato, but Seul and I stuck to our personal promises against gelato for a while. We got hot chocolate instead. I don't think the cioccolato caldo here will ever get old, even though I can only handle so little of it at once because it's so rich. We savored for a bit longer this time and then caught the train back the rest of the way to Viterbo.
A difficult end to the weekend between that and news about my grandpa's worsening condition, but I keep up hopes that all will work itself out in the end and hold on to the fact that I had another great italiano weekend.
Roma II: British accents at an Italian fountain
********Saturday********
With 15+ people (Alex and Coreen left today and were replaced by Nick, Hannah and Katie), coordination can be difficult. Most of the group went to see the Vatican. Hailey, Seul, Kally, Christine and I skipped it, knowing we'd be taking a trip there with the Renn class in a few weeks. Kally and Christine had left early to take advantage of the last days of sale season. Seul, Hailey and I woke up around noon (thinking it was 10:00–whoops), got some lunch, got some gelato, and headed out in search of the Pantheon. *Insert 20 minute walk that took us two hours the night before here.*
When we got there, we arrived on the back side of the building. I was still completely in awe, though all we could see was the gigantic backside of the dome and old remains of shattered columns. The front of the building literally made my jaw drop. It seemed impossible at first to take in the entire front of the building at once, it was just so immense. I marveled at the columns carved more than a thousand years ago and still supporting the huge building.
We didn't arrive until around 14:30, so we missed the time of day when the sun is directly overhead and light shines in completely through the hole in the roof. There was still a good deal of light pouring in, and the inside of the building was so awing in the natural light. Raphael is also buried there, under one of many statues of Mother Mary I've seen since I've been here. Seeing his tomb and knowing such a great artist was decaying mere feet away was pretty eerie.
We met up with Kally and Christine after we left. They were just arriving, so they went to look around inside and we went to look around for Carnivale masks. We must've gone into at least a dozen shops in search of the perfect, cheapest one. I knew I wanted one in dark blue and gold, but every one I came across that fit the description was either somehow broken or cost too much. We couldn't find the souvenir shop we'd stumbled across before, that we of course now remembered as having the absolute best selection of perfect masks. Hailey found hers first. Slightly deterred but still going, about three shops later I saw The One. The mask was just large enough to cover the top half of my face and my nose. The right side was hand-painted in dark blue, the left in gold. Hand-molded and painted gold wisps cover the face, and a rainbow trim outlines the entire body. And, as if to prove it was made for me, tiny lines of music notes painted in black ink cover above the right eye and on the right cheek. 15 euro very well spent.
Seul found the perfect cat-shaped mask later at the shop Kally and Christine had found near the hostel and bought their masks. When we met up with Kally and Christine again at the Fontana di Trivi (our third time there this weekend–keep count) we knew what we had to do. The gelato place we had stopped at right next to the fountain two weekends before was, of course, still open, and the place we had visited earlier in the day lacked the vital Nutella gelato for Seul. So I swore off gelato for the rest of the week after this, and had my second cup, qualifying it with the fact that I hadn't finished the first.
Not as much shopping was done to take advantage of sale season as we'd planned, but we did stop in a mini-department store-ish place with aisles and aisles of make up before stealing a bus back to the hostel.
Seul and I planned on looking for sneakers in the thousands of shoe stores near the hotel when we got back, since we'd both neglected to bring running shoes and were (still are) desperately in need of a good run. Random side note: No one runs in Viterbo. I've seen two people running since I've been here and they were both USAC kids. And even one of them told me she's only seen one other person running around town. And yet, they're all in shape. Weird.
So Hailey went back to the hotel while Christine, Seul and I went to find Seul her mask. After we left the souvenir shop, a huge crowd of people had formed and music was pumping outside of Santa Maria di Gradi, so we went to see what it was. A giant mass of people surrounded a group of men in the center where we couldn't tell what was going on and weren't sure if we'd be safe if we got close enough to look. I held up my camera and tried to take some pictures over the crowd. In the middle, it looked like a group of men in red jerseys kicking around a ball in a makeshift soccer game, which would explain the sporadic cheering. Just when we figured it must be for the soccer game that weekend and were about to head back towards the shoe stores, another huge throng of people thrust into the street, seemingly out of nowhere. There held up a banner in arabic that I couldn't read and were chanting something. Some kind of protest, we surmised. I should get the hell out of there, I surmised.
We sought temporary shelter inside a cafe and when we decided the parade wasn't too rowdy, we power walked our way through and back to the hotel. We watched from the safety of our hotel room, which, conveniently, had a view right onto the street.
None of us are still completely sure what the protest was about, though I've now heard everything from fighting fascism and racism to protesting surveillance to protecting children. Christine dubbed it "Hate Everything Day" and I'm most inclined to go with that.
Once the parade left our area, or, at least, was far enough away that we could no longer hear it, we met up across the street where we saw Hanah and Katie had arrived and some of the others were drinking their before-dinner prosecco. We all metroed to Spagna in a giant group again, but unlike the pub crawl we had done en masse the night before, that was the last time we were all together that night.
Lauren, Hailey, Seul, Hanah and were ready for some dinner and went to fill our stomachs with some Italian food while the others ate themselves some Indian food. We planned on meeting up with them after, but the night had other plans. When we finished our dinner, the others were still at their ristorante, where they would continue to be until after 22:30. So we headed to the Despar, got some vino e cioccolato, and headed for Fontana di Trivi visit number four.
We spoke in British accents and drank our bottles by the Trivi for quite some time without noticing how frigid it was. When the others finally called us and said they were done with dinner and would be embarking on their own pub crawl this evening, we nixed the plan to meet up, opting instead to keep up our night of chilling by the lit-up sites of ancient Roma.
It was a great time. Turns out the final ancient Roma landmark we were to hit up was McDonald's. Those girls I was with seriously craved some American food and inhaled three large and one small fries. I continued my ban on fast food and didn't eat any of it, although I did drink a Fanta that my stomach later seriously regretted. Chalk up carbonated drinks as another food/beverage I've sworn off (again) for (at least) the week.
I think it was my first weekend night where I was back in the place of sleep before 1 a.m., but it was one of the most fun nights, too. We all passed out to be up by 09 the next day to take advantage of free breakfast before check out.
With 15+ people (Alex and Coreen left today and were replaced by Nick, Hannah and Katie), coordination can be difficult. Most of the group went to see the Vatican. Hailey, Seul, Kally, Christine and I skipped it, knowing we'd be taking a trip there with the Renn class in a few weeks. Kally and Christine had left early to take advantage of the last days of sale season. Seul, Hailey and I woke up around noon (thinking it was 10:00–whoops), got some lunch, got some gelato, and headed out in search of the Pantheon. *Insert 20 minute walk that took us two hours the night before here.*
When we got there, we arrived on the back side of the building. I was still completely in awe, though all we could see was the gigantic backside of the dome and old remains of shattered columns. The front of the building literally made my jaw drop. It seemed impossible at first to take in the entire front of the building at once, it was just so immense. I marveled at the columns carved more than a thousand years ago and still supporting the huge building.
We didn't arrive until around 14:30, so we missed the time of day when the sun is directly overhead and light shines in completely through the hole in the roof. There was still a good deal of light pouring in, and the inside of the building was so awing in the natural light. Raphael is also buried there, under one of many statues of Mother Mary I've seen since I've been here. Seeing his tomb and knowing such a great artist was decaying mere feet away was pretty eerie.
We met up with Kally and Christine after we left. They were just arriving, so they went to look around inside and we went to look around for Carnivale masks. We must've gone into at least a dozen shops in search of the perfect, cheapest one. I knew I wanted one in dark blue and gold, but every one I came across that fit the description was either somehow broken or cost too much. We couldn't find the souvenir shop we'd stumbled across before, that we of course now remembered as having the absolute best selection of perfect masks. Hailey found hers first. Slightly deterred but still going, about three shops later I saw The One. The mask was just large enough to cover the top half of my face and my nose. The right side was hand-painted in dark blue, the left in gold. Hand-molded and painted gold wisps cover the face, and a rainbow trim outlines the entire body. And, as if to prove it was made for me, tiny lines of music notes painted in black ink cover above the right eye and on the right cheek. 15 euro very well spent.
Seul found the perfect cat-shaped mask later at the shop Kally and Christine had found near the hostel and bought their masks. When we met up with Kally and Christine again at the Fontana di Trivi (our third time there this weekend–keep count) we knew what we had to do. The gelato place we had stopped at right next to the fountain two weekends before was, of course, still open, and the place we had visited earlier in the day lacked the vital Nutella gelato for Seul. So I swore off gelato for the rest of the week after this, and had my second cup, qualifying it with the fact that I hadn't finished the first.
Not as much shopping was done to take advantage of sale season as we'd planned, but we did stop in a mini-department store-ish place with aisles and aisles of make up before stealing a bus back to the hostel.
Seul and I planned on looking for sneakers in the thousands of shoe stores near the hotel when we got back, since we'd both neglected to bring running shoes and were (still are) desperately in need of a good run. Random side note: No one runs in Viterbo. I've seen two people running since I've been here and they were both USAC kids. And even one of them told me she's only seen one other person running around town. And yet, they're all in shape. Weird.
So Hailey went back to the hotel while Christine, Seul and I went to find Seul her mask. After we left the souvenir shop, a huge crowd of people had formed and music was pumping outside of Santa Maria di Gradi, so we went to see what it was. A giant mass of people surrounded a group of men in the center where we couldn't tell what was going on and weren't sure if we'd be safe if we got close enough to look. I held up my camera and tried to take some pictures over the crowd. In the middle, it looked like a group of men in red jerseys kicking around a ball in a makeshift soccer game, which would explain the sporadic cheering. Just when we figured it must be for the soccer game that weekend and were about to head back towards the shoe stores, another huge throng of people thrust into the street, seemingly out of nowhere. There held up a banner in arabic that I couldn't read and were chanting something. Some kind of protest, we surmised. I should get the hell out of there, I surmised.
We sought temporary shelter inside a cafe and when we decided the parade wasn't too rowdy, we power walked our way through and back to the hotel. We watched from the safety of our hotel room, which, conveniently, had a view right onto the street.
None of us are still completely sure what the protest was about, though I've now heard everything from fighting fascism and racism to protesting surveillance to protecting children. Christine dubbed it "Hate Everything Day" and I'm most inclined to go with that.
Once the parade left our area, or, at least, was far enough away that we could no longer hear it, we met up across the street where we saw Hanah and Katie had arrived and some of the others were drinking their before-dinner prosecco. We all metroed to Spagna in a giant group again, but unlike the pub crawl we had done en masse the night before, that was the last time we were all together that night.
Lauren, Hailey, Seul, Hanah and were ready for some dinner and went to fill our stomachs with some Italian food while the others ate themselves some Indian food. We planned on meeting up with them after, but the night had other plans. When we finished our dinner, the others were still at their ristorante, where they would continue to be until after 22:30. So we headed to the Despar, got some vino e cioccolato, and headed for Fontana di Trivi visit number four.
We spoke in British accents and drank our bottles by the Trivi for quite some time without noticing how frigid it was. When the others finally called us and said they were done with dinner and would be embarking on their own pub crawl this evening, we nixed the plan to meet up, opting instead to keep up our night of chilling by the lit-up sites of ancient Roma.
It was a great time. Turns out the final ancient Roma landmark we were to hit up was McDonald's. Those girls I was with seriously craved some American food and inhaled three large and one small fries. I continued my ban on fast food and didn't eat any of it, although I did drink a Fanta that my stomach later seriously regretted. Chalk up carbonated drinks as another food/beverage I've sworn off (again) for (at least) the week.
I think it was my first weekend night where I was back in the place of sleep before 1 a.m., but it was one of the most fun nights, too. We all passed out to be up by 09 the next day to take advantage of free breakfast before check out.
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