Dreams up a perfect place of Italian food, English gardens, prairie fires, and tropical breezes
Adventures can't last forever, or they'd turn into homes... I've walked a mosaic sidewalk all the way up to a secret garden's dirt path that'll plunge to my neighborhood red tiles and then to the great lake sidewalks of jazzy concrete...
My European Grand Tour will soon end... I need to tell more of England...but I foresee some retrospective summer entries (if that's okay). It'll be nice to reminisce. I've been keeping journals too.
The burden (and blessing) of traveling is that I can create in my mind a personal paradise, compiled of everywhere I've been--lacking the problems--and filled with each place's appeal. The Volpis, piazzas, pasta and verdure would be there along with family and friends from home (and CCC). Knox would be superimposed in the environment, implanted onto the map along with Hyde and Kensington, and the Southbank...
So I carry all these places in a messenger bag made of Italian leather with a Union Jack patch on the front, my US passport inside and memories of home and school.
martes, 12 de mayo de 2009
miércoles, 25 de febrero de 2009
I bought a hat...
Here's a quick jist of my travels...and they all begin with my new hat. I went to Rome for the second time this year with ACM--we went everywhere in a whirlwind of 3 days, but I somehow find time to travel the narrow street behind our hotel to find a magical hat of splendid adventure. It's a wide navy blue straw hat with a small bow in the back. It's classic like Kate Winslet's purple Titanic headpiece that covers her eyes, choosing only to reveal red lips. Which, of course, is what I always try to recreate.
After Rome we went to Pompei, where Evan and I turned into frolicking imps akin to the Prince of Parties. We basically trespassed every ruin with sacreligious scenes of sacrifices and silly poses. I'm not going again till I have children.
I went to Rome a third time, senza capello, but with Carolina. We had such a great time. Our theme was: Old Men that take care of us. These old men weren't creepy, though that preface may make one suspicious, but it all started at the Trevi Fountain. Carolina and I needed someone to take a picture of us and this group of Welsh men volunteered, they said one had won awards for his photography. Then they asked us about what we were doing. And when we told them about out travels and studies and plans for Paris, they recommended several museums and were jusst very cordial. They were there for the rugby match against Italy and Wales, which is what brought us to meet Keif, this middle-aged, very drunk man who offered us drinks with the promise that he didn't expect anything. We said we didn't want any but he bought some anyway.
He kept asking us where we were from.
"Puerto Rico."
"No. You look like you're from Abermarle."
"We don't have the accents."
"You're right about that, but you look like you're from Abermarle. Where are you from."
Carolina decided to lie, "Singapore."
"No. Now, I don't believe that. What are your names."
"Sarah," Carolina replied.
"Jenni," I lied.
"I have to take a piss," He interjected.
"What?" Carolina said.
"You don't say that?"
"No."
"I have to use the bathroom."
"Okay."
"Don't leave."
When he came back and asked, yet again, where we were from, we said Alaska. Sarah Lee and Jenni Craig from Alaska.
"Do you make a lot of love in Alaska to keep warm?"
"No, we just drink a bit more." Then we thanked him, lied once more saying some friends called us, and left.
Then this older Italian man and a younger one invited us to a club when they overheard me asking the bartender where to find one.
They took us to two clubs where I danced with Carolina and a fabulous gay man, of course. Then we went back to the hostel at 4 am and slept till 10:30 because the cleaning lady kicked us out. We went sight seeing, met up with Vijay and just wandered.
That night we crashed at Vijay's hotel lobby! I had a 5am train and I didn't want to pay for a hostel. It worked out. I slept on the train the whole ride back to my last week in Florence.
This past weekend I said goodbye to my wonderful host family--got teary eyed a couple of times--but was excited for Paris. Before I left though, I went to Ponte Vecchio to say goodbye and was approached, no joke, by Fabio, who was on his way to class and offered me a cafe. I said no thank you and that he should go to class. He tried to guess where I was from-Russia or South America, he insisted.
"Sono misteriosa." I'm a mystery.
After he shared his info, I revealed that I was Puerto Rican and said goodbye.
I traveled to Paris with my wide-brimmed hat. I wore so many layers to avoid an overweight bag. Luckily, a nice guy named Andrea helped me with my bag and taught some French phrases to me. He's half-Italian and half-French. I was afraid of French and still struggle, but it's only been day two. Since the minute I got to Paris, it's been a party with Carolina and her sweet friends. We've danced to house music and latin music, witnessed a bar fight with blood spilling on the floor, we fled the club even though everything was under control and, while running accross the street... I FELL.
I tripped Champs Elysees.
I ripped my stockings and skinned my knee a little. I should have courtsied to make it funnier and more graceful, but we escaped the embarassment by going to a caffe-a hookah bar--where we ate kinder bueno and drank tea. The owner left before we did and called us from the restaurant phone...a waiter brought the phone to us like a scene from a mafia movie or something, because the owner wanted to let us know that the place was ours and we were welcomed to come whenever. So, in the end, falling worked for the better.
All of Carolina's friends are sassy, kind, and fun: Ines is from Portugal, Anastasia´s from Cyprus, Lima's from Holland, and no one believes that we're from Puerto Rico. C'e la vie!
After Rome we went to Pompei, where Evan and I turned into frolicking imps akin to the Prince of Parties. We basically trespassed every ruin with sacreligious scenes of sacrifices and silly poses. I'm not going again till I have children.
I went to Rome a third time, senza capello, but with Carolina. We had such a great time. Our theme was: Old Men that take care of us. These old men weren't creepy, though that preface may make one suspicious, but it all started at the Trevi Fountain. Carolina and I needed someone to take a picture of us and this group of Welsh men volunteered, they said one had won awards for his photography. Then they asked us about what we were doing. And when we told them about out travels and studies and plans for Paris, they recommended several museums and were jusst very cordial. They were there for the rugby match against Italy and Wales, which is what brought us to meet Keif, this middle-aged, very drunk man who offered us drinks with the promise that he didn't expect anything. We said we didn't want any but he bought some anyway.
He kept asking us where we were from.
"Puerto Rico."
"No. You look like you're from Abermarle."
"We don't have the accents."
"You're right about that, but you look like you're from Abermarle. Where are you from."
Carolina decided to lie, "Singapore."
"No. Now, I don't believe that. What are your names."
"Sarah," Carolina replied.
"Jenni," I lied.
"I have to take a piss," He interjected.
"What?" Carolina said.
"You don't say that?"
"No."
"I have to use the bathroom."
"Okay."
"Don't leave."
When he came back and asked, yet again, where we were from, we said Alaska. Sarah Lee and Jenni Craig from Alaska.
"Do you make a lot of love in Alaska to keep warm?"
"No, we just drink a bit more." Then we thanked him, lied once more saying some friends called us, and left.
Then this older Italian man and a younger one invited us to a club when they overheard me asking the bartender where to find one.
They took us to two clubs where I danced with Carolina and a fabulous gay man, of course. Then we went back to the hostel at 4 am and slept till 10:30 because the cleaning lady kicked us out. We went sight seeing, met up with Vijay and just wandered.
That night we crashed at Vijay's hotel lobby! I had a 5am train and I didn't want to pay for a hostel. It worked out. I slept on the train the whole ride back to my last week in Florence.
This past weekend I said goodbye to my wonderful host family--got teary eyed a couple of times--but was excited for Paris. Before I left though, I went to Ponte Vecchio to say goodbye and was approached, no joke, by Fabio, who was on his way to class and offered me a cafe. I said no thank you and that he should go to class. He tried to guess where I was from-Russia or South America, he insisted.
"Sono misteriosa." I'm a mystery.
After he shared his info, I revealed that I was Puerto Rican and said goodbye.
I traveled to Paris with my wide-brimmed hat. I wore so many layers to avoid an overweight bag. Luckily, a nice guy named Andrea helped me with my bag and taught some French phrases to me. He's half-Italian and half-French. I was afraid of French and still struggle, but it's only been day two. Since the minute I got to Paris, it's been a party with Carolina and her sweet friends. We've danced to house music and latin music, witnessed a bar fight with blood spilling on the floor, we fled the club even though everything was under control and, while running accross the street... I FELL.
I tripped Champs Elysees.
I ripped my stockings and skinned my knee a little. I should have courtsied to make it funnier and more graceful, but we escaped the embarassment by going to a caffe-a hookah bar--where we ate kinder bueno and drank tea. The owner left before we did and called us from the restaurant phone...a waiter brought the phone to us like a scene from a mafia movie or something, because the owner wanted to let us know that the place was ours and we were welcomed to come whenever. So, in the end, falling worked for the better.
All of Carolina's friends are sassy, kind, and fun: Ines is from Portugal, Anastasia´s from Cyprus, Lima's from Holland, and no one believes that we're from Puerto Rico. C'e la vie!
miércoles, 11 de febrero de 2009
lunes, 9 de febrero de 2009
Spagna! The yays, the nays, and the crazies
Yes, I went to Spain. At first, I was reluctant because I'm biased against it... And bad things did happen--but the more I think about it, the gladder I become that I WENT TO BARCELONA WITH CAROLINA! Really, we met so many (weird/interesting) people, had unexpected adventures and saw cool sights. So, I'm going to get the bad out of the way, simply by calling it the colorful:
The food in Spain is fried. It will affect your digestive system (especially in the airport--gross FYI). End of story.
Food is cheap which is good (thus the bodily reactions--I promise to stop grossing you out by letting you know that I'm hyperbolizing a bit).
Men gawk awkwardly in Spain and immigrants try to sell you beer off the street (amongst other things, but JUST SAY NO)
The sites are hard to find--a serious goose chase for Gaudi. The architecture doesn't sneak up on you, so you have to know your way.
People are rude with reason of cultural difference. In Spain they passive-aggressively (and aggressive-aggressively) tell you if you're in their way or unwelcomed. It is their way of avoiding hypocrisy, I guess. But we could use a little hypocritical courtesy once in a while, like on vacation. Carolina and I were talking in the lobby of the hostel, because you can't make noise around the rooms after 11pm, and a woman opened the door on my foot--she was Spanish, which is her only excuse in my theory to explain her response: "A, es que no me veias, supongo." WHAT!? I didn't see her? She didn't say sorry but whatever. Also people let us into a store just about when it was going to close and then talked about us in Spanish about how they wanted us to leave. "Nos vamos, ahora mismo!" I told them from the dressing room. Rude.
But I have to say, I think I actually do like the accent (despite the lisping sound) because it makes Spanish sound European, which, duh, for them it is. It really is beautiful (again, apart from the lisp).
Okay, I actually think that's it for the bad. Spain was relatively clean and safe. We didn't get mugged or anything. We did go shopping at Zara which had GREAT sales! I got a plaid jacket and page-boy pants for 25 euro (total)!
So everything was relatively cheap except for the stupid mistakes that I made at the airport. Oh, yeah, there's more to come in the "bad" department but this isn't Spain's fault.
I missed my morning flight.
I'm stupid.
I thought it left at 10 when really the confirmation paper said it arrived at 10. So, yeah...I got there at 8:30 ish and missed it.
It gets worse.
(I'm sorry, mom. I hope you're not dissappointed). I wasn't going to share this, but I'm hoping someday I'll just laugh at it.
Carolina and I pulled an all-nighter because we were trying to cram all the sites in one day as well as go out to dance afterwards. We saw Gaudi's house at 8pm and walked around, but I'll talk about that later because we're talking about my faux paus right now.
So, we hadn't slept all night so we could get to the airport early (but not early enough of course). However, after Carolina caught her flight to Paris I went and bought an Alitalia flight--I tried to find something really cheap but that was impossible. The cheapest was 130 euro, so I took it.
BUT then...at the gate while I waited to board....(I'm cringing as I retell it)... I fell asleep. When I woke up the plane was still there but they wouldn't let me on. "Te llamamos varias veces..." Was all they could say. I thought they were joking. I didn't hear them call me over the intercom becasue I was knocked out. I saw the plane back up for take off and then I left the area. I was then led, "Directo hasta la salida A" but I went all the way straight where customs punched my passport. Then, once I entered the area, I realized something wrong happened. So, crying at this point, I asked the police to let me back in the main area of the airport so I could buy yet another ticket. It was kind of pitiful. "Esque ya me perdi dos vuelos, por favor, estoy estressica." "Ya, ya, calmase, puede pasar." Phew...
So I went back to Alitalia where the two guys from before greeted me with a friendly yet questioning look. Their eyebrows squinched in preparation for painful news. The tears sporatically escaped but I tried not to cry in front of them. I was trying to collect myself. They arranged it so my ticket was issued with cancellation penalty instead of buying a whole new ticket. It was very nice of them. 50 euro. Alas, in dollars this will all be very painful (I'm aware, mother.)
The younger guy was from Italy, so I spoke to him in Italian. He showed me pictures from an album of the Carnevale d'ivrea in Torino (where he's from) where men get in teams to battle with oranges. One picture showed the aftermath on the street, juicy. I asked him if I could see the rest of the album (I needed something to distract myself...I was so stupid I couldn't believe it--how could I get myself in this situation in Barcelona IN SPAIN, a country I'm not even fond of!) Uhg! The album helped though. He had vacation pictures: in Australia, Malaysia, India. Everything was gorgeous and peaceful. Like a vacation's supposed to be.
He told me I could fall asleep too and at his lunch break he'd wake me up. "Ho paura di dormire adessso" which translates to "I'm scared to sleep now." But I had 6 hours to kill. I slept for one hour before he woke me up. Then we went to an airport cafe and I got an iced tea. He offered to buy me something but he was being so nice already and I wasn't hungry. We talked about Spain and Italy and the food. He had brought food from home that he made--healthy food. Vegetables and home-made sauce and meat. I missed Italian food in only 2 days. |Patates braves go only so far and sometimes they're not even good.
I remembered I had Italian translation homework for Nick's class (a professor from Knox) so I asked Simone (the guy) if I could ask him what some of the words meant. He said sure, so then we basically played charades as I asked him what "mazza" and "funi" and "bovi" and "cavolo" meant. I got most of them right in the translation but I mistook "cavolo" for artichoke but it's really cabbage. It was fun. I asked "mazza" he swung his arms and said "baseball"; so "bat." I asked "funi, che cosa?" He said "Aiaiaaaa, Tarzan" who swings on vines. I asked "topi" and he acted out a mouse. We laughed.
Then he had to go back to work and I had to go wait at my gate. He asked if he could add me on facebook--of course! And he said I should see the Carnevale but I hear it's really dangerous. Piero, my host dad, said Torino is fine but not during Carnevale.
So I waited for 5 more hours. I didn't dare sleep now. I walked with 1 euro and 50 cents in my pocket (in cash) and looked for somewhere cheap to eat. But airport food, unlike everywhere else in Barcelona, wasn't cheap. I bought a little potato tort and a "chocolate milkshake" which wasn't a batida at all. It was chocolate milk that you have to shake to get flavor.
But I made it. I think I cried one more time but I got to Rome for my connection and then got to Florence where Piero was waiting. He bought me a pizza, even though it was midnight, before getting home. Chiara, my host sister, made us a cake with blue frosting too. A healthy cake though of course, to stay with my earlier theme: it was made out of raisins and I don't know what else. Yumminess and love.
I told them about my escapades in Barcelona. I basically hung out with Carolina and Italians. We met some British guys but they were all drunk so instead some Roman girls invited us to dance at a club near the beach! We got in for a cheaper price because they knew a woman bouncer who worked there, and they introduced me to a Giuseppe, a Sicilian, and we all danced till the wee hours. Then, back at the hostel Carolina and I talked about all our adventures and how random the night was. The night before that, Friday, a Matlese guy helped us find a bike (from the local rentals) that we rode around Barcelona. We just kind of roamed around all of Friday. And talked and caught up. We met the craziest people... I will now elaborate.
Crazy person number 1) My suitemate from California who told me not to call her name loudly because she didn't want the neighbors to know her name. They apparently didn't like her already and had complained. She didn't trust them.
(I did, however, have three other suitemate, one named Caroline who was from Germany, as well as her friend Laura, and a French woman. I also met a young couple; the guy was from the States and the girl was Italian.)
Crazy numero 2) The Maltese guy who stole the rental bike and invited us to watch a movie in his room (which we of course said NO to)
3) Maltese boy's roommate who talked about pot the whole time.
4) This old man whom we asked to take a picture of us at the Montjuic castle who insisted that we climb onto a statue. He said that we wouldn't get in trouble and that it'd be a great photo. He got down on one knee and cradled his hands so he could help prop us up to climb onto it. Carolina went first and I took pictures. Then I went and he took a picture. Madness! But hilarious too.
5) A cute old man whom we asked to take yet another photo of is, who stuck his face close onto the screen of the camera, said he couldn't see us, and then took the photo. This is hard to explain without gestures but it was funny. Oh and the reason we asked him to take a picture of us was becasue this other guy refused to take a picture of us! RUDE
Let's see...any other crazies...? A waiter hit on Carolina and then was passive aggressively rude to us once he caught on that we weren't interested. He kept talking in Spanglish to let us know he understood us when we spoke in English (we talked about him in English...but not a lot, just that we hoped we didn't have to pay for the tomato bread he offered us).
The night before, when I was alone in the single at the hostel, I went out with two of my sorority sisters who are studying in Barcelona. We went to an empty pub and talked and drank cheap (but tasty--really tart) Sangria. Then these rude Spanish guys approached one ofthe girls in our group (not from Knox but another school) and asked her, "Do you come to Barcelona to learn Spanish or to drink?" I told them que la dejaran quieta, and when they saw that I spoke Spanish they ingored me and kept making fun of her to her face (by interacting with her mockingly). Then I told them again to leave her alone and asked "ella los invito a la mesa" to which they replied that she was more "simpatica." And they were...?
It was great to hang out with the Pi Phis though. We were at a plaza and this guy (a slightly crazy one) was offering free hugs--he had a "free hug" sign and everything. Usually only women went up to him but some guys went to, even some couples went to hug him. I got home safely with some other girls in the group who lived nearby, they made sure to walk me home which I appreciated greatly.
Other than that, Carolina and I saw the Gaudi apartments and went inside his which was sooo trippy. I took pictures and will put them up soon. We also went to Barrio Gotico and Parc Gruel at sunset. I even saw a guy who was on the train in Pisa with me. Barcelona is supposedly big but we later ran into some other Italians that we had seen at the castle at the club too. So, in two days we saw enough. There was one other Gothic castle that was far away that we would've liked to have seen, as well as the Dali museum but we got the basics. We also bought very cheap but very costly water bottles--one dripped all over Carolina's iPod, cell phone, and camera. We laughed at first because that's all we could do and then we tried to salvage the things. Her camera still took pictures but it was acting a little funny when we went to La Rambla to take pictures.
It was a great time about town nevertheless. Our suitemates didn't go out much because they had been in Barcelona for a while. One girl was from Seattle and the guy was from England. The Brits I met didn't think much about London. We met two guys from Ibsen and two from London and they all said it wasn't that great, but I figured maybe they're used to it. I mean, if they're on vacation or living in Barcelona that must mean they want out of their country, right? Maybe. One was really drunk and kept saying "Puerto Rico, Puerto Rico...that makes you both really sexy since you're from Puerto Rico." And we ran away from him.
His friend tried to give me a lesson on handshakes. A soft handshake means you're not interested or you're bored; a mild handshake means you're laidback, and a firm handshake means you're bold (which is how the conversation started because I gave him a firm handshake). I said, "But I am bold." And then he went to go hit on some other girls. Fine with me. The other drunk guy from Ibsen left early (which made me glad, he was trying to sit a little too close even though I backed away) but his friend, James, was pleasant. He was younger and relaxed. We all had champagne and then went dancing with the Romans who were great. They kept saying "Capisci, non capisce, capisci" for everything. I don't even know how we ended up at the first place. A guy handing out flyers pulled us in from the street while we were on the way back from our hostel to change and one of the British guys walked us up, arm in arm, and then we avoided him and his friends. We just wanted to hang out and have fun and dance. We were leaving the next day.
And, alas, we are back in our respective places, Paris and Florence, which we missed--we learn to appreciate our beautiful cities even more, and said nos vemos. I must admit I did fall in love with Italy just a little bit more in Barcelona. I'm glad to be back but I will always treasure my adventurous misadventures with Carolina May.
The food in Spain is fried. It will affect your digestive system (especially in the airport--gross FYI). End of story.
Food is cheap which is good (thus the bodily reactions--I promise to stop grossing you out by letting you know that I'm hyperbolizing a bit).
Men gawk awkwardly in Spain and immigrants try to sell you beer off the street (amongst other things, but JUST SAY NO)
The sites are hard to find--a serious goose chase for Gaudi. The architecture doesn't sneak up on you, so you have to know your way.
People are rude with reason of cultural difference. In Spain they passive-aggressively (and aggressive-aggressively) tell you if you're in their way or unwelcomed. It is their way of avoiding hypocrisy, I guess. But we could use a little hypocritical courtesy once in a while, like on vacation. Carolina and I were talking in the lobby of the hostel, because you can't make noise around the rooms after 11pm, and a woman opened the door on my foot--she was Spanish, which is her only excuse in my theory to explain her response: "A, es que no me veias, supongo." WHAT!? I didn't see her? She didn't say sorry but whatever. Also people let us into a store just about when it was going to close and then talked about us in Spanish about how they wanted us to leave. "Nos vamos, ahora mismo!" I told them from the dressing room. Rude.
But I have to say, I think I actually do like the accent (despite the lisping sound) because it makes Spanish sound European, which, duh, for them it is. It really is beautiful (again, apart from the lisp).
Okay, I actually think that's it for the bad. Spain was relatively clean and safe. We didn't get mugged or anything. We did go shopping at Zara which had GREAT sales! I got a plaid jacket and page-boy pants for 25 euro (total)!
So everything was relatively cheap except for the stupid mistakes that I made at the airport. Oh, yeah, there's more to come in the "bad" department but this isn't Spain's fault.
I missed my morning flight.
I'm stupid.
I thought it left at 10 when really the confirmation paper said it arrived at 10. So, yeah...I got there at 8:30 ish and missed it.
It gets worse.
(I'm sorry, mom. I hope you're not dissappointed). I wasn't going to share this, but I'm hoping someday I'll just laugh at it.
Carolina and I pulled an all-nighter because we were trying to cram all the sites in one day as well as go out to dance afterwards. We saw Gaudi's house at 8pm and walked around, but I'll talk about that later because we're talking about my faux paus right now.
So, we hadn't slept all night so we could get to the airport early (but not early enough of course). However, after Carolina caught her flight to Paris I went and bought an Alitalia flight--I tried to find something really cheap but that was impossible. The cheapest was 130 euro, so I took it.
BUT then...at the gate while I waited to board....(I'm cringing as I retell it)... I fell asleep. When I woke up the plane was still there but they wouldn't let me on. "Te llamamos varias veces..." Was all they could say. I thought they were joking. I didn't hear them call me over the intercom becasue I was knocked out. I saw the plane back up for take off and then I left the area. I was then led, "Directo hasta la salida A" but I went all the way straight where customs punched my passport. Then, once I entered the area, I realized something wrong happened. So, crying at this point, I asked the police to let me back in the main area of the airport so I could buy yet another ticket. It was kind of pitiful. "Esque ya me perdi dos vuelos, por favor, estoy estressica." "Ya, ya, calmase, puede pasar." Phew...
So I went back to Alitalia where the two guys from before greeted me with a friendly yet questioning look. Their eyebrows squinched in preparation for painful news. The tears sporatically escaped but I tried not to cry in front of them. I was trying to collect myself. They arranged it so my ticket was issued with cancellation penalty instead of buying a whole new ticket. It was very nice of them. 50 euro. Alas, in dollars this will all be very painful (I'm aware, mother.)
The younger guy was from Italy, so I spoke to him in Italian. He showed me pictures from an album of the Carnevale d'ivrea in Torino (where he's from) where men get in teams to battle with oranges. One picture showed the aftermath on the street, juicy. I asked him if I could see the rest of the album (I needed something to distract myself...I was so stupid I couldn't believe it--how could I get myself in this situation in Barcelona IN SPAIN, a country I'm not even fond of!) Uhg! The album helped though. He had vacation pictures: in Australia, Malaysia, India. Everything was gorgeous and peaceful. Like a vacation's supposed to be.
He told me I could fall asleep too and at his lunch break he'd wake me up. "Ho paura di dormire adessso" which translates to "I'm scared to sleep now." But I had 6 hours to kill. I slept for one hour before he woke me up. Then we went to an airport cafe and I got an iced tea. He offered to buy me something but he was being so nice already and I wasn't hungry. We talked about Spain and Italy and the food. He had brought food from home that he made--healthy food. Vegetables and home-made sauce and meat. I missed Italian food in only 2 days. |Patates braves go only so far and sometimes they're not even good.
I remembered I had Italian translation homework for Nick's class (a professor from Knox) so I asked Simone (the guy) if I could ask him what some of the words meant. He said sure, so then we basically played charades as I asked him what "mazza" and "funi" and "bovi" and "cavolo" meant. I got most of them right in the translation but I mistook "cavolo" for artichoke but it's really cabbage. It was fun. I asked "mazza" he swung his arms and said "baseball"; so "bat." I asked "funi, che cosa?" He said "Aiaiaaaa, Tarzan" who swings on vines. I asked "topi" and he acted out a mouse. We laughed.
Then he had to go back to work and I had to go wait at my gate. He asked if he could add me on facebook--of course! And he said I should see the Carnevale but I hear it's really dangerous. Piero, my host dad, said Torino is fine but not during Carnevale.
So I waited for 5 more hours. I didn't dare sleep now. I walked with 1 euro and 50 cents in my pocket (in cash) and looked for somewhere cheap to eat. But airport food, unlike everywhere else in Barcelona, wasn't cheap. I bought a little potato tort and a "chocolate milkshake" which wasn't a batida at all. It was chocolate milk that you have to shake to get flavor.
But I made it. I think I cried one more time but I got to Rome for my connection and then got to Florence where Piero was waiting. He bought me a pizza, even though it was midnight, before getting home. Chiara, my host sister, made us a cake with blue frosting too. A healthy cake though of course, to stay with my earlier theme: it was made out of raisins and I don't know what else. Yumminess and love.
I told them about my escapades in Barcelona. I basically hung out with Carolina and Italians. We met some British guys but they were all drunk so instead some Roman girls invited us to dance at a club near the beach! We got in for a cheaper price because they knew a woman bouncer who worked there, and they introduced me to a Giuseppe, a Sicilian, and we all danced till the wee hours. Then, back at the hostel Carolina and I talked about all our adventures and how random the night was. The night before that, Friday, a Matlese guy helped us find a bike (from the local rentals) that we rode around Barcelona. We just kind of roamed around all of Friday. And talked and caught up. We met the craziest people... I will now elaborate.
Crazy person number 1) My suitemate from California who told me not to call her name loudly because she didn't want the neighbors to know her name. They apparently didn't like her already and had complained. She didn't trust them.
(I did, however, have three other suitemate, one named Caroline who was from Germany, as well as her friend Laura, and a French woman. I also met a young couple; the guy was from the States and the girl was Italian.)
Crazy numero 2) The Maltese guy who stole the rental bike and invited us to watch a movie in his room (which we of course said NO to)
3) Maltese boy's roommate who talked about pot the whole time.
4) This old man whom we asked to take a picture of us at the Montjuic castle who insisted that we climb onto a statue. He said that we wouldn't get in trouble and that it'd be a great photo. He got down on one knee and cradled his hands so he could help prop us up to climb onto it. Carolina went first and I took pictures. Then I went and he took a picture. Madness! But hilarious too.
5) A cute old man whom we asked to take yet another photo of is, who stuck his face close onto the screen of the camera, said he couldn't see us, and then took the photo. This is hard to explain without gestures but it was funny. Oh and the reason we asked him to take a picture of us was becasue this other guy refused to take a picture of us! RUDE
Let's see...any other crazies...? A waiter hit on Carolina and then was passive aggressively rude to us once he caught on that we weren't interested. He kept talking in Spanglish to let us know he understood us when we spoke in English (we talked about him in English...but not a lot, just that we hoped we didn't have to pay for the tomato bread he offered us).
The night before, when I was alone in the single at the hostel, I went out with two of my sorority sisters who are studying in Barcelona. We went to an empty pub and talked and drank cheap (but tasty--really tart) Sangria. Then these rude Spanish guys approached one ofthe girls in our group (not from Knox but another school) and asked her, "Do you come to Barcelona to learn Spanish or to drink?" I told them que la dejaran quieta, and when they saw that I spoke Spanish they ingored me and kept making fun of her to her face (by interacting with her mockingly). Then I told them again to leave her alone and asked "ella los invito a la mesa" to which they replied that she was more "simpatica." And they were...?
It was great to hang out with the Pi Phis though. We were at a plaza and this guy (a slightly crazy one) was offering free hugs--he had a "free hug" sign and everything. Usually only women went up to him but some guys went to, even some couples went to hug him. I got home safely with some other girls in the group who lived nearby, they made sure to walk me home which I appreciated greatly.
Other than that, Carolina and I saw the Gaudi apartments and went inside his which was sooo trippy. I took pictures and will put them up soon. We also went to Barrio Gotico and Parc Gruel at sunset. I even saw a guy who was on the train in Pisa with me. Barcelona is supposedly big but we later ran into some other Italians that we had seen at the castle at the club too. So, in two days we saw enough. There was one other Gothic castle that was far away that we would've liked to have seen, as well as the Dali museum but we got the basics. We also bought very cheap but very costly water bottles--one dripped all over Carolina's iPod, cell phone, and camera. We laughed at first because that's all we could do and then we tried to salvage the things. Her camera still took pictures but it was acting a little funny when we went to La Rambla to take pictures.
It was a great time about town nevertheless. Our suitemates didn't go out much because they had been in Barcelona for a while. One girl was from Seattle and the guy was from England. The Brits I met didn't think much about London. We met two guys from Ibsen and two from London and they all said it wasn't that great, but I figured maybe they're used to it. I mean, if they're on vacation or living in Barcelona that must mean they want out of their country, right? Maybe. One was really drunk and kept saying "Puerto Rico, Puerto Rico...that makes you both really sexy since you're from Puerto Rico." And we ran away from him.
His friend tried to give me a lesson on handshakes. A soft handshake means you're not interested or you're bored; a mild handshake means you're laidback, and a firm handshake means you're bold (which is how the conversation started because I gave him a firm handshake). I said, "But I am bold." And then he went to go hit on some other girls. Fine with me. The other drunk guy from Ibsen left early (which made me glad, he was trying to sit a little too close even though I backed away) but his friend, James, was pleasant. He was younger and relaxed. We all had champagne and then went dancing with the Romans who were great. They kept saying "Capisci, non capisce, capisci" for everything. I don't even know how we ended up at the first place. A guy handing out flyers pulled us in from the street while we were on the way back from our hostel to change and one of the British guys walked us up, arm in arm, and then we avoided him and his friends. We just wanted to hang out and have fun and dance. We were leaving the next day.
And, alas, we are back in our respective places, Paris and Florence, which we missed--we learn to appreciate our beautiful cities even more, and said nos vemos. I must admit I did fall in love with Italy just a little bit more in Barcelona. I'm glad to be back but I will always treasure my adventurous misadventures with Carolina May.
miércoles, 4 de febrero de 2009
Check out more pics
http://picasaweb.google.com/see.ya.lata.playa.hata/Ravenna?authkey=38GoSIGKa0M#
I just made an account with Picasa. Check it out when you can!
I just made an account with Picasa. Check it out when you can!
Reasons Why I'm kind of Italian
Here's another list, but I thought you all wouldn't mind. I:
-Don't eat breakfast, or "colazione" as it's called here
-Love cooking
-Love Vegetables and pasta
-Have walking issues (because I have flat feet and I don't know, something weird happens when I put on heels), but I love to walk
-ADORE dark chocolate (which is what they make mostly here)
-Am used to dealing with a somewhat machista society but am totally a feminist
-Am a bit superstitious about wet hair outdoors in the cold (my host family even makes me blow dry my hair inside though, just in case, I guess)
-Appreciate fashion and style
-Like soccer/futbol/calcio
-Don't eat breakfast, or "colazione" as it's called here
-Love cooking
-Love Vegetables and pasta
-Have walking issues (because I have flat feet and I don't know, something weird happens when I put on heels), but I love to walk
-ADORE dark chocolate (which is what they make mostly here)
-Am used to dealing with a somewhat machista society but am totally a feminist
-Am a bit superstitious about wet hair outdoors in the cold (my host family even makes me blow dry my hair inside though, just in case, I guess)
-Appreciate fashion and style
-Like soccer/futbol/calcio
Update: What I've been Doing (Instead of Blogging--sorry about that)
Recent adventures; this is just a list of what I've been up to, but I will post some feelings down soon:
-Had a cold and got over it
-Went to a wickedly awesome CHOCOLATE FAIR at Santa Croce where I drank fudge--it was called hot chocolate but it was most definitely FUDGE--molto bene!
-Saw Sensibility in English...I know, I couldn't help myself. My friend Suz lent it to me.
-I saw Masaccio's "Tribute Money"
-Danced salsa with a Guatemalan dance instructor at an Italian pub (the bartender was from Colombia and when he found out I was from Puerto Rico, he insisted that I dance...I tried to make PR proud, but I dunno)
-Went to the Uffizi for class:
Saw Birth of Venus
Cimabue's Madonna Enthroned
Giotto's Madonna and Child Enthroned
Some Leo Da Vinci!
Works by Caravaggio and Gentileschi
and, you know, Titian's Venus (a large group of army guys were surrounded
around this one...it made me laugh)
-Last night I got my membership card to a Jazz club near my host family's house. ONly 8 euros and they have jazz and blues jams several times a week
-Danced at Plasma to "Sweet Dreams Are Made of These"
-Saw Pirandello's "Six Characters in Search of an Author" in Italian
-Made bread (actually kneaded the dough and everything) at Casa d'Erci for class. It's in the country
-Saw San Marco
-Wrote essays and went to class...
Food I've eaten: (besides cioccoloato)
-zucchini pasta
-spinach (yes, mom, I eat spinach now...)
-guacamole (Laura and I made an American/Puerto Rican dinner for our family this past Sunday; I made home-made and box flan and Laura made everything else: burgers, salad, fries, and Sangria)
-panini
-gelato (of course)
-really flavorful chicken
-carrots and cheese
Oh and now I'm taking PRIVATE lesson in Italian, so I get to talk all the time and really practice. I'm also planning trips with Carolina--we're thinking Barcelona and Budapest...I'll keep you posted.
-Had a cold and got over it
-Went to a wickedly awesome CHOCOLATE FAIR at Santa Croce where I drank fudge--it was called hot chocolate but it was most definitely FUDGE--molto bene!
-Saw Sensibility in English...I know, I couldn't help myself. My friend Suz lent it to me.
-I saw Masaccio's "Tribute Money"
-Danced salsa with a Guatemalan dance instructor at an Italian pub (the bartender was from Colombia and when he found out I was from Puerto Rico, he insisted that I dance...I tried to make PR proud, but I dunno)
-Went to the Uffizi for class:
Saw Birth of Venus
Cimabue's Madonna Enthroned
Giotto's Madonna and Child Enthroned
Some Leo Da Vinci!
Works by Caravaggio and Gentileschi
and, you know, Titian's Venus (a large group of army guys were surrounded
around this one...it made me laugh)
-Last night I got my membership card to a Jazz club near my host family's house. ONly 8 euros and they have jazz and blues jams several times a week
-Danced at Plasma to "Sweet Dreams Are Made of These"
-Saw Pirandello's "Six Characters in Search of an Author" in Italian
-Made bread (actually kneaded the dough and everything) at Casa d'Erci for class. It's in the country
-Saw San Marco
-Wrote essays and went to class...
Food I've eaten: (besides cioccoloato)
-zucchini pasta
-spinach (yes, mom, I eat spinach now...)
-guacamole (Laura and I made an American/Puerto Rican dinner for our family this past Sunday; I made home-made and box flan and Laura made everything else: burgers, salad, fries, and Sangria)
-panini
-gelato (of course)
-really flavorful chicken
-carrots and cheese
Oh and now I'm taking PRIVATE lesson in Italian, so I get to talk all the time and really practice. I'm also planning trips with Carolina--we're thinking Barcelona and Budapest...I'll keep you posted.
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