***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!
Monday, February 23, 2009
"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.
Monday, February 2, 2009
Roma, day I, or the encounter with the Brits
Sun 1 Feb 2009
***********Friday*********
Hailey and I met Chelsea and Derek at Porta Romana to catch an early 10:55 train to Roma. All the others, 15 of us total, would be arriving later either from Viterbo or from the trip to Tivoli that the gardens class went on. I saw pictures later, those were some gorgeous gardens.
Starting Thursday, it had been the first nice day in a while, so we were in high spirits, light jackets and sunglasses. For me, I was in my new 5 euro yellow hipster shades, which may or may not be in some of the pictures I'll be posting, I can't recall.
On the train and the way to the hotel, Derek played tour guide and pointed out all the important sites. Balsano is the largest volcanic lake in Italia, one of the largest in the world, and we will be going back there. Basticciano (?) where we were laid over on the train ride back home today houses the castle where Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes got married, and it is seriously a massive stone building hovering over a tiny town (with really good cioccolato caldo, but we'll get to that in time).
Finding the hotel was simple, and we were hungry by the time we got there. We put our bags down in the room and went back into the sunshine to enjoy seeing natural light again and weave our way down side streets to find a place to eat.
Derek said the best places to eat in Roma are all hidden on random side streets, because that's where the authentic, non-tourist trap places are. I really have to hand it to him on that one. We entered a tiny cafe on a road with vines, dried up from winter, hanging from the power lines. I couldn't tell you what it was called or probably how to get back there, but it had the best parmeggiano di melazano (eggplant parm) I've ever had in my life. For six euro.
It was fantastic and filling, but as they say, there's always room for gelato. When in Roma, right? We found a place we had passed on the way to the ristoranti, and it had cioccolato di arancia. Choco and orange has become my fave combo recently, I couldn't tell you why. But I saw that and I was sold. Like all the gelato here, it was bellisimo.
The Santa Maria di Gradi church was right around the corner from our hostel and beautiful from the outside, especially in the sunshine, so we decided to take a look inside. The Duomo in Firenze still has me sold on most amazing architecture so far (other than the Pantheon, but that's a whole different story), but Santa Maria had the most intricate art inside I've ever seen. The alter was huge and everything was gilded and carved so carefully. I need to find myself a thesaurus or start learning some more adjectives, because I know I've said it about tons of sites already, but this place was breathtaking. Definitely check pictures of it on Flickr, because I took a whole bunch.
We went back to the hotel to just chill a bit before the others got in and we'd start going out. Chelsea, Hailey and I went back to our room of seven beds, four still waiting to be filled, while Derek went back to his room of six, but only waiting for three more people. I must have been more tired than I thought, because after probably less than 15 minutes I passed out. I think I was down for about half an hour. Soon after I woke up, we went to meet the others who would be coming in to Termini soon.
The Termini reunion brought with it Lauren, Seul, Felicia, Maryland Alex, Stefano, Brooks, Brooks' friend Rob who is studying in Firenze where we'd met him before, Christine, Kally, Coreen and Alex. Phew. To the hostel. To the metro. To the Spanish Steps. Splitting up for dinner. Kally, Christine, MD Alex and I went to find some quick slices of pizza. The plan was to reconvene on the Spanish Steps with some vino, because, so say all the tourist books, drinking on the Spanish Steps at night is the thing to do.
Apparently, another thing to do is meet at the Spanish Steps so PubCrawlRome.com can nab 20 of your euro and take you to three bars. When we met back with everyone at the top of the steps, we just chilled for a while when I learned we would be embarking on an official Roman pub crawl. After a bit of confusion about where we were supposed to meet the group and a lack of a reservation, we joined the crawl. First to a place more reminiscent of an Irish pub, with a soccer game on in the corner and walls not nearly wide enough to hold everyone inside. But it also came with a free T-shirt and free pizza, so I'm really not complaining. Bar number two came with a U2 cover band. But bar number three was the true winner. I'm pretty sure it was called Apocalypse, or something along those lines. We were led through a Tabbacchi, some kind of café, some kind of ristoranti, and final to a staircase that led to the basement club. The place was a maze, with walls made to look like a cave and outfitted with mirrors in the strangest places to make it more confusing. On the bus to that last bar, we met two Brits, Mark the breakdancer and Sam T. Himself. They proved to be hilarious, dancy company for the night, especially when we left the club.
I have no idea how many hours we spent dancing. But at the end of the night, we either neglected or lacked the common sense to realize that there was a bus stop right near the club that could take us back to Termini and a few blocks from our hostel. Instead, we felt the need to find the way back on foot. Now, the next day we did a similar walk to the one we were about to embark on. It took about 20 minutes to walk from the area to our hotel. On this night, we left the club around 02:30 a.m. We got back to the hotel at 04:30. We figured it out the next day, and we're pretty sure we circled every block around the hotel about 3 times, asked two cabbies and one bread delivery guy for (unhelpful) directions before finally turning down the right street. Maybe things would have been different if we'd left earlier. Maybe it would've been different if we all left at the same time rather than Kally, Hailey, Lauren, Seul, two Brits and I walking back towards Termini. But honestly, this was probably the best way the night could have ended: getting hopelessly lost at night in Roma with a hostel marked at the wrong spot on the map, a Brit who could fake an accent from just about anywhere, and a Brit who could've been a court jester in a past life.
Around 04:30, we got to sleep.
-------------
EDIT: days II and III to come, also check photos on http://www.flickr.com/photos/manda_face/
***********Friday*********
Hailey and I met Chelsea and Derek at Porta Romana to catch an early 10:55 train to Roma. All the others, 15 of us total, would be arriving later either from Viterbo or from the trip to Tivoli that the gardens class went on. I saw pictures later, those were some gorgeous gardens.
Starting Thursday, it had been the first nice day in a while, so we were in high spirits, light jackets and sunglasses. For me, I was in my new 5 euro yellow hipster shades, which may or may not be in some of the pictures I'll be posting, I can't recall.
On the train and the way to the hotel, Derek played tour guide and pointed out all the important sites. Balsano is the largest volcanic lake in Italia, one of the largest in the world, and we will be going back there. Basticciano (?) where we were laid over on the train ride back home today houses the castle where Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes got married, and it is seriously a massive stone building hovering over a tiny town (with really good cioccolato caldo, but we'll get to that in time).
Finding the hotel was simple, and we were hungry by the time we got there. We put our bags down in the room and went back into the sunshine to enjoy seeing natural light again and weave our way down side streets to find a place to eat.
Derek said the best places to eat in Roma are all hidden on random side streets, because that's where the authentic, non-tourist trap places are. I really have to hand it to him on that one. We entered a tiny cafe on a road with vines, dried up from winter, hanging from the power lines. I couldn't tell you what it was called or probably how to get back there, but it had the best parmeggiano di melazano (eggplant parm) I've ever had in my life. For six euro.
It was fantastic and filling, but as they say, there's always room for gelato. When in Roma, right? We found a place we had passed on the way to the ristoranti, and it had cioccolato di arancia. Choco and orange has become my fave combo recently, I couldn't tell you why. But I saw that and I was sold. Like all the gelato here, it was bellisimo.
The Santa Maria di Gradi church was right around the corner from our hostel and beautiful from the outside, especially in the sunshine, so we decided to take a look inside. The Duomo in Firenze still has me sold on most amazing architecture so far (other than the Pantheon, but that's a whole different story), but Santa Maria had the most intricate art inside I've ever seen. The alter was huge and everything was gilded and carved so carefully. I need to find myself a thesaurus or start learning some more adjectives, because I know I've said it about tons of sites already, but this place was breathtaking. Definitely check pictures of it on Flickr, because I took a whole bunch.
We went back to the hotel to just chill a bit before the others got in and we'd start going out. Chelsea, Hailey and I went back to our room of seven beds, four still waiting to be filled, while Derek went back to his room of six, but only waiting for three more people. I must have been more tired than I thought, because after probably less than 15 minutes I passed out. I think I was down for about half an hour. Soon after I woke up, we went to meet the others who would be coming in to Termini soon.
The Termini reunion brought with it Lauren, Seul, Felicia, Maryland Alex, Stefano, Brooks, Brooks' friend Rob who is studying in Firenze where we'd met him before, Christine, Kally, Coreen and Alex. Phew. To the hostel. To the metro. To the Spanish Steps. Splitting up for dinner. Kally, Christine, MD Alex and I went to find some quick slices of pizza. The plan was to reconvene on the Spanish Steps with some vino, because, so say all the tourist books, drinking on the Spanish Steps at night is the thing to do.
Apparently, another thing to do is meet at the Spanish Steps so PubCrawlRome.com can nab 20 of your euro and take you to three bars. When we met back with everyone at the top of the steps, we just chilled for a while when I learned we would be embarking on an official Roman pub crawl. After a bit of confusion about where we were supposed to meet the group and a lack of a reservation, we joined the crawl. First to a place more reminiscent of an Irish pub, with a soccer game on in the corner and walls not nearly wide enough to hold everyone inside. But it also came with a free T-shirt and free pizza, so I'm really not complaining. Bar number two came with a U2 cover band. But bar number three was the true winner. I'm pretty sure it was called Apocalypse, or something along those lines. We were led through a Tabbacchi, some kind of café, some kind of ristoranti, and final to a staircase that led to the basement club. The place was a maze, with walls made to look like a cave and outfitted with mirrors in the strangest places to make it more confusing. On the bus to that last bar, we met two Brits, Mark the breakdancer and Sam T. Himself. They proved to be hilarious, dancy company for the night, especially when we left the club.
I have no idea how many hours we spent dancing. But at the end of the night, we either neglected or lacked the common sense to realize that there was a bus stop right near the club that could take us back to Termini and a few blocks from our hostel. Instead, we felt the need to find the way back on foot. Now, the next day we did a similar walk to the one we were about to embark on. It took about 20 minutes to walk from the area to our hotel. On this night, we left the club around 02:30 a.m. We got back to the hotel at 04:30. We figured it out the next day, and we're pretty sure we circled every block around the hotel about 3 times, asked two cabbies and one bread delivery guy for (unhelpful) directions before finally turning down the right street. Maybe things would have been different if we'd left earlier. Maybe it would've been different if we all left at the same time rather than Kally, Hailey, Lauren, Seul, two Brits and I walking back towards Termini. But honestly, this was probably the best way the night could have ended: getting hopelessly lost at night in Roma with a hostel marked at the wrong spot on the map, a Brit who could fake an accent from just about anywhere, and a Brit who could've been a court jester in a past life.
Around 04:30, we got to sleep.
-------------
EDIT: days II and III to come, also check photos on http://www.flickr.com/photos/manda_face/
The one day of the week I eat good. REALLY good.
Sun 1 Feb 2009
The Superbowl should be starting in one hour, and this may be the first year in quite nearly a decade that I haven't watched at least part of it. But neither of the teams are any too relevant to me, so luckily I'm content not braving the cold or staying up til 4 a.m. watching some burly men battle it out. And, I plan on bringing my computer to BC tomorrow to learn the final score, highlights, and post whatever becomes of this entry.
Before I get to the weekend in Roma, a quick mention of my first cuisine class is in order. I think I've heard from about four people here that it sucks to be a vegetarian in Italia. All the rest either haven't said anything, told me how easy it is, or told me they've accidently become ones themselves. Have your opinions, whatever they may be, but so far being a vegetarian in Italia is just about 400 times more delicious than being a vegetarian at home, and at least equally as easy.
All being a veggie in cuisine class meant is instead of putting the pork-filled tomato sauce on my pasta, I had some damn good tomato sauce sans pig. And instead of the prosciutto everyone else ate before the salad, I got extra salad with the homemade dressing. I'm not complaining.
Despite forewarned large amounts of writing in this class, I'm still psyched for it (sense a trend? The same occurred for reading in the Renn class). Just like I'd rather do some extra reading to be in the class with the eccentric, fascinating Renn professor, I'm willing to do some writing to stay in a class that allows me to eat a five-course meal that WE get to prepare once every few weeks with an adorable British professor and her British husband.
A basic breakdown of dinner: Bruschetta (purchased bread that we toasted) with homemade olive oil the professor harvested in the fall and sea salt; a soup traditional for x-mas that I plan to make again consisting of chestnuts, chickpeas, canned tomatoes, celery, and an assortment of spices and other veggies; fresh pasta from the pastacceria down the street (with tomato sauce for me, and with pork and tomato sauce for the others); prosciutto for the others; salad with homemade dressing of lemon, salt, olive oil and surprisingly mild anchovies; four wines throughout the meal (two white, two red); three cheeses (one similar to brie, one Rome's version of parmesan, pre-crumbeled and the last the same but slightly younger); and homemade biscotti with chestnuts. Oh yes. We made that. We ate that.
The Superbowl should be starting in one hour, and this may be the first year in quite nearly a decade that I haven't watched at least part of it. But neither of the teams are any too relevant to me, so luckily I'm content not braving the cold or staying up til 4 a.m. watching some burly men battle it out. And, I plan on bringing my computer to BC tomorrow to learn the final score, highlights, and post whatever becomes of this entry.
Before I get to the weekend in Roma, a quick mention of my first cuisine class is in order. I think I've heard from about four people here that it sucks to be a vegetarian in Italia. All the rest either haven't said anything, told me how easy it is, or told me they've accidently become ones themselves. Have your opinions, whatever they may be, but so far being a vegetarian in Italia is just about 400 times more delicious than being a vegetarian at home, and at least equally as easy.
All being a veggie in cuisine class meant is instead of putting the pork-filled tomato sauce on my pasta, I had some damn good tomato sauce sans pig. And instead of the prosciutto everyone else ate before the salad, I got extra salad with the homemade dressing. I'm not complaining.
Despite forewarned large amounts of writing in this class, I'm still psyched for it (sense a trend? The same occurred for reading in the Renn class). Just like I'd rather do some extra reading to be in the class with the eccentric, fascinating Renn professor, I'm willing to do some writing to stay in a class that allows me to eat a five-course meal that WE get to prepare once every few weeks with an adorable British professor and her British husband.
A basic breakdown of dinner: Bruschetta (purchased bread that we toasted) with homemade olive oil the professor harvested in the fall and sea salt; a soup traditional for x-mas that I plan to make again consisting of chestnuts, chickpeas, canned tomatoes, celery, and an assortment of spices and other veggies; fresh pasta from the pastacceria down the street (with tomato sauce for me, and with pork and tomato sauce for the others); prosciutto for the others; salad with homemade dressing of lemon, salt, olive oil and surprisingly mild anchovies; four wines throughout the meal (two white, two red); three cheeses (one similar to brie, one Rome's version of parmesan, pre-crumbeled and the last the same but slightly younger); and homemade biscotti with chestnuts. Oh yes. We made that. We ate that.
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